{"id":10125,"date":"2026-01-05T15:16:55","date_gmt":"2026-01-05T15:16:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/?p=10125"},"modified":"2026-01-05T15:16:55","modified_gmt":"2026-01-05T15:16:55","slug":"it-stings-to-watch-other-kids-play-so-effortlessly-i-play-the-what-if-game-every-single-day-6-years-later-i-am-still-holding-my-breath-mom-shares-candid-real","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/?p=10125","title":{"rendered":"\u2018It stings to watch other kids play so effortlessly. I play the \u2018what if\u2019 game every. single. day. 6 years later, I am still holding my breath.\u2019: Mom shares candid reality of special needs parenting"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u201c\u2018Your son has autism.\u2019<\/p>\n

This will probably piss a lot of people off, but those words felt like a death sentence to me. The lump I felt in my throat and the heat I felt behind my eyes gave way, and the tears fell quickly and freely down my cheeks. My husband, Justin, grabbed my arms and mouthed, \u2018It\u2019s going to be OK. He is going to be OK.\u2019 I could only just nod. The developmental specialist (sweetest guy ever) assured me it was mild, but I heard the softness and understanding in his voice when he asked me how I felt. Instead of saying crying, I responded with, \u2018Like dying.\u2019 Freudian slip.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

You see, life for Caden has NEVER been easy. Autism isn\u2019t the first diagnosis we have received. Although, for some strange reason right now, it feels like the \u2018worst.\u2019 Worst. Weird, right? I am comparing the diagnoses of my son. What kind of mother am I? Special needs parents know what I am talking about\u2026 how many of us play the \u2018well, at least he doesn\u2019t have that.\u2019 Really silly rationalizing, but somehow it makes us feel better in the moment.<\/p>\n

When Caden was only 12 months old, he had his first tonic-clonic seizure and had aspirated and asphyxiated. That night was, and will probably always be, the scariest night of my life. We thought our son was dead. My body relives that night just by thinking about it. We had found Caden rigid and blue, with his eyes unmoving, and we could only see the whites of his eyes as if his eyes were fixed to the back of his head. We couldn\u2019t seem to get him to breathe. His body wasn\u2019t moving as I dialed 911 while simultaneously running out of the door, with Justin running to the car with me. With Caden in my husband\u2019s arms, we tried to resuscitate him.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

No shoes, no bra, just praying so fiercely to God that He not take Caden that night. I remember so vividly asking God to let Caden live and to take me instead. The 911 operator told us to pull over and let the ambulance take over, but we lived so close to the hospital and I knew we could beat them. Just as she was telling me to pull over, Caden started crying. This cry that I will never, ever forget, not because it sounded like he was in so much pain (that, too), but because he sounded at all. All of a sudden, his lifeless, rigid body came to, and I remember distinctly feeling like I could breathe again. I didn\u2019t even realize how hard I was holding my breath, but even now, 6 years later, I still have moments where I realize how hard I am holding my breath. I know now that that will never go away.<\/p>\n

That was the first of many long nights with Caden. Since that night, his speech and language have regressed. His health has suffered. We have had many sleepless nights where we sleep with him to make sure he is still breathing. And to this day, if we wake before him, I still panic that I am going to find him in his bed, dead. Justin or I will make sure, every night, that Caden is breathing before we go to bed. It\u2019s our normal, but as I reflect on our reality, I realize how painful it is. I can\u2019t imagine being able to walk upstairs and right into our own bedroom without having a thought that our son may not be breathing.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

In Caden\u2019s 7 short years, he has been diagnosed with severe apraxia, epilepsy, an immune disorder (which has caused us to stay in the hospital more in his short life than most people spend in an entire lifetime), two genetic disorders (one recessive, thankfully), intellectual disability, autism, and cerebral palsy. I have come to terms (seriously, though\u2026 what does that even mean?) about Caden\u2019s former diagnoses, but not this one, and not the cerebral palsy. I am still processing. And maybe that\u2019s just how it works.<\/p>\n

MOM GUILT. BLAME. ANXIETY. All present factors in my life since Caden. (To be VERY clear: not BECAUSE of Caden, but SINCE that defining night 6 years ago.) Any special needs parent knows how hard you stay hit with guilt, blame, and anxiety. Like, \u2018regular\u2019 parent guilt, but times 100 and on speed and then sometimes cocaine. I don\u2019t know about you, but I play the \u2018what if\u2019 game literally every single day. Every. Single. Day. No matter who says what to me, I still blame myself. I don\u2019t care who you are, what degree you hold, or how much I love and trust you, I blame myself. I will always blame myself. In some way, shape, or form Caden struggles because of something I did or didn\u2019t do. At this point, though, I recognize that that doesn\u2019t matter. What matters now is how we will deal with this, how we will process this, and how we will manage this.<\/p>\n

I smile. I pretend. I hide the pain I feel so deeply in my gut when I see typical kids playing together, and Caden trying to talk to one of the kids, and the mother looking up helplessly at me silently saying, \u2018We can\u2019t understand him.\u2019 So I instinctively apologize for him. \u2018Oh, he has a language and speech delay, so he is hard to understand.\u2019 And she smiles as if she understands, and I translate the words Caden is saying. She will probably never understand.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t have resentment for you or your typical kids. I have sadness and pain for mine. I can\u2019t watch videos of mothers dancing with their sons at weddings, I have a hard time watching organized sports where young boys play so well together. This doesn\u2019t make my love for him any less, or my admiration for who he is any diminished. (I really do think I have the most perfect kids in the world, and that doesn\u2019t change that. But really\u2026 they\u2019re the best in the universe.) I would argue that it does the opposite: I get to love my child in a way that parents of typical children would never understand. I remember there was a time when I was hesitant to post pictures of videos that indicated any of Caden\u2019s delays. It took me a long time (too long) before I realized it wasn\u2019t shame, embarrassment, or even pride that stopped me from posting those things. It was pain. I would see other children doing things so easily and effortlessly and it stung to the core to see what came so easily to others is such a struggle for my child.<\/p>\n

In my head, I know that this diagnosis isn\u2019t really a death sentence. I know that it just means we will add more daily therapies to the list of appointments that we somehow find the time for because we make the time for the things that matter. My son teaches me more about life than he will ever realize. He gives me a purpose that is far beyond my understanding most of the time. I fight for him on a daily basis. At this moment, I will embrace the pain, I will allow it to envelope me, and I will allow myself to feel guilt and sadness, and regret all the things I tell myself I could have done differently. But soon I will use that same pain to fuel me.<\/p>\n

My life with children will never be what I had expected. (Because, really, what parent expects for their child to struggle with health issues and neurological complications?) My life is still rich, and it is still full. It is the opposite of typical, and nothing like I could have dreamed. My struggles and my pains are the same as yours, but they\u2019re different. And I wouldn\u2019t change my child, or my life, for anything. Because my child is the same as yours, but he is different.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201c\u2018Your son has autism.\u2019 This will probably piss a lot of people off, but those words felt like a death sentence to me. The lump<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":10131,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-10125","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10125","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=10125"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10125\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10132,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10125\/revisions\/10132"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/10131"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=10125"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=10125"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=10125"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}