WHEN Geralda Ruiz first saw her baby, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It was only when he became a toddler that she began to notice something she could not immediately explain — her child was different.
“Duha akong anak, ikaduha ni siya. Napansin nako lahi kaayo ni siya og kinaiya (I have two children; he is the second. I noticed that he has very different characteristics),” Geralda, a resident of Cabaguio Street in Davao City, shared.
What began as quiet observations soon turned into long nights of worry and prayer. Eventually, doctors confirmed what her heart had already feared: her son was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), Level 1.
The diagnosis weighed heavily on her, especially in the beginning.
“Lisod kaayo, especially sa permero. Sige ko’g ampo sa Ginoo nga madawat nako (It’s very hard, especially in the beginning. I always prayed to God that I would learn to accept it),” she said.
Acceptance did not come easily. Managing tantrums, coping with misunderstandings, and facing financial limitations tested her strength daily.
“Mahal kaayo nako akong anak bisan sa kalisod man (But I love my son, however difficult it may seem),” she added, her voice steady but filled with emotion.
This Christmas season, however, brought a gentle reminder that hope often arrives quietly — sometimes wrapped in toys, laughter, and understanding.
On December 10, 2025, the Davao City Special Needs Intervention Center for Children (DCSNICC) was filled with joy as Vines and Branches Montessori School sponsored a Christmas party for children with special needs.
There were games designed especially for them, food packs, toys, and something far more meaningful: a sense of belonging.
“Kinsa may dili malipay nga naay padula, naay ipanghatag para sa akong anak (Who wouldn’t be happy when there are games and gifts for my child?),” Geralda said, smiling. “So appreciated kaayo ning ingon ani nga event (Events like this are truly appreciated).”
For parents like her, the celebration was more than a party — it was a rare moment of lightness in a journey often marked by struggle.
Geralda credits DCSNICC, which opened in March 2025, for the changes she now sees in her son. The center offers free services, a blessing she describes as life-changing.
“Dako kaayo’g tabang ang center, ma’am. Ang therapy P1,000 kada session — dili namo kaya gyud (“It’s a huge help, ma’am. Therapy costs ₱1,000 per session—we really can’t afford that),” she said.
Before therapy, her son was withdrawn, often isolated in a corner. Today, he plays, socializes, and communicates with his family.
“Makita namo ang difference. Karon mam, magdula na siya, makig-socialize na siya (We see the difference – he plays now, he socializes),” she said.
Even basic daily skills improved — milestones that many take for granted but feel monumental to parents like Geralda.
“Kabalo na siya mag-poopoo sa CR. Lahi ra gyud nga na-train siya (He now knows how to use the toilet. It’s very different now that he’s trained),” she shared with quiet pride.
Now six years old, her son continues therapy, and Geralda holds onto one heartfelt Christmas wish.
“Ang akong wish kay kung mudako na siya, dili siya ma-bully. Mahadlok ko mamatay kay ingon ana akong anak… nga mag-inusara siya, walay makasabot sa iyaha (My wish is that when he grows older, he won’t be bullied. I’m afraid of dying knowing my child is like this — that he might be left alone, with no one who understands him),” she said.
Her hope is simple yet profound: that her child will be prepared for a world that may not always be kind.
Nina Santos, a grandparent to a four-year-old boy who has cerebral palsy with fragile motor skills, also shares the same sentiment.
“Lisod kaayo kay mura siyag ballet dancer, sigeg kinto (It’s very difficult because he moves like a ballet dancer, constantly wobbling),” she said, describing how frightening it is to watch him climb stairs or run.
Yet, after only a week of therapy at DCSNICC, Nina already sees remarkable improvement. “Dako kaayo’g improvement (The improvement was very apparent),” she said, her gratitude unmistakable. Doctors have told her the progress is significant, and she clings to that reassurance. “Libre ang therapy session… grabe gyud ang improvement sa akong apo (The therapy session was free, the improvement of my grandson is huge).”
Her Christmas wish mirrors that of many caregivers: that her grandson completes his therapy and grows stronger each day.
However, she also voiced a fear many grandparents quietly carry — that one day they may no longer be around. “Usahay maghuna-huna ko sana mas mauna na lang siya kaysa akoa… aron dili na nako makita unsa siya magkalisod kung mawala nako (“Sometimes I think it would be better if I went first… so I wouldn’t have to see how much he would struggle if I were gone).”
At the heart of these stories is DCSNICC, a one-stop center serving children aged 0 to 6 years and 364 days, focusing on early intervention.
According to Dr. Melody Pardillo, head of the center, this critical window gives children the best chance to develop essential skills before entering formal schooling. “Nalipay kaayo ang mga bata ug mga parents (I am very happy for the children and their parents),” she said, noting that events like the Christmas party also help children develop socialization skills.
With 1,065 children enrolled, about 80 percent of whom are diagnosed with ASD and 20 percent receiving physical therapy for conditions like cerebral palsy and hearing impairment, the center has become a lifeline for Davao City residents.
Services are exclusive to city residents, complementing the Department of Education’s inclusive education efforts under the Inclusive Learning Resource Centers (ILRC) mandated by law.
As laughter echoed through the halls that December afternoon, that Christmas party became more than a celebration – it was a reminder that behind every diagnosis is a child longing to play, a parent learning to hope again, and a community slowly choosing compassion.
In the glow of Christmas lights and shared smiles, Geralda, Nina, and many other caregivers found something priceless: reassurance that they are not alone — and that even the smallest steps forward are miracles worth celebrating. CEA