I know you’re trying to be helpful; here’s what not to say—and what to say instead.
“I’ve wanted to write an article like this for a long time but hesitated. It’s a giant elephant in the room because I know that many people mean well, and also, I was raised to be more of a conflict-averse “suck it up instead of making some uncomfortable” type of person. However, delving into the world of neurodivergent parenting adds another layer of complexity to the conversation.” But I’m trying something new in the spirit of no longer stuffing my feelings. So I will start with a quote I read by a fellow writer, a journalist for the Montreal Gazette who has definitely walked a mile in my shoes (and then some). While her entire article, “5 things not to say to say to parents of neurodivergent children,” made me feel seen and heard, one particular line helped me to write my blog about just the one [and all of its variations] of ‘he is fine.’ I will explain the many variations, why they’re hurtful, and what to say instead. Many people do mean well.
I also know that some readers could be a friend or family member reading this trying to understand a recent conversation you had involving the parent of a child with ADHD or autism that didn’t seem to go well or led to silence afterward. In that case, I hope to shed light, understanding, and connection. Here is her quote:
“Are you sure your child has [specific neurodiversity]? They’re fine at my house.”
Widespread variations of this that both my husband and I hear include:
- He’s a boy; they develop slower, be patient.
- My [kid or someone else’s kid] didn’t talk until they were [age older than my kid], and he’s fine. Stop worrying so much!
- Boys will be boys
- Everyone develops at their own pace. Milestones are meaningless.
I am going to address each of these with what I, as a neurodivergent parent, think the intent is and then be honest about what it is I hear + what hurts the most about these statements [and what I suggest you say instead to foster a meaningful connection + conversation, which I am assuming if you’re reading for practicing neurodivergent parenting this is from the POV as a friend, not a parent, you will want to hear]:
1. He’s a boy; they develop slower, be patient.
The intent behind this is probably: Encouragement, that it’s okay if my son is beating to his own drummer, don’t cause myself unnecessary worry and stress.
What I hear + what hurts: “You’re overreacting, and thank goodness because you don’t want anything actually to be wrong with your kid, right?” What hurts is that Finnley’s Dad and I have known that something was different since Finnley was a few months old, and we were brushed off. We spend day in and day out with him, and we know what we are experiencing; we also don’t think anything is ‘wrong’ with our son; we see his brilliance and also what he struggles with and are getting him early interventions and assessments to help him discover his full potential and lead a happy life.
Instead, may I suggest: “Would you like to talk about anything? I’m here to listen.” From this place, an authentic conversation about concerns + even reassurance on your end that things will work out for the best will go a long way in making parents of neurodiverse kids feel heard.
2. My [kid or someone else’s kid] didn’t talk until they were [age older than my kid], and he’s fine. Stop worrying so much!
The intent behind this is probably: That every kid has their own timetable and that things, quote, “worked out” and “nothing was wrong with them after all,” reassuring me my kid is okay.
What I hear + what hurts: “You’re reading too much into him not talking as much as you think he should be and you’re not giving him a chance to succeed. Don’t worry about something being wrong with him until you need to know.” What hurts is, first and foremost, I KNOW this attitude toward neurodivergence is why I was 35 before I got diagnosed with ADHD and struggled SO MUCH beforehand [here’s the story of my diagnosis]. My son’s struggles are not something to be ashamed of or labeled as “something wrong,” but they often are by statements like this one. The second element to this that hurts is that people see my son for such short periods of time compared to my entire experience, and even at this young age, he is starting to have different behaviors in public than at home [masking begins early, it seems, and in significant part because of the stigma against neurodivergence.] I know my son can feel it already. Neurodiversity acceptance is key to early intervention for neurodivergent kids. The challenges of neurodivergent parenting are important to understand, and the language we use is key to truly empowering neurodivergent parents and creating a supportive community.
Instead, may I suggest: “Would you like to talk about Finnley’s speech journey?” Asking an open-ended question and, again, just listening is vital. You don’t need to worry about the right/wrong words as long as you bring an open heart and lead from there. And please do share your experiences with me, they bring me joy and comfort! Some variation of “he’s going to be fine” is received much differently in the space of shared stories about our kids’ experiences. True friendship like this brings much-needed support for neurodivergent families parenting a neurodivergent child or neurodivergent children.
3. Boys will be boys
The intent behind this is probably: To be honest, steeped in sexism, and hard to see the other side about.
What I hear + what hurts: “He’s a boy, so he’s going to [whatever he did, fill in the blank, hit, crashed into something, etc.].” This is not behavior that 1) I want to condone and 2) has anything to do with my kid being male, full stop. Thanks.
Instead, may I suggest: Honestly? Nothing. We’d all be happier to skip this one. Plus, raising a neurodivergent toddler, I just don’t have the extra energy. Next. 🙂
“Neurodivergent Parenting, a journey of love, struggles and learning“
4. Everyone develops at their own pace. Milestones are meaningless.
The intent behind this is probably: Reassurance that my kid will “catch up” or otherwise develop into a “neurotypical kid” in time.
What I hear + what hurts: “You’re a helicopter mom who is stunting your kid’s growth by expecting them to follow a straight line”. Okay, so maybe that was a fun exaggeration to write down, but it’s not far from how it feels. On top of feeling brushed off, discounted, and invalidated, this also denies my reality. My husband and I watched my son’s milestone gap get wider and wider, not with a measuring stick, but with an awareness that speech and developmental delays, as well as behaviors noticed from being with him 24/7, are presenting struggles for him that we want to help him with. So yes, we’re paying attention. 🙂
Instead, may I suggest: “Would you like to talk about Finnley? I’m here for you for as much or little as you want to talk about.” Even just that last sentence is great because in all of these situations, even just taking the time and care to seek to understand vs. judge goes a long way in dealing with societal misconceptions and helps support parents in advocating for neurodivergent children. It’s not easy to be a neurodivergent parent, and we need the support of friends, families, and colleagues [and witnesses to my son throwing an entire bag of rice on the floor in aisle 7].
If you’re a neurodivergent parent, I hope this blog helped you feel seen and heard. I welcome everyone to share their stories or questions with me anytime at perfectionmama[at]gmail.com.
In the meantime, sending so much love! Because you’re perfection, mama, as-is.
Megan