Raising Moises, my 6 year old son with autism, is one of the most beautiful and challenging journeys of my life. He attends special education at a school out of our district where he receives 6 therapies weekly within the program, all of which are essential in helping him develop the skills he needs to navigate the world in his own way. We are up at 5am every morning and he is on the bus by 6:10am. He follows a demanding schedule that’s equivalent to an adult’s, and he handles it with incredible strength and resilience. However, there are days when the weight of it all feels heavier, and the challenges are harder to navigate for us both. As a single mother, and I use this term cautiously, Moises has a father, he is present, just not involved in anything he is uncomfortable with. Which is anything school, medical related so the bulk of it is on me, who works full-time and has two other children. The biggest challenge, though, isn’t just managing schedules or navigating Moises’ needs—it’s making sure that each of my children feels seen, heard, and valued for who they are, not just as siblings in the shadow of Moises’ care.
Moises requires a lot of attention. His therapies, routines, and moments of calm and chaos often take center stage in our home, and it’s easy for me to get caught up in the demands of his world. The truth is, Moises needs more from me than my other children do—more time, more patience, more understanding. And while I do everything I can to ensure that he gets what he needs, I’m acutely aware of the fine line I walk in making sure that my other children—his brothers—don’t feel lost or overlooked in the process.
They deserve time with me, too. They deserve to be their own individuals, to have the space to grow, to laugh, to cry, and to exist without being overshadowed by Moises’ needs. The guilt I sometimes feel is overwhelming—how do I ensure they feel just as loved and supported when so much of my energy is consumed with making sure Moises is thriving? How do I give them the attention they need without sacrificing the care Moises requires?
It’s hard to carve out that space, especially when the day-to-day feels like a constant juggling act. But I’ve learned that balance isn’t about dividing my time perfectly between each of my children. It’s about quality. It’s about making the most of the time we do have together, even if it’s in small moments: a whispered conversation before bed, an impromptu dance party in the kitchen, or a quiet walk outside just to be with one another.
I also make sure that each child knows they are seen for who they are, not just for the roles they play in our family dynamic. They are not just Moises’ siblings; they are independent, complex individuals with dreams, feelings, and needs of their own. I’ve learned to hold space for their uniqueness, to listen to their voices, and to validate their experiences—so they know that while Moises may require more attention, they are no less important.
There are moments of doubt, times when I wonder if I’m doing enough for each of them. But I know that showing up, even in small ways, is what matters most. The love we share as a family is our foundation, and that love grows in the cracks of our imperfectly balanced lives. Moises may be the center of our world in many ways, but I am determined that no one, not even him, takes away from the individuality and worth of the other two beautiful souls I am raising.
We are learning together, growing together. And in that, I find the balance I seek.
Mom Life Unplugged 