When Preparation Quietly Turns Into Preoccupation

Here’s what I’ve learned on this autism motherhood journey: We become really good at preparing. And honestly, we have to. We stay on guard for sensory overload, doctor’s appointments, changes in routine, meltdowns, and the unexpected. Preparation is a big part of our reality.

But somewhere along the way, preparation has quietly turned into preoccupation. Instead of just preparing for tomorrow, we start living there.

I cannot tell you how many nights I’ve laid in bed thinking, “What if my son never speaks?” Then my mind jumps straight into the future. What will adulthood look like for him? Will people understand him? Will they treat him with kindness?

Then my thoughts shift to my daughter. How can I make sure she has everything she needs without always feeling like she has to be the strong one? Does she know how deeply I love her, especially on the days when her brother needs so much of the spotlight? Will I ever get this sibling balance right?

One question leads to another until it’s two in the morning and none of those questions have been answered. All I’ve done is lose sleep over a future I can’t control.

Those “what ifs” become an unnecessary grip of worry, like an old rocking chair. You can rock back and forth for hours replaying every fear, and when you finally stand up, you’re still in the exact same place. Just more exhausted.

As moms raising autistic children, we have real reasons to be concerned about the future. We see the challenges more clearly than most. But there’s a big difference between being wisely prepared and being consumed by dread.

Somewhere along the way, I had to ask myself: Am I preparing in faith, or am I worrying in fear?

Although our preparation comes from love, those what ifs can turn into dread. They stop serving our children and start stealing our peace, our joy, and our ability to be fully present today. Fear has never made me more prepared. It only made me more exhausted.

One of the things that has brought me the most comfort is something Jesus said in Matthew 6. He was speaking to real people carrying real burdens, people just like you and me. In verse 34 He says, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

A few verses earlier He asks, “Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?”

That question stops me every time. Because the answer is always no.

Worrying has never changed the results of an evaluation. It hasn’t made an IEP meeting easier. It has never guaranteed safety or understanding. But it has robbed me of sleep and stolen moments I could have been fully present with my family.

Does that mean we won’t worry? No. Concerns will come. But we don’t have to let those thoughts take up permanent residence in our minds.

When I really stop and watch my kids, I notice something. Worry is so far removed from their minds. My son can spend what feels like hours watching water swirl down the drain like it’s the greatest show on earth. My daughter disappears into a drawing and completely loses track of time. They’re just there.

Meanwhile, I’m mentally rewriting tomorrow’s schedule or walking into a room and forgetting why I went in there. Isn’t it funny how our kids are teaching us what it looks like to be present while we’re living in three different tomorrows?

I can’t help but wonder if God uses those moments to gently whisper, “See? This is the gift I’ve given you… this moment.”

Not because tomorrow doesn’t matter. Not because we shouldn’t prepare. But because today’s moments are too precious to spend living somewhere we haven’t even arrived yet.

I don’t know what tomorrow holds for your family. Maybe you’re waiting for a diagnosis. Maybe you’re wondering how you’ll afford another therapy. Maybe you’re grieving dreams that look different now. Those are real and important questions.

But God isn’t asking you to answer all of them today. He’s simply asking you to trust Him.

God never asked you to carry every tomorrow before it arrives. He simply promised to meet you there when it does.

Stay Amazing,

Nicki