First person

I used to think that the cliché about children gaining from having a special needs sibling was just some nice words. Maybe in other people's houses, maybe with a different type of special need, but not in our home, not with Yisroel...

This morning, before she went off to school, I said to her, "Sheina, today is your birthday, you are thirteen years old." She showed me thirteen in ASL (American Sign Language)...

How could I, his mother, not see through him? How could I not appreciate the intense power pulsating in him? How could I not be on his side? “Sorry for betraying you,” I sob, burying my face in his soft curls...

We went back to the psychiatrist and she saw right away what it really was. My beautiful, brilliant, funny, compassionate son was literally climbing her bookcases, screaming like a wild animal...

It was back to basics. Actually, it was back to much less than basics. It was back to virtually nothing...

I remember looking at the doctor and thinking: "You are not G‑d. That is your opinion, but anything can happen..."

As his 13th birthday loomed closer, my husband and I began to discuss what we should do. At first we thought nothing at all. How could we ‘celebrate’ a ‘Bar Mitzvah’ that wasn’t? But then we realized that there was much that we did need to celebrate.