Annie, my wife, agrees. And if you knew Annie, she doesn’t overstate anything.
Don’t get me wrong, we had a lot of awesome things happen personally (I taught my daughter how to ride a bike… on Father’s Day!) and professionally (my second book came out), but the last year has been tough.
Honestly, we’ve sort of been reeling since Sept. 18, 2012. That’s the day we learned that our son Griffin might be on the autism spectrum. In 2013, after jumping through all sorts of hoops and watching our son be poked and prodded again and again in the name of evaluations, we learned that our little Griffy is autistic.
So much of our hearts and minds have been wrapped up trying to learn what autism means and what to do and how to feel. We struggled. We cried. Nothing we could say or do made it better. Much of whatever free time was left after a day of wiping ends of kids, feeding, bathing, and putting them to bed was spent talking about autism.
We took less photos. We spent less time with friends. We both were depressed.
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