Loving Bella

The holidays are supposed to be joyful.
But for our daughter, they aren’t.

While everyone else laughs, hugs, and exchanges gifts, her body tenses.
Her shoulders tighten. Her jaw clenches. Her hands curl.
Her eyes dart, scanning for danger that no one else can see.

I feel it in my chest before she even moves—panic rising, heart hammering, knowing that the sweet little girl I love could vanish beneath fear, rage, or withdrawal in an instant.

The world is too loud, too bright, too fast.
And if I don’t protect her—if I don’t set boundaries, manage gifts, control the environment—her heart could break, and so could ours.

Boundaries: Love in Action

Boundaries aren’t punishment. They aren’t walls.
They are the fragile armor we wrap around her heart and nervous system when the world feels too big.

Without boundaries, even small interactions—a loud voice, a quick movement, someone reaching for her—can feel unsafe.
Her brain can’t separate love from chaos, safety from threat, or choice from control.

Boundaries are how we anchor her when she wants to run, lash out, or retreat.
They are how we show her, every single day: You are safe. You belong. We are here. Always.

Boundaries protect attachment. They protect her ability to regulate. They protect our family from the spiral of fear and chaos that can erupt in moments.

Gifts: Why They Are a Boundary Too

People often think gifts are harmless. They are not.

For our daughter, a gift is never neutral.
Her brain interprets it as power, loyalty, and attention—things that can fracture attachment if delivered in the wrong way.

When someone hands her a gift directly—without asking us, without us present, without the right wording—her brain doesn’t hear “Someone thought of me.”

It hears:

“This person meets my needs better than Mom and Dad.”
“I don’t need to depend on my parents right now.”
“Love and care come from outside my family.”

Even a small gift can undo weeks of attachment work, spark confusion, or fracture trust.

This is why gifts are a boundary.

When gifts come through us, given with one simple line—
“Your parents would like you to have this”—
they reinforce safety, attachment, and trust:

Her parents are her safe base.
Her parents meet her needs.
Other adults support her family—they do not replace it.

A gift becomes protection. A gift becomes trust. A gift becomes love that can be received without fear.

Why We Retreat During the Holidays

The world is unpredictable. Overstimulating. Unsafe for her brain.
Visiting relatives, crowded events, or even small surprises can trigger alarms she cannot shut off.

We retreat, we simplify, we pull into home.
Not to isolate.
Not to exclude.
But to protect her from chaos, to protect her attachment, to protect her from panic that could spiral into days of emotional breakdown.

We retreat because safety and calm come first.
Because love sometimes looks like saying “no” or “not now.”
Because protecting her heart is more important than keeping up appearances.

How Extended Family and Friends Can Help

Supporting a child like our daughter doesn’t mean giving less love—it means giving it the right way:

• Ask before giving gifts and give them through us.
• Use the words: “Your parents would like you to have this.”
• Respect her routines.
• Don’t force hugs, participation, or attention.
• Understand that smaller visits, quiet spaces, and predictability aren’t cruel—they are protection.

Your support helps her trust you.
It helps her trust us.
It helps her survive the holidays without emotional chaos.

The Heart of It All

Love doesn’t always look pretty.
Sometimes it looks like boundaries.
Sometimes it looks like saying “no.”
Sometimes it looks like retreating from the chaos to protect a fragile heart.
Sometimes it looks like guiding a trembling hand through a world that feels too big.

It’s exhausting.
It’s heartbreaking.
It’s raw.

But it’s worth it.
Because protecting her heart is everything.
Because helping her feel safe, regulated, and connected is everything.

This year, our holidays will look different.
But they will be ours.
They will be safe.
They will be intentional.
And they will be full of love that fights for her heart—every single day.