My friend Darcie called me a month ago and said, “I’m sending you a book.  Don’t freak out.  When you see the cover, you’ll freak out.”  I was all…”Come on Darcie, I won’t freak out.  What could you send me that would make me freak out?”  2 weeks later another call, “I’m putting it in the mail and when you see the cover, you’ll have a heart attack.  Just trust me. Read the inscription before you have the heart attack.”  Again, I’m all, “Darcie, I promise, I’ll read it.  Whatever it is…I’ll read it.”

The very next day, this book arrived in my mailbox.  First I freaked out.  Then I had a heart attack.  But I listened to my inner voice and read the inscription.  It’s insanely flattering for anyone to read the words “Mother Warrior” and think of me.  Her heartfelt words compelled me to read Page 1.  And hence I started a book that I finished in 1 day.  I could not put it down and finished it in tears; I have an entirely new view of Jenny McCarthy and of the mothers facing the unimaginable task of raising autistic children.

This particular book, “Mother Warriors” is not about her journey through autism.  It is not about the myriad of relatively safe interventions she employed to heal her son.  It is not about her views on vaccinations, which have been grossly misconstrued by the media.  Big surprise there.

This book is about a Mother who would not give up in the face of “sorry, there is not much you can do.”  A Mother with a never say die approach against unbelievable odds.  She survived watching her son in cardiac arrest, go into status epilepticus and a 4 day coma.  She has SEEN SOME SERIOUS SHIT PEOPLE.  Her book is a devotion, a cataloging of stories, an epic poem if you will…to Mother Warriors everywhere.

Darcie has “coffee-breaked” her way through my journey with Sara.  Darcie, Holly, Amy, Liza, Karen, Theresa, DeAnna, Hope, Donna, Dawn, Jessie, Angela, Jennifer and Jennifer (and my apologies for anyone I’m failing to mention), and of course Keri & Ana Paula (who lit the way)…some women I can never thank enough for being rocks on days I walked into work on not one minute of sleep.  Days when they kept a straight face when I could not.  Days when gibberish came out of my mouth because I could not make sense of raising Sara.  Women who cheered me loud and long when I walked away from a job I loved to figure this thing out…any damned way I could.  I’m not a Mother Warrior, but I’m inspired by them.  I understand a smidgen of what it is to feel lost with your own child, knowing in your heart their entire happiness was resting on your shoulders, knowing that they were lost and you don’t know the way.

So to the women who supported me, I can report that my little girl lost has been found.  Friday was Parent-Teacher conference which opened with Sara’s teacher saying to us, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we have a different Sara than we had 2 months ago.  She has blossomed.  I mean REALLY, REALLY blossomed.  Jumping in and taking part.  Just really loving school.  We’re blown away by the changes in her.”

Greg and I gave each other a knowing look and nudge, along with a giggle, “Yeah…we’ve noticed.”