believing in max.

Every day, rain or shine, I drive Max to his therapy session. Round trip, it's about an hour, and it gives me a lot of time to reflect. Unlike his younger sister, Max is a quiet passenger, and I often find myself looking in the rearview mirror, double checking that he's actually in the backseat and that I haven't forgotten the important step of picking him up from school before I make the trip to the clinic.

As I drove by the local mall today, with its parking lot full on a weekday with Christmas shoppers, I was reminded that I really don't want anything for Christmas this year. Don't get me wrong, I will absolutely appreciate and enjoy any gifts I am fortunate enough to receive. But, the things that my heart truly desires are not physical things.  The thing I want most in this world, is for Max to continue to have progress. It is my belief in him, and helping him learn how to communicate and navigate our world that keeps my engine running. The words I remember on the hardest days are those of my late friend Kim Pace.

"Visualize it - each and every day and that is what WILL be. Believe it with every ounce of strength you have and there will be no other alternative."

Max has had tremendous progress these past few months. We seem to finally be making real headway with a toileting routine, his eye contact is breathtaking, he is reading and spelling, and he is communicating unprompted. I cannot fully describe to you how my heart swells when he says "Goodbye Mommy" each day when I drop him off at the clinic. He is my daily affirmation that if you believe with all your heart, anything can happen. He is the reason that even on the hard days, I put one foot in front of the other and keep going. He has proven the doomsayers in his life 100% incorrect. And he does so with a smile that will not be denied. Thank you Max for making me a believer.

celebrating kim pace.

My friend and mentor, Kim Kearns Pace, passed away on Saturday after a 3.5 year battle with cervical cancer. But I don't want to focus on her death, I want to focus on her life, which she kicked Absolute 100% Grade-A Canadian Ass at. I want to focus on her heart, which was bigger than the sun. I want to focus on the thousands of children and families she helped throughout her career as Canada's top Speech Language Pathologist. I want to focus on the positive energy she exuded and how she fought for what she believed in and inspired everyone who knew her.

I met Kim in the summer of 2008. We were still in the pre-autism diagnosis days and desperately searching for ways to help Max. She was the first person who reached out to me. She was the first person who listened when I talked about what was going on with Max. She came to the table with information and real solutions about what we could do for him. She was kind, empathetic, and frank about the challenges that lay ahead for us. Her honesty and candour were refreshing and I immediately felt less alone in this journey that we were only just beginning. Kim saw the magic in every child and unearthed gifts that you would never have known were there if not for her.

I credit Kim with getting us started on the right path for helping Max from a therapy perspective. Most of all I am grateful to her for teaching me about faith, and how important it is that I envision a positive future for Max. She believed in him and saw the twinkle in his eyes. She told me she expected tickets to his university graduation ceremony because she wanted to be there when he walked across the stage to receive his diploma. Whenever Max gave us a run for our money she told me that I would tell these stories at his wedding. On one particularly hard day she emailed me the following:

Look past it all - into the future .. several years maybe but there it is....do you see it? That beautiful, smiling, happy boy! That's MAX. That's MAX's voice! That's MAX talking! That's MAX playing with toys! That is MAX calling you "mama".

Visualize it - each and every day and that is what WILL be. Believe it with every ounce of strength you have and there will be no other alternative. I am living proof of this.

I could write for days about how wonderful Kim was and how sorely she will be missed, that there was still so much for her to do. Kim was a person so tenacious that when she was told she had less than a year to live due to cervical cancer, she decided to train for the 2010 Ironman Canada - a race that was more than two years away. And guess what? She did it (while continuing to work full time). While she was at it, she and her friends started The IronDames and raised over $110,000 for Wellspring, a cancer program that promotes physical activity.

Kim, I am devastated that I will no longer get to exchange hugs and smiles with you over Max's progress. I am blessed to have known you in this life, and I know we will meet again. Instead of thinking of you as gone, I am going to imagine you in heaven serving up your Romulan Ale and watching over all of the children and families whose lives you changed for the better.

Rest in peace Kim. You were one in million and you will not be forgotten.

Edited to add:

Visitation will be held on Wednesday July 27th from 5-9pm at:
Dodsworth & Brown Funeral Home
2241 New Street, Burlington ON

The funeral service will be held on Thursday July 28th at 10:30am at:
St. Christopher's Anglican Church
662 Guelph Line, Burlington ON

In lieu of flowers, contributions to the Halton Down Syndrome Association and/or blue balloon Health Services. 

max update.

Two years ago, Autism knocked on our door and told us “your son is coming with me”. My heart sank. My head spun. My stomach twisted. My gut said “hell no”. From that day forward, when faced with any challenge Autism has thrown our way, I have gone with my gut. When the going gets tough, my gut is the only thing that can be trusted. 

early intervention.

They are buzz words for sure. But for a reason. Early intervention is the key to jamming your feet into your running shoes and sprinting down the street after Autism. It is the only way to pull your child out of its grasp instead of letting Autism pull him into the darkness, out of your reach.

Back then I could not picture our life in 6 months, let alone 24 months. Yet here we are. Two steps forward, one step back, the entire way. Transitions, talking, toilet training – we are still working on all of these things for sure. It’s hard to have perspective and see the progress Max has had in the past 2 years.

The progress has been huge and it is important to acknowledge it, rejoice in it.

Max can do so, so much. He has an independent spirit. A sense of humour. He can write his name, knows his letters in upper and lower case, and can count to twenty. He calls me “mommy” and gives hugs and kisses. He teases his little sister and tells his Nana and Bumpa “night night” when they go home at the end of the day. He sings songs. He walks into the kitchen and announces “I want more chips mommy!”. He enjoys watching Elmo. He finds solace in the outdoors. He is attending junior kindergarten. He is stunningly beautiful.

I hoped and prayed for him to be able to do all of these things. I always thought he was a good looking kid.

Every milestone has been made up of hundreds of tiny wins. We are winning.

I still cannot picture our life in 6 months, let alone 24 months. I hope and I pray for Max to be able to do all sorts of things. The only difference between 2 years ago and now is that my faith is iron clad.

wish fairies.

I have dreams.  They are visions of a beautiful future.


I  believe in wish fairies.  That they are fluttering around me and kissing my eyelids when I slumber.


I have faith that the universe has a plan for me and that if I let go, what is meant to be mine will reveal itself to me.