Dear Moms,

At ECAC, Mother’s Day holds special meaning - because we are you. Every member of our frontline staff is also a parent of a child with a disability. We’ve walked the same path - navigating systems, celebrating milestones both big and small, facing uncertainties, and holding onto hope even on the hardest days. We understand the strength it takes to advocate, the courage it takes to keep going, and the love that fuels it all. This Mother’s Day, we honor you - for your resilience, your tenderness, and your unwavering dedication. We see you, we stand with you, and we’re cheering you on every step of the way.

At ECAC, we believe that lived experience is powerful. The stories shared in this newsletter come directly from moms across North Carolina who are raising children with disabilities. In the spirit of honesty, empowerment, and community, we have chosen not to edit submissions. Some of these reflections include frustrations related to navigating systems. While these views do not necessarily reflect ECAC’s positions or those of our partners, we honor these voices as a vital part of the broader experience of parenting a child with a disability.

Thank you to each mother who shared her truth. Your voice matters.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY! 

Being a mother to a child with a disability in North Carolina is more than a title. It’s a full time role that demands strength, strategy, and radical love. It means celebrating small victories while carrying the weight of waitlists and overburdened systems. It means showing up, day after day, because our kids deserve more than survival: They deserve joy, dignity, and belonging. 

In 2025, mothering a disabled child means holding joy and grief in the same hand, especially when disability rights are still debated like opinions instead of upheld as law. It means fighting for ESY, BIPs, trained aides, sensory supports, and the dignity our children are owed. We don’t just accept Autism—we empower it.  We are not their voice—we bring their language. That knowledge doesn’t come from a textbook. It comes from lived experience and relentless advocacy. I’ve filed complaints and stood alone in due process hearings, proving what should never be questioned. And I’ll keep showing up until the laws reflect the worth of our children’s needs. 

On days when I get to simply watch my child be included with support, I feel what most take for granted: inclusion isn’t luck. It’s labor. And it’s made possible by the people who stay: teachers, aides, therapists, and staff who adapt and care like second mothers. They don’t just support our children, they see them. And in doing so, they see us, too. Advocacy doesn’t mean ignoring difficulty, and honoring challenge doesn’t mean erasing progress. We are doing both. When one of us refuses to give up, it lights a path for others. Organizations like ECAC light that path for us. 

I’m Sam, the mom to a 5.5 year old little boy with nonspeaking autism. Being a support needs mom has been a journey that feels almost indescribable. It has been 5.5 years of non-stop problem solving, trial and error, meltdowns, questions without answers and a whole lot of love. Sometimes, the stress of it all triggers my fight or flight reflex and all these “unknowns” can really weigh on me. I am a planner, I want to know what my son’s future holds but this journey has taught me how to let go and embrace every moment. And my son has taught me that.

Memphis is so mindful. He is the kind of person who is going to soak up every bit of his surroundings. He watches, listens and takes it all in. I have learned so much just by watching him, observing him. Because Memphis is nonspeaking, he can’t tell me if something hurts, if something happened, if he likes/hates/needs/wants something. Everything that I've ever learned about Memphis, I’ve had to learn through the powers of observation. I watch him. I see the subtle little ways that his body tries to communicate with us. I listen to all his little sounds and intonations. And I sit with him when he is in the midst of feeling feelings that are so big, it seems as if his little body is going to burst. I have made our home a sanctuary for all of his support needs. The world may not be built for autistic people, but our home will always be a safe place to honor his needs and I will always be his biggest cheerleader, advocate and his voice until he finds his own.

Being a mother to two amazing boys with disabilities is a journey of love, learning, and pride. My sons, Alston and Travis, inspire me every day with their unique strengths and challenges.

Alston, 19, has faced incredible obstacles since his brain surgery (left hemispherectomy) at just two months old due to uncontrollable seizures.... Despite global developmental delays , Epilepsy, Autism, Cowden Syndrome, being non-verbal. wheelchair bound & dependence on daily care, he brings joy with his smiles, laughter, & love for his favorite cartoons Blues Clues, Dora and the game show Wheel of Fortune these shows makes him so happy.... We celebrate all victories/ milestones like scooting across the floor, high kneeling, giving high-fives, feeding himself, & shaking his head yes or no ... all of these milestones make me so proud of this strong little man....

Travis, 16, with Autism, Cowden Syndrome, and seizures... he is non-verbal but he shines with his beautiful smile and kind heart. His passion for the outdoors and love for swinging on the front porch brings him so much happiness.... His generosity in donating hair to Wigs for Kids of Michigan shows his compassionate spirit.

As a mother, I'm grateful for the lessons they teach me about patience, compassion, and celebrating every milestone. ..There have been a lot of challenges like navigating the healthcare system which is sometimes overwhelming but, we adjust to some of these challenges the best we can....In education, the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act promises a free and appropriate public education, but reality often falls short. Many families face obstacles in getting necessary services and accommodations. I wish the NC Department of Education would engage with parents and teachers of students with special needs to co-create a more inclusive and equitable system. As a mom, I've learned to advocate tirelessly for my sons' rights and needs. By raising awareness, supporting special education teachers, and pushing for better systems, we can create a brighter future for children with disabilities....It's heartbreaking that parents of children with disabilities often face challenges in accessing resources and services. Every child deserves equal opportunities and a supportive learning environment. I believe that by working together, we can make a difference.

I'd also like to acknowledge the incredible siblings of children with special needs. They are heroes, learning valuable skills like caregiving, advocacy, and empathy....To all the siblings out there, I see you and appreciate your dedication, love, and support. You are making a positive impact, and your special needs sibling is lucky to have you...Alston and Travis have 3 other brothers Kent Jr, Kevin & Chad ... and yes that's 5 boys for me & my husband Kent Sr..... Their brothers are learning everyday from Alston & Travis... they are learning patience, compassion, bravery, and so much more.

As a mom of five boys, two with disabilities, I've learned to juggle multiple responsibilities, from working part-time, medical appointments to sports and other special events. It's a lot, but we get it done. I'm proud of all my boys and the love they share.

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there, especially those who advocate tirelessly for their children with disabilities.... We love y'all! 

Being a mother to a child with a disability means to me, celebrating milestones that others take for granted such as being able to grab a toy or just lifting their head on their own. Not being able to celebrate milestones on time but when physical therapy goals get reached. Being happy to finally get approval from insurance to receive equipment my child needs to live day to day life. Taking your responsibility to protect your child to a new level because to the general public he doesn't seem to have special needs or be disable. Being a mother to a child with a disability means being able to walk past those that stare and just smile because the stares and weird looks make you hurt for your child because they don't know what that stare means but you do. Being a mother to a child with a disability means figuring out the perfect "let me help you" and "you can do it" combination so your child can be as independent as they can be.

Being a mother of a child with a disability is sometimes just wishing you can sit in silence and mindlessly stare at the TV because sometimes doing therapies with your day after day and going to appointment after appointment can be all too overwhelming. Keeping track of every appointment and sometimes scheduling appointments too close together because you forgot the write down one appointment.

It's balancing your attention so your other children don't feel left out because your disabled child needs so much more than your children. Being a mother to a child with a disability means showing strangers that my child is happy and healthy regardless of what he/she isn't able to do or say. Sometimes reminding others that my child is so much more than his disability. Being a mother to a child with a disability is challenging a lot of the time but it is also so very rewarding and has reminded me to slow down and take in every special moment. It has also made me a better parent to my older child and remember that she too is still reaching milestones that need celebrated. 

Hello, my name is Rosa Cifuentes. I am Guatemalan, a survivor of domestic violence, and a single mother of two girls — one is 12 and the other is 17 years old.

My 12-year-old daughter has autism and suffers from seizures. My 17-year-old daughter has an incurable disease that limits her ability to live a normal life, called Hidradenitis Suppurativa. Most of the time, we are in the hospital with my older daughter. Our life is very difficult, and as a mother, sometimes I feel like I can't go on anymore — I break down, I cry, then I wipe my tears and smile for them. My older daughter will begin chemotherapy, and I know that the three of us will win this battle together.