In 2019, I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. He was my rainbow baby¬- a baby born after a loss or miscarriage. Lucas was born with a genetic cancer and a heart defect, which we knew from the start. I had worked with autistic children as a therapist, so I had an idea of “typical” autistic traits, and I recognized some similarities as he grew up. He went in for an evaluation and was immediately diagnosed with autism shortly before his third birthday. That was the day my husband and I wondered how we could adequately support him, and what changes this would bring into our lives. A fear of the unknown settled in. Becoming a mother was a tremendous change in itself, but raising a special needs child required additional adjustments in multiple aspects of my life. I chose to stay home instead of returning to work after my maternity leave, and I dedicated all my time to my son’s many therapies and appointments, never being late or missing a single session. After his diagnosis, my husband and I transformed our house into a safe and comfortable environment for him by installing swings, adding sensory areas, and adding light dimmers throughout our home. We learned what noises could potentially hurt him, what textures he liked or disliked, and what type of activities he needed to regulate his mind and body. However, those were the easy changes; the hard changes involved much self-introspection and work to become the mother he deserved. Although I initially feared being unable to adequately support my son’s needs, he taught me there was nothing to fear. His appreciation for the little things keeps me grounded in what truly matters: being happy. Lucas motivated me to look into my own life and wonder whether I was being true to my own self or conforming to what was expected of me. Because of him, I will be attending law school this fall with aspirations of becoming a disability attorney and offering free legal counsel to families. I am fluent in Spanish, and much of my work as a therapist involved helping Spanish-speaking families from around my state. A recurring theme I frequently encountered was that community resources were often inaccessible to them, and that they often had no idea of the support available to help their special needs children. The shame I felt attending therapies knowing other families were in need was too much to bear. I started a nonprofit called Familias Increibles de Idaho with the purpose of helping Spanish-speaking families get the resources they need to better support their children and advocate for themselves. Once I become a lawyer, I plan to hold know-your-rights seminars and offer Q & A sessions for families throughout Idaho. We identified that many caregivers struggled with their mental health and were experiencing anxiety or depression, frequently due to burnout. My sister, a clinical counselor, joined my nonprofit and provides pro bono mental health counseling to caregivers in need. We also plan to offer families free services such as housekeeping, lawn care, cooking, transportation, spa days, and massages. Together, we plan on paving the way for equity in care and justice for the Hispanic community in Idaho. Another organization quite like ours does not currently exist here, but we hope to inspire others to join our cause.