For the past 3 years, I have been struggling to find meaning through my children's diagnosis. I have searched for answers and created new questions. Through all the advice and resources I have gathered there was nothing to really answer the question why. Vaccines, genetics, diet, supplements, cosmic destiny, I've researched all of it and nothing really made me feel like I had a real answer to my children's condition or what my role as their parent should be. So I pushed it all aside to take solace in being a resource for others. This experience has been fulfilling and selfish as well. Other's experiences have been a mirror for my own. The emotions I have experienced, the fear and even the joys I have traversed through helped me come to my own conclusions. Which of course could change in month or a year from now. I have never really accepted my children. I wanted to cure them, change them,"typicalize" them, but it wasn't really for them, it was for me. It was to make me feel better. Some things worked, some things didn't, some things made sense and a lot of things didn't. I pride myself on being able to take responsibility for my thoughts and actions, but admitting this simple fact has been the hardest to do. Our lives are journeys, they won't be like anyone else's. My experience although very similar to many of you who read this, will still be very different from yours. I am happy to express that acceptance at least for me has been the only way to deal with the challenges and questions, my family faces day to day. Summer's have traditionally been hard, because it has always meant I had to spend more time with my kids and really see them for who they are. Don't get me wrong, I love my children and our experience on this journey of life is personal. I am not a banner mother, I get tired, angry and sad about the things my kids can't do. The behaviors would increase, the regressions would start and many times I would feel more isolated and overwhelmed. This summer was different. The level of services and ESY were the same, but I was different. For the first time since the last was diagnosed, i am not trying to find any special meaning in why my family is the way it is. I don't really even care anymore. These are my babies and I love them for who they are. The big plus, which I think made the difference for me is that I know longer care if anyone else accepts them as well. That means if kids at the playground run in terror, that's there problem, if adults stare at the super duper meltdowns, its probably because they don't understand. I don''t want to be angry anymore and I really don't want to be looking for ways to change them. I will always stand up for information about biomedical and alternative treatments. I will always stand up for the rights of people with disabilities to be accepted into mainstream society. Parent's need to know they have other options besides, medication and education. I can't help but do that, but in some ways it is necessary for me to have balance in my interactions and participation with the overall "autism community." I had once written that autism is my life. That I ate, slept and breathed autism. What kind of life is that? Even for my children, do they want to be defined by a one dimensional label? If they could communicate it, I think not. It would take away from my oldest independent spirit, my middle one's curiosity and my youngest glowing empathy. They are more than a diagnosis and finally I am more than just a mother with 3 kids with autism.