Every day with my daughter Selena is a lesson in love, patience, and persistence. As a mom to a special needs child, I’ve learned to celebrate the smallest victories—a giggle, a new word, a moment of connection. But one battle that weighs heaviest on my heart is her struggle with food. For Selena, eating isn’t just a matter of sitting down to a meal. It’s a complex, often overwhelming challenge tied to textures, sensory sensitivities, and her unique needs. And for me, it’s a constant source of worry, frustration, and fear as I fight to ensure she gets the nutrition she needs to thrive. Selena has always been sensitive to textures.
The feel of certain foods—mushy, grainy, or even slightly slippery—can send her into distress. A spoonful of mashed potatoes might as well be a mountain she can’t climb. Crunchy foods sometimes fare better, but only if they’re the right kind of crunch, and even then, her interest might vanish after a single bite. It’s not just pickiness; it’s a sensory wall that stands between her and the nourishment her body craves. Watching her push away a plate or gag on a bite that took so much effort to prepare breaks my heart every time. The struggle isn’t just about getting her to eat—it’s about keeping her healthy. Selena’s weight is a constant concern. At every doctor’s visit, I hold my breath as the nurse checks her chart. Is she gaining enough? Is she falling behind?
The numbers feel like a judgment of my ability to care for her, even though I know that’s not fair. Special needs kids like Selena often face unique metabolic or physical challenges that make weight maintenance a delicate balancing act. But knowing that doesn’t make it less scary. As her mom, I feel the weight of every missed bite, every meal that ends in tears—hers or mine.The fear is real. What if she’s not getting enough nutrients? What if her body isn’t strong enough because I couldn’t find a way to make food work for her? There are nights when I lie awake, replaying the day’s meals in my head, wondering if I could have tried harder, been more creative, or found some magic combination of foods she’d accept. I research endlessly—blender recipes, high-calorie snacks, supplements, anything that might help.
I talk to doctors, therapists, and other parents, hoping for a breakthrough. Some days, I feel like I’m failing her, even though I’m pouring every ounce of myself into this fight.The constant battle wears on me, but it’s Selena’s resilience that keeps me going. She’s not just a picky eater—she’s a fighter, navigating a world that feels overwhelming to her senses. On the good days, we find small wins: a smoothie she sips without protest, a cracker she munches happily, or a moment when she tries something new, even if it’s just a nibble. Those moments feel like miracles. They remind me that progress isn’t always measured in pounds or portions—it’s in the trust we’re building, the tiny steps forward, and the love that binds us through every challenge.To other parents walking this path, I see you.
I know the exhaustion of preparing a meal you’re not sure will be eaten, the anxiety of wondering if your child is getting enough, and the quiet guilt that creeps in when things don’t go as planned. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. It’s okay to cry after a tough meal. What matters is that you keep showing up, just like I do for Selena. We’re not perfect, but we’re their fiercest advocates, and that’s enough.Selena’s journey with food is far from over, and mine as her mom is too. Some days, I’m terrified of what lies ahead. But I hold onto hope—hope that we’ll find new ways to nourish her, that she’ll grow stronger, and that I’ll keep learning how to be the mom she needs. For now, I take it one bite at a time, trusting that love and persistence will carry us through.
With Love,
Danielle
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