29 Years With the Boy Who Changed It All

June 4th. It’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that Jordan turns twenty-nine today. It’s a milestone that honestly feels impossible to put into words—but here I am, trying.

Twenty-nine years ago, I became a mom for the very first time—and nothing could have prepared me for what that would mean. Nothing could have shown me the path I’d walk or the woman I would become because of the boy who changed it all.

Back then, I didn’t know autism would be part of our story.
I didn’t know the milestones would look different.
I didn’t know the heartbreak of unanswered questions, or how lonely it would feel navigating a parenting journey that looked nothing like the ones around me.

I didn’t know that the world wouldn’t always be kind to a boy who didn’t fit inside the lines. I didn’t know how many things would fall apart—and how many new things we’d have to build from scratch.

And I didn’t know how much that word —autism—would teach me.

I also didn’t know how often I’d feel like I was failing him.
And I didn’t know how much strength I had until I was forced to find it.

The early years were tough. And not in an “oh this is hard” kind of way—but in a deep, exhausting, cry-in-the-closet kind of way.

Jordan struggled.  I struggled.  I spent many nights sitting outside his bedroom door, tears rolling down my cheeks, trying to keep him safe from a world he didn’t understand and emotions he couldn’t manage.

From the beginning, I knew this wasn’t going to be like everyone else’s motherhood.

There were so many times I didn’t know how I’d keep going. I hated what autism was doing to him, to us, to me. I was tired all the time. I had to have backup plans for our backup plans. And I felt like no one really understood.

Jordan isn’t easy. He never has been. He’s complex and persistent and honestly, at times, he’s one of the most skilled manipulators I’ve ever met. That’s just the truth.

He’s always trying to stay one step ahead—testing boundaries, pushing limits. And sometimes I fall for it. I still get it wrong more often than I’d like to admit.  Just when I think I’ve figured it out, he proves me wrong.

Because I’m human. And this isn’t easy.

Jordan has a hard time managing his emotions, and that’s been one of the biggest challenges—trying to support him through something that doesn’t always make sense to me. Some days?  I still don’t get it. But I keep showing up.

Even now, after all these years, I’m still learning how to be the best mom for him—because motherhood, especially this kind, doesn’t come with clear instructions.

Today, at 29, Jordan is still that boy who changed everything.

But I’m not the same mama I was back then.

In those early years, I lived in survival mode, I felt lost and broken.

Now, I can say this:
I live with deep gratitude.
Not because life is easy.
Not because we’ve arrived somewhere perfect.
But because I’ve stopped fighting against what is.

I found strength along this journey I didn’t know I had.
Jordan challenged every emotion in me. Every hope. Every fear.
He cracked me open and made me face the parts of myself I didn’t want to look at.

He forced me to stop hiding behind the “shoulds.”
I don’t know when exactly the shift happened. It wasn’t overnight. It was slow and painful and powerful all at the same time.

We’re in a different place now. Not a perfect one. Not a place without hard days or big emotions. But we’ve settled into our version of normal. It doesn’t look like anyone else’s—and that’s okay.

I stopped comparing.
I stopped chasing the version of motherhood I thought I was supposed to have.
And I started embracing the one I was given.

Some days are still hard. Some things haven’t changed. I still have to be prepared for the unexpected. I still have to explain things to people who don’t get it. I still have moments where the weight of it all creeps in.

His needs shape every decision we make.
His future still holds a lot of uncertainty.

But I’ve learned how to live in the space between what I hoped for and what is.
And surprisingly, that space doesn’t feel empty anymore.

To the moms out there in the thick of it—feeling lost, worn down, and unsure if it will ever feel lighter—I see you. I’ve been there.

And I want you to know: you won’t always feel like you're drowning.
You won’t always be in survival mode.
One day, maybe without even realizing it, you’ll start to come up for air.

You’re not just surviving anymore.
You’re living. You’re loving. And you’re learning how to breathe again.

Not because everything magically gets easier—but because you change.

You stop fighting the life you didn’t plan for.
You start living the life you have.
And you realize that you get to decide what kind of story this will be.

Jordan made me who I am.
Not in a sugarcoated, inspirational quote kind of way— but in a way that stretched me, tested me, and shaped me into the mom I am today.

And twenty-nine years in, I’m still learning from the boy who changed it all.

This was written by Shannon Urquiola at Not Your Average Autism Mom.

Thank you for being part of our journey.