If I had to choose a song that would best describe the journey Samantha has had to make, it would be "The Long and Winding Road". From the beginning, she has found herself "swimming against the current". Not only has she had to battle to overcome her disabilities, she has had to learn to fight within a system that has, because of ignorance, failed her miserably.

For the first three years of her life, Samantha was under the control of her parents, who had no idea of what was wrong, and a doctor, who, for fear of making a wrong diagnosis, had to take a "wait and see" attitude in monitoring her progress. At the age of three, the city became responsible for deciding how, when, where, and how often she would be tested.

At some point in time, Samantha began to compensate for her developmental delays. As I stated earlier, she never crawled. Instead, she rolled until she was able to learn to walk. Because of her delays in speech, she learned signs and gestures to let us know what she needed. By the time the city took control of having her tested, she had compensated for her physical shortcomings to the point that her problems were hard to detect.

You cannot imagine the frustration in watching someone test your child and admit that their results are inconclusive. At one point, Samantha was given a hearing aide, only to have it taken away a couple of months later. I can remember, on more than one occasion, hearing one of the people responsible for testing Samantha say, "Samantha, you are such a mystery!"

It is still hard for me to realize just how much Samantha has had to deal with in such a short time. Things that most people take for granted are monumental challenges for her.

I can still remember the first time I caught a glimpse of what my daughter goes through, on a daily basis, to make it in this world. She was four years old, and was attending daycare. It was the month of December, and all the parents had been invited to come to the daycare for a little Christmas Party. I went to the daycare expecting to sit with Samantha while we enjoyed cookies and punch. What I did not know is that they had planned a program, and that Samantha would be taking part in it.

I could see that Sam was upset as soon as our eyes met. As the director of the daycare greeted all the parents, I soon realized the reason for Samantha's obvious discomfort. They had prepared a little Christmas Play. Samantha was dressed up to play the part of a Christmas mouse. The director of the daycare explained that, at the end of the play, the children were going to sing, "We Wish You A Merry Christmas".

I will never forget the look on Samantha's face as I walked over to where she was standing. She looked as though she would cry at any moment. "Go home!" she said tearfully. It was all I could do to keep from scooping her up into my arms and leaving at that very moment. Instead, I fought to keep my composure, and tried to calm Sam.

I can remember looking around the room at all the other parents...and their children. This was such a happy time for all of them. My gaze returned to Samantha. I knew why she was so agitated. My poor darling knew that she could not even talk...let alone, sing. I remember thinking, "My God, this is so unfair!" With Sam, still suggesting we leave, I let the director lead her away to where she was supposed to stand when the play began.

I do not remember anything about the play the children presented that day...I don't think I heard a single word. I found myself studying my little girl's face. I knew I would be able to tell when the song neared by her expression. I felt as though I were in the midst of dying a slow and painful death. I found myself wishing that it could be me with all the physical problems. It just seemed like more than any child should have to endure.

Suddenly, I saw the expression on my little girl's face begin to change. It was as if someone had just placed the weight of the entire world upon her tiny shoulders. I found myself wanting to scream to all who were within earshot, "If you only knew what my little girl is going through, you would let me stop this...she is only four...she can't even talk...please, let's just stop this stupid program...she wants to go home!"

I heard the music begin and closed my eyes. I was about to completely lose my composure. As I fought to regain my control, I heard the children beginning to sing. As I opened my eyes, I saw Samantha's smiling face. She was swaying to the beat of the music and was "mouthing" the words to the song the children were singing. One would have had to have held their ear to her mouth to realize that there was absolutely no sound escaping her lips.

As I watched Sam "lip-synching", I realized that I was only seeing an isolated incident, and that Samantha would face similar challenges, every day, for the rest of her life.

I remember thinking, as we left the daycare, that I had come to visit my daughter and had found my hero...all in the same visit!