The Hardest Part of Autism Parenting (That No One Talks About)

Parenting is hard. Parenting an autistic child? That’s a whole different level of chaos, love, and caffeine consumption. My son is seven, and raising him has been the most incredible, exhausting, hilarious, and heart-expanding journey of my life. But there’s plenty of things about autism parenting that don’t get talked about enough.

The Loneliness Of Walking A Different Path

Autism parenting can feel like being on an island, even when you’re surrounded by people. The people in my life love my son, but they don’t always understand the daily rollercoaster—the unpredictability, the exhaustion, the way even the best-laid plans can explode in a split second.

A simple trip to the grocery store? That requires a strategic game plan, two backup plans, and a willingness to abandon ship entirely if the fluorescent lights turn against us. Playdates? Carefully orchestrated events with an emergency exit strategy. And let’s not even talk about going out for dinner as a family—because, honestly, that has never, ever worked.

The Emotional Toll Of Advocacy Fatigue

Being an autism parent means wearing about a hundred different hats. I’m a mother, sure, but I’m also a therapist, an educator, a human shield against sensory overload, and a full-time advocate, not to mention having the workload of ten secretaries. I spend hours researching, emailing teachers, attending meetings, and politely (or not-so-politely) correcting people when they say things like, “But he doesn’t look autistic.”

And then there’s the judgment. The stares when my son has a meltdown in public. The unsolicited parenting advice from strangers in the checkout line. The well-meaning but utterly exhausting comments like, “Have you tried disciplining him more?” (No, Susan, I just let him run feral. Thanks for the tip.) It’s relentless, and it wears you down.

Mourning The ‘Normal’ You Never Had (And Learning To Love The One You Got)

Here’s the part no one really warns you about: the grief. Not grief for my child—because I love him exactly as he is—but grief for the parenting experience I thought I’d have.

I used to picture lazy Sunday mornings, easy playdates, and stress-free family outings. Instead, I have a life that’s a little less predictable but filled with the kind of love and laughter that makes my heart burst. Yes, every missed milestone and unexpected challenge can sting—but every victory, no matter how small, is celebrated like we just won the Olympics.

Finding My People

The isolation is real, but I’ve learned that I don’t have to do this alone. Finding other autism parents—people who understand the highs, the lows, and the why-is-there-peanut-butter-on-the-ceiling moments—has been life-changing. These are the people who won’t judge if I cancel plans at the last minute or if my kid brings noise-cancelling headphones to a party. They just get it.

If you’re feeling isolated in this journey, please hear me: You are not alone. There are other parents out there, hiding in their cars for five minutes of peace, eating cold leftovers because mealtime was a battle, and loving their children with a fierceness that defies words.

And you know what? Our kids see it. They might not always say it, but they feel it. They know they are loved, safe, and celebrated for exactly who they are. And at the end of the day, that’s what matters most.

Final Thoughts

Autism parenting is beautiful, messy, hilarious, and exhausting. But by talking about the hard parts—with honesty, warmth, and maybe a little sarcasm—we make space for connection, support, and the kind of laughter that keeps us all going. And that, my friends, is everything.

You matter. You make a difference. You are appreciated more than words can say.

With gratitude (and maybe a little bit of desperation), A Very Tired but Deeply Thankful Mum.