It�s that time of year again, graduation.� As I scroll through Facebook, I see post after post of adoring parents boasting the accomplishments of their children: Grade Point Average, college pursuits, athletic achievements, class rankings, and more.� These parents are excited and proud!� They and their children have worked very hard and this is their time to celebrate the achievements of their children.

This year, I am among them.� My third child is graduating from high school.� So it�s my turn to boast: He�s Valedictorian, ranked 7th�in his class with a 4.14 GPA.� He�s achieved many athletic awards in his high school career including All Academic, Most Valuable Player, and All Conference.� He�s heading to a D1 school to play football on an academic scholarship.� My oldest is a senior in college.� She�s made the dean�s list all four years.� She�s an accomplished musician who plays four instruments. She�ll soon have a bachelor�s degree in music and be a certified music therapist.� My oldest son is the number one pitcher on his college baseball team.� He made the President�s list this past year and is working toward transferring to a D2 college to play baseball and pursue a career in exercise science.

So now for my youngest:� My Anna� is 12 years old.� She is severely autistic.� She�s currently working on basic reading, conversational, and functional living skills.� She attends school in an autistic impaired classroom and ABA therapy for 15 hours a week.

When I think about all four of my children, my heart swells with pride, yes��ALL four of them!

My youngest works just as hard as my other children, yet there are no awards for her.� She�ll never have her name mentioned in the newspaper or on a certificate.� She has zero trophies, ribbons or plaques.� She�ll never be invited to a banquet to celebrate her achievements.� And that�s ok!� She doesn�t need those accolades to be a champion in my eyes!

She works hard every day just to do the things that came easily and naturally to her siblings.� Some of her recent achievements include reading sight �words and sounding out longer words.� Her therapists, teachers, and I are all certain she will someday be able to read.� She practices conversations and greetings.� Her therapists are thrilled when they hear her say hi to someone on her own.� We spend weekends working on puzzles of up to 100 pieces.� I can remember years ago when a ten piece puzzle would result in a complete meltdown.� She is handling basic chores and many daily living skills independently.� Functional living now seems like a goal we can reach in the near future.� My dream is that she�ll be able to have a job someday.� I imagine her proudly serving coffee and putting a smile on her customers� faces.

All of these skills have taken years and countless hours of school, therapy, and work at home to achieve.� I can�t even begin to describe the pride I feel when I see her achieve a new skill or I hear a positive report from her teacher or therapist. No skill goes unnoticed.� We celebrate everything and take nothing for granted.

When I see the posts of parents with children around her age, I have to admit, it stings.� They compete in sports tournaments, dance recitals, academic events.� They attend birthday parties, social outings, and have many friends.� While I am happy to see how joyful and successful these children are, I can�t help feeling envious. But when I stop to think about how far we�ve come in the nine years we have been battling autism, the envy starts to slip away and the pride takes over.� When she was first diagnosed, she could barely handle a classroom setting for five minutes.� The para had to take her on walks and into the sensory room all day long to avoid meltdowns.� She was awake most of the night, many nights, screaming and crying.� She hated books and would cry and scream if I tried to cuddle up and read with her.� Her stimming and self-injury made the simplest tasks seem impossible.� Life felt hopeless.� Our days were long, and my heart was breaking more every day.

Now we have a calm I never thought was possible.� She sleeps well and rarely cries at night.� She hardly stims or hits herself.� She tries hard to focus on her schoolwork and has recently been caught holding the hand of her classmate.� She loves listening to music.� We spend weekends on the backyard swing singing along to Taylor Swift songs. She�s starting to make comments on our daily activities, instead of scripting.� I know these skills and achievements will not earn her any awards and most wouldn�t post these victories on Facebook.� But these are successes for my Anna!� I�m so proud of her.� Her achievements and those of children like her deserve to be celebrated, posted, awarded and shouted out to the hilltops!� Our children can make great progress and achieve the impossible!