This may be true for some people, but for me, and many others, parenting is a learned skill. This is why people such as health nurses, lactation consultants, parenting experts, and more exist. They exist to teach parents the skills they need to navigate life as a parent.

As mentioned before, I was an undiagnosed autistic & ADHD parent. I became a parent at 24 years old, after nearly 4 years of marriage (two weeks off if we’re counting). I thought I’d be fine as I had spent most of my life around kids, being the oldest of 4 kids, taught Sunday School, been paid as a babysitter since I was 12, and generally been around kids and babies my whole life. I knew how to do things like change a nappy…

But nothing prepared me for the relentlessness of being a parent, especially when I had a baby who screamed for the first 3 months of his life.

There was so much to learn, from tired signs to caring for nappy rash, to so many other things.

Then there was the conflicting advice.

Feed on demand, but also have a schedule.

Have the baby sleep in his own room, or have him in yours, or co-sleep.

And on… and on….

One thing I realised after I was diagnosed and reflecting on all of this was that so much advice assumed the whole family was neurotypical.

A lot of the baby care information was pretty standard, but as the kids grew, more and more information was aimed at a neurotypical family, and I did my best to follow it all.

I was told this information was ‘best practice’ and following it would mean I would have happy, healthy kids.

Because I didn’t know better, I believed them and struggled to follow it – from toilet training to sending the kids to school, to packing lunch boxes and sitting up for dinner, to homework tips, and so much more. Everything was aimed at a neurotypical family as that is what I thought we were (spoilers, we weren’t).

I was terrified that if I didn’t follow the parenting lessons I’d been taught, I would somehow set my kids up for failure.

The fact our family didn’t follow things due to health issues didn’t help either… but that’s a post for another day.

So many of the lessons I was taught, from the pregnancy & birth classes onwards, were aimed at neurotypical families and didn’t leave any wiggle room. We were told in no uncertain terms that if we didn’t follow their advice, we were ‘bad parents’, and no one wanted that.

As an undiagnosed AuDHD parent, with crippling self-esteem issues and being terrified of failure, and being taught not to trust my gut, I tried to follow those lessons.

Sometimes I wonder what things would have been like if the lessons were different, if they weren’t so prescriptive and taught some other methods to try, or if the trainers were open for discussion, if things may have been different. As it was, I did my best to follow those lessons to the letter, and I saw other parents who have since been diagnosed do the same.

One thing we all had in common was we desperately wanted the best for our kids, to make their childhoods easier than ours had been, to protect them from the battles we fought, but not really knowing what they were… so we followed the lessons we were taught as parenting is not always natural and, for many of us, it doesn’t come naturally.

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I thought I would share my story. Please remember, I was undiagnosed autistic & ADHD, though was diagnosed with post-natal depression (PND) when my first was three months old, and again with the second when he was only a few weeks old.

I had grown up around breastfeeding women. My mum was a member of Nursing Mother’s, now the Australian Breastfeeding Association. My Aunt worked for them. There was no doubt in my mind that I would breastfeed my kids.

I was pretty lucky with both of my babies. They seemed to come out looking for a feed and we didn’t have issues with milk supply, latching, or anything like that. I had a couple of bouts of mastitis, but nothing major. I can only remember one time it was particularly painful, and that was easily fixed.

I was more frustrated when breastfeeding counsellors and the health nurse would talk about sensations of letdown. This is where the hind milk came down, the milk with all the good stuff in it. I never felt that and thought I was doing something wrong, though the kids seemed well fed and were growing like weeds.

When I was admitted to hospital for PND after my second was born, I fought to keep feeding as they wanted to put me on medication that meant I would have to stop. Honestly, if I had to stop before he was a month old, that would have had a major impact on my mental health as, at that time, I felt like the fact I could feed my child was the only thing that was working right then. Not to mention having to worry about formula and bottles when I was barely keeping on top of the most basic of housework (I didn’t know about executive dysfunction then).

I didn’t particularly love breastfeeding. I never had the blissful feeling described in the magazines and parenting books, but it was something that was fairly easy and I knew I had fed my child. I could also feed wherever, though both me and my babies hated wraps or anything to cover them when they fed. I was even on a TV current affairs program with my first when he was around 10 months to show that most people didn’t really care about feeding in public (that’s another story).

Breastfeeding was fine for me, it was something that I knew was part of being a parent…

Then I got pregnant with my second while still feeding my first.

Breastfeeding and pregnancy was not fun at all for me, however my child still wanted to feed. I had many phone calls with the breastfeeding counsellor on strategies to help him wean, at the same time investigating tandem feeding in case he refused to stop. Thankfully, he did wean, thanks to things like watching The Simpsons while feeding as he wanted to watch at the same time (he was 18 months old & liked the colours & noise).

The biggest issue I had with breastfeeding was a sensory overwhelm of being touched all the time. I didn’t know anything about sensory overload at the time, and I believe the feelings of being ‘touched out’ had a major impact on my mental health as well as my marriage. Honestly, by the end of the day, I had had enough of being touch, especially when I had a toddler and a baby. Breastfeeding was an easy way to feed my child, however it meant I was constantly being touched. Then, when my husband came home and wanted a hug, or more, I was ‘touched out’ and he took it as a personal rejection, even when I tried to explain it wasn’t personal, I simply didn’t want anyone touching me.

From talking to others in groups about their experiences of breastfeeding, the fact that was easy for me was a blessing. My babies latched on without difficulty and I had a good supply, however the sensory issues were a thing I didn’t realise at the time.

I am also grateful I was able to breastfeed as the idea of managing formula and bottles (quite apart from the cost) was stressful!

If you would like to, share your experiences of being an undiagnosed autistic and/or ADHD mother and breastfeeding.

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I was also an undiagnosed autistic and ADHD parent. When that boy was 20 years old, I received my diagnosis, and his younger brother was 18.

I navigated 20 years of parenting not knowing I was AuDHD, and it was tough.

This is something that not many people talk about.

There is a lot about parenting autistic and ADHD children and how to provide for them, but not a lot around what it’s like being an autistic and/or ADHD parent, and if there is information, it’s assuming that you are diagnosed already.

Since my diagnosis, I have been looking back over my life, especially the years of parenting and the impact it had on me, how it shaped my outlook on life and parenting. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

Some things are downright painful, especially when I think how hard I tried to parent in a neurotypical way, following all the ‘rules’ that were set out by various experts – health nurses, school teachers, magazines, books, and so much more.

Some are complete joy, such as discovering things like lizards, pirates, dinosaurs, Rubiks cube, and so much more as my kids were going through their various special interests.

Some things are confusing, even now.

For a while, I have complained that no one is speaking about this, then it hit me… I’m not speaking about it either!

I figured that I have this blog, this place on the Internet where I can share things, so why not start here.

My dream, eventually, is to write a memoir about it all, until then, this is my story. I will refer to others in my life, often by an initial only, but, as much as it’s my story, they are part of it.

Please, join with me, ask any questions, and you’re welcome to share your own stories in the comments too.

I should also mention, the information won’t be in any particular order, things will be posted as I think of them or a memory pops up.

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One thing I’ve been wondering lately is – can being a parent cause trauma to the parent?

Honestly, I don’t feel like I’ve got trauma from my upbringing. Yes, it was challenging, especially things like going to 8 different primary schools in two countries, not feeling like I fit in anywhere, that sort of thing. I’ve come to realise that my childhood was pretty good. It would have been nice to know I was AuDHD earlier, however I don’t think it would have changed things much if at all (I was born in the late 70s and was a kid in the 80s and 90s).

If anything, I feel like more trauma was caused from being a parent.

From being gaslighted by doctors for pains I felt when pregnant.

From having an unsupportive partner.

From having a baby who screamed for three months, only to be told it was ‘colic’ (spoiler: it wasn’t).

From having chronically ill kids and being gaslit by doctors and schools and others when trying to get support.

From seeing my children struggling the way I did and not knowing how to help them even though I fought for them for an education.

From juggling part time work with being a single parent and having little support when I needed it.

From having kids who used me up in every way possible.

From doing the best I could with what I had at the time and being told that it wasn’t enough.

From trying to manage everything and feeling like I’m letting everyone down – my kids, my family, my friends, my boss, society – because I wasn’t coping, I wasn’t thriving.

From completely losing my identity to try to be a ‘good mum’, yet still being told I’m falling short.

I feel like so much out there is trying to force me to blame my struggles (not quite sure that’s the right word) on trauma from childhood. From trying to blame my parents for causing trauma…

I know that my parents did the best they could with the tools they had at the time.

When I look up the definition of trauma, it says “a deeply distressing or disturbing experience”. This is the dictionary definition. With this, my childhood certainly doesn’t fit the box… however my experience of being a parent fits this box much better…

Even doing a search on ‘can being a parent cause trauma’, the results are not helpful. They talk about childhood trauma, there isn’t much about issues caused by being a parent.

Here’s my question, is this a thing?

Can children cause damage to their parents?

Can being a parent cause trauma?

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While my mum was a stay-at-home mum until I was an adult, my siblings and I were sent outside to play after school, either in the back yard or with the other kids in our street.

I am a parent, my kids are adults… so I can see a lot of this from both sides.

I was one of four kids. Things like emotional regulation wasn’t spoken about, and having active kids, keeping a house, juggling the demands of being a parent is dysregulating. I imagine that so much of sending us outside to play was my mum’s way of getting a bit of quiet so she could do things like cook dinner, as well as get the bickering of kids out of her space for a while.

When it comes to the whole latchkey kids thing, mothers were being encouraged to go back to work, however there weren’t the after-school care options there are now. Even now, there is no after-school care for kids in secondary school.

What are the alternatives here?

Mother’s not going to work? Sometimes it was a financial necessity. I realise what a privileged position my parents were in that mum could stay home. We weren’t rich and I know my parents kept a close eye on their budgets. The flip side was that mum was home after school most days to give us snacks, help with homework, cook dinner, take us to after-school activities. And yes, she did send us outside to play a lot.

When I see posts like the one I mentioned at the top of this post, I wonder if that person was a kid in that time, and if they are a parent themselves. It strikes me that the only way to avoid being seen as a ‘toxic’ parent is to make the world completely revolve around your child (even that has issues), or simply not be a parent at all.

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I have read all the books, done programs, even did a program when I was teen. I do all the things that they tell me to do, to the point of completely changing who I am in order to make myself ‘someone people will want to spend time with’, and it doesn’t work very well.

This ends up in burn out. Or the relationship just seems to peter out. Or they confront me with something they don’t like about (I now know these are typical neurodivergent traits that don’t fit the ‘acceptable’ box).

I have a theory.

We are taught an neurotypical ideal of what friendship should be, especially female friendship. There are endless movies, TV shows, and novels about girls and women and their friends. We are given these from a young age, and they help us learn how to mask.

A neurodivergent friendship looks different. I’m still not sure how it looks different, I’m still working it out, but it does.

It could look like connecting only on our hyperfocus.

It could be us constantly talking over each other in a chaotic conversation that we both find incredibly satisfying.

It could be us having nothing to do with each other for months or years, then reconnecting as if no time has passed.

It could be something else entirely.

Friendships is something that seems to be expected of us and if we don’t have a best friend that we grew up with, then there is something wrong with us… and we feel awful and a loser and somehow less than.

I have found so many friendships are one sided, and that when I run out of steam to make the phone calls or the time to catch up with the other person, then the phone never rings and we lose touch.

I am still trying to figure out what an autistic/ADHD friendship looks like. When I work it out, I want to put it into stories so that other AuDHD women and girls can see what they look like, show them another view of friendships.

I also need to remember that the phone goes both ways and the other person can always call me…

If you’re AuDHD and have some ideas of how I can show these friendships in stories, I’d love to hear them.

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I remember being taught about how to do homework. Coming home and spending hours doing essays and assignments when all I really needed was to unwind and decompress after a day at school. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was masking at school and needed a break.

I remember being told ‘strategies’ on how to do things, and knowing now that these things didn’t suit my brain. Being told to sit there until the task was done, memorising facts and figures (which I would promptly forget), making posters and documents look pretty.

Being taught to push through even when every fiber of my being was screaming for a rest or to do something else.

We were told that these skills would set us up for success in life. That knowing how to study would help us in our professional lives.

I’m honestly not sure how valuable they were.

Study skills taught me to ignore my own needs for rest and to let my brain have a break.

Study skills taught me to put everyone else first in that the work came before what I needed.

Study skills taught me that if I wanted to learn something, it had to be in a way that suited other people.

Study skills taught me that my knowledge didn’t matter if it couldn’t be rehashed in an essay or exam.

I know this method of learning and rehashing information works for some people, but it didn’t work for me. I love to learn. One of the reasons I love reading so much is that I can learn so much through books, including fiction. However, writing essays and doing exams drives me crazy and makes the learning harder.

Another thing with these ‘study skills’ is that, as soon as I left formal study, I pretty much forgot all about them, until I had to sit through information sessions for kids when they were at school & hear about those things that didn’t work for me, and, as it turned out, didn’t work for them either!

I keep thinking that we need to rethink education, especially homework at all levels, and how students prove what they know… but that’s a topic for another day. I figure primary schools talking about no longer having homework is a great starting point.

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It’s a day I’ve never really enjoyed. Growing up, my mum would spend ages making things for the Mother’s Day stall, and she was one of the volunteers too! We had to be careful not to buy something she had made and try to hide our purchases from her. I admit that the variety of items on the stalls back then were better than the offerings when my kids were at school. I remember my kids complaining that everything on the Mother’s Day stall was pink, when I don’t like pink, my favourite colour is blue.

When I got married, trying to juggle Mother’s Day with my mum and mother-in-law was always fun, though nothing topped the gift we gave them 23 years ago when we told them their first grandchild was on the way!

When I became a mother, I felt like I was caught in the middle as Mother’s Day lunch was often at my parents’ place and I was expected to do stuff for my mum, while wishing I could have a break for the day.

For many years, my kids would spend Mother’s Day weekend with their dad, and I quite enjoyed the break, seeing them in the evening for dinner.

Now that my kids are grown, Mother’s Day isn’t a big deal at all.

This year, I had lunch with my mum, sister, and sister-in-law, but today isn’t going to be anything special. After all, I’ve already been buying my own present for years, if I wanted something.

The romanticism around Mother’s Day irritates me. It puts a pressure to be lovely and sweet, even when, as a mother, you just want a break. There’s also a pressure to buy presents, more stuff. Not to mention the pictures of what an ideal mother is.

There’s a unique motherguilt that comes when you don’t fit that box… especially as a mother who was undiagnosed neurodivergent until her kids were adults… I have never fit in the box, and those ‘touchy feely’ moments in the Mother’s Day ads have never been me.

So, I struggle with Mother’s Day. The idea versus the reality. It’s not an easy day, it never has been.

For all of you who are mothers, I hope you have a lovely day today, no matter what you are doing.

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When my kids were small, it was common for churches to have a ‘crying room’ for parents to take their small children. This was often a space at the side of the church or a separate room where kids could play with parents supervising and still hear what was going on in the church. This meant that parents didn’t miss out on the sermon or any other element of the service.

I quite liked this space. I didn’t have to worry about keeping my kids quiet, I could sit on a more comfortable chair, and still engage in the service. I could also move about as I needed.

At the time, I thought it was all about the kids and keeping them quiet, however, looking back, I realise how much of that room helped support me as an AuDHD person.

Being able to move about meant I could often listen more than if I had to sit still on a pew.

The seats were more comfortable than the pews, or even the plastic chairs, so I could sit in a way that felt more natural to me.

In the places where there was a separate room, the music was quieter than it was in the main church and this meant it wasn’t as sensory demanding and I could enjoy it more.

As an adult without kids, I’m not sure these spaces are available to me any more. It’s been a while since I looked at them. I know that not all churches have this area either.

It could be something that churches, especially larger churches, may want to consider when thinking about accessibility for neurodivergent people, these sensory spaces, where we can move or sit more comfortably while still hearing the service. The fact that I could still hear the service was important as I felt that I was still part of the community, while meeting my sensory needs (that I didn’t realise I had at the time).

These rooms could get overwhelming too if there were a lot of other kids in there, especially if they were noisy and crying, however that didn’t happen very often.

It’s fascinating looking back on my life at things that were available that helped my needs as an AuDHD person and I didn’t even realise it at the time.

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I have two children and here are some of the best gifts we received when they were born to give you some ideas:

• Clothes in bigger sizes – we received a lot of baby clothes, however the ones that stood out came from the girlfriend of one of my brothers. She had been to Bali and came back with some clothes in sizes 2 and 3! I put these away until the baby grew in to them. Many of the baby clothes were hardly worn, there were so many. These clothes in bigger sizes were great as that was the point I really needed to buy clothes, and we had some ready to go.
• Books – this may be a no-brainer for a booklover like me, however it’s something that not many people think about. Books could be picture books to start a library for the baby, but don’t forget books as they grow up. For one of my nephews, I gave them a set of the AA Milne Winnie-the-Pooh books and poems for them to enjoy as the baby grew older.
• Linking Rings – these were larger, plastic rings that linked together. They also had a rubber part on them for chewing. These were great as we could link them together and attach them to the pram with a toy on the other end, or they could be a toy on their own. They were brilliant when it came to teething as baby could chew on them, and they were very easy to clean.
• Meals – we were lucky enough to be part of a church community that filled our freezer with meals. If a home cooked meal is not an option, vouchers for meal delivery, groceries, or pre-made frozen meals could be an option. The fact that we didn’t have to cook for a while with a newborn was most appreciated.
• Nappies – some friends gave us a few packets of nappies in various sizes. This was fantastic as they were something we needed and having a stash meant we didn’t have to buy them and had a stash to get us started. Before buying nappies, check to see if the parents prefer cloth or disposable. If they prefer cloth, you could also offer a nappy washing service for a period of time to help take the pressure off.

I hope these give you some ideas for gifts for a new baby. If you have some ideas to add, please leave a comment.

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