Something So Beautiful

After waiting over a year for my daughter’s first appointment, I finally found myself in the crowded, bustling waiting area of her doctor’s office. When we were called back, the anticipation and anxiety I had been holding onto felt almost overwhelming. I knew how packed her schedule was—appointments booked solid, with barely any room to breathe—and I was keenly aware of the time ticking by as our initial meetings stretched far beyond the typical timeframe for screenings.

At first, I answered her questions fully, diving into the details of my daughter’s behaviors, her quirks, her unique way of navigating the world. But as the minutes ticked on, I started to feel a nagging guilt. I didn’t want to monopolize the doctor’s time. So, I began to cut my answers short, trying to be concise, trying to make sure I wasn’t the helicopter mom taking up too much space. I thought I was doing the right thing—being mindful of her time, not making it about me.

But then, her doctor, with a sense of intuition and observational skill that I wasn’t expecting, paused and asked me if something was wrong. Her question caught me off guard. I explained that I didn’t want to make the session about me, that I was just trying to respect her schedule. Her response stopped me in my tracks.

“There’s something so incredibly beautiful about hearing a neurodivergent mother describe the inner workings of her neurodivergent daughter that I cannot begin to describe,” she said, her voice tinged with emotion. 

Wow. That moment changed everything for me. Here I was, anxiously rambling and then abruptly cutting myself off, worried about coming across as overbearing, when in reality, she wasn’t just listening—she was truly hearing me. Every word, every insight, every nuance of my experience was being absorbed, not judged.

It was my first—and so far, only—moment as a mother of a neurodivergent child where I felt completely validated. It wasn’t all in my head. I wasn’t overthinking, I wasn’t making it about me, and I wasn’t just another worried mom trying to control the narrative. I was offering something valuable—insights that only I could provide. 

In that moment, I felt vindicated. My perspective, my experiences, my detailed observations—they mattered. It was the first time I realized that my voice, my truth, as a neurodivergent mother, wasn’t just noise in the background—it was music. 

Takeaways:

1. The Power of Being Heard: Truly being listened to, especially by a professional, can provide deep validation and affirm the value of a neurodivergent parent’s insights.

2. Self-Perception vs. Reality: The experience highlights the difference between how we perceive our actions (as overbearing or taking up too much space) and how others, especially those who understand, might see them (as valuable and insightful).

3. The Beauty in Neurodivergent Perspectives: There is a unique and profound beauty in the way a neurodivergent parent can articulate and understand the experiences of their neurodivergent child, which can be deeply appreciated by others.