Baltimore, MD - August 5, 2026 - I am a guy. A brother. A son. I am a frum Jew, a husband, a dad. I am also a card carrying member of a unique club. I am a member of the “Dads of Extremely Exciting Children Club”. Like many of the most exclusive clubs, this is not a club I chose to join. The club chose me.
Unlike the secret societies of old, there’s nobody guarding the door. There’s no password to enter. Membership has its perks. Many of them. But it also comes at a high cost.
Sometimes it's a litany of doctor's appointments. Expenses you never imagined. Endless surprises. Never quite knowing what tomorrow will bring. There's also the urge to be strong. To shove all of those feelings and concerns out of mind. To act as though everything is OK. Always.
There’s loneliness. The feeling that nobody else understands the crazy situation that is day to day life with neurodiverse children. Some members who aren’t yet ready to hold the card, even though they belong. Others carry the card, but it remains in their wallet, so nobody else will know. That can be even more lonely.
Perhaps the hardest part isn't the appointments or the paperwork.
It's feeling responsible for everyone else. The need to be the rock. For our wives, our children, our families. We know that every rock eventually erodes. Still, we plant ourselves in the path of the oncoming tide, determined to keep our loved ones from being swept out to sea.
Carving out time for ourselves can leave us feeling guilty. Our hearts tell us we should always be available for everyone else, yet we know that even the strongest rock cannot hold back the tide forever. Taking time to recharge isn't selfish. It's what allows us to continue protecting those who depend on us.
When there is only a limited amount of time for reprieve, taking it can lead to guilt, but not being at our best can have other consequences.
When my wife began to encourage me to go to Yahalom meetings, I was hesitant, resistant, in denial, and convinced that it was pointless. I was wrong. I met people who get what I am feeling. They understand the challenges. I strengthened relationships with people I have known for a long time. Two of my closest friends are part of this club as well.
Together, we laugh about the things our children do. We live in awe of what others endure. We might even cry together. We encourage each other. Share experiences that have worked, and those that haven’t. We discuss specific doctors, treatments, therapists, insurance plans, government and private resources. We remind each other that taking care of ourselves isn't selfish, it's part of taking care of our families.
It was at a Yahalom meeting that we discussed the need for an event just for Dads to get together. No agenda. To get out. To meet other dads. And just to have a good time. To reset. Even a little. Even for a short couple of hours. That was when the Yahalom Dad’s BBQ was born.
After months of planning, it finally happened. Of course, it ended up a stormy, rainy night. Yet, the show went on. Thankfully, the rain let up in time for relatively dry BBQing, but the food had to be moved inside. I was concerned that the weather would impact the turnout. While we had nearly 30 RSVPs, approximately 40 dads ventured out to join us.
That’s just Dads who are not afraid to identify as members. How many other members are out there who didn’t know about the BBQ? How many aren’t ready to see themselves as “special needs parents?” How many are afraid for others to see them as such? I don’t know the numbers, but I am certain there are many more.
None of us chose this membership.
Some days, we wish we could hand the card back. Other days, we wouldn't trade the extraordinary children who gave it to us for anything in the world.
Most days, somehow, both are true at the same time.
Membership comes with practical challenges. It also comes with emotional ones. Neither should be carried alone.
So let's stop hiding our membership cards in our wallets.
Let's recognize one another. Let's learn from one another. Let's support one another. Sometimes we need practical advice. Sometimes we need emotional support. Sometimes we simply need someone else to say, "I get it."
We didn't choose this club. But we can choose what kind of members we'll be.
Let's embrace our membership and, even more importantly, one another.