We are engagingly looking at a statue when I see her staring hard at my daughter. I look back at her and she quickly looks away.

He stares at me while I politely decline to sign the waiver for my daughter’s photograph to be used in an online publication. Other parents tilt their heads my direction.

They smile with sympathetic eyes while I am enjoying playing with my daughter.

I am crying while I am driving because the music on the radio will disguise the sound so my children don’t hear and get upset. I am not sure if I am sad, stressed, tired or frustrated but the tears don’t discriminate.

I am screaming for joy as I sweat through my shirt, walking in the sun for 20 minutes in a crouched position holding my daughters hands because she suddenly wants to practice walking.

I am on my knees begging God for strength and to be a better mother.

I am allowing myself to be vulnerable to complete strangers to hopefully gain a little insight as to how to better help my daughter.

I am constantly thinking, reading, analyzing and observing every thing. No task is mundane, all must be thoughtful.

I am on a first name basis with and can tell you all the good doctors in various specialities in town.

I am daringly hopeful when I hear the latest research discovery that may help my daughter.

I am awake in bed thanking God that He allows me to be this little girl’s mother, even though I may feel like I am not good enough.

I am a mother to a special needs child.

God didn’t make me more special or stronger than you and He definitely did not give me super powers. But He did give me a daughter and now a son that I will do anything for.