I wish I could be the mom strolling through target with her well behaved kids with a coffee on her side with no care in the world; instead I barely function every day.

I struggle to get out of bed, and when I finally wake up enough to open my eyes I’m often met with the beeping of my sons feeding pump and the defining loudness of my child’s meltdown from the all to well known fixation in the form of autism.

I don’t get to stroll through the aisles of any fun little department store without having at least…


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I wish I could say that laryngomalacia was just a little bit of noisy breathing with no harm to me or my child; If it was my child would be okay and I would not feel like I am living in world of constant fear and sadness.

If it was just noisy breathing he would not need a feeding tube, and I would not constantly have to look for the signs of respiratory distress in my innocent little baby.

I wouldn’t know that breathing faster then 50 times a minute was bad, and I wouldn’t know what the constant sound…


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It’s been five days since I have seen my home and slept in my own bed….

The fold out couch inside my sons hospital room has become my new home, and the standing shower has become the only time I can cry inside of my own lonely thoughts.

I have tried over and over to be strong while putting on a brave face in front of the doctors that come in and out of my child’s room all day and night, but sometimes I find myself wishing that I could run away into my own bed and forget everything that…


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I wish I could say that I am just depressed, that depression was the cause of my sadness and that I could take a simple pill, talk to a therapist once a week and I would feel better, but that's never going to happen.

If depression was my problem there would be an easy fix and the world would accept my sadness and all rally around me in a world of support for the awareness of “mental health” except its not.

My sadness is never ending. I can let go of it sometimes, and I can hide it well like…


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I stood at the sink washing dishes as my five year old said, “ make me a jelly bread.” he didn’t say please, and he didn’t ask. After all it was the fourth time he said he wanted a jelly bread and I kept telling him to wait so I could finish cleaning the kitchen.

As soon as he said it, my sister said, “Maybe you could ask her instead of tell her” I heard her say it, but didn’t make a big deal about it and quickly said, “it’s okay, I don’t care how he says it, he has…


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From the first day of my journey into motherhood I was told over and over of my children’s inability to “gain weight adequately.” With each pregnancy it became more and more of a big deal seeming to effect each child more then the other.

As I think back now, I am not sure that it actually effected each of my children to a degree that was worsening with each one, but rather their doctor’s seemed to dwell on it closer and closer as if with every child the goal of the “perfect growth chart” got harder and harder to obtain.


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Every day I wake up, and try to tell myself that I am a good mother. Some how by the end of the night when they fall asleep in my arms I listen to their silent breathes of sweet dreams and whisper in their ear how sorry I am that my body failed them.

I believe it is natural instinct for everyone I know to instantly tell me, “you did not fail your children”, but no matter how many people tell me I will always struggle with the word failure when it comes to my children.

I was made to…


Every night when my husband walks through the door I get upset. I am almost always sitting in our living room holding our four month old while being climbed on by our four year old while listening to the sound of the current youtube video our three year old has found on my phone that has been his for at least 4 hours now.

I almost always count the amount of minutes it takes him to acknowledge that i’m sitting here and say even a simple word to me. …


I held my son yesterday rocking back and forth ever so tight telling him over and over that it was going to be okay, even though, I knew it was not going to be and that any second he was going to let out a scream I to often hear.

I knew it was coming, because anytime I even so much as touch his feeding tube he wails in uncontrollable pain.

I have lost my strength as a mother in hearing these screams, and I have cried many tears with him while praying that God would tell me what to…


I tell myself every day that when the sun goes down and I can finally get into my bed and close my eyes that everything will get better.

I tell myself that if I can hold it together long enough to lay down that no one will know or see the sadness beneath my eyes that I hide under the cape of a strong happy mother with no fear or emotion to be had.

When the noise is gone and the constant humming of the fire truck siren that my four year will echo over and over because autism has…

Stephanie Ulrich

Writer. Mother. Special Needs Advocate.❤️❤️❤️

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