My Story

I was 21 when my first child, Doniel, was born profoundly disabled. The doctors told us he was unlikely to live to see his second birthday. Today, Doniel is 23. He cannot walk, talk or feed himself and requires 24-hour care.

Being Doniel's mother has been one of the greatest loves of my life, and it has also taken me on a journey I could never have imagined. I've learned what it means to love a child completely while grieving things you once assumed would be part of his life. I've had to make difficult decisions about schooling, medical care, family life and, eventually, residential care. I've learned that gratitude and grief can live in the same heart — and that acknowledging how hard something is doesn't diminish how deeply you love your child.

When Doniel was born, someone asked me, "Are you going to tell anybody you had a disabled child? "I decided then that there would be no shame around my son. If Hashem had entrusted this neshama to me, I would never hide him. But emunah didn't mean that I never struggled. It meant learning to find Hashem within a life that looked very different from the one I had planned.

Over the years, Doniel became, as I often say, both all of my questions and all of my answers. So much of what I now teach about emunah, acceptance, surrender and growth was first learned through being his mother.

If you're raising a child with special needs, you may be carrying things that even the people closest to you don't fully understand. The exhaustion. The worry about siblings and marriage. Watching other children reach milestones. The guilt that can accompany needing help. The fear of the future. The complicated decisions that sometimes have no perfect answer. And underneath all of it, an extraordinary love for your child.

This is why I mentor mothers of children with special needs. Not because I have all the answers, but because I've lived in this world for more than two decades. You don't need to explain to me how you can feel grateful and heartbroken, strong and exhausted, full of emunah and still have questions — sometimes all on the same day.

Maybe you're facing a decision. Maybe you're struggling with acceptance or emunah. Or maybe you're simply tired of carrying so much by yourself. You don't need to know exactly what you need before you reach out.

Sometimes you just need to talk to someone who understands.