FPH was founded to meet a growing need in Montana: an independent, family-run organization focused exclusively on developing a statewide family support network and advancing the Certified Family Peer Support Specialist workforce. The organization is led by Executive Director Beth Ayers joined by Community Outreach Coordinator Kayla Myers and guided by an experienced Board of Directors, each of whom are parents or caregivers of children with behavioral health challenges and/or special healthcare needs.

September is a month filled with awareness and reflection, particularly for those of us who have witnessed the power of recovery, resilience, and healing. As we celebrate Recovery Month, it’s a time to acknowledge the often difficult yet transformative journey individuals and families face as they overcome mental health challenges.

For me, this month holds deep meaning. As a mother of two boys and a former Family Peer Supporter, I’ve had the privilege and the heavy responsibility of helping others navigate the complexities of mental health recovery. I’ve worked with families in distress, and I’ve watched individuals confront their deepest struggles. But I’ve also seen the incredible strength, courage, and growth that recovery can bring.

Bullying remains one of the most persistent issues affecting children and adolescents, often leading to devastating consequences. Among the most vulnerable populations are children with special healthcare needs and mental health conditions. These children are disproportionately targeted due to their perceived differences, and they frequently lack the resources or support systems to defend themselves or seek help.

Parenting is early mornings with tired eyes and late nights filled with worry. It’s asking myself, Did I say the right thing? Was I too soft? Too strict? Too distracted? Too emotional? Am I giving them enough? Am I enough? It’s making a thousand decisions a day and second-guessing at least half of them. It’s pouring from a cup that sometimes feels empty, and still showing up the next day with whatever strength I can find. Because their love keeps me going.

Managing the physical, mental, and emotional toll of chronic diseases can be isolating for both the individual and their family. As people in recovery and parents/caregivers of children with special healthcare needs including behavioral health, we know firsthand the feelings of frustration, isolation, despair, and hopelessness. We know the challenges of finding treatment and advocating to be heard. We know the hope in finding joy and meaning living with chronic health conditions.

I’m a mom of boys, loud, messy, hilarious, curious, deep-feeling boys.

And if I’m honest, one of my greatest hopes, besides them eventually learning to do their laundry and clean up after themselves, is that they grow into men who feel safe being whole. Not just strong or stoic or successful. But soft when they need to be. Honest. Vulnerable. Supported.

Because here’s the truth, one I’ve heard from every mom of boys and quietly carried myself: the world still struggles to let our sons be fully human.

We tell our kids, “It’s okay to cry,” but somewhere between kindergarten and manhood, that message gets lost. Replaced by phrases like “man up,” “don’t be soft,” and “real men don’t talk about their feelings.” And those words don’t just bounce off; they sink in. They settle deep.

April is Autism Awareness Month, a time that holds deep meaning for my family and countless others around the world. My son is almost 9 years old, and he is non-speaking. While he may not use words in the way most people do, he communicates in a hundred other beautiful, meaningful ways. I am always seeking the words for my personal hero, my son.

As a parent, you often hear from others about how picky toddlers can be. When my daughter turned four, we attended her annual well-child appointment. The doctor, slightly condescendingly, showed me on her hand what a healthy plate of food should look like, emphasizing the protein and vegetable ratio. She felt the need to give me this information due to my daughter’s slightly higher BMI. At almost 45 years old, I would have had to live under a rock not to know what a healthy plate should consist of. This doctor was one of three who shamed me for my daughter’s BMI rather than asking about her food intake.