When the Trip Doesn’t Go as Planned: Finding Peace in the Unexpected Moments

I had been planning my birthday for a while—maybe too long, if I’m honest. In my heart, I wasn’t just planning a celebration for myself. I was crafting an experience I hoped my daughter, Stella, would love. Peppa Pig everything. A day at the indoor Peppa world, followed by a magical outing to the Peppa Pig Theme Park in DFW. It was supposed to be perfect. It was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to be joy on a timeline.

But life had other plans.

Stella was a champ during the car ride. I mean, truly. We had snacks, her favorite playlist, her AAC device preloaded with all the Peppa destinations, and we were riding high on hope. But four hours in a car is four hours in a car—and the minute we pulled up to our first stop, things shifted.

She didn’t want to go in. And by “didn’t want to,” I mean couldn’t. Overstimulated, unsure, stuck in the kind of limbo that only parents of autistic children know—the kind where you’re parked outside the entrance for thirty minutes, gently coaxing, reassuring, and simultaneously dodging people who don’t quite understand why you’re blocking the doorway. That quiet little heartbreak. That loud internal scream.

We did everything “right.” We planned. We prepped. We brought the comfort foods. We booked the sensory-friendly Airbnb. But sometimes, none of that matters.

Because sometimes it’s just too much.

It was too much for Stella. Honestly, it was too much for us, too. She cried. I cried (more times than she did, if we’re counting). We ended up packing it all up and driving home in the middle of the night. The trip we had imagined—scrapped.

Was I disappointed? Yes. A thousand times yes. I had built this vision in my mind of what it would look like, how it would feel, what memories we would make. And when that version fell apart, so did I… for a minute.

But now that we’re back home—back in our safe space—I can see the full picture a little more clearly.

We did have fun. Stella eventually made it into the indoor play place and loved it so much we had to pry her away. I got to catch up on my favorite podcast (The Viall Files Temptation Island recap was exactly what I needed). We spent time with Mimi and Jiddo, soaked up some car ride giggles, and even found peace in the middle-of-the-night drive home.

It didn’t look like what I thought it would. But honestly? It never really does.

The highs are high, and the lows are low—but nestled somewhere between tears and detours, you find moments of peace. Like driving home in the dark with a quiet car, my husband snoring and snuggling Stella as she sleeps leaned on him, and me behind the wheel, alone with my thoughts and the soft hum of a podcast in my ears.

Maybe next year we’ll try again. Maybe it’ll go differently. Maybe it won’t.

That’s the thing about parenting—especially parenting a neurodivergent child. It asks you to surrender. To adapt. To love in ways that don’t always look like storybooks or Pinterest-perfect vacations.

And still, it’s beautiful.

So here’s to trying again. To letting go. To the messy, magical moments that remind us what really matters: being together.

Because in the end, that’s all we ever really need

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