Easter Sunday is different when you are a caregiver… especially when you have a child with a disability.

The “normal” things have never really been simple.

For years, I tried to make Easter look like what I thought it was supposed to be. When my other children were smaller, we always did an Easter egg trail with M&M’s leading them to their baskets. For years, I tried to get my son to understand that concept, but it just wasn’t happening. Eventually, we stopped forcing it and simply gave him his Easter basket. We’ve had to adopt a lot of traditions like that for him. Like I said… it’s different.

Community Easter egg hunts, big family gatherings—basically all the traditions. And almost every time, it ended the same way… with more frustration than anything. Because what looks like “fun” to everyone else can feel overwhelming, confusing, and just too much for someone who experiences the world differently. And honestly, that’s a hard concept for people to understand. It was for me too for a long time, so I get it.

My son gets overstimulated easily like many who are intellectually disabled. The noise, the movement, people talking over each other, little ones running around, crying—all the things that are completely normal for a family gathering—they build up for him. And when they build up, we have our meltdowns. When that happens, it’s not peaceful, not for anyone. He’s even scared a few people over the years. It’s not joyful. It’s hard.

And then there’s another layer people don’t always see

The Easter baskets, the candy, all the bright, colorful “fun” that fills the shelves this time of year. So much of it doesn’t even apply to families like ours. Gluten-filled treats, sugar overload, ingredients we have to question, read twice, or avoid altogether. Suddenly something as simple as an Easter basket turns into another thing we have to navigate. I learned that lesson many years ago, and for a long time his baskets were filled with toys and movies instead. This year, though, let’s be honest… there’s nothing but junk to put in those baskets anyway, and he has enough of that. So we’ve transitioned into what Easter looks like for him now as an adult—some sugar-free candy and that’s it. Honestly, he doesn’t really understand this holiday. Christmas is about the only one he truly gets.

As The Years Go By

Now that he’s older, he doesn’t have interest in the things we used to try to push, and I’ve had to learn to stop forcing him. But that doesn’t mean the challenges go away. Family still gathers, the noise is still there, and the expectations still linger—whether they’re spoken or not.

A Faith That Can’t Be Broken

Then there is Church. Easter Sunday is one of the most meaningful days of my faith, and every year I wrestle with the same question: Do I take him… or do I not? Because what fills my heart can overwhelm his.

Somewhere in the middle of that tension is where I’ve had to find a different kind of Easter. Not the picture-perfect one, not the one you see in photos or posts, but a quieter one. A more intentional one. One that reminds me that faith isn’t found in forcing traditions, but in meeting people where they are. It’s found in patience, in stepping outside when things get too loud, and in choosing peace over pressure.

Some years that means leaving early. Some years it means not going at all. And that used to feel like I was doing it wrong or letting others down. But I’ve come to realize something—The Lord isn’t measuring my Easter by attendance or tradition. He sees the care, the sacrifice, and the quiet choices no one else notices.

Holding Onto Who I Am

Jesus meets me right here—in the middle of the noise, in the moments of overwhelm, and in the decisions that don’t look like everyone else’s. And maybe, just maybe… this version of Easter is exactly where I’m meant to be.
Because at the end of the day…
I’m not just a caregiver navigating Easter.
I’m a person, too—learning how to hold onto my faith and myself in the middle of it.

Take what you need today… and leave the rest to grace. 💛

If this spoke to you, I share more reflections like this over on Substack
👉https://substack.com/@caregivertocreator

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