A Letter to My Other Son…The Sibling to A Special Needs Child

My little peanut,

Today is your fourth birthday bud. How can that be? I look at you running and jumping with your friends and it’s hard for me not to cry. You are amazing. I am so proud to be your mom. I need you to know that.

I want to tell you a few things. I know you won’t understand them now. And that’s OK. But someday, when mom is old and grey, I want you to read this letter.

I want you to know I am so unbelievably thankful that you are my son and Cooper’s brother. You need to know that. Together, the two of you have given me more joy than I ever thought was possible.

I have a secret. No one knows this. I cried the day I found out I was pregnant with you. Actual ugly tears bud. I have never been more afraid in my whole entire life.

Your brother was two and I was failing as his mother. I couldn’t fix him. I was chasing doctors and therapies and coming up short. I felt like I was failing as a wife, a friend, an employee and a mother. My world was crashing down around me.

Autism was right around the corner. Severe, nonverbal autism. The scary kind. The kind no one talked about.

I lived every single day with a dreadful feeling in my stomach. I knew the bottom was going to fall out of the perfect life I fantasized about. I could feel it happening. It was only a matter of time until we had a diagnosis.

But I was faking it and making it pal. I kept the perception up. And then I found out you were coming. It was a Saturday morning. I’d been awake all night with Coops. Your dad was at work. And I had a hunch. I peed on a stick and the thing practically screamed YOU ARE PREGNANT.

I was so scared buddy. I hadn’t slept in 2 years. My world revolved completely around your brother. Much as it does now. Not a lot has changed in that department. Hell, I think the first year of your life I nursed you in every waiting room in Duluth.

For the next 9 months I would lay awake at night when I should have been catching precious sleep googling ‘odds of having two children with autism’.

I was so scared Sawyer.

Then it was January and you were here. And, oh my God baby boy, you were perfect. You slept. You ate. You laughed. You were content.


Photo Credit: Melanie Houle Gunderson

I want to tell you a secret.

You saved me buddy. I want you to know that. Not a lot of kids can say they saved their mom.

By the time you were born my world was 100% autism and my fierce need to help your brother. I was running myself absolutely ragged chasing therapies and help. And while that is what a mother should be doing, it was slowly taking over my entire world. I was missing all the joy of motherhood. I was simply surviving.

You reminded me that I needed to live life with my babies. You brought our family back to reality.

On the days when autism had me down. On the days when my heartbreak over your brother’s disability was more than I could handle. You were there. Laughing and smiling. Learning to crawl, walk, jump and speak. Inserting yourself into Cooper’s world too. You could always do it in a way that I never could.

You gave me all the milestones and memories that a mother should have.

And on the other hand watching you pass your older brother cognitively, socially, emotionally and physically has been crushing. You are my little reminder of what Cooper isn’t. There are days where I miss your brother so much I can’t stand it.

I think of the all times we almost downplayed your development because your brother learned to use a straw or point to his nose. Such simple things. We never meant to do that buddy. We just knew you were fine. You were thriving. Your brother wasn’t.

I want to say I am so sorry. You were born into this.  Having a brother with severe special needs has to be frustrating. There are days when the only interaction you have with Cooper is a kick in the face.

Autism is such a mystery to you. I can see it in your face. There are days where you will look at Cooper and ask him a question and he will squeal in delight. Those are the good moments. And I know they are few and far between.

I want to say I am sorry that this is happening. You are the most social kid that I know. You come to me to meet those needs because your brother ignores you. You demand me to play with you.

Part of me wishes you didn’t know the word ‘Autism.’ And then a part of me is thankful that you know hard times. That you know sadness and disabilities and differences. I feel like it’s almost a gift Cooper has given to us. You know struggles kiddo.


Photo Credit: Kacie K Photography

I feel like I’ve missed so much of your life.

Last month I forgot the year you were born. We were at the doctor having your well-child visit and the receptionist asked me your birth date. I said January 20.  And she said ‘year?’ I just stared at her. I looked at you. I looked at her. And I burst into tears. I truly didn’t know the year you were born.

Your daddy giggled about my forgetful brain and attributed it to lack of sleep.

I think of the times I shushed your beautiful chatter and nonstop questions because I had been listening to your brother scream for hours.

What kind of mother does that? But I know that you will understand. You will be quiet. Your brother won’t.

The other day you grabbed my face during a social worker visit and looked right into my eyes and said, ‘Can we talk about Sawyer for a little bit mama?’ I will never forget the way you held my face with both of your chubby hands and asked so sweetly Sawyer. And I told you we would after the social worker left. We would talk about Sawyer. Only we didn’t because your brother needed me.

I want you to know I am so sorry for that moment that you will never remember.

I want to thank you sweet boy. Our life is hard. It is even scary sometimes. It’s exhausting. And you get the leftover shreds of a mother after autism is done. And I am sorry.

Some days I think I am creating a monster because I spoil you so terribly. You see your brother doing so many things that you can’t. So, I give into you all the time. I hold you and coddle you. I let you stay up later at night so we can have a few minutes without autism.

I am so sorry that 5 times a day I say to you…’because he’s autistic.’ There are days when I swear I’ve failed you.

Or the times I told you that you had to walk because I had to carry your brother. It started when you were 2. Your brother was 4. You would scream at my feet with those little arms in the air and your brother would kick at you from my arms. We would be in the midst of autism meltdown so fierce that I would have to walk and hope that you would follow.

Those moments are burned in my brain buddy. Oh the guilt.

There are moments when I will look at you and wonder if you will take care of your brother after I am gone. Will you love him like I do? Will you shave his face? Will you dress him? Will you change his diaper if needed? Will he live with you?

How can I ask you that? I want you to go to college. Get married. Have babies. But part of me has this favor to ask of you. I need you to love your brother after I am gone. I need you to protect him and while I don’t know what that looks like yet I just need to say it out loud.

My worry about Cooper’s future is unbelievable.

Someday, mommy and daddy need to talk to you about the future. But not today.

Today you are 4 sweet boy and we are celebrating everything that is you. Today Autism is not the priority.

I am watching you play and thinking about all the things I want to teach you.

I want to teach you kindness, love and patience. I want to teach you that disabilities are not scary. I want you to fight for what is right. I want you to fight for your brother.

But most of all I want you to be happy doing whatever it is you want to do and to have no animosity against your brother. I want you to accept Cooper and love him and truly see all the joy he brings to our lives. I want you to be brothers in every essence of the word honey.


Photo Credit: Kacie K Photography


70 thoughts on “A Letter to My Other Son…The Sibling to A Special Needs Child

    • I cried as well … while eating my scrambled eggs. The tears wouldn’t stop rolling even as I continued to go on abt eating my eggs. This is our story. I said many of these words just yesterday to my Mom. My sons are alittle older, 17 and 12. So although we have walked every step u have now we are on to things like social groups ? friends? And dating ? And vocational rehab ? And college ? But our story has unfolded just as u have so eloquently written. Beautiful words.

  1. Oh my. Your writing is amazing. And yes, I did cry reading this. I can understand. I really can. We managed to get pregnant when Seb was 13 months. Back then , we had no idea about Sebastian’s autism. Seb was just sensitive, bad sleeper, … Gabriel, his younger brother is perfect, just like Sawyer. Thanks goodness and universe. It must be hard on siblings. And just like you, we ask the same questions. Love to you and your family.

  2. This sounds more like you are “sorry” your 1st son was born. He didn’t ask to be autistic. Sounds more like you are sorry of what y’all are missing instead of the gift you’ve been given.

    • You are the first person out of 8,000 that’s read it that way. Interesting. I love my son. All the stuff that accompanies autism is amazingly unbelievably hard. How old is your autistic child? I’d love to know your trick!

    • She’s not sorry Cooper was born. If you think this woman doesn’t love and treasure Cooper, you CLEARLY haven’t followed her long. Why would a mom be a tireless advocate for a kid she doesn’t love? Why would she spend every waking minute thinking of ways to improve his quality of life if she “regretted” his birth??

      Listen, I have two sons, both neuro-typical. And even I can see that what she’s saying here is that she’s sorry for what Sawyer has had to endure. That it’s an effing unfair hand they’ve all been dealt BUT that she also hopes it teaches him compassion and empathy and patience. Which I am sure it already has. She’s saying she’s sorry for what will no doubt be a life filled with challenges that aren’t necessarily Sawyer’s responsibility. She’s human. She feels bad for the effect it might have on her youngest. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t love and value and delight in her oldest. Period.

      • AMEN SISTER! Thank you! People can criticize me. Be mean about my parenting tactics. Or the fact that I feed my kid sugar cereal. Or that my carseats are disgusting. BUT NEVER EVER EVER EVER question my love for those boys. Nope. Hugs to you!

    • Findingcoopersvoice is my Autism Mom Mentor of sorts and we text each other about things quite regularly. She has helped me in immeasurable ways, and I find your assertion quite staggering and frankly offending. NEVER have I met a more caring, compassionate amazing advocate for her son than her. We all get to vent, but we don’t get to judge. I won’t judge you for Mom Shaming, but I ask that you not judge my friend.

    • This comment is unhelpful to basically…everyone. Kelli Smythe, please look for your #1 SANCTIMOMMY COOKIE (made with the breastmilk!) in the mail. I baked it in my organic, gluten free kitchen and it is being delivered to you via rainbow farting Pegasus.

    • What a self righteous, asinine thing to say! How can you presume to know how much this woman loves her son?? BTW, when you’ve cleaned poop off your walls and carpet for the fourth time in a week, please get back to me about what a “gift” autism is. YOU SUCK.
      p.s. Kate, if you want to delete my comment, please go ahead, but I couldn’t not say something. I just couldn’t.

      • No deleting coming from this end. The funniest part about all of this is this morning was a rough one for me. Cooper pooped all over my couch and floor. It got all over my hands. The dogs stepped in it. And as I cleaned it up I looked at Cooper and thought….you are the cutest dang thing. And then I cried. It was a tough morning. This comment was a tough one to read. Everything I do is for that kid. Anyway. THANK YOU!

    • Kelli your comment is such a shame.
      Coopers mom should be commended and celebrated for how much she loves her children. If you read her blog, you will see what an incredible mother she is. Honesty like this, show other autism parents like me, that it’s ok to be human and to find things difficult.
      I wish you nothing but peace and happiness, as often what we put out is a reflection of how we are feeling ourselves. Please think before critisising others. Until you spend a day in their shoes, you can’t ever understand. Be kind.

      • Love your comment and it’s great to see that Coopers mum who walks this path of parenting is honest and true about how things really are. I find many of the Autism sites everyone makes you feel bad if you wish your child never had autism. Well I can tell you my granddaughter has Aspergers she is smart, funny, loving and all the other wonderful things you can say about a child you love but I truly wish she didn’t have Aspergers because it would make her life easier and that of her mum and her siblings.

    • This is a letter to Sawyer. A beautiful, happy, active boy who has a beautiful loving mother! I think that you missed the point of the letter. I heard from a mom struggling to juggle the needs of a special needs child with the yearning to create a normal life for her other child. She is very hard on herself! Please re read it with an open mind.

    • Clearly you have NO CLUE what it is to have Multiple children and One or TWO of them in my case who have Autism to varying degrees… You truly have NO idea the DAILY we go thru… The highs the lows, The happiness the sadness, the sleepless nights the other kids feeling “left out” bc so much has to be given to the others… You have No idea how your reply Seriously hurt and ticked me off at the same time… Not too mention how you just made her, Myself and I Know soon many other parents in the same Boat feel!! Before you DARE criticize another, I humbly invite you to come stay with my family even for just a 24hr period and I Guarantee you will leave with an entirely New perspective and Mind set,. And Most importantly RESPECT…

  3. Please friends. How could one possibly criticize such a pure, raw and honest expression of joy, pain, love and anguish? Every word is perfect and yes, I am certain that there is sorrow and regret and determination and love at every moment for both children. Such is the life of a parent of a child with special needs. All of those things exist in every moment all at the same time and their incongruity opens up yet another flank in the multi-front war we are fighting. No one can criticize – we can only share and listen. We are all in uncharted waters.

  4. Thank you so much for this. And yes I definitely cried. I am a mom to a 4 year old severely autistic nonverbal little boy. And he is my world. My absolute everything. My husband and I have been thinking about having another one and we are so scared. This was really eye opening for me. So thanking you for sharing your experience with the world. My prayers are with you and your family

  5. Truly heartfelt and beautiful. I have a 6 year old son with severe autism my other son is almost 4, I know the daily struggle all to well. Your letter touched me is so many ways.

  6. Such a lovely letter to Sawyer! They’re so lucky to have a mom like you! I’m sure he loves his brother very much and will learn to appreciate all the little things that make Cooper so special. I too have a sibling on the spectrum and I can relate. If you ever have some quiet time you should listen to this podcast:


    three sisters (including me) with brothers on the spectrum. We’re all much older than Sawyer, but we discuss our past and present experiences and hopes for the future.

  7. I am the elder sister of a 61 year old woman with autism. I beg you, do not place on Sawyer so much weight. It almost destroyed me. Make sure you make provisions for Cooper’s future yourself and do not leave that difficult task to Sawyer alone when you are gone. I cannot express strongly enough how painful and frustrating it was when that happened to me. I care about my sister, and I am her legal guardian, involved in her life, but I still remember the bewilderment I felt as a child when my sister’s doctor urged on me the responsibility of being the sole helper/friend/playmate for my sister. Sawyer is a child. Let him be a child, please, not just a quasi-adult guardian of his brother. And when he expresses negative emotions towards his brother some day, and I would bet that as he grows older he will, please treat those emotions with understanding.

      • I would just like to second Sis2Lis comment. The current generation of Sibs (brothers and sisters of those with disabilities) have it a bit easier than those of prior generations, in that we are more free to discuss our family situations, disabilities have more awareness in the world, lawyers and financial planners have more tools at their disposal like special needs trusts and ABLE accounts, etc. But it can still be an incredibly isolating and overwhelming experience to be the Sib. I would urge you (in your copious spare time..haha) to find some resources specific to Sawyer, whether it is a SibShop, age-appropriate books that help you start discussing the situation, or just bookmarking the future planning sites to revisit when Sawyer starts asking deeper questions. There is video of me at 4 that show I have understanding that my brother is different and wonder about its impact socially, and I was clinically depressed by 10 in part because my questions, frustrations, and fears spiraled without a place to examine them.

        I’m really not saying this to make you feel guilty or to transfer my feelings about my parents to you. You’re in an impossible spot with not enough hours or energy. I get that deeply. But you do have enough love, and there are resources out there for the Sibs, so I’m hoping that you connect with them. SiblingSupport.org is a great place to start. (And maybe you give a little poke to AS for the Cooper-centric edit of your blog? So glad I clicked through to the full version where your love for Sawyer really shows through)

  8. Thank you for writing this!! I feel like I could have written this myself. Our son Owen has severe autism as well & we also have two “typical” children, one who is 4 & 15 months older than him, and one who is 11 months old & 2 years younger than him. I worry about him more than my other two & that is because I know they will be ok, but I also worry how his disability affects them. Thank you for writing this!! From one autism momma to another!!

  9. The most beautiful, heart breaking letter I’ve ever read, literally have tears rolling down my cheeks, Your boys are both so very special in their own unique ways, Sawyer, beautiful name for the cutest little man, you are an everyday day Mum doing your utmost best in a life changing situation, having kids is life changing full stop, you write from the heart & it’s a whole world of emotions to read, I wish all the best for you all xxx

  10. So beautiful. We have a 5 year old son with autism and another son due in two weeks. I cried reading this and can relate so much. Thank you.

  11. I got teary reading your letter to your younger son, so beautifully written and I know your son will treasure this. I believe growing up with a special needs sibling makes one a more compassionate person. For me having 2 sons that were both special needs early on there wasn’t that stark comparison, I don’t know what normal is to be honest. Thank you for sharing ❤

  12. Your letter is my life. I am the younger brother, now 29. This letter is very powerful and brought me to tears. Thank you for writing and sharing it. Truly save it and give it to your son when he is adult enough to understand.

  13. I read your letter and I am still crying and the comments. We love our children and it’s just so hard and autism hurts it hurts so so bad.

  14. This makes me sad that my autistic son will never have a sibling. And I will never know what it’s like to experience many milestones. I’m just not sure if I’ll ever be able to make peace with that. It’s so hard. I am grateful for my son. But I get sad about so many things because of autism.

  15. Dear Mom,
    I read your letter today.
    You should know that the person I am today is because of you, and because of my brother.

    Know that I never resented the focus on him. Not really. I watched, and learned, what it means to love someone. To nurture them. To not only care for him, but to allow him to care for us. Not in the traditional sense, but in his way. Love is not a spoken language. He makes me laugh, deep belly laughs, and smile till the creases in my face hurt. He is pure, and the euphoria we feel when he is happy and with each small step forward is unlike any other joy. Being with him simplifies life to what really matters. Cynicism and self-absorption fade away. We experience life in full colour. Those are the times that make the grief, the stress, the anger at the world’s injustice seem unimportant, if only for awhile.

    And those times you spoiled me? These helped me to learn to appreciate the sweet moments, and to take nothing for granted. That the chaos of life is tempered by levity.

    You wondered how I would feel about my brother, now, as an adult. You never had to tell me what my role would be; I knew. There was no doubt. As I grow older, and you grow older, I worry too about outliving my brother, just as you do. He factors into my every decision. But it is not a sacrifice.
    My best qualities are inextricably linked to my brother. I have an empathy and interest in others I would not have, without him. I understand the difference between treating someone equitably and treating someone equally. You taught me this.

    In a way you could say my brother keeps me out of trouble. I don’t waste time on the wrong people. I have a list of qualities I look for in a partner because I am looking out for someone who will love us both. This may also seem like a sacrifice but it is not. I want a partner who sees the innate value in others, and who can move beyond fear to meeting him where he is.

    He is a gift. He is the reason I now teach children with autism. When I was offered the job, I wondered if it was a good idea. Would it be too hard to work all day, sharing in the pain and joys of other families, to come home to ours? But then I realized: would anyone else love these students the way I do? Six years on, I have no regrets. And I want to change the world for my students. Which is why I am now getting my doctorate in autism education. Because the world is changing and everything he has taught me can be passed along to others. Because he really is the greater teacher.

    I know there is a grief so deep in you that it is hard to get out of bed sometimes. But we are so much more whole than we would be without him. There is lightness that permeates the darkness.

    He may not say it, and I definitely don’t say it enough, but thank you. I love you, for all that you have done. I am happy to help. I am grateful to help. I have been preparing for this for as long as I can remember.

    Don’t worry, Mom, I got this. I got you.

  16. I understand that feeling, Amy. I am miles down this road of autism…my son is 32. I wanted another child, but my then husband told me that he didn’t know how he would treat our son if he had a “real” child. He already pretty much ignored him, so that was the day I knew I would have an only child. It took a long time for me to find that peace…we divorced (he had a bucket list to fulfill and we weren’t on it) and I moved to a town with a wonderful special needs community. I have peace, and my son is thriving. I’m seeing milestones that I never thought I would see! Best part…He has friends and a social life that wears this 60 yr old mama out, but I wouldn’t change a thing!!!

  17. Pingback: A letter to my son, brother to a sibling with autism | My Autism Research

  18. Hi I can so relate to your story!!! My older son is 10 and on the spectrum and my 6 year old is typical. It’s so not easy! I work so hard to help my older one that my younger one, demands my attention as well. I have hired a babysitter for Saturday’s for my older one, so my 6 year old and I can spend the day together. My 6 year old is very happy with this arrangement! But if I’m honest I’m so tired. I wish I would have had my boys in my 20s. I feel like my energy is gone, but I just keep going. Sending good wishes your way 🙂

    • Hey Sanda! Thanks for your comment. That’s a definite option. The reality is coops will live with a long as I can care for him. And at 18 his brother will still be in high school. The post is more emotional. A mom writing to her son. Not so much what will actually happen. Thanks for stopping by! Please continue to comment.

  19. Pingback: Dear Mom, I Read Your Letter Today – Finding Coopers Voice

  20. I honestly have to say I cried the whole time uncontrollable, my son was diagnosed with mild Autism in September of 2016, before hand we knew he had a delay in speech we discovered it right before he turned 2 years old . At the time we thought that was all because he had months of speech therapy and he showed a great improvement due to reaching his goal but not for his age, so we did not think or want to think there was more to his delay. However as months went by we started to notice certain characteristics and behaviors in him that flagged us and made us realize that there was more than just speech delay. After so many therapy visits and follow ups, finally the Neurologist told us it was time to run some diagnostic and blood test, but that he believed that our son has mild autism. Well all the test came back negative so we thought that was wonderful news and got ourselves ahead and immediately thought well our son does not have this disorder, but later on at the follow up visit the Neurologist reconfirmed even though the test were negative my son had characteristic and behaviors of autism. Well at the time I took it in well and said well since the beginning we have been taking the proper steps early on with the therapies and taking time with him at home teaching him, words, how to use words, getting him educational toys, books, taking more time with him so we are ready for this, but reality hit me after reading your story I broke down, I want to be strong at all times and not show my children and family any weakness through this process of really accepting it, but I’m hurting not because he has it but because I love him so much and we live in a cruel world and I just want to be there every moment and second of his life, I feel if I’m not there someone is going to judge him, mistreat him and not understand him because of the ignorance unfortunately many adults have to this disorder. I praise you for being so strong and for sharing your personal story of your family’s life not everyone has the courage to do it. Thank You!

  21. These are constant fears of mine. My SN daughter has a twin brother who is typical and then we had a surprise baby a year ago, also typical. We didn’t know that Harper had any issues until they were about 1, so I didn’t really appreciate all the normal/typical things that babies do until having our third – and she has absolutely saved me. She has the happiest spirit and I thank god every day for giving me such a light. And I feel that her happy spirit is exactly what our family needs to help cope and keep perspective on the difficulties we will face with Harper.

  22. I cried as I read your letter. The love you have for both of your boys comes shining through. I am the sister of a ‘little’ brother, who due to a botched delivery and oxygen deprivation, has special needs. He still lives at home with my mother and stepdad. The disability, (never him), is a lifelong burden. My brother is a blessing; I’ve never met a truer soul. I worry about my ability to take care of him as gracefully as my mom has all of these years, when that time comes.
    He is 4 years, 9 months younger than me. My mom said at 6 months old, she knew that things were not ‘right’. It would take another 2.5 years for the archaic “R” word to be applied. Then came the “He will never…” statements from the professionals. My mom was alone when she was given the so called professional opinions. My dad never accepted any of it. He was a man’s man, and somehow, he equated a son with special needs to be a slap to his masculinity. Therefore, this burden was pretty much all on my mom’s shoulders. I feel that at five years old, I became a miniature adult. My mom and dad took care of me, but somewhere with in me, I didn’t want them to be burdened by me as well. I have always been fiercely independent, even before my brother came always saying “me do it!” I remember thinking as a six or seven yr old, I won’t bother Mom with this or that; she has enough on her plate. There were plenty of times I felt left out of the bond she and my brother shared, and then would feel guilty for those feelings. I didn’t know until becoming an adult, how much guilt my mother felt for me. She thought she had neglected me, and still carries that today. When my oldest daughter reached four or five years old, she realized how old I had been when she felt like she abandoned me to take care of him. I never felt this way. I was loved and cared for, the same as he was, but her guilt, nevertheless, remains to this day. As a parent myself, I think of it in terms of Jesus’ parables. The father left the dutiful son to carry the prodigal back to his home and take care of him. The shepherd leaves the 99, to find and care for the 1 that is lost. It doesn’t mean he never cared for the dutiful and well!
    I became a teacher of students with special needs. I feel it is one of God’s callings on my life. I feel that being a sibling of a brother with special needs gives me a unique perspective. I know as much as I can know of what the child goes through, and I know as much as I can know, of what the parent experiences.
    My advice as you move forward on this journey, is to take it easy on yourself. Ride the guilt train as little as you possibly can- it’s not productive for anyone. Love each child for their strengths and weaknesses as only a mother can. Take care of your husband; he’s hurting on this journey too, and has much more difficulty than you expressing it. Your Sawyer will grow into a compassionate, strong man because of living the life to which your family has been called, and Cooper…he will show you a purity you will only see this side of heaven! Much love to you and your family! If you ever need a vent, I’m hear to listen, you have my email.
    Thanks again, for your blog!
    Laura Whetsel

  23. I’m at work and had to stop reading because I would ball my eyes out if I finish the letter so I will continue reading this along with your other entries later tonight when my beautiful 4yo daughter with asd is asleep. I look forward to relishing the fact that I, together with my husband and stepdaughter am not alone in this journey. Virtual hugs and all my love to you and your family.

  24. This was so sweet and honest. I don’t have any family members with autism, but I work with autistic children. It is a reward every day to be able to have an impact on their lives. I can totally understand how you feel and that sometimes you feel guilty about not giving enough attention to your other son. The attention and time that these children require can be draining and it’s so rough. I always think about the parents of the children that I work with and how my coworkers and I are only with them 6 hours a day, but the parents are with them for much longer. Sometimes I wonder how they do it, because it really is rough, especially with other children in the picture. Your other son will understand as he gets older and I’m sure he will love you for doing everything you can for his brother and he will love him just as much! Keep doing what you’re doing.

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