Dona The Explorers

A Mother’s Archive 🌸

Ate Zee has been there from the very beginning.

She was with me on the day Kuya Zack was diagnosed—holding my hand even though she was still too young to fully understand what was happening. But from that moment on, something in her changed.

She was just a little girl, yet she began loving in a way that felt so much bigger than her age. She became more protective, more understanding, and more aware of the needs of her brothers. In so many ways, she quietly stepped into a role that no child should ever feel pressured to carry—but she did it out of pure love.

Watching her break down during this practice interview shattered me.

Because in that moment, I realized how much she had been carrying all these years. The fear, the responsibility, the worry, and the love she held so deeply for Kuya Zack and Baby Zick.

She did not just become their Ate. She became their protector, their best friend, and their safe place.

And while I am so proud of the love she gives so naturally, I also want my daughter to always remember this:

You do not have to burden yourself with their care.
You do not have to carry everything on your shoulders.
You are allowed to enjoy your life, to laugh, to dream, and to simply be a child.

Love your brothers, be there for them, and continue being the beautiful Ate that you are—but never forget that your life matters too. Your happiness matters too. You are not meant to lose yourself in the process of loving others.

Mommy sees your heart.
Mommy sees your sacrifices.
Mommy sees the love you give so freely.

And I hope you always know how deeply loved and appreciated you are—not just for what you do for your brothers, but for who you are.

You are the perfect Ate for Kuya Zack and Baby Zick.
My beautiful daughter.
And one of the greatest blessings this Mommy will ever have. 🤍🥹

Baby Zick — 6 Years Old 💗
Autism Level 3 with ADHD
Limited Verbal

From: Verbal before diagnosis → regression → complete nonverbal → now slowly becoming limited verbal

This is what progress can look like when it happens one tiny step at a time.

With Zick, our journey was very different from Kuya Zack’s.

When he was around 12–18 months old, he was already saying words, identifying colors, memorizing things, and meeting so many of his developmental milestones.

Then slowly, we started noticing the regression.

Words disappeared. Skills that he once knew became harder. And by around 2 years old, he became nonverbal.

Because we were already going through therapy with Kuya Zack, we had an inkling that Zick might also be autistic—but nothing really prepares you for watching your child lose skills you had already celebrated.

And now, years later, we are rebuilding.

We constantly practice his communication, understanding, identifying, requesting, answering, imitating sounds and words, and expressing what he needs.

Sometimes it is one word.

Sometimes it is just an attempt.

Sometimes we have to repeat the same activity over and over again before we see even the smallest response.

But every attempt matters.

Because this, too, was never an overnight miracle.

There was no single session that suddenly brought his words back.

It has been therapy, repetition, patience, consistency, practice at home, and so many people working together toward the same goal.

And we are still very much in the middle of his journey.

To every therapist, therapy center, teacher, and professional who has been part of Baby Zick’s progress, thank you for every session, every goal, every encouragement, and every time you saw potential even when progress was difficult to see.

And most especially, thank you to our teams at SpeakPathPH and TheraPathPH for continuously helping us work on the skills that Zick needs—not only inside the therapy room, but skills we can carry over every single day at home. 🌱

We still have a long way to go.

We are still waiting for more spontaneous words.

More answers.

More requests.

More conversations.

But when I remember the little boy who once had words, lost them, became completely nonverbal, and is now slowly finding ways to communicate again…

I know every little step deserves to be celebrated. 🥹💗

To parents who are still waiting for that first word—or waiting for a word that disappeared to come back—please remember that progress does not always happen in a straight line.

Sometimes we learn.

Sometimes we regress.

Sometimes we relearn.

And sometimes the smallest sound can feel like the biggest victory in the world.

From verbal… to nonverbal… to limited verbal.

One sound.
One word.
One skill.
One step at a time, Baby Zick. 💗♾️

We will keep practicing with you for as long as it takes.

Kuya Zack — 8 Years Old 💙
Autism Level 1 with ADHD
Language Delay

From: Autism Level 3 with ADHD & GDD
Complete nonverbal with very limited sound production

This is what years of consistent work can look like.

Today, we are constantly practicing Zack’s communication skills, answering questions, expressing his thoughts, and especially back-and-forth conversations. Sometimes we repeat the same question several times. Sometimes we need to guide him on how to respond, how to ask something back, or how to keep a conversation going.

And that’s okay.

Because this was never an overnight miracle.

There was no single therapy session that suddenly made him talk. No one moment where everything changed.

It was years of therapy. Years of repetition. Years of practicing at home. Years of celebrating sounds, then words, then phrases, then sentences—and now working toward meaningful, spontaneous conversations.

There were days when progress felt so slow that it was difficult to see.

But when I look back at the little boy who was once completely nonverbal and producing very few sounds, and then I look at the 8-year-old in front of me now trying to have a conversation with us…

I realize just how far he has come. 🥹💙

And we know there is still so much more to work on.

Communication is more than being able to speak. We continue helping Zack learn how to initiate, listen, respond appropriately, stay on topic, ask questions, understand emotions, and have a real back-and-forth exchange with another person.

One conversation at a time.

To every therapy center, every therapist, teacher, and professional who became part of Zack’s journey, thank you for every session, every goal, every correction, every encouragement, and every time you believed he was capable of more.

And most especially, to our teams at SpeakPathPH and TheraPathPH—thank you for continuing to be part of Kuya Zack’s journey and for helping us build on the skills we have worked so many years for. 💗

We know firsthand that progress can take months and years, and that every child’s timeline is different.

So to parents who are still waiting for that first word, the first response, the first sentence, or that first real conversation:

Keep showing up.
Keep practicing.
Keep partnering with your child’s therapists and teachers.
And most importantly, keep carrying those skills into HOME, where our children spend most of their lives.

We are still practicing too.

Because this journey isn’t finished.

From silence… to sounds… to words… to sentences… and now, to conversations. 💙

One step at a time, Kuya Zack. We are so proud of how far you’ve come. ♾️🌱

This Is Autism Too. 🤍

When people hear the word autism, they may picture the hard days—the meltdowns, the sensory struggles, the communication challenges, the therapies, and all the things our children have to work so much harder to learn.

But you don’t see any of that in this photo.

You just see Khazzie, Zack, and Zick at home. Zack hanging out beside his Ate, Zick happily playing with his toys on the floor, and three siblings simply sharing the same space in their own ways.

And maybe that’s something worth sharing too.

Autism is part of our family’s story, but it isn’t every moment of our story.

There are difficult days, absolutely. There are milestones we wait years for and things other families may never have to think twice about. But there are also ordinary nights like this—quiet, comfortable, and beautifully uneventful.

No milestone to celebrate.
No therapy progress to document.
No struggle to explain.

Just Khazzie, Zack, and Zick being kids. 🤍

And as their mom, sometimes these are the moments I treasure the most.

Because behind all the labels, appointments, goals, and progress charts are simply my three children growing up together.

This is autism too—not because you can see it in the picture, but because autism doesn’t have to be visible in every moment to be part of our lives. ♾️🤍

There are moments that quietly challenge everything people think they know about autism.

I didn’t tell Kuya Zack I was sick. I simply greeted him with a “Hi.”

He looked at me, paused, and asked,
“Mama, are you okay?”
“What happened?”

For many people, autism is misunderstood as a lack of empathy or concern for others. But empathy isn’t measured by eye contact, words, or how closely someone matches neurotypical expectations.

Our children feel.
They notice.
They love.

Sometimes, they express it in ways the world doesn’t expect.

To every autism parent: don’t let outdated stereotypes define your child. They continue to surprise us every single day. 🤍

“It’s just a note.”

But to an autism parent, it feels like someone finally saw your child the way you always hoped the world would.

I cried reading this.

Not because it talked about the struggles—we live those every single day. I cried because someone took the time to understand Zachary beyond the behaviors.

Someone noticed that words like “hurry” or “faster” can overwhelm him. Someone saw that behind every meltdown is a child trying his best. Someone reminded him that making mistakes doesn’t make him a bad person.

When I read that Zach told himself, “Zach is trash… Zach is bad…” my heart broke.

But then I kept reading.

“Zach, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Let’s just do it right this time, okay? I am here.”

And his response…

“Okay, Izyr.”

That one line meant everything.

As parents of children with autism, we spend years hoping our children will meet people who won’t just teach them—but who will choose to understand them, protect their hearts, and believe in them.

We have already been blessed with compassionate therapists who have loved, guided, understood, and believed in our children. They became part of our village—our angels here on earth.

And today, we realized that another angel has been added to that list.

Teacher Izyr, welcome to the growing list of compassionate people who truly see and understand our child. 🩵

Thank you for seeing Zachary before seeing his diagnosis. Thank you for choosing patience over pressure, reassurance over criticism, and understanding over frustration. Thank you for making him feel safe enough to keep trying.

You may have written this as a simple evaluation, but to us, it’s something we’ll treasure for years.

Thank you for loving our little boy when he needed it most.

From the bottom of our hearts, thank you. 🩵

To every shadow teacher, therapist, SPED teacher, and educator who chooses compassion every single day—please know that you are changing lives in ways you may never fully realize. You do not only become part of our children’s journey; you become part of our family’s story, too. 🧩💙

There are people who come into your life for a season, and then there are people God sends who become family.

Mama Yeng has been with us long before autism became part of our family’s story.

She knew Zack before his diagnosis. I still remember the day we received the news—she cried with us. Then came Zick’s diagnosis, and through every uncertainty, every therapy session, every milestone, every setback, and every victory, she never left.

She stayed.

As many of you know, My husband and I have dedicated our lives working—not just for our own children, but for thousands of families raising children with autism and other developmental needs. That mission has required countless long days, late nights, and sacrifices.

Because of that, there were many moments when Mama Yeng was the one comforting our children, holding their hands, celebrating their little wins, and simply being present. She has loved Zack, Zick, and Khazzie as if they were her own.

People often tell us, “You’re lucky to have her.”

We don’t see it as luck.

We see it as one of God’s greatest blessings.

To my fellow Ausome parents, my prayer is that you find your own Mama Yeng—someone who won’t be intimidated by the diagnosis, someone who will love your child exactly as they are, advocate for them, protect them, and make them feel safe.

One of the quiet fears every autism parent carries is this:

“Who will love my child the way I do when I’m no longer around?”

Watching Mama Yeng with our children reminds me that God sometimes answers that prayer long before we even realize we’re asking it.

Mama Yeng, thank you for choosing our family every single day. Thank you for loving Zack, Zick, and Khazzie beyond words. You are more than someone who helps us—you are our sister, our family, and one of the greatest blessings God has ever given us.

We love you, and we will always be grateful for you. 🤍🧩

A weekend trip to The Mind Museum that left us completely exhausted—but with memories we hope they will never forget. 🥹🩷

Zack was so excited to touch everything and run from one exhibit to another, while Zick was having tantrums and struggling with the environment. Mommy, Daddy, and Ate Khazzie spent the whole day taking turns chasing, calming, guiding, and making sure they were safe without disturbing the people around us.

It was far from a peaceful family day out, but it was still special.

They may not remember every exhibit, but I hope they remember that we showed up, stayed patient, and chose to experience the world with them—one exhausting adventure at a time. 🩷

One of the most beautiful perks of being a mom to two amazing kids with autism?

I get to hold them a little longer.
I get to be their safe place a little longer.
I get a few more years of cuddles, hugs, and precious “Mommy” moments. 🥺🩷

With Zack, I can say, “I love you,” and without hesitation, he says, “I love you,” right back. He longs for my attention, my hugs, and those little moments when he feels that Mama’s world is focused only on him.

Zick is limited verbal, but he also has his own beautiful ways of expressing his love. Sometimes it is through the words he can say, and sometimes it is through the way he looks for me, stays close, asks for my attention, or allows me to hold him.

They may communicate differently, but their love is always loud and clear.

The world may expect them to grow up quickly, but in our home, we celebrate every milestone in their own time. For now, I get to hug them a little longer, hold them a little tighter, and be their favorite person for a few more precious years.

And honestly? I would not trade that for anything. 🩷