The other day Conrad told his grandmother “bye.”

It was quiet — so quiet you might miss it if you weren’t listening carefully. But I heard it. And if you know him, you know exactly what it meant.

Moments like that are huge. They’re the kind of progress that doesn’t always show up in big dramatic ways. Sometimes it’s just a soft little “bye” at the door.

The next day, I went to his six-month review for ABA therapy. We talked about goals, progress, and the skills he’s been working on.

And he has made progress. So much progress.

But what most people don’t see is what happens behind the scenes.

Every year we have to submit documentation to insurance to prove that he still qualifies for therapy. That he still needs it. That the hours he receives are justified.

This year the insurance representative even warned the therapy team that next year they might require his hours to be reduced.

Not because he doesn’t need it.

Not because it isn’t working.

But because they think he may have “too many hours with not enough progress.”

Imagine being told that the support helping your child learn to communicate, interact, and grow might be taken away because someone reviewing paperwork thinks it’s too much.

ABA therapy sometimes gets a bad reputation online, and I understand that different families have different experiences.

But for our family, ABA has been life-changing.

It’s helped Conrad learn skills that many people take for granted — communication, routines, and ways to engage with the world around him.

And it’s helped us learn how to support him better too.

What people don’t often see is that parents of autistic children are constantly advocating.

We’re filling out forms.
Attending reviews.
Explaining our child’s needs over and over again.
Fighting for services that should never have been up for debate in the first place.

Children shouldn’t have to prove they deserve support.

Parents shouldn’t have to fight this hard for therapies that help their kids learn and grow.

These supports should simply exist — the same way educational rights exist for every other child.

Because behind every report and review meeting is a child making real progress.

Sometimes that progress sounds like a quiet little “bye” at the door.

And to a parent, that means everything.