Standing Up for My Son: A Lesson in Courage, Compassion, and Mama Bear Instincts

There are certain moments in motherhood that shake you to your core. For me, one of those moments happened this week, standing under the fading light of a weekday practice field, watching my 10-year-old son trudge toward me with shoulders low and eyes glossy. He had just finished flag football practice, a sport he's been playing for three seasons now.

No, he’s not a superstar athlete. He’s not the fastest kid on the team. He’s not the strongest. In fact, some days, my husband (his stepdad) works with him one-on-one just to build confidence so he won’t flinch when the ball comes toward him. But my boy tries. He shows up. He runs those drills. He listens. He plays with heart. And for that, he should feel proud.

But on this day, pride was the last thing he felt.

As we got in the car, my son hesitated before saying anything. I could tell something was wrong. His little sister, all 8 years of firecracker energy, sat quietly in the backseat, catching the shift in mood too. Finally, he looked up at me and said, “Some of the boys were making fun of how I talk again… and one of them called me autistic.”

My heart sank.

Not only was that a cruel and completely inaccurate label to throw at my child, who does have a speech impediment and works hard to communicate clearly, it was also deeply offensive to children who actually are autistic and the families who love them. The term was used not as a diagnosis, but as an insult. And what made it worse? The boy leading the teasing was the coach’s son.

That night, after I tucked my son into bed and reassured him (and myself) that he was perfect just the way he was, I found myself spiraling through all the parenting options in my head. Do I say something? Or do I let him try to handle it, hoping this turns into a character-building moment?

But here's the thing, sometimes kids don’t have the tools to fight battles they didn’t choose to be in. And if we leave them to fight those battles alone, we risk teaching them that their pain isn’t important. That it should be tolerated.

By the next morning, my mama bear instincts were roaring. I decided to trust my gut.

After I got to work, I took a deep breath and emailed the coach. I told him what my son shared with me, and how it hurt not just him, but me too. I didn’t approach it as an attack, but as a parent trying to figure out how we could stop this from festering. Because if this kind of behavior is left unchecked, it could easily escalate, not just emotionally, but physically too.

To his credit, the coach responded with understanding. He apologized for what happened and assured me he would address the team and reinforce that bullying wouldn’t be tolerated, especially on his watch. He also promised that his son would apologize personally to mine.

That was exactly what I needed to hear.

In the end, I do think I made the right call. I gave my son the space to feel his emotions, and I showed him that it's okay to speak up when something isn’t right. I also demonstrated that standing up for yourself, or someone you love, doesn’t have to be loud or aggressive. It can be calm, firm, and rooted in love.

Parenting isn’t about always having the right answers. It's about being present, being protective, and sometimes, making the tough call when your heart tells you it's time to act. I hope this experience teaches my son that his voice matters. That he doesn’t have to accept mistreatment just because he’s different. And that being kind is always cooler than being cruel.

Thanks for reading our story.

If you're a parent navigating the highs and lows of childhood, sports, or just trying to raise kind humans, know you’re not alone. And if you’re looking for adorable, quality clothes for the little princesses in your life, stop by my website www.tinastinythings.com.

We’re also on Instagram @tinastinythings1, come say hi, share your parenting wins (and struggles), and let’s support each other one tiny step at a time.

With love,
A proud (and fierce) mom