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I had a therapist give me a great piece of advice when I was struggling with the reality that my parenting path was going to be much harder than I had imagined. She said, “You need to grieve the parenting experience you thought you were going to have.”
My first reaction? A very unsubtle facial expression that basically said, “Screw you!” But then I let it sink in.
“Grief” seemed like a strange word to associate with parenting, but it can fit part of the experience. And I’m not talking about the minor disappointments—like when your kid asks for a treehouse year after year, and you have exactly zero trees in your yard. No, I’m talking about deep, relentless exhaustion. The isolation, burnout, frustration, sadness, and anger that come from feeling like EVERYTHING is hard, NOTHING is working, and you are somehow ruining your kid. Daily. For years. That kind of grief.
I had the tools. I knew the better way to parent. But I couldn’t get there as often as I needed to. I kept short-circuiting, getting stuck in cycles of frustration. When I finally stopped, accepted, grieved, and then accepted again, I could start absorbing what I had learned and begin parenting in a way that felt better for me and my family.
Welcome to Holland
I stumbled on an essay by Emily Perl Kingsley that helped me. Unexpectedly. I don’t normally go around reading poems on the internet in my free time. But we adapt. Welcome to Holland describes the experience of raising a child with a disability in a way that really resonated with me/got through my thick skull.
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous trip to Italy. You buy guidebooks, plan your itinerary, maybe even learn some Italian. But when the day finally comes, your plane lands, and the flight attendant says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!? What do you mean, Holland? I signed up for Italy!"
But here you are. And while it's not the destination you planned, it’s not a bad place. It's just different. Slower. Less flashy. Over time, you notice that Holland has windmills, tulips, and Rembrandts.
Yet, for the rest of your life, you will hear about other people's trips to Italy, and you will mourn that loss. But if you spend your life grieving the fact that you didn’t go to Italy, you may never appreciate the beauty of Holland.
You can read the full essay or listen to it on YouTube.
Your Brain on Grief
Here’s something else to consider: When you're in a state of stress, your brain literally shuts down the learning part and switches to survival mode. This means if you are deeply struggling with parenting, not dealing with your grief– it becomes even HARDER to learn new ways to handle it. (This is a super simplified explanation.)
If this all sounds familiar, here are a few science-backed ways to help you get the grief stink off of yourself and moving forward:
1. Check in with your nervous system
Your body is constantly sending signals about your stress level. Learning to regulate your nervous system through mindfulness, breathing exercises, or movement can help you reset and respond to parenting challenges with more patience. Get sleep. Move.
2. Help another dad—don’t become an island
Parenting a neurodivergent child can feel incredibly isolating. Finding or creating a support network of other dads who "get it" is a game-changer. Helping someone else who is struggling reinforces your own learning and reminds you that you're not alone.
3. Be kind to yourself
If your kid was struggling with something, you wouldn’t berate them for not getting it right the first time. Extend that same grace to yourself. Change is hard, and learning to parent differently is a process. Self-compassion is essential.
Final Thoughts
You might not have landed in Italy, but Holland has its own kind of thing going for it. And once you stop fighting to get back to where you thought you were supposed to be, you might just start seeing it.
If this resonates with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts. What has helped you navigate the grief of unmet expectations in parenting? Let’s figure this out together.
