I am holding a baby right now. Not metaphorically. Actually holding one, at an age and stage of life where I genuinely thought that chapter was behind me. She is warm and heavy and perfect and I am exhausted in a way I did not see coming, which is saying something, because I have been exhausted in approximately every way a parent can be exhausted. Here is what nobody tells you about parenting a high-needs kid: it doesn't stop when they turn 18. It doesn't stop when they move out (if they do). It doesn't stop when they technically become an adult who technically has their own life. The terrain shifts and you think, okay, this is it, I've earned some kind of graduation from the hard parts, and then the hard parts show up wearing a completely different outfit. I'm a grandmother now. Nan, specifically. I am doing midnight bottles and afternoon dance parties and I am so full of love it's a little ridiculous. And I am also learning and relearning and growing in ways I genuinely was not anticipating, because my kid is still my kid, and FASD doesn't pause for any of it. The exhaustion I'm carrying right now is new. Different muscles. Different grief and different joy sitting right next to each other in the same rocking chair at 3am. If you're in a season that doesn't look anything like what you thought it would - no matter what age you've got or where in the journey - I just want you to know you're not behind. You're not failing. You're just doing the next hard thing, which is exactly what we do. We keep growing. Even when we're tired. Even when we didn't sign up for this particular version of the journey. You're not alone in it.