Fall semester 2001 at Cal State Long Beach is where our story begins. I was balancing a full-time college load along with a couple of part-time jobs, trying to navigate the chaos of young adulthood. One Friday evening, my friend Karla—who had been visiting for a few days—called with a decision: we were going out that night. I had just ended a six-month relationship and was not in the mood to socialize. I suggested we stay in, order some food, rent a movie, and catch up. But Karla, being the amazing friend she is, saw right through me. She knew I needed to get out, and she wasn’t taking no for an answer.
We finally settled on heading to Rock Bottom, a restaurant by day, nightclub by night, at the Irvine Spectrum. We walked in, scoped the place, and headed upstairs where a few guys were playing pool. One in particular caught my eye—casually dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt, and white sneakers. Before long, we were dancing the night away, laughing and feeling the spark neither of us expected. Who knew a chance encounter that evening would turn into a twenty-year (and counting) journey together? Even more incredible, two people from opposite sides of the country, with little in common, could build such a full, beautiful life together. We were inseparable after that first date. Things moved fast. We moved in together while I finished college, married a year after graduation, and, just a month before our first anniversary, discovered we were expecting our first child.
The news of the pregnancy thrilled everyone around us—but it wasn’t exactly in my plan. As the eldest of seven siblings, a newlywed, and starting a career in Human Resources, I was a planner. I had envisioned traveling, buying a home, and advancing in my career before starting a family. Panic set in, and I immediately started a spreadsheet to figure out how we could make it all work. My husband, calm as ever, reassured me that it would all fall into place.
Pregnancy turned out to be smooth, and, thankfully, my hormones were manageable. My husband had never seen me so relaxed and happy. I craved bean and cheese burritos and Cheetos while avoiding popcorn like the plague. Work was going well, and I told my boss I’d be back after my six-week maternity leave. But on Friday, March 10, 2007, our baby had other plans.
The next day, March 11, my husband and I spent the day shopping at Target, Home Depot, and Babies-R-Us. I was unusually cranky, and we had a small argument before deciding to call it a day. That night, as we got into bed, my husband put on the pregnancy belly speaker and joked, “Son, it’s time to come out so your mom isn’t so uncomfortable!” Twenty minutes later, I realized I had a big gush of fluid—I called my mom in excitement: “I think my water just broke!” My husband, a bundle of nerves, jumped into the shower, and we were off to the hospital.
Managing contractions with a yoga ball, I immediately said yes to the epidural when asked. I was ready for delivery around 6 a.m., but my doctor was assisting another birth, so my labor was temporarily slowed. Anxiety mounted as my baby’s head rested in the birth canal for nearly three hours. Finally, the doctor arrived, and in just ten minutes, Audric was born. He was breathtakingly perfect. I was in love, and my husband said it was the closest he had ever felt to God.
Early on, Audric needed treatment for a few minor medical issues—jaundice, torticollis, and strabismus—but he was otherwise healthy. As his first birthday approached, we noticed some unusual behaviors: scooting on his back and delays in gross motor skills. Concerned, I spoke to his pediatrician, only to be dismissed as a “first-time paranoid mom.” I wrestled with guilt and frustration, wondering if I had somehow caused this—was it something I drank? Something during delivery? It was a difficult, isolating period.
We tried to attribute it to typical toddler behavior, navigating the “terrible twos and threes” while continuing life. My husband began his career in law enforcement, I thrived in HR (thanks to a supportive boss), and in 2010, we purchased our first home—a 3-bedroom, 2.5-bath townhome. With my dad’s remodeling expertise, we transformed it into a space perfectly suited for our growing family, adding a loft for play and learning.
Around Audric’s third birthday, family members raised concerns about possible autism. My sister, working as a 1:1 aide for a child with Autism, noticed similarities. This led us down the long path of seeking a diagnosis. After six months navigating an HMO, referrals, and specialist visits, a neurologist ordered a Fragile X test. This was the first time I’d heard of a condition that would profoundly shape our family’s future.
The test confirmed it: Audric had the full mutation, and I was a pre-mutation carrier. The doctor grimly informed us he might never drive, marry, or live independently. My heart broke. Anger, grief, and guilt consumed me. I plunged into early intervention, therapies, and advocacy, desperate to give Audric every chance. Though exhausting, we pressed on—balancing therapy schedules with our careers and lives, and fighting the urge to dwell on what could have been.
Eventually, we realized we needed to shift our focus. We sold our home, I left my job, and we embraced a simpler life dedicated to family, faith, and supporting the Fragile X community. We immersed ourselves in ABA therapy, volunteer work, and fundraising. The simpler life brought unexpected joy: time, connection, and purpose.
About a year later, we were ready for another challenge—IVF. At 37, with low egg count compounded by being a Fragile X carrier, we retrieved four eggs. After preimplantation genetic diagnosis, only one was healthy. Anxiety and fear delayed implantation for a year, but eventually, we tried. Initially, excitement turned to heartbreak when a miscarriage was confirmed at four weeks. We grieved, but found strength in Audric’s thriving spirit.
Today, Audric has started high school and continues to grow in ways doctors once doubted. We focus on what we can control, volunteer to support other families, and celebrate small victories. I’ve even started a skincare business, and my husband finds joy in his career and basketball. Together, we travel, attend games, enjoy pool days, and nurture our small but mighty family of three. With faith and perseverance, we live the purpose-driven life we were meant to, embracing the challenges and joys of our extraordinary journey.
