The mental load of a special needs parent is never-ending.

 I have three small children. On one of the last days of winter break, I carefully placed them each at the table with activities and made a dash for the restroom to finally relieve my bladder. There’s nothing special about this. In fact, any mom of small children knows the mental planning that goes into trying to avoid disasters while getting the smallest of tasks done; I imagine it’s similar to a coach on the sideline with a dry-erase clipboard, drawing x’s, o’s and arrows trying to map a way to victory.

 The difference for me this day was that my son’s therapist had just texted me that they would have to discharge us from service because my son’s doctor refused to write a letter to the insurance company to continue in-home therapy. Which led to me calling my husband, the two of us tag-teaming, trying to get in touch with the doctor directly. Then there was the conversation we had about switching up our son’s medical care altogether. That same day I was also waiting by the phone, hoping my son’s teacher would email me back about getting together before his next IEP, the same teacher who called me the day of his latest surgery, suggesting he be moved from the inclusive classroom to the self-contained one, because he’s been so sickly.

 I walked out of the bathroom to find the son at the center of all this had dumped out all of the crayons onto the floor. We have been making real progress with these kinds of behaviors, but something set him off. I reprimanded him, was about to pick the mess up myself, and then I realized on top of the special needs parenting that went on that day, the regular kind of parenting needed to happen, too.

 So, I reluctantly sat on the floor until he picked up every crayon. Exhausted. Not knowing what would happen with the therapy he so desperately needs. Not knowing if we need to completely shake up his medical team. Not knowing if I will be blindsided at next week’s IEP meeting. Only knowing this: he’s worth all of it.

He’s worth every appointment, therapy and phone call. He’s worth every advocacy course and time spent researching.

 The mental load of a special needs parents is never-ending. But I know what keeps us all going: our kids. They are the fuel. Because they are so completely worth it.