Since We’re Marking the Calendar…
February 20th is National Caregivers Day. A day meant to recognize those who show up, over and over again, for the people who depend on them.
If you are caring for a child with a disability, you probably don’t feel inspirational. You feel tired. You feel stretched. You feel fiercely protective. You feel overwhelmed by systems that weren’t built for your child or for you. And still, you keep going.
Somewhere along the way, caregiving became framed as heroic. Brave. Selfless. “I don’t know how you do it”.
The truth? We do it because we love our children. And because there is no other option. We are not superheroes. We are parents navigating insurance denials, therapy schedules that feel like full-time jobs, equipment that costs more than cars, forms and phone calls and waiting lists. We sit in IEP meetings and medical appointments where the decisions feel enormous. We manage sleepless nights and physical lifting and transferring and pushing and carrying. We quietly let go of expectations we once held and build new ones in their place.
There is emotional weight in advocating every single day. There is physical weight in helping a growing body move through a world that isn’t accessible. There is mental weight in always thinking three steps ahead. It takes a toll. On backs. On shoulders. On marriages. On friendships. On careers. On nervous systems that rarely get to fully rest. And yet most caregivers will minimize it. Because the focus is always on the child — as it should be. But that doesn’t mean the caregiver disappears.
We are often told, “You can’t pour from an empty cup.” Take a break. Get a massage. Go for a walk. Practice self-care.
Self-care matters — but it is not always equitable.
You cannot simply schedule a break when you don’t have trained respite. When your child’s medical needs require constant supervision. When you are the only one who knows how to manage seizures, feeding tubes, behavioral triggers, or safe transfers. When you can’t afford childcare. When your PTO is already gone for appointments. Self-care requires margin. Many caregivers don’t have margin. So instead of prescribing bubble baths, what if we focused on something more powerful? Support.
If you love a caregiver, “Let me know if you need anything” sounds kind, but it places the mental load back on them. We already coordinate specialists, therapies, medications, school plans, equipment deliveries, and insurance calls. Adding “delegate support” to the list is just one more task.
Instead, choose something small and just do it.
Drop off dinner: no perfection required, even paper plates included.
Send a grocery delivery and text that it’s on the porch.
Pick up prescriptions or return the Amazon packages without being asked.
Sit with their child so they can shower or nap, even if it’s just for thirty uninterrupted minutes.
Take the time to learn about their child’s diagnosis, not to offer advice, but to understand their world.
And sometimes, simply acknowledge the weight: “I see how much you carry.” No fixing. No platitudes. Just witnessing.
Small acts matter. They add up.
National Caregivers Day shouldn’t just be about recognition posts and inspirational quotes. It should be about understanding the reality. Caregiving is beautiful. Caregiving is meaningful. Caregiving is exhausting.
We are not extraordinary humans. We are ordinary parents doing extraordinary tasks in systems that demand too much. If you are a caregiver reading this — your fatigue makes sense. Your frustration makes sense. Your fierce love makes sense. The weight you feel is real.
And if you are someone who loves a caregiver, today is a good day to show up quietly, authentically and practically. No speeches required. Just show up.🩵
