Thirteen Years and a Thousand Sacrifices

Dante is my oldest son, he's turning 13!

And while everyone else might celebrate it as the beginning of the teen years, I’m here sitting with the quiet truth that his childhood is over, not in a dramatic way, but in a way that hurts if you look too closely.

Because Dante’s childhood wasn’t just bikes and birthday parties.

It was therapy clinics and hospital corridors.

It was me wrapping him in cotton wool cause I was terrified something bad might happen to him.

It was watching his brother’s legs get braced in AFOs while his own questions went unanswered.

It was learning to entertain himself in the corner of a room while the spotlight was on someone else.

It was missing out. Quietly. Repeatedly. Without complaint.

He’s the boy who gave up Saturday sports so we could all go to inclusive games instead.

The boy who learned to cheer for someone else’s milestones while tucking away his own.

The boy who carried the emotional weight of our family’s reality before he had the words to comprehend it.

And still… he smiles. He jokes. He protects, and so fiercely!

But now, at thirteen, I feel the shift.

He’s not a little boy anymore.

He’s a young man who’s had to grow up beside a brother whose needs shaped our entire world.

And sometimes, I worry he never got to be just a kid.

Because while I was busy fighting for one child’s access, I didn’t realise what it was costing the other.

It’s a brutal truth, and one that parents like me don’t say often enough out loud: Sometimes, in giving everything to one child’s needs, we unintentionally let go of the other’s simplicity. Their ease. Their innocence.

But if you’re reading this, Dante, I want you to know something.

You are not an afterthought.

You are not the one who just “tagged along.”

You are the glue. The heart. The quiet hero of this family.

And even if your childhood looked different, maybe lonelier, maybe heavier, it built someone extraordinary. You are wise beyond your years, and your passion is contagious!

You’ve grown up with grace, empathy, and a loyalty that leaves me breathless.

And if I could give you back one thing, it wouldn’t be time.

It would be freedom. Freedom to just be. To be seen. To be celebrated, without always having to be strong.

I know you say you didn’t miss out on anything, because you saw all the things Kaedyn couldn’t do.
And somehow, that gave you gratitude.
Gratitude for the small things: jumping in puddles, ice skating, running free.
All the things he might never get to do.

Happy birthday, my boy.

You’ve done more in 13 years than most people do in a lifetime.

We are so lucky to have you!