Siblings, Pt 2: Life Without Words

As I sit here on the floor, laughing and cuddling with Sophia, I can’t help but wonder about something that tugs at my heart.

Will she grow up feeling like she’s in the background?

Wyatt needs so much of me. His needs are higher, his care is constant, and many days revolve around making sure he’s safe, happy, and supported. That’s just our reality. But it’s also my fear.... that somewhere along the way, Sophia might think she doesn’t matter as much, that she’s somehow “less than” because her brother requires so much of our attention.

Parenting a neurotypical child alongside a child with severe autism is like walking a tightrope. I’m constantly balancing the needs of both, making sure neither one falls through the cracks. Some days, I feel like I’m failing.

Sophia is only 1½, but she’s already so observant. She watches everything. She’s curious. She wants to be with her big brother, even when he needs space. And she watches me - how I care for Wyatt, how I respond to his meltdowns, how I drop everything when he needs me.

 Will she grow to resent that? 

Or will she grow to understand? 

I want Sophia to always know she is loved just as fiercely as her brother. I want her to know that even if my time is divided, my heart is not. She is special. She is seen. She is my sunshine on the hard days.

I hope she grows up with compassion, with an understanding that love doesn’t have to be equal to be enough - it just has to be unconditional.

Sophia, if you ever read this one day, I hope you know this: you are not insignificant. You are my world—just as much as your brother is.

And to other parents walking this same path—those quiet worries you carry in your heart? You’re not alone. We’re all learning how to love our children uniquely and fully, even when life feels unfairly tilted.

I’ll keep cuddling her. I’ll keep showing up for both of them. And I’ll keep loving them, loudly and endlessly.

Kerri