The Path I Never Expected

If someone had told me 30 years ago that I’d be sitting in a room with our Senator, advocating for education and civil rights, I would have laughed. Back then, I was quiet, reserved, careful with my words. I avoided conflict, didn’t want to ruffle feathers, and kept my opinions to myself. I was a numbers person—someone who saw the world in black and white, preferring a math problem with a clear, set answer.

But life had other plans for me.

Twenty-five years ago, my world changed forever when Conner was born. When we received his diagnosis, I was devastated. I was angry with God. I couldn't accept the difficult reality that my son would one day lose his sight. I didn’t know how to move forward. I felt lost. Grief consumed me, and I wondered how I would ever find my way again.

There were moments when I couldn’t see a path forward. I’ve been misunderstood, hurt, pushed aside, and told to step down. I have questioned my own strength more times than I can count.

But in that grief, I found something I never expected: transformation.

The pain, the uncertainty, the moments of feeling completely alone—they shaped me. They forced me to grow, to adapt, to step into a role I never could have envisioned for myself. I never imagined that, at 45, I would switch careers to special education, earn my PhD in just three years while raising four boys and working full-time, or be seen as an expert on issues that once terrified me. I never dreamed I would help so many families, co-found nonprofit organizations, or become a leader in the deafblind community.

I never could have predicted the friendships, the love, and the joy that would come from this journey.

I have learned to feel deeper than I ever thought possible. I have had to sit with my grief, honor it, and still move forward. I have had to be flexible, steadfast, and strong. I have learned to love harder than I ever imagined.

Would I trade this journey? Never. Do I wish my children weren’t losing their eyesight? Of course. I still wish it were me instead of them. I wish there was a cure. But my life is richer, fuller, and more beautiful than I ever could have dreamed.

If you are in a place where the path ahead feels uncertain, if you’re wondering whether you have the strength to get through—trust me, you do. Even when you feel lost, even when grief makes it impossible to see the way forward, you will find your way. You will grow in ways you never imagined. Life will test you, but you will emerge stronger.

And on the other side of the struggle, you will find something beautiful.

Thank you to everyone who has been on this journey with me.