Katie R. Hurst

I sincerely hope that you will lend me your ear for the next five minutes. With all my heart, I believe you need to hear this message. Number one, I am sorry. I am sorry to all of my friends that have faced discrimination over the years and I, because of my privilege, was silent. I am sorry for the things I have said, done and probably still do. I am doing my best to listen now, to soak up and study all the things and phrases that are hurting you and to rid myself of them. I was wrong, and I genuinely apologize.  Would you like to know why I am finally speaking out? Because abuse happens everyday in my community of exceptional children. Every single day I am reaching out support to a friend who had a child secluded, abused, bullied to an extent that leaves physical scars. This is happening at schools. Everywhere. What can my own story possibly do? I don't know, but I know that truth is a strong weapon. I know that voices that speak out change worlds. Many people don&#

There are moments in every single day that I want to quit. I want to throw in the towel. I want to quit being the mom who is shouting, "Yes, she can!"  It's tiring. No, it's exhaustion that sinks all the way to the bone. It's laying my head on my pillow at night with one thousand thoughts scattering through my head. It's waking up, pushing power on my computer and starting to search for evidence again. It's meeting after meeting after meeting. It's laying my head on my pillow at night and praying for someone else to stand tall and take up this fight for one round so that I can rest. But I have a few things that keep me going. Every night when I do lay my head on my pillow, a memory reel starts in my mind. Every time that I question if I have lost my own mind, I see Ellie standing for the first time. I hear her counting to ten. I see Everlyse taking her first steps. I see all the times they have blown through every single low expectation the w

Tomorrow I take my daughter in for the beginning of mental health assessments. We suspect autism with more complexity to it. It is one more diagnosis behind her name. One more thing to add to an IEP, to discuss. You know what? I am irrationally angry. I am.  And I think too often we hide this part from the world. We show you the end result once we feel better. Once we can present a better picture, then we tell the story. Today, I'm telling you the story from this place of numbness and anger.  It is okay to be angry. Moms, Dads, siblings....this is okay.  I am angry. I hate that the world will hear these terms and feel even more of a distance between her and them. I hate that the world is so dang discriminatory. I hate that mental illness feels like the bottom of the swamp.  I am angry that I have these biased thoughts in my heart. I thought I was better than that. I hate this numbness that accompanies this anger.  And most of all I hate th

Where can I possibly begin to explain to you what this year has been? The last post on my blog was many, many months ago. I share my personal stories on my blog and somehow they resonate with people. But I entered a year where I wasn't sure what could be shared, what couldn't, who would be hurt, what legal action could come against me, or what was even true. It hasn't been just one area of life, it has been all areas of life. We moved to a new town. Kids entered new schools. We attended a new church. It was an intense year politically. (perhaps the understatement of the century) My mind and heart have been spinning, trying to find where to land.  I learned first hand about discrimination. I watched as churches denied my children access to VBS because they were blind. I watched workers take the canes away from my daughters because it wasn't safe for the other kids. I lifted a limp, severely overheated daughter into my arms and removed her from a school building

When I wrote my post on Loving a Child Who Cannot Speak  I had just exited a really, truly traumatizing week of placing our daughter in a local Kindergarten class and when I need to vent and process I write. So, I wrote.  And maybe it was because the new tv show Speechless  landed on the same week. I don't know. But the post blew up. Ya'll I'm just a regular, every day person, introverted and content in my little life. So when I checked my post stats, which I rarely even do,  I ran down to my husband and said "I'm bad at math. Is this really saying over 400,000 views? Maybe Blogger messed up its stats." And then I went... "Wait. People read my story? People outside of my little adoption community? Crap. Now everyone knows my struggles. Did someone comment 'Blimey'? They're not from the U.S! What have I done???" It's all good. I ended up laughing and answering over one hundred comments and emails and feeling a w

I have a daughter and she is nonverbal. It is one of the most difficult portions of my life. When the tears fall it becomes a guessing game. When we miss the mark of the needs the tears become screams. The frustration that mounts for everyone is intense. That screaming can last for what feels like an eternity. What ends it? Her resignation. She has no choice but to quit. Nobody is answering her need. Because we don't even know what it is. Imagine all of your needs every single day and now imagine that you can never, not even once, tell one single person what you need. What a horrifying thing. Those dreams where you are being chased and you are scared and you try to scream for help but nothing comes out of your throat? That is her world. And we, as her parents, watch on in sheer pain and frustration. Just sign it!!! Just try to say something. Anything. And she does. Every single day this brave soul yells out, makes sounds, tries. Not a single day goes by when she doesn't try