When Grant was 11 months old, he said his first word: “Mama.” Soon after came “Dada.” Brandy and her husband were, of course, ecstatic—as any parents would be when their young child hits an important developmental milestone.

But then—there was nothing. No more “Mama,” no more “Dada,” no more words. Grant went radio silent.

As crestfallen as she was, Brandy half‑expected something like this to happen with her son. One month before he said his first word, she had begun to notice behaviors—signposts pointing toward a possible autism diagnosis. He would walk on his tiptoes, fixate on objects, and stiffen up when he got excited.

“I worked hard to get him diagnosed, to get him into services,” Brandy recounts. “We were told he was too young, but I insisted. It was an ordeal.”

Eventually, Grant received an autism diagnosis, and as relieving as it was to finally have clarity, Brandy knew that everyone’s world was about to change. The diagnosis brought understanding—but uncertainty soon followed.

“I'm obviously gonna love my son no matter what,” she says, “but I knew our lives were going to change. There was relief, because we knew early intervention is so helpful. But at the same time, it brought a lot of stress—trying to figure out how to pay for all the therapies Grant needed.”

And those therapies are extensive: Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) therapy, speech therapy, and occupational therapy. The good news? Over the course of nearly three years of intensive support and early intervention, Grant has come a long way.

“We definitely see the improvements,” Brandy says. “He's a happier kid because he's receiving these services. Before, he was getting frustrated because we didn't know how to help him.”

This progress came with a price. Each therapeutic visit requires a co‑pay, and multiple visits throughout the week make those fees cascade quickly. As the financial pressures mounted, the anxiety compounded.

“It's just very stressful because you want to do everything you can for your kid,” Brandy says. “And sometimes you don't know how you're gonna do it.”

Enter Logan’s Giving Fund for Autism, an initiative of Crotched Mountain’s CMF Kids program. Responding to the growing need for support among families of children with autism, CMF Kids created this special Giving Fund to relieve the pressure parents like Brandy were feeling every day. Families who apply and are approved receive substantial financial support to offset their co‑pays, and service providers are compensated directly.

Since last year, when the program launched, 36 family resource awards—totaling over $113,000—were distributed to providers on behalf of children with autism. Brandy’s family was one of the recipients, and its impact cannot be overstated.

“I can't even put into words how much we appreciate this,” she says. “It relieves pressure for families, so you don’t have to choose between therapy co‑pays and maybe Christmas presents or a new coat. It makes a huge difference.”

And her reaction when she found out she had been approved for the award? “I'm not much of a crier, but I cried.”

For over two years—since he first uttered “Mama” and “Dada”—Grant had been nonverbal. But recently, he has begun to say a few words, which is, as Brandy says, “amazing.”

“When he speaks, he lights up,” she adds. “He smiles to himself when he says something and sees that we can understand him.”

One night close to this past Christmas, the family was sitting in the living room. Brandy was holding Grant’s four‑month‑old brother. The house was unusually quiet, peaceful. The Christmas tree glowed softly. This holiday felt particularly special because five months earlier, when Brandy was giving birth to Grant’s brother Lane, she sustained a placental abruption—and mother and son almost didn’t make it.

“He smiles to himself when he says something and sees that we can understand him.”

So, amidst that silent night, as the family sat in the quiet and stillness, Grant got up, pointed to the Christmas tree, and said: “Tree.”

With that, a simple one‑syllable word brought delirious joy to a family—and a reminder of the distance their special little boy has traveled this far, and the gratitude they feel for the supporters of Crotched Mountain who made that journey possible in the first place.