I love my son more than anything, but I’m terrified of the moments when I’m not there
By Charlotte on
My son has autism. Caring for him isn’t a role I step into and out of, it’s constant. It’s 24/7. Like so many parents and caregivers, I’ve put careers on hold, relationships on pause, and my own well-being somewhere at the bottom of the list. I did it willingly, because he is my child, and I love him more than words can explain.
But here’s the part I don’t say out loud very often: I’m scared of the moments when I’m not there.
I worry about the spaces I can’t control, a classroom, a care facility, a future I may not be around to see. I worry if people will be patient with him. If they notice when he’s overwhelmed. If they’ll understand that his behaviors are communication, not defiance. I lie awake wondering who will protect him when I can’t.
It’s exhausting carrying that fear while still showing up every day with strength and patience. Some days, it feels relentless. There’s grief mixed in with the love, grief for the life I imagined he might have, and the life I imagined for myself. And there’s guilt for even admitting that.
But here’s what I’m holding onto: my son is resilient. He has taught me more about unconditional love, perseverance, and presence than any “normal” life ever could. And I am stronger than I ever thought I could be.
I’m learning that it’s okay to be afraid and hopeful at the same time. To acknowledge how hard this is while still believing that there are good people, safe systems, and brighter moments ahead. I may not control every space he enters, but I can advocate, prepare, and trust that the love I’ve poured into him matters.