I see you.
I see your pain when your child gets stared at in public or left out at the park.
I see your desperation when your child refuses to eat yet another food.
I see the sinking desperate fear of elopement or accident when you have to leave your child in someone else’s care.
I see your struggle to stay patient with each tantrum, scream, or physical blow.
I see your sadness at each missed milestone, or unmet goal.
I see your embarrassment when your child has yet another melt down in public.
I see your fear when the self injury happens again and again.
I see your tired eyes as you shuffle from one therapy or doctors appointment to the next.
I see your nervous acceptance when you learn your child will never be “typically developing.”
I see your tears of joy when that first word is spoken. When potty training finally clicks. When they finally take the first bite of new food.
I see your strength as you fight so hard each day to advocate for your child.
I see your patience when you have to explain to friends and family again why your child is “doing that.”
I see your love. The unconditional fight to the death love you have for your child.
I see your careful trust with each new therapist that enters your home to tell you how to deal with your own child.
I see you. The ones who never give up, never give in, and never back down. The ones who are pushed to their breaking point every day but get up every morning to fight another day. The ones who find joy where others never could. The ones who push their kids so hard even through tears to teach them new things. You’re the real life heroes in this world.
Keep doing what you’re doing and know this: you are not alone, I will always stand and fight with you, I will cry with you, and I will always raise my own to be kind and accepting.
An inspired BCaBA