Through the looking glass.

My Little Mate has been doing so well at his new kinder. He loves it and looks forward to going very much. He holds it together beautifully while he is there.

And then he comes home.

He is exhausted I know, and processing so much new information at the moment.

I watched him as he was having a massive screaming meltdown the other day. Unable to stop it. Unable to make it better. Unable to help him.

And in that moment the thought flew through my mind.

How did we get here? How is this my life?

It does not look anything like I imagined it would. Nothing could have ever prepared me for life with an autistic child.

For the longest time I lost myself in it all. I was so busy just coping. Trying to parent this child who can be so 'other' whilst attempting not to neglect his siblings.

Sometimes I feel I have too many children, and as soon as I think it I hate myself for it. But every now and then it just feels like too much. That no matter now much I do or how hard I try I will never be the mother I want or need to be to all of them.

Sometimes, it is just hard.

I wouldn't change it. I'd not be without any of them. But sometimes I look at other families doing normal kind of things and I envy that mother who isn't walking a knifes edge trying to keep her child from losing it. The kids who just run around and play and don't have the resentment that my older children sometimes tearfully tell me they feel.

I tell them they are entitled to those feelings. That it is okay, and that I know they love their brother but I also know that the way things are take a toll on them too. I tell them that I love our Little Mate so much that it hurts, but sometimes I wish it was different too.

It's funny how quickly we adapt really. I can't remember a time that we didn't know my boy was different any more. Maybe because even before we knew, we already knew.

And so I focus on the positives. His speech has improved exponentially in the past six months. He makes eye contact more readily. He plays alongside other children now and again.

But sometimes even those great gains aren't enough. Sometimes it hurts my heart that we need to fight so hard for him. Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish it looked like I once imagined.

And that is okay. Because even while we create new dreams, sometimes we need to mourn the loss of the old ones.