what I don't want you to know.

"Mama, make it easier for me. Please. Please. Please. Just make my life easier on me."

I hope you never hear those words from your child.

If you do, I pray for you.

I pray for you as you hold your child in your arms and cry helplessly along with them. As you cry to your Heavenly Father, please, please, please, make it easier on her. Not for me. For her.

Any parent of a child with special needs will tell you that you don't quite understand what it is like to raise their child and they hope you never truly do.

Not because it's horrible. Or a burden. Or the worst thing that has ever happened to them.

Because it's not.

It is a blessing. But with such blessings come huge earth breaking changes to your mind, body, soul, and faith. I love Maddy beyond words. I love ALL my girls this way. Despite that, there are huge challenges that come with our special kids.

Some of those are physical challenges. Others are mental. And some are both.

So many parents complain about how anyone out of their inner circle does not understand what it is like to raise a child with needs that are beyond the norm. I get that. I have thought that. I have experienced that. It seems like God whispered to me, 'but you don't want them to truly understand it, do you?'

No. I don't.

Parenting is hard enough.

I don't want you to know what it is like to watch your child slowly slipping away from you. To watch them lose grip of reality. To see them rock and bang their head against the wall in a desperate attempt to calm themselves. To watch them struggle when parts of their body just won't do what the brain wants it to do. To watch them struggle to find the words - ANY WORDS - to communicate how they are feeling. To watch them feel like they will never fit into this world.

I watched Maddy regress when she was a toddler. I also was blessed to watch her emerge back into this world. I see her struggles now and while they are not what they were - they are still struggles. She still cries and screams to adjust to this world.

I know many people don't "get it."

"She looks normal."
"She seems fine."
"You are over-reacting."
"She's just a brat who needs a good slap and she'll be fine."

I have heard them all. I have friends in the spectrum community who have heard those and worse.

April may be Autism Awareness month but in many senses,we don't really want you to know what it is like. Not because we are ashamed. Because the only way you could know what it was like was if you were raising a child with Autism yourself. And while we love our kids beyond measure - we don't wish autism on anyone.

I don't want you to know.

What I do want - is for you to be understanding.

I want acceptance and love. To trust that as parents we really do know our kids and we are doing the best we can for them. It might not look the way that you think it should look but trust us. Please, trust us. We have been to every doctor under the sun and moon and back again for our kids. Trust that when my child has a meltdown - she's not a brat. She is reacting to 1 million things beyond anything that we can ever be aware of. Trust that when she looks you in the eye and says "hello!" that came from HOURS of therapy and hard work and not just something she finally "grew into" - that when you suggest a treatment route that we are appreciative of your thoughts and conviction but we may not go down that road or we already tried it.

To love us when you ask how to help, we can look into your eyes and say with all honesty "I don't even know." and that is okay. That isn't a sign of weakness or bad parenting but honest humanity.

I don't have all the answers.

But I take responsibility for myself as being the BEST advocate that Maddy can ever have. I know her better than anyone else walking this earth. It's my job and I expect nothing less from myself. I'm gonna fall, screw up, have a meltdown, be grouchy, moody, emotional, and scatterbrained. But I am doing the VERY best job that I can do.

I don't want you to know what that is like.

I just want you to accept me and love me.

One of my best friends has a child with a terminal illness. I have no idea what it is like to raise him. To love him. To watch his struggle from his mother's eyes. And she would say to me, "I hope you never know."

Many times we find ourselves just nodding and saying, "I know...but I don't know."

Pray for us parents....and love us. Love our kids. That's all we ask for.