We Do What We Need To Do

Before I became a mom, I had a long list of things I swore I’d never do. No soda. No tablets. No bribing with candy. No co-sleeping. You know, all those confident pre-mom vows we make when we’re rested, idealistic, and child-free.

And then… real motherhood happened.

When you’re raising a child––especially a child with special needs––those lists go out the window pretty fast. You start to realize that motherhood isn’t about perfection, it’s about survival, flexibility, and love. We do what we need to do.

When my son, Christopher (name changed for privacy), was five, we traveled to Oregon to train with his new service dog, Eclair. The trip itself deserves its own story, but the part that sticks out most happened on our way home.

It was early morning at a tiny rural airport. I had all our luggage—mine, his, and Eclair’s—and asked Christopher to walk the dog over to a small patch of grass before we went inside to let her go potty. Moments later, I watched in horror as he was swarmed by angry wasps.

By the time I reached him, he had been stung seven times on his face and arms. I pulled him and the dog inside, yelling for help, but the terminal was nearly empty. When an employee finally appeared, I begged for a first aid kit—only to be told they didn’t have one.

No first aid kit. In an airport.

She disappeared to look for ice, and I frantically searched the internet on my phone, terrified that Christopher might have an allergic reaction. She came back several minutes later—not with ice, but with an Otter Pop. Yes, a blue frozen popsicle in a plastic tube.

It wasn’t what I was hoping for, but I took it anyway. I pressed it gently against his swollen cheek. He didn’t like it, pulled away, and started sobbing even harder.

So I did the only thing I could think to do—I pulled out a tiny bag of M&M’s I had been using for positive reinforcement with Christopher during our trip. I told him they had special healing powers for wasp stings. He paused, curious through the tears. I poured a few into my palm and whispered, “I think the brown ones have the most healing properties, but let’s see.”

And right there on the floor of that tiny airport, at 8 a.m., I fed my crying little boy M&M’s for breakfast while pressing an Otter Pop to his face. It wasn’t in any parenting book. It wasn’t on any of my “good mom” lists I had going in my head. But it worked.

He calmed down. He felt safe. And we made it home.

Because that’s what moms do. We do what we need to do. We make the best decisions we can with the information we have in the moment. We adapt, improvise, and pray our way through.

Motherhood—especially special-needs motherhood—isn’t about doing it perfectly. It’s about showing up, loving fiercely, and trusting that God fills in the gaps where we fall short.

💜 Faith Reflection

The verse that beautifully captures this truth is 2 Corinthians 12:9 (NIV):

“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’”

God doesn’t expect us to have it all together. He knows we’re doing our best—sometimes with tear-filled exhausted eyes, and melted M&M’s in our pockets. His grace meets us right there on the airport floor, in the messy, unexpected moments of motherhood, where we’re just trying to help our child feel safe and loved.

So to every mom who’s ever said, “I’ll never…” only to find herself doing exactly that—give yourself grace.

You are not failing. You are mothering.

One morning of M&M’s for breakfast or a movie marathon when you’re battling the flu isn’t going to ruin your child. These aren’t signs that you’re doing it wrong—they’re reminders that you’re human, that you’re doing your best, and that love sometimes looks like flexibility.

Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re showing up. You’re adapting. You’re doing what you need to do.

And God’s grace covers every moment in between.