03/29/2026
: our children don’t have to wonder.
He doesn’t have to wonder.
He doesn’t have to wonder if the world will meet him gently,
or if someone will understand what he can’t say.
He doesn’t have to wonder who will step in when things get too big,
or who will stay when it all falls apart.
He doesn’t have to wonder if someone will notice the small shifts,
the ones that come before everything unravels.
He doesn’t have to wonder who will fight for him in rooms he’s not in,
or who will keep pushing when the answers don’t come easy.
He doesn’t have to wonder if he’s too much.
He doesn’t have to wonder if he belongs here,
exactly as he is.
He doesn’t have to wonder if someone is keeping track of it all,
holding the pieces together,
carrying what he can’t.
He doesn’t have to wonder.
Because I do.
I wonder enough for both of us.
I hold the questions,
the planning,
the second-guessing,
the constant adjusting.
I carry the weight of what-ifs
so he can live in what is.
And maybe he’ll never see that.
Maybe he’s not meant to.
Because what he does know,
what I’ve made sure of,
is steady and simple and certain -
He is safe.
He is understood, even when the world doesn’t get it right.
He is allowed to take up space without earning it.
He is held, without question, without condition.
And I will keep standing in that place for him,
quietly,
consistently,
and without needing to be seen doing it.
Because this is part of it too.
Not just the carrying,
but the removing.
The things he’ll never have to hold
because I already am.
- Christine | Special Soul Mama