“Today was a hard day for Bub. He woke up at 3:30 a.m., and stayed up.
Then my son had session after session, therapy after therapy…and so on. From what I could hear from my room, it was a very overwhelming day for him—especially on 4-5 hours of sleep. He had multiple meltdowns, through which my mom was there with him the whole time.
She sat by his side, no matter how tired she was from getting even less sleep than Bub.
Today, when my mom had to leave to work her third job—she helps an elderly woman with various things—David and I were at home, just watching movies and hanging out. Dad got home and needed to change and wash up before he could come and hang out with us. So, Bub and I continued with our chilling.
Then, out of nowhere, he got really overwhelmed and started flapping and humming…but not in a good way. Not in his usual, happy way. I could instantly tell he was feeling very distressed.
I asked him what was wrong, tried sitting by him and giving him ‘squeezes,’ but nothing worked. He was just not having it. He started crying, and repeating ‘Sad?? Sad?’ over and over again, which is actually new for him in the last day or two. So, obviously, I knew he was sad. Unfortunately, it didn’t help much.
Looking back now, this wasn’t even that severe of a meltdown…you probably can’t even call it a meltdown, it just happened suddenly. But there in the moment, I was scared. I knew Dad was in the other room, and near the end of it he was able to calm David down.
Before Dad came out, though, a lot of things were running through my head.
‘What’s the best way to calm him down without overwhelming him more?’
‘Don’t touch him too much, he doesn’t like it.’
‘Make sure to keep your voice down.’
‘What would Mom do?’
My mother can survive—and function like a boss—on four hours of sleep, work with her bosses (yeah—she works a full-time job on top of all of it), deal with me annoying her every five minutes because I don’t feel like sitting at my desk anymore, AND make sure my brother gets to all of his virtual classes, is learning his material, printing and laminating said material…the list goes on and on.
This woman…this woman is superhuman. I’m convinced of it. Her super suit is leggings and a hoodie, and her power comes from her heart, soul, and…coffee. Because if you’re going to wake up at 3:30 a.m., you need ALLLL the coffee.
I have yet to figure out what her kryptonite is. I don’t know how she does it, but I strive to be this for my children—when I have them (take a breath, Dad).
We have our arguments—we are both females, after all—but in the end, she is and will always be my role model. She’s shown me what I want to become when I get older, and I am convinced she can do anything she sets her mind to. I’ve watched her do most of it.
So if you are reading this and you have a mom or person you look up to in your life, thank them. Let them know they are appreciated.
For God’s sake, hug them.
To all the autism mamas out there, I may not know you (or I may)—but I just want to say thank you. Thank you for always doing the best you can for your children, and continuing to fight for them and raise them right. You’re doing amazing.
Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
And to mi madre, I need to say this not in blog-form more often…but thank you.”
This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Trista Heffner. Submit your own story here, and be sure to subscribe to our free email newsletter for our best stories, and YouTube for our best videos.
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