When our son was first diagnosed, we felt like we had been dropped into a world with its own language, rules, and expectations—and no map to guide us. There were appointments, forms, acronyms we didn’t understand, and an overwhelming amount of advice coming from every direction.
Looking back now, I can see how much of that early uncertainty was really about fear: fear of getting it wrong, fear of failing him, fear of not being enough. If I could go back and sit with myself in those early days, here’s what I would want to say.
1. Progress looks different—and that’s okay
I used to measure everything against what I thought was “typical.” Was he speaking enough words? Was he keeping up in class? Was he making friends like the others? What I’ve learned is that progress isn’t about keeping pace with anyone else. It’s about seeing the small wins that matter for him: the first time he tied his own shoes, the day he joined in a game without prompting, the moment he told me he was proud of himself. Those milestones may not be on anyone else’s timeline, but they’re just as important—maybe even more so.
2. Support looks different for every family
In the beginning, I thought there was a “right way” to do everything. If I just found the perfect strategy, read the right book, or followed the right plan, things would fall into place. The truth is, what works for one child or family doesn’t always work for another. And that’s okay. We’ve built our own toolkit over the years—some of it is advice from professionals, some of it is trial and error, and some of it is things we’ve designed ourselves. And it’s still evolving.
3. You can’t pour from an empty cup
It took me far too long to realise that looking after myself wasn’t selfish—it was essential. The appointments, the planning, the emotional ups and downs—it’s exhausting. And when I tried to run on empty, I wasn’t at my best for him or anyone else. Whether it’s taking five minutes for a quiet cup of tea, going for a walk, or saying yes when someone offers help—those little recharges matter.
4. Community is everything
For a long time, I felt like we were the only ones going through this. Then, slowly, we started connecting with other parents, teachers, and families who understood. Hearing “me too” for the first time was such a relief. Sharing experiences, frustrations, and little victories with people who get it has been one of the biggest sources of strength.
5. Creativity is a superpower
One of the biggest surprises has been how much creativity plays a role in our journey. When something doesn’t work, we’ve learned to adapt, experiment, and sometimes invent. That’s how Made in Cobham began—out of the need to create tools that actually helped our son in daily life. What started as necessity has become something beautiful: a way to share those solutions with others.
If you’re just starting out…
I want you to know you don’t have to have it all figured out right now. You don’t need to be perfect. What matters most is showing up, loving your child for exactly who they are, and taking it one step at a time. There will be tough days, but there will also be joy, laughter, and moments of pride that take your breath away.
If I could go back to the beginning, I would tell myself: You’re doing enough. He’s doing enough. And together, you’re going to find your way.
Why We Share Our Story
At Made in Cobham, every product we design has its roots in our own family’s journey. We know firsthand how small adjustments and creative tools can make a big difference in everyday life. This blog is our way of extending that support beyond our products—a place where families like ours can find encouragement, practical ideas, and the reassurance that you’re not alone.
Because at the heart of it, we’re all on this journey together—and sometimes, just knowing someone else has walked the same path can make all the difference.