Welcome to the afterlife. Not for your child — for the life you thought you were going to have. This isn’t the end of the world, but it might feel like the ground just gave out underneath you. Breathe. You’re not alone. You're now holding a metaphysical version of the Handbook for the Recently Diagnosed.
Step 1: You're Allowed to Mourn
Grief is normal. Let yourself feel it — for the expectations you had, for the assumptions you now have to challenge, for the version of parenting you thought you were signing up for. But don’t unpack and live there.
Step 2: Your Kid Hasn’t Changed
What changed is your understanding. The diagnosis isn’t a curse or a death sentence — it’s a flashlight in the dark. Use it to start seeing what’s really there.
Step 3: Your Job Just Got Real
You’re not just raising a kid now. You’re advocating, interpreting, protecting, and decoding. You’re entering a system that will try to wear you down. Build stamina. You’ll need it.
Step 4: Watch Who You Let In
Some people will get it. Most won’t. Some will say toxic stuff with a smile. Others will make it about themselves. You’re going to start recognizing who is safe and who’s just noise. That discernment is now a survival skill.
Step 5: Build Your Team
Find other parents. The weird ones who talk in acronyms and drink too much coffee. Find practitioners who believe in your child’s potential. Build your inner circle — because you can’t do this alone, and you shouldn’t.
Step 6: Let Go of Normal
Normal is a myth. Progress will look different now. Victories are quieter, but deeper. Celebrate the hell out of every one.
Step 7: You’ve Got This (Even When You Don’t)
You're going to mess up. You’ll feel like you're failing. That’s part of the job. But the fact that you’re here, reading this, trying — that means you’re already doing it.
The path ahead is messy and beautiful and hard as hell. But it’s yours now. And your kid? They’ve been waiting for you to see them this clearly all along.