When Chloe was two, I knew something was different. She didn’t respond when I called her name. She’d line up her toys in perfect rows, staring at them like they made more sense than the rest of the world. Her eyes had this dazed, distant look sometimes — like she was in a place I couldn’t reach, no matter how hard I tried.

The pediatrician mentioned “red flags for ASD,” but he forgot to fill out part of the form. By the time I realized, he had gone on vacation to Hawaii. And just like that, our journey got delayed — for years.

It didn’t help that in Korean culture, autism carries a huge stigma. My in-laws and even my husband would say, “She’s fine. She’s perfect. Don’t worry so much.”
But a mother knows. Deep down, I knew.

I watched as she grew — her quirks became more defined, her struggles more visible. Still, no one would listen. We couldn’t afford a private assessment, so I waited for the school system to help. Years passed. It felt like time was slipping away from her, and from me.

Finally, at age nine, we got the official diagnosis: Autism Spectrum Disorder and a language disorder.
It was both heartbreaking and a relief. Heartbreaking because I wished I could have helped her sooner — relieved because now we had answers, and we could finally move forward.

One of the hardest parts has been figuring out how she learns. I discovered she thrives in one-on-one settings — her attention blooms when she feels seen and safe. Unfortunately, schools aren’t built for that. She gets lost in the crowd, quiet and unnoticed.

Her speech is another struggle. She still can’t pronounce her R’s and W’s properly. At age nine, she’s working with an SLP, but progress is slow. Sometimes I catch myself comparing her to other kids, then I stop — because Chloe is on her own timeline, and that’s okay.

What breaks me one moment fills me with pride the next.
Her little sister — my younger one — copies everything Chloe does. Even her tics. At first, it hurt to see, but now I realize it’s her way of saying, “I love you. I see you. You’re my sister.”

The two of them are inseparable now. They laugh, play, and fight like any other sisters. But their bond is special — it’s pure, without judgment. Chloe teaches all of us to see the world differently.

Raising a child with autism isn’t easy. It’s confusing, isolating, and sometimes overwhelming. But it’s also eye-opening. It’s made me more patient, more understanding, and more in awe of her resilience.

Chloe is my beautiful, complicated girl — and every day, I thank God for choosing me to be her mom. Even when I feel lost, she shows me the way.