Jackson's Advocacy
All needs. All stories. All welcome here.
Hi There, I'm Tara...
I'm a mom of three: two boys (13 and 10) and a daughter (6). I'm married to my husband, Brandon, and we live in Scottsdale, AZ. I love to hike, hit the gym, travel, play with my kiddos, cheer on the Kansas City Chiefs, and drink coffee (not always in that order).
If you're on this page, I'm guessing you're the family member of a neurobeautiful kiddo. I've been in your shoes. I've cried the tears of frustration. But here's the good news: I'm here to help. I have three autistic children with special needs — so I get it.
So why "Jackson's Advocacy"? Because if it weren't for Jackson and his beautiful mind, I wouldn't be here helping families like yours.
Jackson's Story
Every special needs story is different — just like our kids.
On June 26th, 2013, I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy in Kansas, and we named him Jackson. He was our first, and we couldn't take our eyes off him. I'd planned to go back to work after six weeks, but I couldn't bear to leave him, so I decided stay-at-home-mom life was for me.
Even as a newborn, Jackson was overwhelmed and overstimulated easily. At loud, crowded events he would cry — and cry, and cry. The only thing that soothed him was slipping away to a small, quiet room, where he'd settle right down.
Jackson has twin cousins who are the same age, and I couldn't help but notice the differences in how they developed. The twins played with toys the usual way; Jackson would lie on his side and spin a car's wheels instead of pushing it. He tip-toed. He'd cover his ears. He had meltdowns that stretched for hours and left him inconsolable. He had boundless energy and would watch the same movies over and over and over — for hours. He was my first, so I had no real benchmark for "normal" development. After voicing my concerns to family and friends, I landed on a comfortable explanation: he was just a busy boy with a speech delay.
In 2016, we moved to Arizona to escape the Kansas City snow. We prepped Jackson the best we could — read him books, walked him through the change. But it was more than he could cope with. Soon, I was getting routine calls from school about hour-long meltdowns that seemed to come out of nowhere. He withdrew. He wouldn't engage with other kids. He chewed on hard objects — wooden train tracks, metal cars, anything he could get hold of. Then one day his teacher looked at me and said, "I think it's the A-word." I just blinked at her. "Autism," she said.
Oh, surely not. There was no way it was autism. But I followed the school's advice and had him evaluated with the ADOS by a developmental pediatrician and a child psychologist. The evaluation confirmed he was autistic and would need substantial support. We were shocked. In disbelief. And yet — once I thought back over his development and behaviors — it all lined up. In a strange way, I felt relief. Every concern I'd been carrying was finally validated.
We dove in: early intervention, workshops, book after book, anything to help me help him. After his diagnosis, we asked the school district to evaluate him for an IEP (Individualized Education Program). If I'm being completely honest, I had no idea what an IEP even was. Or an MET. Or DDD, ALTCS, FAPE, IDEA… if you're in the thick of this, that alphabet soup probably looks painfully familiar.
I was drowning. I didn't understand what the teachers, therapists, and administrators were talking about. I was lost in the IEP meetings — I didn't know what the evaluations measured or what scores qualified my son for services, and the district wasn't exactly rushing to explain it. Finally, desperate, I reached out to an educational attorney. The fees were staggering, and they wanted a retainer just to get started — but we were desperate enough to pay it.
After many IEP and MET meetings, we finally got the help Jackson needed. Arizona is a pro-school-choice state, so there are a lot of options — public, private, charter, special needs. I applied for the Empowerment Scholarship (ESA) and found a school that was right for him. He's getting the support he needs, and I'm forever grateful for that school.
But here's the question that haunts me: what if we couldn't have put an attorney on retainer? Would Jackson be where he is today? No. One hundred percent no. And that is exactly what's so unfair about this system.
Today, Jackson attends a private autism school and he is thriving. We still have hard days — there's no cure for autism — but with the right school placement, the right therapies, and the right interventions, his life has changed.
That's why I offer my services on a sliding income scale. A child's access to the right education should never come down to what their family can afford.
Now I'm here to help you. I can't wait to connect.
xo, Tara Capps