Once you become a parent, you are forever changed. Everything that you do revolves around the safety, growth, and overall well-being of the tiny little human being you fought so hard to bring into this world. You wake up every morning wanting to be the best parent you can be and go to sleep each night wondering if what you’re doing is working. You worry about who they are becoming, what they will do in the future, and how they will impact this world.
And then you discover your child is neurodivergent.
New questions flood your brain. Things quickly go from “How will they impact this world?” to “What will happen to them in this world?” Mornings you previously started by thinking about how you could be the best parent are now filled with wondering if you’re even able to handle this new and daunting revelation. Your nights are overwhelmed with racing thoughts about their language skills, social cues, that child on the playground who pointed and laughed because your child was toe walking, and how you’re going to learn sign language if it comes to that.
This world is already terrifying, and now you’ve unlocked new fears and worries you didn’t know existed.
If they never walk or talk and I have to work, will a caregiver treat them right?
Speaking of talking, how will I ever know if someone abused them in some way if there aren’t any marks on their body?
Our family is invited to a BBQ, but they don’t have a fence. If I’m not within 10 feet and they elope, am I fast enough to catch them before they reach the road? We just can’t go.
If a school shooter enters their school, they will immediately become a target. There is absolutely no chance my child will quietly hide under a desk or in a closet. Will his room be chosen first because of all the noise?
What happens when I die?
While we’re talking about school, what if his teacher is screaming in his face every day or smacking him? He can’t articulate more than a few sounds or short, jumbled words. I’ll never know about it.
What will happen if they never potty train, despite all my efforts?
Will I ever hear him say “I love you, Mommy”?
Can I trust anyone to take my child for an evening out with my husband when he has such trouble communicating? What if they can’t handle it?
He doesn’t understand danger and doesn’t comprehend boundaries. I can’t take my eyes off of him for two seconds, or he will hurt himself badly.
Will he live with us forever?
What happens when I die?
Will he have to be in a group home?
Who’s making fun of him or belittling him when I’m not around?
A child pushed him down on the playground, and he never defended himself. How often does that happen?
How do I protect him from everything designed to work against him?
Will he be allowed to have the same rights, education, and acceptance as his peers?
What happens when I die?
Neurodivergence is a complex, challenging, beautiful part of my life. And even though I am scared beyond belief most days, I do my absolute best to make sure my little boy doesn’t have the fears of this world placed on his shoulders.
I’m writing this with tears streaming down my face, as this is the first time I’ve written down some of my past and current fears. I know this will resonate with neurodivergent parents and families, and I hope this brings you an ounce of peace to know you are not alone, and you are not insane for thinking about these situations daily.
You are raising an autistic child in an already scary world.
by Kate Swenson 
by BriAnna Olson 
