Kai and the challenge that keeps me up at night

Today I want to talk about my baby.

About Kai. The most beautiful kid ever. He's the calmest and sweetest kid. And I'm not gonna lie, he has a smile that melts my heart in a second.

If you've been following our story, you already know Kai is my autistic baby. My quiet miracle. The one who taught me that love doesn't always look the way you expected it to look. Sometimes it looks like a little head moving side to side. Sometimes it looks like a laugh in the middle of the night. And sometimes, it looks like this — like a mama up late, thinking about food.

Because Kai loves to explore at his own pace. He doesn't rush. He watches. He takes it all in. He loves to stack things up just to knock them down, and then he laughs like it's the funniest thing he's ever seen. He loves to laugh out loud, that big, free, whole-body laugh. He loves to be sung to. And he loves when someone actually gets down on the floor and really plays with him, not just watches him, but really gets in his world with him.

We all protect him like the treasure he is. His siblings, his dad, me, all of us. Because that's what he is to us. A treasure.

Kai has a mixed sensory profile. And if you're not familiar with what that means, let me try to explain it the way I live it every day. Sometimes everything hits him all at once. The sounds, the lights, the textures, the smells, all of it comes in too loud, too fast, too much, and he gets overwhelmed. And sometimes it's the exact opposite. Sometimes the world feels too quiet for him to tune in. Like he needs more input just to feel where he is.

And right in the middle of it all is food.

My biggest challenge. My biggest fear.

Kai doesn't eat. I mean, he really, really doesn't eat. He literally only accepts three things: a certain brand of cookies, Cheddar Goldfish, and the yellow Sabritas. That's it. That's his safe list. Plus his formula, PediaSure, which I'm really struggling to get him to take right now, certain fruit juices, and his vitamins that I have to sneak in wherever I can.

And I know what some people think when they hear that. They think, oh, he's just picky. Just make him hungry, he'll eat. Just don't give him the cookies. Just try harder.

But this is not picky. This is not a kid being stubborn. This is sensory. This is his nervous system telling him, this texture is not safe. This smell is too much. This is scary. This is too much.

I'm not even that worried about him not talking yet. I know his words will come in his time, in his way. What worries me a thousand times more is that he doesn't eat. That keeps me up at night. Literally. I lay there thinking, is he getting enough? Is his tiny body working too hard on so little? What if he gets sick? What if I'm missing something? What if I'm not doing enough?

That fear sits in my chest every single day. Because as a mom, feeding your child is supposed to be the most basic thing you can do. And when you can't do it, you feel helpless in a way I can't even explain.

So for now, we are doing sensory therapy. It's just temporary. Only to help with feeding. To gently invite him to try something new without it turning into a battle. No forcing. No tears. No making food the enemy. Just small, safe, patient steps.

Once we make some progress, we'll go back to Gina for his psychopedagogical and behavioral therapy. That's his foundation. Gina knows him. Gina sees him. She gets him.

I know this will be my hardest challenge yet. Harder than the waiting. Harder than the not knowing. Harder than the fear of the diagnosis. Because this is every day. This is every meal. This is every bite.

But if anyone has taught me that quiet miracles exist, it's him.

Because even if he doesn't eat, even if the world weighs heavy on him sometimes, when he looks at me with that perfect smile and says, "Kai loves momma," my soul starts all over again.

Every worry, every fear, every long night, it all just melts. Because that boy, with that smile, he reminds me why we keep going. Why we keep trying. Why we keep believing.

So thank you for being here. Thank you for listening. Thank you for not judging our atypical world.

And if you're a mom going through something like this, I see you. I really do.

Is your little one also super selective with food? What has helped you at home? What tiny win gave you hope? I'd love to hear. Because maybe your story is the one that helps another mama sleep a little better tonight.