Emery Taught Me What Brave Really Means
Written by Chrystal Burns
Before I became Emery’s mom, I thought I understood strength. I thought strength meant pushing through hard days, juggling schedules and responsibilities, smiling even when I was exhausted. I thought it was about endurance.
But Emery redefined strength for me.
Emery was born with Down syndrome and later diagnosed with Autism. From the very beginning, our life looked different than I had imagined. There were extra appointments, specialists, therapies, and evaluations. I quickly learned acronyms I never expected to know. There were conversations about milestones, delays, inclusion, services, and supports. Alongside all of that came moments of uncertainty and fear.
The kind of fear that settles in your chest when your child is hospitalized and you do not know how long you will be there. The kind of fear that comes when doctors begin talking about feeding tubes and dehydration. The kind of exhaustion that sinks into your bones after days and nights spent listening to monitors beep.
Recently, Emery spent time in the hospital battling pneumonia, the flu, and oral thrush. She stopped eating and her little body was simply worn down. We had to make decisions I never imagined making, including bringing her home with a feeding tube.
And yet, even in her weakest moments, she was brave.
She would sleep for hours, conserving what little strength she had. Then she would wake up and reach for her toys. She smiled through congestion. She cuddled close, still seeking comfort and connection. Even after vomiting so hard that she pulled out her feeding tube and had to have it reinserted, she continued to fight.
That is who Emery is. She fights.
She advocates for herself in her own way. She makes it known when she does not want to be touched. She communicates clearly when she is overwhelmed. She shows up exactly as she is, without apology.
Watching her has changed me.
Being her mom has required me to become braver than I ever thought possible. It has meant speaking up in rooms where I once felt small. It has meant asking harder questions, challenging systems, and advocating in IEP meetings. It has meant pushing for better care and trusting my instincts when something does not feel right.
At the same time, it has softened me.
Motherhood with Emery has taught me to slow down. It has taught me to celebrate the smallest victories. A single sip of Pediasure taken independently can feel like a triumph. Progress does not have to be loud to be powerful.
Brave motherhood is not glamorous. It is not filtered or polished. It looks like messy hair in hospital rooms. It looks like quiet tears in bathroom stalls. It looks like researching late at night and praying when the house is silent. It looks like advocating fiercely while feeling completely drained.
But it also looks like unwavering love.
It looks like holding your child through procedures. It looks like cheering for milestones the world may overlook. It looks like believing in your child when others underestimate them.
Emery has taught me that bravery is not the absence of fear. It is choosing to move forward anyway.
She has taught me that different does not mean less. She has shown me that inclusion matters, that strength can be quiet, and that resilience can live in the smallest bodies.
Most of all, she has taught me that love is active. Love shows up. Love fights. Love stays.
When people tell me that I am strong, I smile, but the truth is that I learned it from her.
Emery is brave. And because she is brave, I am too.
Sincerely,
One Fierce Mama
I’m a passionate advocate for inclusion, dedicated to creating more understanding and acceptance for individuals with disabilities. Inspired by my daughter, who has Down syndrome and autism, I work to bridge the gap between communities through education, storytelling, and real-life connection. I’ve developed resources for educators and lead presentations in schools to promote kindness, empathy, and true inclusion. My mission is to empower others to embrace differences and help build environments where every child feels seen, valued, and supported.
