The Guilt No One Talks About After a Diagnosis
No one really talks about the guilt that comes after a diagnosis. Not the surface-level kind — but the deep, quiet guilt that settles in and makes you question everything. For a long time, I blamed myself for my son’s autism. I replayed my pregnancy, my choices, my body, my mind, searching for something I must have done wrong. It’s so hard to look back and wonder.
And if I’m being honest, I don’t know that I’ve fully processed his diagnosis yet.
Once that guilt showed up, it attached itself to everything. My pregnancy. My mental health. The medications I needed just to function. The stress I carried without realizing how heavy it was at the time. I replayed it all over and over again, convinced that if I looked hard enough, I would find the moment where I messed up.
I asked myself questions no mother should have to carry alone.
Did I do something wrong?
Was my body not good enough?
Did I fail him before he was even born?
Logically, I knew what the doctors said. I knew autism isn’t caused by something a mother does or doesn’t do. But guilt isn’t logical — it’s emotional. And when you’re already grieving the life you imagined for your child, guilt finds a way to settle in quietly and stay….and it feels like it’s impossible to make it go away.
I wish I could say the guilt disappeared the moment I learned more about autism — that once doctors reassured me and research backed it up, the blame lifted. But that hasn’t been my experience. Some days, I understand it logically. Other days, the guilt creeps back in quietly, usually when I’m tired, overwhelmed, or scared about the future.
There are times when I forget J has autism — and then something happens. Sometimes it’s something as simple as walking outside in the snow, and it’s hard for him. And I’m reminded that his life will be full of moments that seem small or insignificant to most people, but feel big and overwhelming to my son.
Processing a diagnosis doesn’t happen all at once. It isn’t a single moment or a finish line you cross. It’s layers — and some of those layers take longer to peel back than others. Sometimes you think you are past one layer, but then you circle back and feel those feelings all over again.
What I’m learning is that guilt doesn’t mean I failed my son. It means I love him deeply. It means I care enough to question, to reflect, to want better for him. And slowly, very slowly - I’m starting to replace that guilt with something healthier — compassion for myself, and grace for the version of me who was doing the best she could with what she knew at the time.
I may not be fully processed yet. I may still have days where I wonder why or what if. But I’m learning that healing doesn’t require certainty — it just requires honesty. And for now, this is where I am.
If you’re a parent carrying similar guilt, I want you to know this: you didn’t cause this. No matter what anyone says, or the headlines you read.
You are not broken. And you are allowed to take your time finding your footing. We’re learning as we go — together.
I’m still learning, still healing, and still figuring this out — and if you are too, you’re not alone.
