A Letter to Parents and Caregivers: You Don't Have to Walk This Alone

"You don't have to know the entire path to take the next step. And you don't have to walk it alone."

I have spent the past 20 years of my career working with adults and children with developmental disabilities. For a large portion of that time, my emphasis was with autism spectrum disorder, providing behavior therapy and parent training. So frequently I had parents coming in, desperately looking for help and support while simultaneously trying to accept that their beautiful child received a diagnosis that would change how they envisioned their future.  

I can't speak as a mother. I can only speak to firsthand encounters with moms, dads, grandmas and grandpas, brothers, and sisters who have just been given the diagnosis. Tearful parents who are trying to accept that their lives will face challenges that they didn’t see coming, grieving a future that will look totally different to what they had envisioned, guilt over feeling grief at all, and fear for that their child my face. The endless unknowns of how their child will develop, be seen by others, and navigate the world. Questions like, “Will they make friends? Will they be able to tell me if they are hurting? Will people accept them?”  

In working with children with autism over the years, it has become abundantly clear to me that parents need support that is often forfeited in order to prioritize the needs for their child. Due to the many supports that a child with autism may need- ABA, speech therapy, occupational therapy, feeding therapy, diet changes- parents often feel overwhelmed, isolated, and exhausted. When is there time to take care of themselves?  

Siblings often feel cast to the shadows. Much time is necessarily spent on supporting the child with a diagnosis get to services, navigate challenging behavior, giving praise for any progress.  Sibling rivalry is often still present even among these siblings, which becomes more complex when families may have different expectations for one child versus another. While a sibling may develop a greater sense of compassion, they can also feel less seen. 

But there is hope. There is support and there is understanding. There is still life at the end of grief and hope for the future. There is light in this new journey and there is beauty in the small victories. My goal is to be a place where parents can set down the weight they have been carrying, even if only for a little while. I can't change the diagnosis, erase the uncertainty, or map out every step ahead. What I can do is meet families exactly where they are—with compassion, without judgment, and with the understanding that every family's journey looks different. 

When you hike a trail, you don't begin at the summit. You begin exactly where your feet are planted. Some days the path feels steady, and other days it is steep, rocky, and exhausting. My hope is to walk alongside parents wherever they find themselves on that path—whether they are grieving, overwhelmed, hopeful, exhausted, or somewhere in between. Together, we can pause when needed, celebrate each step forward, and keep moving toward a future that may look different than expected but can still be filled with joy, connection, and purpose.