There are days when I struggle with my cape.
If I can be honest for a moment (without judgment), I want to make something very clear. I don’t believe there is anything special about the DNA of special needs parents. When I wake up in the morning I am tired, overwhelmed and in need of a few more hours of sleep — just like any other mother. When the sun is shining a little brighter, it is easier to get up, strap on my utility belt and take on the world.
READ: The Real Reason You Don’t Think I’m Autistic
When life brings rain, lifting my legs over the side of the bed and planting my feet on the floor seems almost impossible. The thought of diapers and bottles and therapy and school and appointments and stretches and routines and pickups and drop offs — and working my nine to five — are enough to make me want to crawl right back under the covers and disappear.
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And then I see my lovely son’s face, and I can’t wait to start another day with him.
Motherhood is a little different for moms like me, moms who start their journey in the NICU, praying next to incubators that their child will survive. We are immensely grateful, because of the miracles that grew out of that pain. We don’t want to seem unappreciative or weak; we don’t want to be pitied.
However, his premature birth was my premature birth; there is no separating the two. It took a toll on me.
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Read more of Kaleena’s inspiring story at The Mighty.