Category: Our Journey

We Prayed for This Season

by Julianna, posted in Our Journey

I’ve found myself pausing more.

Something is happening right in front of our eyes.

The things we have been praying for.

The things we have been crying out to God for.

The things we have been waiting on for so long.

They’re happening.

And I don’t want to rush past this season without acknowledging it.

From the Hard Season to the Harvest

There was a time when everything felt heavy.

When progress felt slow.

When days felt long.

When it felt like we were pouring out everything we had—emotionally, mentally, spiritually—and wondering when we would see breakthrough.

But in that season, something else was happening too.

We were growing closer to God.

In the uncertainty.

In the exhaustion.

In the moments where we didn’t have answers.

We learned how to lean on Him in a way we never had before.

And now?

It feels like we are stepping into a season where we are reaping the harvest of everything we walked through.

A Year of Waiting, and So Much Grace

Recently, August had to undergo a dental procedure at Children’s Hospital.

He was placed under general anesthesia, and if I’m being honest, I had been carrying the weight of that for a long time.

We waited an entire year on a waitlist just to get an OR date.

A whole year of praying.

Preparing.

Wondering how he would handle it.

And when the day finally came…

He did so, so well.

The procedure was completed successfully, and his recovery has been nothing short of amazing.

No meltdowns.

No major dysregulation.

Just peace.

It felt like God met us there in such a tangible way.

Prayers Being Answered in Real Time

We’ve been witnessing something that’s hard to fully explain unless you’ve lived it.

We are seeing prayers answered in real time.

August has started using new phrases like:

“I did it.”

And it’s not just that he’s talking.

It’s that he’s using his words with intention—at the right time, in the right way.

We’ve prayed for this.

We’ve hoped for this.

And now we’re watching it happen.

New Growth We’ve Never Seen Before

Another milestone that has felt incredibly special…

August has started forming attachments to toys—and even more than that, he’s engaging in pretend play.

This is something we had never really seen before.

And now?

We’re watching him imagine, engage, and interact in ways that are completely new.

It’s one of those moments where you just stop and think,

This is what we’ve been praying for.

The Kind of Wins That Change Everything

And then today…

August let us brush his teeth with zero tears.

No meltdown.

No struggle.

No stress.

And even more than that—he transitioned right back to playing afterward like it was nothing.

If you know, you know.

This isn’t small.

This is something that used to feel impossible.

It Was Worth It

And I don’t say that lightly.

The hard days.

The meltdowns.

The waiting.

The prayers that felt unanswered for so long.

All of it.

It was worth it to stand here now and watch this kind of growth unfold.

Not because everything is perfect.

But because we can see God’s hand in it.

So clearly.

God Was Working the Whole Time

This season has reminded me of something I don’t want to forget:

God wasn’t absent in the hard season.

He was preparing us.

Strengthening us.

Growing us.

Drawing us closer to Him.

And now, we’re seeing the fruit of that.

Not all at once.

Not in a flashy way.

But in steady, meaningful, undeniable growth.

Holding Gratitude and Awe

We’re still learning.

Still growing.

Still walking this journey day by day.

But right now, I just feel a deep sense of gratitude.

And honestly… awe.

Because watching your prayers unfold in front of you?

That changes you. That changes everything.

If You’re Still Waiting

If you’re in a season where you’re still praying…m

Still waiting…

Still hoping for breakthrough…

I just want to gently remind you:

God is still working.

Even when you don’t see it yet.

Even when it feels slow.

Even when it feels hard.

Because I was there too.

And now I’m watching things unfold that I once only prayed for.

This Haircut Was a BIG Deal

by Julianna, posted in Our Journey

This week, we had a win.

And I mean a big win.

August let me cut his hair.

And if you know August, you already know this is kind of a big deal… because the boy has a ton of thick, wild hair. 😂 It’s basically his signature.

But haircuts in our house have never been simple.

In fact, we used to dread them.

We knew going into it that it would take what felt like an entire NFL defensive line just to hold him still long enough to get through it.

And even then, it was awful.

Snot.

Tears.

Hair everywhere.

And the hardest part wasn’t even the haircut itself.

It was what came after.

Haircuts would trigger huge meltdowns that could last for hours.

We learned very quickly to clear the calendar on haircut day, because we knew the rest of the day would be spent helping August regulate and recover.

This isn’t something most parents of neurotypical kids even have to think about.

But for sensory-sensitive children, something as simple as a haircut can be painfully overstimulating.

The sound of clippers.

Hair falling on the skin.

Someone touching your head and ears.

For August, all of that can feel like too much.

But this week, something different happened.

He sat in the chair while I cut his hair for about 15 minutes.

No tears.

No big meltdown.

Just a little fuss when I got close to his ears — which, honestly, is completely understandable. Even many adults don’t love that part.

And for us, that felt like a huge victory.

The Wins That People Don’t Always See

One thing parenting a child with autism has taught me is that progress often looks different than people expect.

Sometimes progress isn’t measured in big milestones.

Sometimes it looks like:

A haircut without tears.

Brushing teeth for a few extra seconds.

Trying something new without panic.

These are the moments that quietly tell you something is changing.

Growth is happening.

Confidence is building.

And even though they may seem small from the outside, they mean everything to us.

Learning to Celebrate the Small Things

When August was first diagnosed, I didn’t fully understand how important these little victories would become.

Now I do.

Because every time he tolerates something that once felt impossible, it’s a reminder of how far he has come.

It’s a reminder that progress isn’t always loud or dramatic.

Sometimes it’s quiet.

Sometimes it’s a 15-minute haircut.

And sometimes that’s more than enough to celebrate.

Progress Over Perfection

Parenting August has changed the way I look at growth.

I’ve learned to celebrate effort.

To notice the small steps forward.

To appreciate the moments when something that used to feel overwhelming suddenly becomes manageable.

And this week, a haircut felt like a really big step.

So yes — we’re celebrating it.

Because progress deserves to be noticed.

Even the quiet kind.

This Is Our Testimony in Motion

by Julianna, posted in Our Journey

I want to share something clearly — and from a place of deep peace.

As a family, we believe that God has already healed August.

Not “maybe someday.”

Not “if everything lines up perfectly.”

Not “if therapy works hard enough.”

We believe it is done.

And right now, we are walking patiently and faithfully as we wait for that healing to manifest physically.

That doesn’t mean the journey isn’t real.

We still sit in evaluations.

We still attend therapy.

We still navigate meltdowns.

We still have hard days.

We feel them.

But we walk through them anchored in something steady.

August’s diagnosis did not surprise God.

Autism is not stronger than the name of Jesus.

And this story is not over.

There are days when our faith feels bold and immovable.

There are days when it feels quiet and whispered.

Both count.

We are not pretending the road is easy.

We are choosing to trust the One who walks it with us.

We believe August will be fully restored to health.

We believe God is going to use him in a mighty, powerful way.

We believe his life will point people to the Lord.

We know not everyone will understand this kind of faith, and that’s okay — this is simply where the Lord has anchored our hearts.

And while we wait, we praise.

We praise God for:

• The progress we’ve already seen

• The growth that is happening

• The strength in our marriage

• The compassion growing in our family

• The faith that has deepened in the waiting

This blog is not just about autism parenting.

It is a record of what God is doing — in August, and in us.

Every therapy session.

Every breakthrough.

Every hard moment.

Every answered prayer.

This is our testimony unfolding in real time.

We don’t know the timeline.

We don’t know the method.

But we know the Healer.

And until the fullness of that healing is visible, we will keep showing up.

We will keep advocating.

We will keep praying.

We will keep praising.

To God be the glory — in the waiting, and in the restoration.

The Day We Got The Diagnosis

by Julianna, posted in Our Journey

April 22, 2024.

August was three.

But honestly, that day didn’t start in April. It started when he was about a year old and I began noticing he was behind. He started Early Intervention at 16 months, and from then on therapy appointments just became part of our weekly routine. Like preschool… but with more assessments and fewer goldfish.

We waited almost a year for a full evaluation.

A whole year of wondering.

A whole year of “maybe.”

A whole year of trying not to Google things at 11 p.m. and absolutely Googling them anyway.

By the time we finally had the three long days of testing — several hours at a time — Dakota and I were emotionally exhausted. We were there for every session, nodding like we fully understood everything, while internally spiraling.

We had suspected autism for a while. But suspicion still leaves room for denial. A diagnosis does not.

When the report came, I didn’t want to read it.

Reading it made it official.

Autism Spectrum Disorder.

Level 3.

Very substantial support.

Intellectual impairment.

Severe language delay.

Those words felt…clinical.

I didn’t even really know what “Level 3” meant. I just knew it didn’t sound like “oh, you’ll barely notice.”

Seeing phrases like “severe” and “very substantial support” attached to my three-year-old felt unreal. On paper, it looked terrifying. In real life, he was still the same little boy who lined up his toys and laughed at the exact same part of his favorite show every time like it was brand new.

I’ll be honest — I was having a full menty b.

Not because I didn’t love him.

But because I didn’t know what this meant.

I didn’t know anyone walking this road.

I didn’t know what the future would look like.

Ignorance had been easier. Before the report, I didn’t know how severe it was. Now I did. And that knowledge felt heavy.

The drive home was quiet. There were tears. Dakota was steady beside me — which is impressive considering I was in the passenger seat fighting for emotional stability. He carried us that day.

Reading the full evaluation later was its own experience. Seeing my baby “scored” in black and white hit differently. Clinical language has absolutely no bedside manner.

My faith felt shaken. I had questions I didn’t know how to ask and prayers I didn’t know how to pray.

But here’s what I know now:

It didn’t change his laugh.

The diagnosis didn’t change August.

It didn’t change the way he reaches for me.

It didn’t change the way God sees him.

It gave us language.

It gave us direction.

It gave us a starting point.

April 22 was heavy.

But it wasn’t the end.

It was the beginning of learning how to advocate fiercely, love intentionally, and trust God when the plan looks nothing like the Pinterest board I had in my head.

If you’re in that waiting season — or sitting in a quiet car after an appointment pretending you’re fine while absolutely not fine —

I see you.

April 22 changed our story.

But it didn’t break it.

August, always.

Welcome to August, Always

by Julianna, posted in Our Journey

I’ve thought about starting this blog for a long time and truthfully fear has held me back.

I do not have all the answers.

I definitely do not feel qualified.

But our story matters — and maybe it can help someone else feel less alone.

My name is Julianna. I’m a wife to Dakota and a mama to two beautiful boys — August and Sawyer. Our life is full, loud, silly, stressful, and anchored in faith.

August was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder, and while that diagnosis shifted our world, it didn’t define it.

It deepened it.

This space, August, Always, is where I’ll share our journey as a family navigating autism — the therapy wins, the hard days, the impact on marriage and sibling relationships, and the quiet, holy moments in between.

You’ll find honesty here.

You’ll find faith here.

You’ll find celebration of small victories.

I am not an expert.

I am not a therapist.

I’m simply a mother learning to trust God in the unknown and love my children fiercely through it all.

If you’re here because your child was just diagnosed…

If you’re in the middle of questions and uncertainty…

If you’re learning that motherhood looks different than you imagined…

You are not alone.

Thank you for being here.

This is our story.

August, always.

August and Sawyer