Don't call me poor thing

By Tamara García Cué

I am not poor, nor am I a superwoman, much less one of the best warriors of the one above. That's the way it happened to me, and I had no other choice... as they say, "when being strong is your only option".

I was 21 years old when my sister died; it hurt me a lot. I cried a lot and I asked her for 2 things: never come to me, I would be very afraid to see you. Please don't let me have a child with a disability like you. She only fulfilled one of my two wishes; she never appeared to me.

When Regina was born, I was the happiest woman in the world, like any mother, but when I turned on the blender and Regina started crying non-stop at just a couple of months old, I knew something wasn't right. I turned to the sky and said, "Is it serious?" And that's when my strength began, why? Well, because being strong was my only option. And so began the pilgrimage from doctor to doctor, specialist to specialist, until we came up with the diagnosis: autism spectrum disorder, anxiety disorder and epilepsy.... Aha, I turned to the sky again: "Neta?"