This was me earlier today. Before I snapped this shot, I was sobbing. The thing about parenting is, it’s hard. The thing about parenting a child with special needs is, it’s often harder.

This morning I hit my breaking point. My son’s behaviors threw me over the edge. I fell too far.

I called my mom, barely able to catch my breath. I told her I am worried there is no end in sight, worried these things won’t get better for much, much longer. Do you know what she said? “I’m going to book a flight to come out in two weeks.”

I am carried.

I dried my eyes and went to my daughter’s field trip. I felt happy to see her happy. When I got back in the car to go home, the tears started falling again. Because when the flood gates open, it takes some time and strength to force them shut. I walked through the door and noticed our babysitter folded the laundry.

I am carried.

My husband called me. He wants to take our three kids six and under to the soccer fields by himself so I can rest, or work, or go shopping. He knows every few months I hit this point, and without fail he lets me breathe.

I am carried.

I have battled guilt this week over needing help. In a culture where we value self-sufficiency to an extreme, we sometimes forget we were made for relationship; we belong to one another. We are meant to step in for one another, and also let others step in for us. It’s been a rough couple of weeks, fear is high and energy is low. Things will lighten up again, but in the meantime, there is light.

Because I am carried.

Thank you to the carriers.