10/23/2026
You’ll get there…
It’s something people say to me all the time.
It sounds harmless. It’s usually meant to be encouraging. But sometimes, when I hear those words, they feel like someone is stabbing me over and over again.
Will we get there? I have been asking myself a lot lately…what is there?
Will we ever get to the place where we don’t have to worry about babysitters or after school care? Where we don’t have to find someone to watch Lincoln just so we can sit on the sidelines and watch Logan play sports?
Will we ever be able to walk into a restaurant without immediately scanning the room for potential dangers or where the easiest place for us to sit will be? Without listening for the noises that might hurt his ears? Without wondering if the environment will be too much, or if we’ll have to leave an event early?
In some ways, things have gotten easier. We’ve learned. We’ve adapted. Our “there” has slowly become our way of life. Our normal.
But in other ways, it has gotten harder.
We watch our friends’ kids grow up. We watch them gain independence. Their lives seem to get a little easier as their children get older. They can stay out later. They can go to restaurants and actually sit and have a conversation. They can make plans without having to think ten steps ahead.
They’re getting there.
And I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that our there may never look like they’re there.
And you know what? That’s okay.
There are absolutely days when it feels impossibly hard. Days when I want to lock myself in my house, crawl into bed, and cry. Days when I mourn the life I thought we would have…the one I pictured before I knew what our “there” would look like.
And then there are the other days.
The days when I look at Lincoln and feel so incredibly proud of how far we’ve come. The days when I realize that maybe I’ve been looking at “there” all wrong.
Because maybe “there” isn’t a destination.
Maybe “there” is simply just here.
Here is where we are. Here is our life. Here is our beautiful, complicated, exhausting, hilarious, imperfect normal.
And as hard as it can be, I am so incredibly grateful that I will most likely have Linc by my side for a very, very long time. I know how lucky I am to have this smiling, happy boy in my life. I know I will probably get to experience more of him, for longer, than most parents ever get to experience their children.
That doesn’t mean it’s easy because believe me It ain’t easy! I can acknowledge the hard and still be grateful. I can mourn the life I thought I would have and love the life I have. Both things can be true. Because this kid teaches me something every single day.
He has changed the way I see the world. He has taught me to slow down, to notice the little things, to celebrate things other people might overlook, and to find joy in places I never would have thought to look.
So maybe someday, when people say, “You’ll get there,” I’ll smile and say: I think we already did.”
And who knows? Maybe our there looks a whole lot better than I ever imagined.
Maybe one day, Linc and I will be down in Florida, cruising around in a golf cart and laughing about all the places we thought we were supposed to get to. Maybe that’s our there…out here!
And honestly…I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
