Parenting has a mental load.
Everyone knows that.
Remembering lunchboxes, managing routines, thinking three steps ahead, worrying if you’re doing enough. Most parents can swap stories and nod along, because while the details differ, the experience is familiar.
Disability parenting is different.
It’s not more parenting — it’s parenting on another level.
Parenting × 500, some days.
And unless you’re living it, it’s hard to see just how much is being carried in your head at any given moment.
Parenting Can Look the Same — Until It Doesn’t
I have three girls, and my parenting experience with each of them has been completely different.
Not just in personality or preferences — but in the way my brain works all day, every day.
Disability parenting doesn’t just change what you do.
It changes how much you’re holding at once.
This isn’t a blog about poor us.
It’s not a pity party or a complaint.
It’s about naming the parts of disability parenting that often go unseen — the planning, anticipating, translating, and holding — because sometimes, having those things reflected back at you is enough to make the invisible load feel a little lighter.
You’re Never Just Going Somewhere
Take a beach day with friends.
For some families, it’s simple: pack the car, go for a swim, grab an ice cream on the way home.
For us, it’s thinking about the best time of day.
Wondering how busy it might be.
Packing safe foods.
Helping navigate the sand, the water, the noise, the sensory overwhelm.
It’s being the safe place when it’s too much.
And then helping regulate after — long after everyone else has packed up and left.
You’re not just going somewhere.
You’re predicting, preparing, supporting, and recovering.
Translating the World for Your Child
I find myself constantly translating the world for my daughter.
Things can go over her head.
Comments might land the wrong way.
Small moments need reassurance.
So I’m rephrasing what people say, explaining context, softening language, checking in.
Not because she can’t cope — but because she deserves to feel safe and understood.
It’s like being a live interpreter for a world that doesn’t always speak her language.
Routines Aren’t About Control — They’re About Safety
Routines are often misunderstood.
Sometimes you have one child who thrives on flexibility, excitement, and change — and another who needs predictability to feel regulated.
So routines aren’t just about one child.
They’re about mentally allocating everyone’s needs at once.
You’re constantly weighing things up:
- How much structure is needed today?
- Who needs flexibility?
- Who is close to overload?
- What happens if we push too far — or not enough?
It’s a constant mental gymnastics act, balancing regulation for one child while making sure the rest of the family still feels seen and supported.
It’s not rigidity.
It’s care.
And it takes a surprising amount of mental energy to get it right.
The Quiet Weight of Small Wins
Progress in disability parenting often looks different.
A new food.
Staying longer than last time.
Getting through a full school day.
An outing that doesn’t end early.
From the outside, these moments can look ordinary.
To you, they represent patience, planning, resilience, and a thousand tiny adjustments.
What people don’t always see is that these moments can hold more than one feeling at once.
There’s pride.
And happiness.
And relief.
But there’s often sadness too — not because the moment isn’t good, but because you know exactly what it took to get there.
Sometimes, when you finally reach that amazing moment, the feeling that follows isn’t celebration.
It’s a deep exhale.
A thank goodness.
And a quiet thought of, I’m so proud… and I am absolutely exhausted.
Both things can be true.
The Therapy Juggle That Never Really Stops
Therapy isn’t just one appointment a week.
It’s finding the right therapist, navigating waiting lists, juggling schedules, and trying to make everything fit around school, naps, work, and energy levels.
And once sessions finally start, the work doesn’t end.
You’re practising strategies at home.
Embedding therapy into daily routines.
Adjusting your parenting to support goals and regulation.
You’re parenting — and doing therapy at the same time.
And that invisible toll adds up.
Because you’re not just physically doing more — you’re constantly thinking, reflecting, and adapting.
The NDIS That Lives in the Background
Then there’s the NDIS.
Even when you’re not actively doing paperwork, it’s there in the background of your mind.
Tracking funding.
Planning meetings.
Gathering evidence.
Keeping up with changes.
Trying to work out what you can and can’t spend, and what you’ll need next.
It’s another mental tab left open at all times.
It’s also why we started things like the Decoding the NDIS webinars — to help translate the system, break it down, and hopefully lessen some of that mental load families are carrying.
Because this part of disability parenting is heavy — and it shouldn’t feel like you have to figure it out alone.
Advocating Everywhere, All the Time
You advocate at school.
In therapy rooms.
In public spaces.
With strangers.
Sometimes even with family.
You’re explaining needs, setting boundaries, correcting assumptions, protecting your child.
And when the unhelpful comments come — the advice you didn’t ask for — sometimes you bite your tongue.
Not because you don’t care.
But because you’re choosing peace.
That restraint is part of the mental load too.
When the House Is Quiet, the Worry Gets Loud
Some of the heaviest mental load shows up at night.
Often, night is the only time your brain finally slows down — and that’s when the thoughts creep in.
The replaying.
The what-ifs.
The future questions.
I remember when my daughter was starting school — six months out — and I was already losing sleep.
Will she cope?
Will they understand her?
What support will she need?
What happens if it doesn’t go well?
You’re lying awake thinking about things no one can fully answer yet.
That worry doesn’t always get seen — but it’s real.
This Is Everyday Life — Even When It’s Invisible
These are the things that happen every day.
Some days you notice them.
Some days you don’t.
They’ve just become part of how your brain operates.
Invisible.
Constant.
Heavy.
And if you’re reading this thinking, oh… it’s not just me, that matters.
You Weren’t Meant to Carry This Alone
Disability parenting asks a lot.
And carrying all of it in your head, by yourself, is exhausting.
Sometimes what helps isn’t advice or solutions — it’s being around people who get it. Reading something that puts words to what you’ve been carrying. Sitting in spaces where the invisible load doesn’t need explaining.
If you’re looking for that kind of connection, Kindship Connect exists to bring disability parents together — to share, listen, and feel understood by others who live this life too.
And if today all you can do is pause, breathe, and acknowledge how much you’re holding, let this be your reminder:
We see you.
And it’s okay to take a break.
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