Everyone in our house has been taking turns being sick since Halloween. Right now, it’s Royce’s turn.

He’s got a cough, enough mucus to make him throw up, and very little appetite. So he’s been spending a lot of time tucked into his little bed, watching cartoons with his blanket and his bottle.

I took a cute little video of him and wanted to share it. But then I hesitated.

Because people always have something to say about the bottle.

I’ve posted pictures and videos before, and people have commented about how he’s too old for it. I’ve explained why we aren’t particularly worried about taking it away right now. But it gets tiring having to defend something that is meeting my child’s needs.

Royce has developmental delays and sensory differences. He also has a complicated feeding history.

When Royce was born, he didn’t cry.

There was no newborn cry. He was blue. He wasn’t breathing.

They laid him on Thy’s belly and tried rubbing his back to get him to breathe. That quiet moment stretched and stretched. I could feel the fear climbing up my body until it was hard to breathe myself.

It was too quiet.

Suddenly there were twice as many people in the room, rushing to help him survive. Almost immediately, he was taken away from us. He had to be intubated and given oxygen.

Thy had preeclampsia and was at risk for seizures. She was also hemorrhaging. I wanted to be with my son, but I wanted to be with my wife, too. They both needed medical attention, and I couldn’t be in two places at once. Our older kids were with family, and we were all split apart.

Thy was confined to bed for several days because of her complications. She doesn’t even remember the brief moment when they placed Royce on her belly.

There’s a photograph from a few days after Royce was born that I absolutely love.

Royce is lying in the foreground, surrounded by medical equipment. Thy is in the background, facing away from him. She’s there, but not there.

She was recovering from her own medical complications and struggling with depression. She was trying to be there for our son while dealing with so much herself.

Thy didn’t particularly like the photograph at first. But I explained why I loved it so much.

I used to be a photographer, and I was particularly interested in photojournalism. I loved the way a photograph could tell a story without needing everything explained. This picture tells the story of what we were going through so honestly.

There was our little boy, fighting to survive, and his mother, trying to be there for him while struggling herself.

He was so tiny and fragile. He was also so perfectly ours.

Feeding was another struggle for Royce. At first, he could only eat through a feeding tube. Even the level 00 preemie nipples were too much flow for him. He was using more energy trying to eat than he was getting from his food.

Learning to drink from a bottle was something he had to work toward.

Until shortly after his second birthday, he choked every time he tried to drink from something other than a bottle. He’s made progress since then. Now he can sometimes drink from other containers without choking, although it still happens occasionally.

His occupational therapist specializes in feeding, including bottle feeding. This isn’t something we’ve ignored. It’s something we’ve been working on with professional support. And right now, especially when he’s sick, the bottle is still the most reliable way to get enough fluids into him.

I know the usual recommendations about bottles. I’m not suggesting they don’t matter. But there are other things that matter too, and sometimes you have to look at the individual child instead of just their age.

All three of my children have developmental delays or disabilities. I’ve learned that milestones don’t always happen on the schedule people expect.

My oldest, Rae, was almost three and a half when she finally gave up her bottle. Rae is twice exceptional and super intelligent. But she also had sensory and emotional regulation needs, and her bottle helped her soothe herself.

We worked on giving her other options. She had her beloved blanket, KiKi, which went everywhere with her. We used chewelry, sport-top water bottles, crunchy snacks, games with her occupational therapist, and other sensory activities to meet her nervous system’s needs and show her there were other options.

Then she spent a weekend with her godmother.

Her godmother had two girls a little older than Rae who drank from open cups. I think seeing those big girls drinking from cups made Rae want to do it too. Her godmother talked with her about it and helped guide her.

When Rae came home, she was drinking from a cup. She decided she was done with bottles and threw them away herself.

And we never looked back.

Royce’s needs are different. For him, drinking has involved learning physical skills that many children develop without much difficulty. He also has sensory and regulation needs of his own. I can’t simply take away his bottle and expect those challenges to disappear.

I wish people understood how different it can be to raise a child with developmental delays or disabilities.

These delays don’t make our children stupid or unable. They just mean our children have their own timelines. Sometimes it takes more work and support to get where everyone else seems to arrive so naturally.

I think parents who haven’t raised children with emotional and nervous system regulation difficulties don’t always understand that. They see a child who hasn’t reached a particular milestone and assume the parents aren’t doing enough. They see a bottle, a diaper, or some other accommodation and decide the child is being babied.

I don’t expect strangers on the internet to know Royce’s feeding history. But I do wish people would recognize how much they don’t know before offering unsolicited parenting advice.

I shouldn’t have to explain feeding tubes, occupational therapy, or swallowing difficulties every time I want to share a sweet video of my child.

Sometimes I share those moments anyway. Other times I keep them to myself because I’m tired of having that conversation.

And that bothers me.

Because when other people see a toddler they think should have outgrown his bottle, I see my sweet little survivor who has already overcome so much and continues to grow and improve all the time.

Right now, he’s sick, curled up in bed watching cartoons with his blanket and his bottle.

He’s comfortable, and he’s drinking.

That’s what matters to me.