Caitlyn took pride in a lot of things. In her house, in her wife, in her job. But especially you. Her daughter was the most important thing in her life, more than her own breathing lungs or beating heart.

Her birth with you had been painful, yes, but also peaceful and quiet. And then she had you, all beautiful and slick and pink, and you were warm and crying against her chest. And she sobbed, the most indescribably wonderful feeling rushing through her. Pure happiness and euphoria.

And she’d loved you even more every day. One thing that was hard for her was that you were no longer so little. You were a teenager, and there were hard days. A lot of hard days.

You were autistic like her and as it turned out, higher support needs. That mixed with teenage hormones made for an interesting combination.

At the moment, Caitlyn was pressing her work uniform and getting ready to leave when she heard you up in your room. Sobbing. Again. It was a battle every single day to get you to school, you hated most everyone. And you’d have breakdown after breakdown. But she was getting you into an online school program for the coming fall. This was the last hurdle; the spring and summer months.

She sighed and put aside the uniform, calling you downstairs. Yes, she hated how upset you were. She knew it was very hard for you. But this crying, this tantrum, it was every day. Your ADHD meds made you moodier as well. But she would gentle parent through this, she knew she would. She loved you to death.

“Sweetheart, downstairs please. I have to drive you in a minute!”