Suzy lives in Colorado with her family and their beloved fur-babies. With a passion for community impact, Suzy brings warmth, creativity and dedication to everything she does, both professionally and at home.
On the flight from Hawai‘i to Nevada, just before our son’s first birthday, I kept wondering what our new life would look like. Honolulu had become impossible. Housing prices were creeping into the seven figures for a simple home, and we needed more space to raise a child. As a middle-class family, we couldn’t keep up. We crossed an ocean and made the leap to Las Vegas, or as Hawai’i locals call it, the Ninth Island, hoping for a fresh start.
For a while, things were good. But when our son turned two, we noticed something wasn’t right. His speech wasn’t where it should be. Following simple instructions became hard. We started asking questions.
Our pediatrician brushed off our concerns but submitted a referral for private speech therapy. The waitlist was six months to a year. We asked to be added. We never got a call back.
I called Nevada Early Intervention Services, the state’s early intervention program. It is funded and required by IDEA Part C to provide free developmental screenings and early intervention services to infants and toddlers with developmental delays and disabilities. They moved quickly and scheduled an appointment with us to meet our son and learn more about him. That’s where we first heard it. Our suspicions said out loud. Our son might have Autism Spectrum Disorder.
And then came more waiting. More referrals. More unknowns. Parents in support groups told me they had waited over a year just for a diagnostic appointment. Some two. We pushed for multiple referrals so we could be on more than one waitlist. In the meantime, Nevada Early Intervention Services offered free speech therapy. But it was only once a month, for an hour. A staff shortage meant there were no occupational therapists available.
Then we got lucky. Just three months later, we got the call. An evaluation. And then, a diagnosis. And with that, access to therapy. But that took more waiting. And lots of phone calls. We finally found a center offering weekly occupational therapy. And it was there we began to see change.
We saw progress. Our son became less overwhelmed by other children playing near him. His language, once mostly animal sounds and reciting the alphabet, started turning into two- and three-word sentences. He slowly began to follow simple directions, like “give me your bowl, please.” These were quiet victories, but to us, they were monumental.
Less than a year later, we made the decision to move again. This time over mountains to Colorado. Our son was aging out of early intervention, and we wanted to give him the best shot at continued support. Within weeks of arriving, we had a Colorado Child Find appointment. Within two months, he was enrolled in Universal Pre-K, free of charge, and receiving school-based speech and occupational therapy. Now, in his second year of preschool, he loves his teachers and really loves learning. He’s made friends. He tells us stories about his day. He’s eager to go to school. His growth has been astounding, not just in speech or motor skills, but in confidence and joy.
But today, our son is thriving. His words are flowing. He’s making friends. He’s happy.
It shouldn’t be this hard. No family should have to uproot their lives, cross oceans and climb mountains to get the help their child needs.
There’s too much fighting. Too much waiting. Too much fear. And for families like ours, carrying the weight of uncertainty, advocacy and caregiving, we shouldn’t also have to carry the fear that the protections we rely on might disappear.
IDEA changed everything for us.
But IDEA doesn’t stand on its own. The Department of Education plays a vital role in making sure states follow through on their legal responsibilities.
Without that federal oversight, I worry some states will cut funding or lower standards. And if IDEA were to shift to the Department of Health and Human Services, I fear the focus on education will be lost. Millions of children could lose access to the support they deserve.
Part C of the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) ensures that families get the therapies and services their children need in the earliest, most critical years of development.
It gives families a path forward, a lifeline when everything feels uncertain. Without it, many children would miss out on support that could change the course of their lives.
I worry that when our son transitions to kindergarten next year, we’ll lose that momentum. I worry that if the Department of Education stops supporting IDEA, our son could lose access to the services that have changed his life. He could slip through the cracks. The support he receives from his early childhood educators, paraeducators, speech therapist and occupational therapist hasn’t just helped him meet milestones, it has given him the courage to try new things. It has helped him feel seen and safe enough to grow. It’s helping him find his place in the world.
Before IDEA, many children with disabilities were turned away from schools. They were told the system couldn’t accommodate them. That history isn’t ancient and we can’t afford to forget it.
IDEA changed our lives. It’s not just a policy. It’s the difference between silence and speech, between isolation and inclusion, between fear and hope.
This is personal. It’s not about statistics. It’s about our children, their futures, their voices and their chance to thrive. So I’m asking, as a mother, as an advocate and as someone who’s lived this story, protect IDEA. Expand it. Enforce it.
Our children are worth fighting for.
