We are clearly in a season of parenting that is h-a-r-d. Parenting one child battling anxiety and panic, while also trying to meet the needs of a “typical” child. This is the part that nobody warned us about. This is the part we couldn’t have even imagined. This is the part where there are more questions than answers. This is the part where we can’t commiserate with other parents experiencing a similar phase of childhood. This is the part we wouldn’t wish on anybody. But this is where we are.
And if we have to be here, there is nobody I would rather be here with than the man I call husband, and my kids call Dad. He helps me find the humor and light in even the darkest days, gives me space when I need it, and holds me close when I cry. He takes time to patiently work on Lego projects with our son, listens with great care to stories about YouTube videos or comic book characters, and holds our son tight when panic or anger consume him. He encourages our daughter to follow her many and varied dreams, embarrasses her with corny jokes, and plays special songs on the guitar just for her.
We are about as polar opposite as two people can be, but that is actually the strength of our relationship. For almost 24 years we have been perfecting the art of deferring to each other when appropriate, changing each other’s minds when necessary, and agreeing to disagree in the times in between. And in this season – in any and every season – there is nobody else I would want as my partner in life and in parenting.
We're All A Little Broken 
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