In the waiting room, at pediatric therapy, I am known as Faith's mom. Just as others are known as Ashley's grandma, Luke's grandma, Chloe's mom, Abby's caretaker. At first, we were just a familiar face to one another. But as our children and grandchildren came for therapy more and more, we began to talk. We compared stories. We asked each other questions. Our waiting time has now become social hour. We have become our own little community - supporting one another, offering prayers and talking to those who know exactly what we go through. It's not just the parents, grandparents and caretakers who share a special connection with one another. It's also the three receptionists who sit behind the desks. Some children, like Faith, have been going to therapy for years. They know our backgrounds, they know when we aren't feeling well and most of all they know and understand our children. They laugh at the children's stories and they cry too when one of the