Have you ever stopped to think about how someone that knows you might describe you? I'm thinking about that now. I am many things. I'm a reader, a swimmer, a loud-laugher, a wife, a woman, a Christian, a healthcare professional, a singer, a survivor. Of all the things I feel good about being, the thing most important to me for people to know is I am a Mother. Becoming a mother changed who I would become. At 22, I became the mother of the little boy in this picture. My first child. It's about 1995. We are in Germany. In another year, a panel of specialists at the University of Washington Center on Human Development and Disability (CHDD) will tell me Aaron has autism. It didn't surprise me. I had been trying to tell the providers working with us that I thought Aaron had autism. It was the dark ages of autistim spectrum disorders (ASD). I look at the profile of my 25-year old self and wonder at her innocence. Her naivete. Her resilience. Her strength. I will not pretend to be current on the "right" lingo in ASD. I have no interest in debating whether a certain logo represents or degrades individuals with ASD. I have never been good at timing, snappy comebacks or clever retorts. While I adore laughing, I am more likely to embarrass myself with awkwardness than rivet the room with humor. For three decades, I have wanted a place to tell my story. Our story. This is where I will try to put our journey into words. A journey from the dark ages into hope. This is bravelyautism.