Seen, Heard, and Held Together

May has been filled with a lot of FIRSTS for my neurodivergent family. “Firsts” can be so fun, and my husband and I always go into these experiences with hope, patience, and love. It’s how we try to live our lives as special needs parents, because our sons—and our minds and hearts—deserve nothing less.

And because this year has been tougher than the last several, I felt we needed as much joy as I could possibly muster for us. So, we took our first family CRUISE and our first multi-generational road trip to New Orleans…and we did them back to back. Never before had I planned two big trips this close together, but as fate would have it, they simply fell into place this way.

Traveling brings my family so much joy. It shows us a version of Nico that we don’t often get to experience, and Max’s brainpower seems to multiply when we’re traveling. My husband and I bond over seeing our boys so happy, and we quietly pat ourselves on the back for being able to give them a life filled with travel and experiences.

We had immense fun, and my boys were so happy and carefree—two things I move heaven and earth to give them as often as I can. My husband found time to relax and let his guard down a bit so he could simply enjoy his boys, his family, and himself. For me, there is nothing better than when my men, big and little, are content. My in-laws were able to enjoy some much-needed time away with their grandchildren, and we were able to reunite as a larger family which has become paramount for all of us.

And me…I learned not only how important family, friends, and empathy truly are to me, but how life-saving they can be.

These trips were not easy. They never have been and they always come with immense preparation, determination, and trepidation. Traveling with children is tough in general, but when your children are neurodivergent there are extra layers of complexity baked in.

I started mentally packing weeks in advance. I did several test runs of how everything would fit, mapped out how I would keep my neurodivergent kids’ tummies filled with their preferred foods and beverages—especially on a cruise ship in international waters—and figured out how to ensure my in-laws would fit comfortably in a minivan with two neurospicy grandsons and two parents hanging on by one BIONIC thread.

For the most part, both trips were successful because we laughed, smiled endlessly, built core memories, and were surrounded by love.

But I also felt the most overwhelmed, exhausted, and—for the first time in a long time—the most scared I have felt ever.

There were some really hard moments. Moments that tested me in new ways. Moments when my children were in full meltdown mode and words became weapons for one, while physical aggression became the only form of communication for the other. And in those moments, I did not feel like I could manage things the way I always had before.

That’s what scared me.

If I couldn’t manage my children, then who?

And yes, I know it’s not solely my responsibility, but then again…yes, it is.

I don’t know a single mother who doesn’t believe her children are the top priority, even when that feels like the tallest order in human existence (and they have fully capable spouses that hold equal responsibility).

So when I felt like I could no longer manage my own children because of sheer mental, emotional, and physical exhaustion, I felt like I had failed the ultimate test. I felt alone. I felt defeated.

I felt the most vulnerable I have ever felt.

So, in that moment, I made a choice—one that has never come easily to me. It’s also a choice that can sometimes feel exclusive or unavailable to people, but hear me now:

That is simply not true.

I chose to ask for help.

I made a call, and I cried. I cried and cried, and I asked not to be judged. Not that judgment was ever truly a possibility, but sometimes vulnerability and judgment feel inseparable in our minds.

And what I received in return was nothing short of miraculous.

Those phone calls resulted in me feeling SEEN and HEARD. I received empathy, encouragement, kindness, and love. I went from feeling like life had swallowed me whole and spit me out into a million irreparable pieces to feeling like someone who was going to survive—and even thrive—another day.

Also, never underestimate the restorative power of a long hot shower followed by a good night’s sleep.

I can’t say I woke up the following day feeling 100% restored, but I can say I felt ready to try again.

So, if there is one thing I hope you take from this, it’s this:

You do not have to carry every hard moment alone.

Ask for help. Let people show up for you. Let them love you through the messy, exhausting, overwhelming moments—not just the polished ones. Life is hard right now for all of us. Period.

There is incredible strength in vulnerability, and sometimes the bravest thing we can do is admit we are tired and need someone to help carry the weight for a little while.

Take stock in the people who make you feel safe, seen, and heard. Protect those relationships fiercely. Choose empathy whenever possible, because you never truly know what someone else is carrying behind closed doors.

And while you’re at it, find small ways to fill your days with joy, even if they seem insignificant to everyone else. A family trip. A favorite meal. A quiet shower. A laugh so hard your stomach hurts. A moment of peace in the middle of chaos. Those moments matter more than we realize.

And even on the hardest days, give yourself grace. You are still doing far better than you think you are.🙏🏼💕