–
By Brigitte Shipman
I began advocating for my son Joseph the day he was born, knowing he had a lifelong developmental disability. But once she was diagnosed on the autism spectrum, advocacy stopped being an occasional part of motherhood and became a permanent way of life. From that perspective, it didn’t matter whether I was sitting across from a doctor, a therapist, a school administrator, or a family member — the process was the same. State my son’s case, push for what he needs, and if the answer is no, go back to the drawing board and find another way.
I don’t take no for an answer. And over thirty years, I’ve learned that the single most important tool in a mom’s advocacy kit isn’t anger, volume, or legal threats. It’s generosity.
That may sound soft. It doesn’t. Kindness is the trick.
When Joseph entered public education, the first battle proved he could live in a mainstream classroom. Administrators recommended half-day instruction in a self-contained special education room. One advised him to take medicine. I nodded, listened, and went to work looking for a classroom teacher that I knew would welcome my son with open arms—our first “earth angel.” Through constant problem-solving, a little luck, and lots of love, we made inclusion happen.
Then came third grade and the gifted and talented program. Joseph’s teacher nominated him. He passed each marker with flying colors. But an administrator blocked him because he also had an individualized educational plan. The man’s assumption was simple and wrong: A special education student can’t be gifted either.
I showed him Joseph’s nonverbal IQ scores, which were in the genius range. He looked at me, took the folder from my hand and didn’t utter a word. Undaunted, I went out with determination.
What I didn’t do was explode. I could lead to anger. Instead, my husband and I became parent coaches for the Odyssey of the Mind creativity contest — the first year it was offered to third graders. Joseph participated in every gifted and talented activity alongside his peers, even without official enrollment. That same administrator came to our contest. He was startled, but said nothing.
Years later, when I became a school administrator myself, he approached me at a conference and apologized. He finally realized that students on the spectrum didn’t have to live with artificial limitations.
I share that story because it captures the long game of advocacy. I didn’t win by shouting. I showed that, by being five steps ahead with solutions, and refusing to let anyone else determine what my son was capable of. I looked each opponent in the eye and thanked them for their time—even when my thoughts weren’t kind—because I knew that changing attitudes is a marathon, not a sprint. A meeting cannot move the needle. But persistent, prepared, respectful advocacy reshapes the landscape over time.
I’ve since coached hundreds of moms on their autism spectrum journey, and I’ve seen each of them become world-class problem solvers. When they hit a wall blocking their child’s future, they find a way around it—and then they bring other families along for the ride. These women rarely get the credit they deserve.
If you’re a mom at the beginning of this journey and the thought of one more meeting makes you want to scream, here are four tips I learned the hard way. they work
Create your wolf pack. Being your child’s champion can feel lonely. You don’t have to do it alone. Find a local support group for parents of children on the spectrum and become an active member. If one doesn’t exist, start one – even a small online group counts Once you take the first step, other parents will follow. Your outlet for your wolf pack anger, your source of ideas and you don’t lose your mind after a bad meeting. We all need a team behind us.
Prepare before walking into the room. Whenever I walked into a meeting or conference, I had resources at hand — research, IQ scores, articles, anything that supported my son’s case. You are your child’s expert. Don’t assume that people across the table know what your child needs or what autism looks like in your family. Write down your outcome goals before you go. Practice what you want to say. Get feedback from your wolf pack. When you walk prepared, you walk with confidence—and that confidence is more persuasive than any amount of frustration.
Communicate with openness and kindness. Words are powerful, and how you use them shapes the results. Be clear about what you need, choose language that doesn’t offend those who open the door, and resist the urge to react in the heat of the moment. If a conversation gets sidetracked, pause. Go back to the drawing board and try again with better language and a cooler head. I always leave meetings with a heartfelt thank you, no matter how they go. That single gesture left the door open that anger would have closed forever.
Advocate for yourself. This was the hardest lesson of all, and the one I resisted the longest. My 32-year-old self would have laughed at the idea of putting myself first. But I now know it’s the golden ticket. You can’t sustain years of relentless advocacy if you’re running on empty. Before you prepare for your next IEP meeting, ask yourself: What is one small act of kindness I can give myself today? A mother who fills her own tank appears sharp, calm and strong to her child at first.
Advocacy is a journey, not a single battle. Some days you will feel like a superhero. Other days you’ll feel like you’re pushing a boulder uphill. Just remember: the goal is not to be the loudest voice in the room. It must be the most ready, the most persistent and the kindest. That’s what changes minds – and that’s what changes your child’s life.
Brigitte M. Full Mourning Shipman An author, life coach, speaker and teacher. She specializes in coaching mothers with children diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). His current book A mother’s guide through autism, via The Eyes of the Guided.i am Learn more at mothersguidethroughautism.com.
–
