💜 My Truths from the Heart of a Special Needs Mother 💜

To those who stand outside this world the world of severe autism let me invite you into a reality most will never understand.

Parenting is hard. But parenting a child with profound needs… that’s a different kind of hard. It’s sacred, exhausting, beautiful, and heartbreaking sometimes all in the same breath.

Speaking truth about severe autism isn’t being negative. It’s being real. It’s not a highlight reel you can package neatly in a post. It’s raw, unpredictable, and it takes strength beyond words. Until you’ve lived it, I ask lead with kindness before judgment.

I am raising a child who will need me for a lifetime. When most parents begin to let go at 18, I’ll still be here guiding, feeding, bathing, and holding his hand. That’s love in its purest form. But let’s not pretend it isn’t heavy. Because it is.

Sometimes I look up and whisper, “Why us?” I followed every rule, prayed every prayer. And yet, here we are. Some nights, that question still echoes in my chest.

For a long time, I lost my faith. I was angry not at my son, but at God. I couldn’t understand how love and suffering could coexist. But slowly, through tears, breath, and surrender, I found my way back. God didn’t leave me🌹 He sat in the darkness with me until I was ready to see His light again.

Severe autism is not “quirky.” It’s not cute or a trend. It’s a complex neurological reality that impacts every moment of our lives and yet, I will never stop believing in my son’s brilliance. I will always call him capable. I will always remind the world that he belongs.

I’m tired of the judgment especially from other mothers. Saying this life is hard doesn’t mean I’m ungrateful. It means I’m human, and I’m honest.

And no, it’s not always a gift. Watching your child hurt himself, scream, or crumble from sensory overload isn’t something you can reframe as a blessing in that moment. If I could take every ounce of his pain and carry it myself, I would without hesitation.

The truth is, I fear dying. Not because I fear death itself, but because I can’t imagine leaving him behind. Who will protect him? Who will understand his silence? Will anyone see him the way I do beyond the diagnosis, beyond the behaviors, into his pure soul?

That fear lives in me the fear of the world mistreating him, misunderstanding him, or worse. It steals my sleep. It lives in my dreams. That’s the kind of fear special-needs parents quietly carry every day.

I know you carry it too.

Sometimes, grief visits me. Grief for the life I thought we’d have…such as conversations that never came… brother he can’t fully play with, vacations that end in tears, driving will never be an option.. and many others .. But grief is not rejection; it’s love with nowhere to go.

Please, don’t judge what you don’t see. Behind closed doors, there are families navigating storms with gentleness, siblings learning patience that most adults never master, and parents who hold chaos in one hand and grace in the other.

I no longer defend my choices to people who haven’t lived this life. Unless you can tell me why autism exists, you don’t get to question my fears. A mother walking this path has the right to ask, to wonder, to protect.

I’ve surrendered the hope that autism would disappear and in doing that, I found peace. I stopped chasing “normal” and started embracing our version of beautiful.

I live with fear every single day. But each morning, I rise and choose love anyway. Because love is stronger than fear and joy, even small joy, is what keeps us alive.

Medication & a brain 🧠 implant saved my son. It gave him moments of calm, of laughter, of possibility. I used to feel shame for saying that but I’ve learned that strength looks different for every mother. And choosing what helps your child survive? That’s strength.

Sometimes, I dream of a world where my son wakes up free not free from himself, but free from anxiety, fear, and pain. Free from seizures. A day where he simply is, and that is enough.

Our life is not sad. It is sacred. It is loud, messy, beautiful, and filled with love that breaks all logic.

My son is my greatest teacher, my mirror, my purpose.

I will fight for him until my last breath. I will speak his name and his truth until the world listens. Because I know deep in my soul my son will change the world.

He already changed mine. 💜

Wendy’s son Ethan finding moments of peace through music therapy during his two-week hospital stay, healing one note at a time. 💜