The past 24 hours have been exhausting. It’s not an unusual statement for a parent. For me, it started with Benjamin having a seizure during dinner last night. It was a big seizure; one he wouldn’t recover from without emergency medication. I can spot them immediately. There’s something about the way his eyes wander, his hands sweat, and his arms suddenly release, so I can easily move his elbows away from his body. After administering the valium, I spent the next seven hours monitoring his breathing, wiping his face of vomit, willing him to sleep peacefully for just a little while, and hoping that when he woke, he would look at me directly when I called his name. I showered him somewhere around 1 a.m. and, convinced that he’d sufficiently emptied his stomach and wouldn’t retch again, administered his regular seizure medication through his feeding tube while he was sleeping, and monitored him until 3 a.m. while doing laundry.

Fortunately, Benjamin woke up at 8:30 a.m. happy, and with a typical morning seizure. Since he seemed more than stable, John and I packed him up and drove him to see Sebastian compete in his outdoor track meet two hours away. It was a risky move because the day after a big seizure can be unpredictable. So we paid extra attention to Benjamin’s affect, traveled with medication, a suction machine, extra clothes, and a stubborn will to give both boys what they both deserve-present parents.

We are tired. I’m planning an early bedtime.

I share these types of realities-not for pity, not to be viewed as a martyr or a hero. I share them because they are true.

When the boys were small, I turned to books in order to read about other parents’ experiences, and more often than not, all I got were stories I couldn’t relate to. I call them Hollywood happy-ever-after stories.

I prefer to read about the truly hard moments, the ones where people invite you to pull up a chair while they confess who they really are in the worst moments of their lives. I am fascinated by the inner workings of humans in crisis.

I share so parents will hear someone else say:

Parenting is hard, and it isn’t always fun or easy. And it doesn’t always end well.

I think it’s perfectly fine to admit it. I think that when we have stressful experiences, it’s normal to have dark, negative thoughts. And I think it’s important not to keep these moments locked up. When you’re a balloon of stress about to break, exhale. Share your truth without shame.

After we came home today, I received a box of the advanced reader copies of my book. It is filled with some of my darkest moments. It is my journey of learning how to approach the conflict parenthood brought me.

There have been moments of great success and spectacular failure. I am human. Human. Human.

And I will continue to fall with the direct intention to rise. I invite you to do the same.