Nothing Special

I'm nothing special. I have been raising a child with special needs for 11 years. I say 11 because for the first 2 years, he didn't seem any different than a typical 0-2 yr old child. As I stare down the probability that my 5 yr old is headed down the same road as my 13 year old I start to dig through my metaphorical closet for my old suit of armor to defend against my sweet and well intentioned friends who probably don't know how much I appreciate them but will not know how to handle my stress, anxiety and overwhelming grief. I'm amazed sometimes that people care about me so much, but do not look forward to being raised up as some sort of saint for doing what parents do....raise their children. I may from time to time express my frustrations, sadness and my passionate hate for autism in general but this is done as a way to let a little pressure out of the cooker, not a cry for help or pats on the back for doing the impossible. As parents, we do what we have to do to make sure our children get what they need...disabled or not. It's simply called parenting. I'm not amazing, I'm not remarkable and I've not been given the task of raising kids with special needs because God hand picked me due to my awesomeness. I am simply a mom. I'm trying to be a good mom to my children. Beyond that, I'm nothing special.