A Letter for Moms with a Neurodivergent Child

Dear Mom,

First, here’s a big hug. I’ll bet this isn’t what you expected or dreamed of when you thought about being a mom. And let me say out loud to you, if no one else has: your job is hard. Like, really hard. As with all moms, you have hopes for your child. And a neurodivergent diagnosis (such as ADHD, Autism, Tourette’s, OCD, and some learning disabilities like dyslexia and dyscalculia) can really throw you for a loop. It can lead to all kinds of questions and fears: How will we cope with this? Will she get made fun of? How do I advocate for him? Will he have good friendships? How will she make it in the world? What will this look like when she’s twenty-five? It’s easy to let your head spin with anxiety and your heart sink with dread of what your child might face.

First, stop and take a deep breath—a really long one. And remember a few things: God is still in control—still sovereign. He’s still the one holding all things together, including your child. He knit him or her together in the womb. All things come through God’s hands; so even this is not outside his control. Also, he still loves you. There may be days when you question his love as you look around and compare your situation to other families’. However, it is in his love that he has chosen you to mother this specific child. He’s asking you to do this intense, different, challenging, important work for him. He will equip you to do what he’s called you to do.

With those things in mind, it’s ok to grieve. In fact, it’s necessary. Real suffering has come into your child’s world in a pervasive and possibly lifelong way. This means suffering has also come into your world. Don’t ignore it or try to stuff it down. Talk about it. Find a safe person who will listen, and cry with them. Cry before the Lord. Cry with your husband if you have one. Your child’s diagnosis will not be the last time you might need to cry. This kind of grieving isn’t a lack of faith. This is honesty before God, a holy lament, and a willingness to let others help bear your burden. This processing with friends and the Lord is part of how God will sustain you in your parenting.

Speaking of safe people, you’ll need them. They’ll be your lifeline. And we’re out here! There are so many support groups, Facebook groups, and other moms. You might be surprised if you start asking or looking. Mothering a neurodivergent kiddo can be lonely, but it doesn’t have to be. Find others you can tell your stories to without having to explain the diagnosis every time; they’ll get it. Share your tips, your teacher recommendations, your psychiatrist successes or horror stories. You’ll be amazed at the camaraderie you’ll feel with that group of people in your corner. And bring your friends who don’t have neurodivergent kids along on this journey if they’re interested. They can be a refuge as well.

As for your child, listen and encourage. Listen, listen, listen. Did I mention it helps to listen? Their experience may be nothing like what you imagine, which is part of why we sometimes miss a diagnosis. I, Chris, sat in a psychiatrist’s office listening to my fourteen-year-old answer “yes” to almost every question on an ADHD questionnaire, never even having considered it as a possible diagnosis. Why? ADHD looked entirely different on her than it did on another child. I only really began to understand her experience when I started asking questions. I, Hope, drove home from the psychiatrist with an autism diagnosis for my daughter, trying to absorb the shock of it. My daughter, when asked if she was surprised, told me she had known for years. What I had missed now was abundantly clear.

And then there are your family members, other parents, neighbors, and friends. Suddenly, you become an educator. Though information is widely available these days, not everyone understands what autism or Tourette’s looks like. And they won’t understand exactly how it manifests in your child. If you can, talk to your child about whether they are comfortable sharing their diagnosis or comfortable with you sharing it. I, Chris, have had multiple conversations with Sunday school teachers about my twelve-year-old autistic son and his need for someone to attend him one-on-one to help him participate. Instead of judgment or fear, I now receive encouragement. 

There are hard things, for sure. But what you may not anticipate is the joy and beauty of parenting this child. These children see the world differently. They color outside the usual lines and may open your eyes to new ways of seeing art, math, drama, animals, and a thousand other adventures. Living with them will often feel like visiting a foreign country where everything, including the language, is new. There will be jet lag at first. You’ll feel disoriented and overwhelmed. But like the first bite of a fresh French pastry and a view of the Eiffel tower, the shock of goodness that will invigorate your brain from your child’s view of the world and how they move in it will surprise you.

What you will find, as you grow together, is that neurodivergent kids are a gift to the church and the world. You will go from only seeing the hard things and their struggles to seeing how they broaden your understanding of how God creates and redeems. Ultimately, they will change you. You will find over the years that they help you become less judgmental of others and less rigid about your ideas of how life should be lived. 

Remember, God is faithful. He will show up for you in a thousand ways as you learn to advocate for and enjoy your child. When you look back, you will be able to trace his presence through all of the difficulties and joys of your parenting. Take heart, mama. Your Good Shepherd is their Good Shepherd, and he loves you both. 

Love, 
Chris and Hope