I hope I can be the momma they need.
I hope I can be the wife he needs.
I hope that one day, I will be able to pay for all the medical bills, and still be able to save something for the future.
I hope that my son will be able to make it through the next week without any real need for medical intervention.
I hope that my husband knows how much I love him.
I hope that my youngest son doesn’t grow up feeling like he was ignored because of our necessary, and sometimes unfair, focus on his brother.
I hope that when my son grows up, he can keep a job and maybe even learn to drive a car (executive function matters on the road, yo).
I hope my boys never, ever doubt that they are so very loved.
I hope that I never have to choose between quality care for my son, and paying rent or putting food on the table.
I hope other mommas won’t have to make that horrible decision either.
I hope that autism becomes something more readily and widely understood.
I hope that being an autism parent becomes something that is more readily and widely understood.
I hope that I am spending my days on things that matter.
I hope that my son is able to get out of bed tomorrow morning, and that the Lupus won’t take over again.
I hope that both boys sleep through the night tonight.
I hope that the insurance company reimburses the 50% the pamphlet says they will, but I have yet to see.
I hope that we can make it onto the flight home without security being called.
I hope that all the people sitting near us on the flight will understand, or at least not be too bothered when my son inevitably melts down on the plane.
I hope my headache goes away.
I hope that my husband sees how much these boys adore him.
I hope that someone, somewhere watches that Dateline episode and figures out a way to help our families.
I hope that my sons marry wives that see them for the wonderful men I know God is growing them to be.
I hope I can pull this off.
I am not discouraged. I am not undone. I can do this.