I got married at 20. At 21, I became a mother to my beautiful Doniel.

He was born with holes in his heart, seizures, underdeveloped lungs, a compromised immune system. It took time before even the doctors understood everything that was wrong. They told me he wouldn't live to see his second birthday.

He's 21 now.

Doniel can't walk, talk, or feed himself. He needs 24-hour care.

When he was born, someone asked me, "Are you going to tell anybody you had a disabled child?" From that moment, I decided there will be no shame around this. If Hashem gave this child to me, then Hashem decided this was the best for that child and the best for me.

But deciding there's no shame doesn't mean the journey is simple.

The Early Years

Back then, there was so much less awareness about special needs. Information wasn't accessible the way it is now. It felt incredibly isolating.

I had to navigate systems that weren't designed for families like ours. I had to make decisions I never imagined making. I had to learn how to grieve and grow at the same time — how to hold both the loss and the love, the difficulty and the gratitude.

When Doniel turned 13, we couldn't have a Bar Mitzvah the way other families do. So we created our own celebration — one that honored who he is and what he means to us.

When Doniel turned 15 and became bigger than me, we had to face a reality I'd been avoiding. I couldn't physically manage his care anymore. We made the decision to place him in residential care.

Change is inevitable. Growth is if you change on purpose.

Neshama Endorphins: The joy your soul releases when you become the person you were meant to be.

Why I Do This Work

Because no one should have to do this alone. No one should have to hide what they're going through. No one should have to wonder if they're allowed to grieve while still loving their child fiercely.

Maybe you're not even sure what you need yet. That's okay. Reach out anyway.