Not resilience. Necessity.

Please don’t call me resilient. That word gets used so often it feels empty. I am a military spouse and a mother, and most days I am just getting by.

In the last six years, my family has moved six times. Every new place means starting

over - finding a house, learning new streets, finding a new normal. There’s no time to settle.

In 2021, my world shifted again when I had a stroke. Recovery was long and uncertain, a

time filled with both fear and hope. Then, while still in therapy, I learned I was pregnant

with my youngest daughter.

She’s four now. She brings light into my life, but she faces more challenges than

most. She has profound Autism, Global Developmental Delay, PICA, Intellectual Disability,

Speech and Language Impairment, and Hearing Loss. We’re still searching for answers with

doctors and specialists, but what I know for sure is that she needs constant care and

supervision.

So, at its heart, my story is about two things:

1. Service members like my husband do not receive a wage that lets them live on it.

2. Without trusted care for my daughter, I cannot take a regular job. People say military

families have support, but resources are often just out of reach. My daughter was

approved for thirty-two hours of respite care through EFMP and sixteen through

ECHO, but there are no providers in our area. The CDC says there are spots, but they

will not accept her due to her care need. After being asked to leave two child care-centers, I stopped trying. I am grateful for my very part-time, flexible job that helps us buy groceries,

but this is not the life families like mine deserve. The exhaustion never really leaves,

and the lack of real options chips away at any sense of security. We are not thriving;

we are surviving, one day at a time.

I am grateful for the work I do, but what about all the parents like me - parents with no

one to care for their children, forced to put their education, skills, and dreams on hold? I

have multiple degrees, but they sit unused. I cannot contribute to my community in the way

I once imagined. We do not qualify for SSI, and our state does not offer paid caregiver

support for parents. We were lucky to find a Mother’s Morning Out program that welcomes

our daughter for four hours each week. In exchange, I prepare arts and crafts for the

children. I never take my part-time job or the few hours of connection for granted.

My family depends on my income, and my daughter deserves to learn, play, and be safe

while I care for myself. But this is not resilience; it is necessity. Families like mine do not just

“manage.” We shoulder invisible challenges, and we need more than a pat on the back for

being strong. We need real, lasting change, for our children, for ourselves, and for those

who follow.