Being the parent who is both the primary breadwinner and a mom is hard. It feels even heavier with a child on the autism spectrum. I want to be the one who is always there for Eli, at every appointment, every therapy session, every milestone. But I can’t be. Some days I work fifteen hours straight, and I’m painfully aware of all the moments I’m missing.
I’m grateful — deeply grateful — that my husband is able to be the stay-at-home parent. Honestly, we couldn’t do this without him. Between therapy schedules, doctor’s appointments, and everyday needs, it wouldn’t be possible if one of us wasn’t home full-time. Still, the gratitude doesn’t erase the ache of wishing I could be there more.
The last few days with Eli have been good ones, and when those moments happen, I can’t help but wonder: are they really sure? Does he really have autism? But then the harder days come, and reality pulls me back fast. Yesterday, we met family for a birthday dinner. Eli laughed, smiled, and seemed to have the best time. Then out of nowhere, he started banging his head. I think he was just tired, ready to go home, but it left me rattled. On the drive back, my chest felt tight, like a panic attack was chasing me down.
That’s how it goes: some moments feel so normal, almost easy, and then the next moment I feel like the weight of the world is crushing me. The highs and lows repeat like a cycle I can’t break. Sometimes I don’t even know what to write anymore because the feelings are the same, just looping over and over.
Maybe no one will ever read these words, but writing them down feels like my therapy. For a few minutes, it’s like I get to breathe, like my thoughts are heard even if it’s only by me.
And right now, everything feels overwhelming. The boys are both sick — poor Caden projectile vomited all over himself and the car on the way to dinner, and now his little body is raw from diarrhea. Eli’s finally over the stomach bug, but now he’s coughing and sniffling. I’m working more than sixty hours a week, while my husband is drained from caring for both boys around the clock. Every free moment outside of work is spent at appointments or tending to sick little bodies. I’m so tired.
But I don’t want to miss anything. I don’t want to stop showing up. Even when it feels impossible, I push forward. Because they need me. And even when I feel like I’m running on empty, I know the truth: I need them just as much.
Today’s Lesson
The weight may feel unbearable at times, but showing up — even imperfectly — is still love.
What I’m Holding Onto
That every smile, every laugh, every small “normal” moment is worth the exhaustion a thousand times over.
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