By Snehal Amembal 
Dear fellow playgroup mom,
I don’t know if it is my place to say this. I don’t know if you even want to hear it. But I have finally gathered the courage to say this to you: I see you.
The other morning at playgroup, when we were all asked to form a circle and sing along to “Wheels on the Bus,” I saw you cringe when your little girl kept shouting “sing wipers on the bus” repeatedly at the top of her voice. I saw how embarrassed you were as you dragged her wailing little body away from the room.
I saw how quiet you became when the other moms began discussing their children’s newly formed friendships. I noticed the rings under your eyes you tried to hide with makeup, worry for your little girl reflecting in them. I noticed you hovering around her as she approached a group of children, lest she become disruptive or cause them trouble.
I observed how important routine was to help your daughter feel secure in her environment. I saw you patiently explaining the importance of sitting down and completing an activity as she looked straight through you. I heard you when you made excuses for her asocial behavior by attributing it to hunger or sleeplessness. I saw the anxiety on your loving face.
I saw the effort you put in to help your little girl be part of the mainstream. I heard you talk to her about sharing her feelings and saw you patiently listen to her as she began quantifying them. I saw you making excuses for not attending a birthday party because your little girl cannot deal with overstimulation in the form of loud music and entertainers.
But do you know what else I saw? I saw the love and adoration she has for you. In a place she found overwhelming, you were her safe space. I saw how your embrace calmed her down during a meltdown. I observed how you are her best and likely only true friend, her confidant and secret keeper. I noticed how you are her sounding board and voice until she can speak for herself.
I was touched by your fierce protectiveness, one that will become more challenging as she grows older. I heard how you took so much pride in sharing that your little girl sent her grandma birthday wishes and expressed that she would like to bake her a cake—both behaviors reflecting empathy, a complex competency for her to master.
I cannot imagine how hard it must be to keep fighting in a world that is not so welcoming to those who veer from the norm by no fault of their own. Or how difficult it must be to have almost nothing to contribute at social events when other moms talk about so-called “normal” activities and clubs. Or how distressing it is to see your little girl struggle with age-appropriate self-regulation. Or how tiring it must be to explain to family and friends why she is not the same as everyone else.
But let me tell you this: you are doing a fantastic job and nobody else can do what you do for your child. Keep going, mama! The world will change—it has to change. Until then, find your tribe and hold onto them tightly. There is solace in sharing, I’m sure of it.
Love,
Your mom friend
by Sarah Lango 
