In My Head

Do I love my kids? Yes.

Do I hate being a parent of kids with autism? You have no idea how much.

My kids were given to me for a reason. I know that. I also know that whatever challenges God gives me, He will also give the resources needed to meet them. He has never once said that it would be easy. In fact, He says that it's more than likely going to be hard.

A battle.
A struggle.
A trial.
A valley of darkness.

All leave me tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally.

I'm tired of people watching my 5-year old have a meltdown and then looking at me like I'm a permissive parent who spoils my bratty kid.

I'm tired of people asking me why my son covers his ears, doesn't make eye contact, flaps his hands and babbles.

I'm tired of people asking me if Milly is "normal" and then saying that she's two and ready to be potty trained.

I'm tired of people asking me if I'm worried about Rory being normal or ignored.

Most of all? I'm tired of people acting like I'm a saint for taking care of these poor unfortunate souls. They are my kids. They are the most amazing little beings I have ever seen. There is no other option. However, I'm still allowed to be tired, frustrated, and angry at this whatever-autism-is disorder that causes me to be cut off from my incredible kids.

I have a rock, a strength, a refuge in my God. For this, I am grateful. He knows the outcome and is already stretching out his arms to embrace me before I even know that I'm about to break again. He anticipates my needs. He lifts my burdens if I am willing to give them up.

For this, I am thankful.