Motherhood & Guilt: How to Let Go of “I Should Have Known Sooner”
The Guilt That Keeps Us Awake at Night
If you’ve ever caught yourself replaying old memories and thinking, I should have known sooner, you’re not alone.
So many mothers (especially those raising neurodivergent or disabled children) carry a heavy, quiet guilt. It’s the ache that whispers I missed something, I didn’t do enough, I failed my child.
This blog is for you. Because guilt after your child’s diagnosis is common… but that doesn’t make it deserved.
Let’s talk about why this guilt runs so deep, how social and medical systems feed it, and how we can start to release it with compassion.
Before you go further, take a breath.
This might feel tender… but you’re safe here.
The Weight of “I Should Have Known Sooner”
This kind of guilt is heavy. It lingers in the quiet moments, keeps us up at night, and whispers that we should have done more, been more, noticed more.
For many mothers, especially those raising neurodivergent children, there’s a long and painful gap between noticing early differences and receiving a formal diagnosis or support. That gap can feel unbearable.
In my son’s case, it began when he was about 20 months old. He’d been meeting all his milestones until one day (around the start of the Covid lockdowns) he just… shut off.
We told ourselves it was isolation, or maybe that “boys develop slower,” or that our daughter was simply an early talker. Deep down, though, I knew it was something more. But how could we get help when the world had shut down?
Many mothers replay those moments from toddlerhood or infancy, scrutinising every choice:
“Why didn’t I push harder for referrals?”
“Why did I believe the doctor who said it was just a phase?”
It becomes a loop of rumination that steals peace in the present.
Dr Mona Delahooke, author of Beyond Behaviours, explains that parental intuition is often strong but drowned out by external voices: professionals dismissing concerns, relatives saying they’ll grow out of it, schools insisting it’s too soon to tell.
It’s not that we don’t see; it’s that we’re conditioned to second-guess ourselves.
Ask yourself gently:
Did I truly have the knowledge back then that I have now?
We hold ourselves to impossible standards of hindsight. You weren’t failing… you were learning. Learning often means not knowing yet.
And remember: many developmental checklists were never designed with neurodivergent children in mind. The “standards” are narrow and often ableist. My son, for instance, was labelled “severely cognitively impaired” because he couldn’t speak, yet he’s not impaired at all; he’s autistic. He learns and expresses differently.
Reflection: Your Guilt Timeline
If you can find a quiet, uninterrupted moment, take a minute to close your eyes.
Think back to when you first wondered if something might be different for your child. What did that moment feel like? Confusion, fear, denial?
Now trace forward: who did you talk to? How were you received?
When did guilt creep in? After a birthday party, a check-up, a conversation?
This isn’t about blame. It’s to honour how hard you were trying, how much you were holding, and how alone it felt. You weren’t failing. You were navigating without a map.
Societal Pressures & Medical Gaslighting
Why does this guilt cling so tightly? Because mothers are taught to distrust themselves.
We’re told to “trust the professionals.”
To “wait and see.”
To “stop worrying.”
And when a diagnosis finally comes, we’re left wondering why we didn’t push harder.
This is medical gaslighting… when women’s and mothers’ concerns are minimised or dismissed. Research shows that mothers often seek professional help multiple times before being taken seriously (Karp & Tremblay, 2020).
Dr Alexandra Sacks, who writes on matrescence, describes the paradox mothers face: we’re told to trust our instincts, yet when we do, we’re labelled emotional or overreactive.
I experienced this with my daughter’s dyslexia. For years I raised concerns, only to be told that lockdown had slowed everyone’s progress. I believed them. They were professionals.
Eventually, when she still hadn’t caught up, we sought an assessment. The results confirmed what my gut had said all along.
Maybe you’ve heard similar reassurances: “He’s just a late bloomer,” “You’re overthinking it.” Often meant kindly, but deeply invalidating.
Imagine if, from the start, someone had said: “I trust your gut.”
What would your journey have looked like?
When Guilt Is Really Grief
Sometimes guilt is just grief wearing a disguise.
Grief for the early days when things felt simpler.
Grief for the dream you quietly held of how motherhood might be.
Grief for the innocence you’ve lost.
Brené Brown teaches that guilt says I did something bad, while shame says I am bad. Add grief and we get I lost something—and it’s my fault.
What if you allowed yourself to grieve without guilt or justification?
Because grief doesn’t mean you don’t love your child. It means you’re human. And love and loss often coexist.
Moving Forward with Self-Compassion
So how do we let go of guilt? These practices can help:
1. Remember: You Did the Best You Could
Dr Kristin Neff reminds us that guilt assumes we had knowledge we didn’t yet have.
Ask yourself: What would I say to a friend who felt this way?
Offer yourself the same grace.
2. Reframe the Story
Instead of I should have known sooner, try:
I learned when I was ready. I acted when I could. And I am here now.
3. Unfollow Voices That Feed Comparison
If certain accounts leave you feeling tense or “less than,” curate your feed toward compassion, not criticism. Healing begins where comparison ends.
4. Find Your People
Whether it’s a support group, online space, or trusted friend—connection heals shame.
One mum once told me, “I didn’t know how heavy it was until someone else said the same thing out loud.” That resonance is everything.
5. Let Your Child Lead
Your child isn’t counting how long it took. They just need you to show up now.
And you are—by learning, listening, and trying again.
6. A Quick Guided Reflection
Close your eyes. Picture your child today—not the past version you worry about, but the one in front of you. What do they need from you right now?
Now picture your past self—the one carrying all that guilt. What if you forgave her?
7. Affirmations for Letting Go
I did the best I could with what I knew.
I’m allowed to grow and learn.
My child doesn’t need perfection—they need presence.
I am a good mum, even when I didn’t know what to do
A Letter to Your Past Self:
Try writing:
Dear Me,
I see how hard you were trying.
You weren’t failing—you were walking blindfolded through a storm, doing your best to keep your child safe…
Let the words flow. Let compassion in. You might be surprised by what surfaces.
Guilt as Part of Matrescence
Dr Aurélie Athan, who revived the term matrescence (the transformation of becoming a mother) explains that it’s as profound as adolescence: full of growth, self-doubt, and change.
Guilt, then, isn’t proof of failure. It’s evidence of care.
It shows you’re awake to your child’s needs, learning, expanding.
You are becoming… and becoming is always messy.
Closing Reflections
Letting go of guilt doesn’t mean erasing the past. It means recognising that you are always learning and doing your best with what you have.
If you are carrying the weight of I should have known sooner… I see you.
You are not alone.
Forgive yourself.
You are already the mother your child needs.
Be gentle with yourself.
You’re doing better than you think.
Listen to the full episode:
Next step
If this story resonates, you might find my free guide The First 30 Days especially grounding — a gentle companion for those early weeks after diagnosis. Download it here →
