Image Source: Thinkstock
Image Source: Thinkstock


I’m raising a son who suffers from fetal alcohol spectrum disorder (FASD). He was adopted by us when he was 1 year old, and we received an official diagnosis for the disorder when he was 3. It has left his brain permanently damaged, and our daily life is an uphill climb with him. What people rarely see (unless they spend significant time with us) is the impulsive, illogical, obsessive, and sometimes violent behavior my son displays over nearly everything.

A few years ago, I discovered firsthand just how misinformed this world can be when it comes to understanding his special needs. It was the last game of my son’s first year playing tackle football. The temperature at game time was a brisk 25 degrees. The sun was up, but slow to melt the frost that fell in the early morning hours that day. October weather in Indiana can swing from 80 degrees to 20 degree in a matter of hours. My son stood on the sideline shivering, crying, snot running down his upper lip, and looking as if he were close to death.

I stood on the opposite sideline, frustrated.

I reflected back on the night before, when I was digging out knit caps and gloves in preparation for his game. The evening weatherman said that the next morning would be brisk and cold. He even went as far as to say, “If your son or daughter is playing soccer, football, or fall baseball, you will want to dress them warm!”

But that night, my son had argued with me; resisted my care for his well-being. He told me that he didn’t need to wear gloves, because NONE OF THE OTHER KIDS WOULD BE WEARING THEM. He shook his head and told me that football players are supposed to be tough and that wearing a knit cap would make him look like a sissy.

Big talk until he got out of the car the next morning and joined his teammates (who, by the way, were all wearing knit caps and gloves). He almost immediately started to shiver. I didn’t budge. In the real world, I thought to myself, he would have to learn logical consequences for his choices. I let this play out for a few minutes.

Now, because I know my son and his behavior, I knew this was going to happen. So the night before, I quietly packed his cap and gloves in the car along with our lawn chairs and blankets. But he didn’t know this (and neither did the other parents at the game).

So as he stood on the sidelines shivering, some of the parents nearby gave me nasty looks. Others tried to remedy the situation by getting involved, but I politely asked them not to. I’m sure I was labeled as a terrible father that day. Later that afternoon, I received an email from his coach saying, “Next time we have a game with those temperatures, please make sure to properly dress your son.” He then explained his personal strategy for making sure his son was dressed for chilly game-time temperatures.

And that’s when it hit me — this world will never understand how or why I parent my special-needs son the way I do, and that’s okay! Many would look at that experience and consider it normal 10-year-old behavior, but it was the farthest thing from it.


While other children may argue with their parents, push buttons, stomp their feet, and demand their own way, my son makes it a campaign. He battles us to sometimes violent levels and refuses to listen to logic, even when logic is causing his ears and finger tips to turn blue and go numb.

Because he suffers from FASD, his brain is always at a simmer, always nearing the point of meltdown. Looking at him the wrong way, speaking abruptly to him, or pushing his buttons could cause him to boil over. We have to stay extremely structured in our schedule. That’s why we do or say some things that seem harsh or overboard.

You see, when you live with a child who has brain damage or has gone through significant trauma, you can’t leave an ounce of what you say up for interpretation. My son will fill in the blanks, and many times that equals disaster or very bad choices. I have to be blunt and to the point with every answer. I know I sound harsh. I know I sound unforgiving or intolerant. But my point must be crystal clear with my child. I stick to a strict schedule with him. Bedtime is always the same. So are trivial things like brushing teeth, household chores, and homework. Without a routine, my son will melt down.

Most parents of children with normal brains usually have to give gentle reminders to their children. Even if they mess up and forget, a gentle reminder or two usually does the trick. Not so with my child. If I gently remind him, he won’t get it, or he’ll move into a 2-hour tantrum. If I resort to doing the task myself, he’ll never learn nor come back to the task in his mind. I have to bluntly state my expectations and be ready with a consequence if he fails to do what was asked of him.

Click here for the rest of the article

Source: http://www.babble.com/parenting/i-dont-expect-you-to-understand-the-way-i-parent-my-special-needs-son/

Disclaimer:  The views and opinions in this article are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent the views of Edmonton and Area Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder Network.


  1. I agree the rest of the world will not understand this. A similar occurrence has repeatedly happened to me with my daughter. One parent even offered to buy me parenting books so I could parent my child better and cause less stress to her. If they only knew. 😞

  2. As a parent of an FASD diagnosed child, it is my understanding that they do not get consequences, at least mine does not. So this story was rather hard to read and perpetuates every myth I try to remove from my son’s life. I struggle everyday with having people snub and make rude comments while my son makes inappropriate noises and tears through our house like a bull. We no longer attend birthdays or holiday events so that I do not have to be on constant vigilance.

    Amazon has a great book that I give to fellow parents, teachers and anyone that might listen. It is called Trying Differently Rather Than Harder: Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorders. If you step back and ask if your son understood the consequences and could think it through and would change for next time, I think you may find you could repeat this over and over until you are both broken. What about giving up the idea that he will “get” it? Who would win?

    Another example, my son takes things. He steals. He doesn’t get it. So we had wars, rages, time outs, and anger. When I think back on those days of embarrassment and anger, I am sad at how his teachers, family, friends and, most importantly, myself treated him. He doesn’t get ownership, he doesn’t get consequences. He is my ten minute man in a one second world. He sees something someone has left behind and likes it, he doesn’t feel the need to own it. Changing our mindsets has made all the difference. Before he leaves from school everyday, his teachers ask him to empty his pockets and his backpack. They offer the rest of the class to come and pick up their things. He is happy to have returned the items, the other kids get their stuff back and it is no longer negative. They reward when he has not taken anything. And when he comes home I simply ask who each item belongs to and we return them to their owners. Our life is much more peaceful. He cannot change, but we can.

    1. Hi Melissa:

      This article is by a parent of a child with special needs. I like that you mentioned that these children do not understand consequences but then parents try different things and they come to stick with what works just like you did. That’s why we share parent’s stories so others can learn from them.

      We had also posted a tip sheet on ownership a week ago. The tip sheet basically was on what you have mentioned. Kids with FASD and other brain damages do not get ownership. They see something they like and they take it not knowing that is stealing. I like how teachers in his school are dealing with this. Shaming them does not help. Kudos to you and his teachers.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.