Through Her Eyes: Growing Up with an Autistic Mom

Rhonda Richmond
Nov 24, 2024
3 min read

Parenting is a journey filled with learning curves, and when you're an autistic mom raising children, the experience can feel especially overwhelming (or maybe not - I've never NOT been autistic). Recently, I had a candid conversation with my daughter about her experience growing up with me—specifically about what it felt like when she came to me with her ideas. I wanted to understand her perspective, not just as my child, but as someone who navigated our shared world of neurodiversity in a way that was uniquely hers.

Her response was thoughtful and eye-opening. She explained that sharing her ideas with me wasn’t always easy, but it was never because I didn’t care. Quite the opposite—she said my passion for understanding her ideas sometimes came across as overanalyzing. “I always knew you wanted to help,” she said, “but it felt like my idea needed to pass through layers of logic and questions before it could just be mine.”

Hearing her words was both humbling and affirming. As an autistic mom, my way of thinking tends to be detail-oriented and solution-focused. If my child came to me with an idea, I wanted to understand every piece of it—how it worked, why it mattered to her, and what outcomes she envisioned. I also hear ideas, and my mind immediately begins mapping them out in several directions. It's automatic. Typically, as I do, I shake my head (unintentionally) when the idea hits a snag. My intention was never to criticize but to support and make her idea the best possible. But in doing so, I realized I may have created a space where she felt she had to defend her ideas rather than celebrate them.

Reflecting on our conversation, I also recognized the gift embedded in these interactions. She told me that while it was sometimes frustrating, it taught her resilience. She learned how to articulate her thoughts clearly, stand firm in her beliefs, and problem-solve when faced with challenges. In her words, “It was like idea boot camp. It wasn’t always fun, but it made me stronger.”

This moment was a beautiful reminder of the give-and-take relationship we share as a family. I realized how much my own neurodivergence shaped the way I parented—not always perfectly, but always with love and intention. I was also reminded of how my daughter’s perspective shapes me.

Lessons in Trust and Growth

Our conversation left me thinking about the broader lessons in parenting, especially as someone who often processes the world differently. Here are some takeaways:

Balance Support with Space: It’s natural to want to help our children refine their ideas or shield them from mistakes, but sometimes they need space to explore. Offering that space is an act of trust and love.
Communicate Intentions: My daughter shared how much she appreciated knowing that my questions came from a place of love, not criticism. Expressing our intentions openly can help bridge any misunderstandings.
Celebrate Their Vision: Even if we don’t fully understand or agree with their idea, celebrating their creativity and courage to share it can mean the world to our kids.
Reflect and Grow Together: Conversations like these remind us that parenting isn’t just about guiding our children but also letting them guide us.

The Bigger Picture

Reflecting on this conversation, I’m reminded of the themes in my book, But...GOD Gave Me a Pencil. The book explores how neurodiversity shaped my journey as a learner, a teacher, and a mother. It also delves into how education isn’t a one-size-fits-all experience—whether in a classroom or at the kitchen table.

Like my teaching approach, parenting has required creativity, humility, and the willingness to see challenges as opportunities for growth. My daughter’s words reminded me that every interaction, even imperfect, can be a stepping stone to deeper understanding and connection.

If there’s one message I hope others take from this, it’s that our unique ways of thinking and parenting are valuable. They may require adjustments and conversations, but they also offer our children something beautiful: the chance to grow in ways that are uniquely theirs.

As parents—neurodivergent or not—we are all learning as we go. And that’s okay.