Why I Am a "Helicopter Mom"

"I am a helicopter mom. You bet I am. As the mother of a profoundly autistic man, I have to be. Micromanaging is my life. And because my son Nat is highly vulnerable, I will be that way until I die. Every day, even though Nat does not live with me, and even though he has a truly remarkable group home and day program, a part of me is always circling around him, like smoke from a smouldering fire."

"My way of managing my nerves about Nat is to anticipate trouble and prevent it. My husband, Ned, is often troubled by that because he believes that I don't give Nat enough credit for being able to advocate for himself or keep calm. But unlike my husband, my trauma from the earliest days of Nat's vulnerability has not healed. I have learned that there are so many tiny links in the chain that keep Nat on track, and that they must connect together perfectly for him to be okay."

"There have been nightmarish moments, where he could have died that were no one's fault, but that happened because of life's unpredictability. Because there are just too many links that have to be strong. There was the time we were having dinner at a friend's house, and suddenly there he was, climbing in through the dining room window. We had not even had time to realize he had gone outside before he came back to us."

The mother micromanages because her profoundly autistic son is highly vulnerable and requires constant oversight. She remains watchful despite the son living in a well-supported group home with attentive staff and housemates. Anticipation and prevention form her primary coping strategies, driven by unresolved trauma from early vulnerability. Numerous small supports must align precisely for the son to stay safe, and any single lapse can have severe consequences. The husband urges greater trust in the son's ability to advocate and stay calm, but past nightmarish, unpredictable moments reinforce the mother's persistent anxiety and vigilance.

Read at Psychology Today