Healing J
Donation protected
My son, J, is easily the best person I've ever had the privilege of knowing. I know, I know, we all think that of our kids, as we should. He has a sense of humor beyond his years, brilliance that astounds me regularly, compassion not often seen in someone so young, and a smile that still takes my breath away.
My gifted 5-year-old son has a handful of neurological conditions and severe anxiety disorders. As such, we spend a lot of time in therapy.
My husband is a teacher of over a decade working two jobs while he takes three graduate classes so he can keep his second job next year. My full-time job is therapy with my son. It's hard work for everyone involved, but for our baby most of all.
At $280 a week on a teacher's salary and an estimate of 30 weeks of therapy, we find ourselves at a financial loss. Therapy is not optional. We must help heal our son, arm our son with the tools to heal himself, give our son every opportunity to live his life to the fullest without being debilitated by that which he cannot control or even change all on his own.
We've cut the fat on all living expenses. There is no more to cut unless we stop eating or wearing clothes. Even on the strictest of budgets, we cannot come up with an extra $1120 a month for our son's care.
As all parents know, pride goes out the window when it comes to the needs of our children. I cannot imagine asking for money from others for myself. My ridiculous pride would hinder me. However, this is for my child and I will do anything, including pushing aside my pride to ask for help from others, to help him. I know all the parents out there can understand.
We have enough in our therapy fund to last a few more weeks, but we're running out swiftly. The thought of denying our son the healing therapy he needs is enough to break me down. And so I am here on my virtual knees asking for your help, any help you can give, any amount you can spare.
My son means the world to me, as your children do to you. His health and happiness is everything. The thought of money being the only thing standing between him and those most basic of needs is unfathomable, yet real.
Thank you. Those two words are wholly inadequate, I know, but they're all I have to offer and they are meant from the depths of my heart. Thank you.
My gifted 5-year-old son has a handful of neurological conditions and severe anxiety disorders. As such, we spend a lot of time in therapy.
My husband is a teacher of over a decade working two jobs while he takes three graduate classes so he can keep his second job next year. My full-time job is therapy with my son. It's hard work for everyone involved, but for our baby most of all.
At $280 a week on a teacher's salary and an estimate of 30 weeks of therapy, we find ourselves at a financial loss. Therapy is not optional. We must help heal our son, arm our son with the tools to heal himself, give our son every opportunity to live his life to the fullest without being debilitated by that which he cannot control or even change all on his own.
We've cut the fat on all living expenses. There is no more to cut unless we stop eating or wearing clothes. Even on the strictest of budgets, we cannot come up with an extra $1120 a month for our son's care.
As all parents know, pride goes out the window when it comes to the needs of our children. I cannot imagine asking for money from others for myself. My ridiculous pride would hinder me. However, this is for my child and I will do anything, including pushing aside my pride to ask for help from others, to help him. I know all the parents out there can understand.
We have enough in our therapy fund to last a few more weeks, but we're running out swiftly. The thought of denying our son the healing therapy he needs is enough to break me down. And so I am here on my virtual knees asking for your help, any help you can give, any amount you can spare.
My son means the world to me, as your children do to you. His health and happiness is everything. The thought of money being the only thing standing between him and those most basic of needs is unfathomable, yet real.
Thank you. Those two words are wholly inadequate, I know, but they're all I have to offer and they are meant from the depths of my heart. Thank you.
Organizer
Amy Brown
Organizer
Buckeye, AZ
