"Accomplishment" is a big word. To most, it is an achievement and a recognition by others of one's skill and ability through one's hard work or determination. It could be in the area of finance, politics, a career or even a hobby.

To me, "accomplishment" is finally being able to accept my daughter, Victoria. Although, it has been a long journey of two years; it was a journey well travelled; one which led me to a destination where I am now most comfortable; acceptance of Victoria as she is.

Victoria is now nearly 5 years old. Two years ago, my husband and I sensed that her development was way behind her peers. We went through the usual rigmeral of going for developmental checks at clinics and hospitals and finally came face to face with the bad news. She was autistic. Our fears were confirmed.

Though there were noisy discussions of getting the appropriate treatments, frantic searches for 'cures', plans for a special school; deep down, my heart was torn, my hopes for a bright, lively and intelligent child were dashed. I had dreams of a precocious, inquisitve and talkative little girl when I was pregnant with Victoria; dreams of a child of whom I was to be the proud mother, a child of joy and hope; dreams which now..... came to nought.

Thereafter, I struggled with my emotions. I rotated between disappointment and resolving to treat and cure her. Anger and resentment would set in whenever she failed to improve or meet my expectations. I quietly compared her to her peers and became anxious when she failed to be on par with them intellectually or cognitively. I tore my hair when she couldn't even distinguish between play doh and her own poo! She would play with her poo and smear it all over. I cursed and swore whenever I had to clean up after her. I chided myself and tried to pinpoint a wrong, a mistake which perhaps I had done which caused her to be autistic. Was it something I ate, was it due to my carelessness, was it due to the vaccinations that I gave her? My mixed emotions not only tired me out but perhaps even alienated me from Victoria. Why did it happen to me, to my precious daughter?

I ranted, I raved, I cried. I was so lost in my frantic search for hope, for a solution, for anything.

Fortunately, God never leaves a lost sheep alone. He slowly beckoned me to Him. First, with my visit to a Carmelite nun, Sister Angeline. I was a Catholic, you see. She said she'd pray that Victoria be led to good people who could help her and treat her.

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