My Address Is the Bright Side

I want to say something out loud that I think a lot of moms like me feel but don’t always get to say without it being immediately softened or reframed. My address is the bright side. I live there already. I see the good in my child every single day without anyone reminding me. The joy, the pride, the humor, the magic, the connection, that is my actual daily life with her.

But then there are the meetings. The assessments. The conversations where your child gets translated into numbers, deficits, support levels, categories. Even when the professional is kind, skilled, deeply empathetic, like the woman today truly was, it is still draining to sit there and hear your whole heart discussed mostly in terms of what is hard for them.

There is no villain in that room. No one doing anything wrong. It is just the reality of systems trying to get kids what they need. And I want that support. I will always advocate for that. But it does not mean it feels light while it is happening. What I wish people understood is when I talk about this part, I am not asking to be reminded how lucky I am or how special she is or how much joy she brings. I know. I live inside that awareness constantly. Honestly sometimes painfully aware of it because loving this big comes with weight too.

Sometimes the most supportive thing is just listening. No silver lining. No inspirational spin. No quick gratitude redirect. Just letting a mom say this part is heavy today and letting that be enough.
That does not cancel the love. It does not cancel the pride. It just makes space for the full reality of parenting a child with different needs, which is beautiful and exhausting and ordinary and emotional all at once. And moms like me should be allowed to say that without it getting polished.

This is my unedited life. The bright side and the heavy parts sitting right next to each other. Two peas in a freaking pod.

And honestly, I am deeply proud of all of it.