My neurodivergent son showed me how to explore the world.

Traveling with a neurodivergent child offers its unique challenges and rewards. Talia Bluth, a mother from Los Angeles who transitioned from writer and producer to recruiter, shares her journey.

Costa Rica was a necessary adventure. It was June 2021, and I felt the urgent need to escape. My days were filled with battles over homeschooling, homework, and the stress of working from home—everything felt confined and overwhelming. Traveling together had always been our sanctuary, so we decided to embark on a trip.

Ultimately, Costa Rica held significance beyond just a getaway. By summer’s end, we had not only a bittersweet vacation memory but also an autism diagnosis. Fast forward two years, and we found ourselves successfully trekking through Asia. The path between those moments was the hardest I've ever navigated.

The Lesson from Costa Rica

I had no agenda except to unwind. After a divorce swiftly followed by a pandemic, that was all I could manage. I selected a serene resort with an Instagram-worthy pool in a stunning locale. ¡Pura Vida! Looking back, I realize how naïve I was. Everything about my vacation plans was ideal… for someone else. The hotel was tranquil, but my son craved play and movement. The unscheduled week felt blissfully monotonous, while he needed excitement. I thought this trip would ease my frayed nerves, but it only added layers of disappointment and misunderstanding between us.

He was struggling, I felt out of place, and neither of us was happier than we had been at home. My son, my travel companion, had undergone significant changes since our last major trip. The issue wasn’t the destination; it was my failure to adapt. I was convinced we would never travel again.

Denial is a river in Egypt

I cherish travel for its ability to expand one's worldview, and it's vital for me to share that experience with my son. However, the journey following Costa Rica was solely mine to navigate.

I had to reshape my understanding of parenting and community, figuring out how we both fit into our surroundings. Knowing the name of his neurodevelopmental condition gave me a foundation to educate myself. It also freed me from making temporary excuses for his behavior due to lack of sleep, movement, or our divorce. We were lucky to receive guidance from specialists who continue to help us navigate a world that doesn’t always make sense. I had to adapt to become the mother I never anticipated being, and travel was far from my thoughts.

A pivotal moment at Arches

Like many kids, my son believes that a great idea must come from someone other than me. Enter Mrs. Roberts, the unsung hero of our tale. An incredible teacher, she inspired my son with stories of her trip to Utah while assisting him with a report on Arches National Park. Suddenly, this child—who had never taken the initiative to step outside his comfort zone—was asking me to travel. Thanks to Mrs. Roberts' kindness, we attempted another trip exactly one year after Costa Rica.

I selected a hotel that better catered to his sensory needs, kept the trip brief, and adjusted my own expectations. Allowing him to take charge of the itinerary kept him engaged. It was a trial run; it wasn’t flawless, but we succeeded. He still reminisces about those four days in Utah as if we sailed around the globe.

Then we found ourselves in Asia

Somewhere between Moab and Hanoi, I lost my job—a position I cherished, and its loss was devastating. So, I took my son and we escaped. I needed to discover our happy place, and Utah signaled that we could find one that suited us.

Within a month, I had planned a 22-day adventure across three countries: Japan, Vietnam, and Cambodia. Having been to Tokyo before, I knew my Pokémon-loving gamer son would thrive there. Vietnam was high on my travel bucket list, so I allocated two full weeks to explore. I ensured we covered as much ground as possible, using Hanoi, Da Nang, and Ho Chi Minh as our bases to experience the northern, central, and southern regions. Once I realized how easy it was to travel around Southeast Asia, I added a weekend in Siem Reap, Cambodia to our schedule. (It might just be my favorite 48 hours of the trip!)

Before our departure, friends enthusiastically lauded me for planning an unforgettable experience for him. Yet, the therapists we consulted understood the reality: I was taking a significant risk.

Everything old is new again

On the surface, our itinerary appeared no different from anyone else's. Certainly ambitious, but a relatively typical Asian journey for many Western travelers.

Every detail was thoughtfully tailored to accommodate his needs. In the weeks leading up to our trip, I prepared a straightforward itinerary that he could easily scan, allowing him ample time to ask questions and digest the logistics. Although he had flown successfully multiple times before, this would be his first experience with seven flights in one journey, making direct flights essential. I understood that his system gets overwhelmed more quickly than most, so I aimed to minimize our time spent in airports.

I determined that Tokyo would be the longest flight we could handle from our home in LA, making it our starting and ending point. This non-stop rule also influenced the order of our travels through Vietnam and Cambodia.

The key difference this time was my newfound patience and flexibility. I embraced the days when he was up for more and eased off on those when he wasn’t. We stumbled into animal cafes in Tokyo, enjoyed a basket boat ride under the full moon in Hoi An, Vietnam, and unexpectedly experienced The Giant Puppet Parade in Siem Reap. All these moments were spontaneous, driven by the joy of spontaneity and my decision to follow his lead.

I steered clear of group tours to avoid the stress of having to adhere to someone else’s schedule or expectations. While it required more effort on my part, it granted us the flexibility we both needed.

What I discovered

It may seem obvious, but the most important lesson I've learned is that understanding your child deeply is essential for successful travel. For instance, I anticipated that he might become so dysregulated that we couldn't leave our room, so I booked accommodations with balconies whenever I could. This way, if we found ourselves stuck inside for extended periods (which happened), I had extra space and a connection to the outdoors. I knew I would feel trapped without that option.

The trip tested my adaptability as a parent but didn’t mean I had to sacrifice my own needs entirely. I was careful not to let the situation swing too far in his favor, leaving me feeling neglected. Finding that balance is crucial for enjoyable family travel. Before our departure, I made a short list of must-do activities for myself and considered anything beyond that a delightful bonus.

I experienced moments of intense anxiety before we set off. I confided in my best friend about my fears of taking on too much and potentially setting us up for failure. I doubted every decision I was making.

But here’s what I came to understand: that’s just part of being a parent.

It’s daunting, filled with uncertainties, and exhilarating whether we’re in the comfort of our home or exploring a temple in Cambodia. And it’s absolutely worth it. Our trip had its share of disappointments, street meltdowns, and awkward encounters (mostly at airports) with those who couldn’t grasp his behavior. There were all the typical challenges of traveling for three weeks with a child. But above all, there was a boy being his true self, and a mother willing to embrace the adventure of showing her son the world.