This month marks the end of an era for us. Abby is stepping into her very last weeks of school, and as her mom, I’m feeling every bit of it. For years, school has been Abby’s happy place. It’s where she laughs, lights up every room, and spreads that sparkly joy of hers that people can’t help but gravitate toward. She doesn’t just attend school — she owns it. Her smile and spirit have filled hallways and classrooms, and it’s impossible not to feel the ripple effect she leaves behind.

And yet, even after all this time, people still underestimate her. We sat in an IEP meeting recently, surrounded by people who’ve worked in education for years. Even with all the papers I’ve handed out, the conversations I’ve had, and the explanations I’ve repeated, they still hadn’t really seen how Abby communicates. But then Abby sat there across from me, next to her teacher and her nurse, and she proved it herself. She answered questions on her Tobii, leaned when she wanted to say yes, and I said, “That’s her answer.” It was this rhythm — Abby giving her response, me affirming, “That’s it, that’s it, that’s it” — and finally, the lightbulb went on. They realized she had been communicating with them all along. They just weren’t listening with their eyes, which is exactly what you have to do with Rett.

Now we’re here, staring down the calendar, and the truth is… it’s hard. Hard because school has been so good to her. Hard because it’s been so good for me, too — knowing she’s in a place she loves, surrounded by people who see her for who she really is. Of course, Abby has her own way of letting me know what she thinks about all this “last day” talk. If you know her, you know she’s not shy about saying “Nope, not happening” in her own unmistakable way. And honestly? I don’t blame her. She’s right — none of us are ready for this to end.

But like always, we’ll face this together. Abby isn’t just closing one chapter; she’s moving forward into something new. The plan is for her to join a day program — a chance to keep that social spark alive, to stay connected, and to keep doing what she does best: bringing joy wherever she goes. The waiting list is long, and that part isn’t easy, but we’re holding onto hope and pushing through.

This next step is a big one, and yes, it comes with grief, but also with pride. Abby has spent her school years proving everyone wrong, showing the world that she can live, laugh, and thrive in her own way. And that’s exactly what she’s going to keep doing. I could not be prouder of her. Every single day she fights to be heard, to be seen, and to be part of this world — and she wins. She is brave, she is fierce, she is joyful, and she is mine. Abby has taught me more about resilience and love than I ever thought possible, and walking into this new season with her, my heart is bursting with pride. now if i could just quit being a complete bawlbag about it we'd be golden.

So here’s to the final month of school — not an ending, but the beginning of a new adventure. Abby’s story isn’t slowing down. If anything, it’s just getting started.

On a personal note, as her Mom there are a few people I want to mention that never gave up on my girl and continued to love and guide her through her life or just outside.

Karen Jones. We would not be here without you. Mary Ann Dunn. You are God sent. Winnike. You always saw her. Jennifer Buetel, you were there when Abby first began pre school and now you're here again to help her move forward into adulthood. Thank you.