She’s Always Been Kya
When Kya was a toddler, she was exactly who she is today — gentle, curious, thoughtful, happy in her own world.
A family story told one chapter at a time — from the very beginning. Read it like a book, at your own pace.
Before words, before labels — just Kya being Kya. The early signs, the tiny routines, and the quiet moments that told us she saw the world a little differently.
When Kya was a toddler, she was exactly who she is today — gentle, curious, thoughtful, happy in her own world.
Kya didn’t speak for years. Then one afternoon in the back of the car, she started singing. Those were her first words.
When Kya was little, she already had her own lovely routines. The same paths, the same seats, the same little ways.
The hand flapping, the jumping, the same cartoon clip on repeat — they’re not quirks. They’re how Kya finds her balance.
Kya hears everything — every squeak, every hum, every cough. Noise-cancelling headphones gave her the world back.
Kya has always been curious — just in her own gentle way. She could spend ages looking at something tiny.
I watched her line up acorns with such quiet intent — and that was the moment I started to see things differently.
The moment everything changed — and the doors that opened once we had the right words for who Kya is.
When we received Kya’s diagnosis, it didn’t feel scary. It felt like someone had finally given us the right map.
After the diagnosis, doors started opening we didn’t even know existed. DLA, Carer’s Allowance — small things that made a big difference.
A Blue Badge might look like a parking permit. But for us, it’s safety, calm, and one less battle before the day starts.
A statement opened the door to the right school — from a 1-to-1 in mainstream to a specialist facility where Kya truly thrived.
The small things that make our world glow. Happiness doesn’t shout in our house — it hums, quietly, in the moments between.
Kya’s happiness has always lived in the small things. A tiny moment of calm. A familiar place. A sound she loves.
Every week we go to the beach. Every week Kya grabs my hand and points at the sand. Every week I draw. It’s our thing.
Kya ordered a jacket potato. Then she saw one. “Cheese sandwich.” And that was that.
It’s the small, everyday moments that have taught me the most. The gentle bits. The little things that mean everything.
The world didn’t always feel possible. Now we go looking for it — one beach, one coffee shop, one grand staircase at a time.