There’s something about October that makes me think about all the different “hats” we wear.
For Halloween, we get to choose a costume. We can be anything for a night. You can be a superhero, a princess, a favorite character. We put something on, play the part, and eventually take the costume off. But parenting a child with complex medical needs has taught us that sometimes the hats we wear aren’t ones we ever chose and we definitely don’t get to take them off.
We become advocates. Care coordinators. Appointment schedulers. Medication managers. Researchers. Insurance negotiators. Therapists. Teachers. Comforters. We learn medical terminology we never knew existed. We learn how to read monitors, ask questions, speak up in hospital rooms, and make decisions we never imagined we’d have to make.
And somewhere underneath all of those roles, we’re still just Mom and Dad.
For our family, so much of this has been shaped by Harrison’s heart journey. Harrison was born with ccTGA, along with other heart complications, and his journey has included multiple procedures, surgeries, a PA band, a G-tube, a pacemaker for complete heart block, and more hospital stays than any parent ever wants to count. We are gearing up for his 3rd heart surgery this month actually. His medical story is complicated, but to us, he is so much more than his diagnosis.
He is Harrison.
And as his parents, we have learned that loving him sometimes means wearing hats we never expected to wear.
There are days when we feel incredibly capable. And there are days when we feel completely overwhelmed. There are seasons when we can say yes to everything, and seasons when we have to say no.
One of the hardest lessons we’ve learned is that saying no doesn’t mean we don’t care. Sometimes protecting our family means prioritizing our children, our marriage, our faith, our rest, or simply making it through the day. Sometimes it means missing something, changing plans, disappointing someone, or choosing the thing that matters most in that particular season.
And that’s okay.
We don’t have to explain every decision. We don’t have to justify every boundary. We don’t have to feel guilty for choosing what our family needs.
Jesus reminds us in Matthew 11:28, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
I love that He doesn’t say, Come to me once you’ve handled everything.
He says, come when you’re weary.
There is grace for the seasons when we’re carrying more than we thought we could.
And perhaps that’s one of the greatest things we’ve learned through Harrison’s journey: God doesn’t ask us to carry every hat at the same time. He asks us to trust Him with the next thing.
Galatians 6:2 tells us to “Carry each other’s burdens,” and we’ve experienced that in ways we’ll never forget. The people who have prayed, brought meals, checked in, sat with us in hospitals, loved on our kids, donated, encouraged us, and simply reminded us that we aren’t alone have been a reflection of God’s goodness.
This Halloween, we’ll probably still dress up, eat too much candy, and enjoy watching our kids be kids. But I’ll also be thinking about the costumes we don’t see. The invisible hats worn by parents sitting beside hospital beds. The sibling who has learned to be flexible because plans change. The mom who knows every medication and appointment by heart. The dad who quietly carries the weight of trying to keep everyone okay. The families who have learned an entirely different version of normal.
If you’re one of those families, I hope you know this: You are allowed to prioritize your life around what your family needs right now.
You can love people deeply and still say no. You can be grateful and still be tired. You can have faith and still have hard days. You can trust God and still need help. You don’t owe everyone access to your time, your energy, or an explanation for the choices you make to care for your family.
Be kind to yourself. Give yourself grace. Do your best. And then let the rest go.
Because at the end of the day, the goal isn’t to perfectly wear every hat, but to faithfully wear the ones God has given us in this season. And when we don’t have the strength for one more thing, we can trust that He does.
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9
So here’s to the parents wearing a dozen invisible hats.
The advocates. The caregivers. The prayer warriors. The chauffeurs. The appointment keepers. The comforters. The fighters. The exhausted ones. The hopeful ones.
You may not have chosen every role you’ve been given. But you’re learning to wear it. And you’re doing better than you think.
Happy fall from our family to yours.