Dear Husband, We’re a Special Needs Team…

First I believe in building upon the positive.

You are an amazing and incredible dad and husband.

You have endless love for your children and offer particular tenderness and care to our child with special needs.

However, there are a few things that have been on my mind and I’d like to take this opportunity to remind you we’re a special needs team.

If you use the last diaper, chux or incontinence care and wipes for our child with special needs, please hop downstairs, grab our stock and refill the bin in his closet.

This is more irritating than forgetting replace the toilet paper roll – well, okay, the equivalent to forgetting to replace the toilet paper roll.

While I am totally onboard with you sleeping peacefully through the night with your excessive snoring undisturbed while I reposition and hang on every scary hiccup our child with special needs could potentially have in the night.

And making sure our typical child has his superhero cape on when he gets up in the middle of the night to potty so you can effectively get through a work day.

On weekends, it would be fabulous if you could return the favor and let me sleep in just for twenty minutes.

Twenty.

That’s not a lot of time.

Yes, it’s not a new problem.

Your child with special needs is tremendously messy as he battles his athetoid movements while eating.

His feeding chair often looks like a food war zone.

You can take it upon yourself to dismantle it for the laundry and put it together again without waiting for me to give you permission to do so.

When you call right before a full line up therapy, doctor’s appointments, and while I’m returning emails and phone calls to the nutritionist, to the insurance company to SSI and county services it would be great if you didn’t want to know what’s for dinner.

When you use the last saline swab, oral toothette, or the use up all our child’s eczema lotion.

Please let me know so I can order more.

It’s more frustrating to realize you’re out of inventory than running out of ketchup when you have French fries.

Thank you so much for taking these things into consideration and for all of your genuine and incredible help.

Here’s a high-five and a fist bump.

Love,

The Special Needs SuperMom

About Stacy Warden

Author of Noah's Miracle blog. Noah had suffered "global damage" to his brain. As a result the prognosis was grim. They said Noah would mostly likely never walk, talk, eat or even breathe on his own.