MEET SUNITA.

Hi, I’m Sunita.

I’m a late-diagnosed PDA, autistic, and ADHD adult raising wildly creative and fiercely independent children. My experience as a parent has been deeply shaped by watching my own mother take on the role of caregiver for my father throughout my childhood and young adulthood as he navigated a series of health issues, and by my own experience raising a neurodivergent family.

Growing up in the South as a child of Indian immigrants, I often struggled to navigate cultural, academic, and social dynamics as someone who didn’t look like my peers and often felt out of step with the expectations around me. We didn’t realize it then, but my family was often accommodating me in ways that helped me survive (and sometimes thrive), in all of these areas.

As an adult, my relationship with my family is closer than ever because we have worked together to better understand the many ways my neurodivergence shaped our interactions, my choices, and my coping skills. My mom is one of the most low demand grandmothers I’ve ever met, and I’m thrilled that we continue to learn from each other.

I know firsthand the unique tensions that can arise when cultural expectations, extended family dynamics, and faith intersect with the realities of parenting children whose needs don’t fit traditional molds. 

As a new mom with a “difficult” child, I was constantly baffled. I struggled to understand the underlying reasons behind my child’s intense need for autonomy, resistance to everyday demands, and cycles of overwhelm. After we had another child who exhibited these same tendencies in wildly different ways (and couldn’t ignore the similarities between the two of us), I began to explore my own neurodivergence.

As I better understood myself, developed better skills for my own regulation and internal felt-safety, and made drastic shifts in our family’s pace of life and definition of success, I gained language and tools that have helped me to truly see my children and meet them where they are. It wasn’t just about strategies—it was about an entire mindset shift, a reimagining of what parenting, education, and daily life could look like in a way that prioritized safety, connection, and trust over compliance and expectation.

As a coach, I’m here to support families navigating the often-overwhelming world of raising PDA and neurodivergent children—especially those balancing these challenges within cross-cultural dynamics or faith-based settings. While my Christian faith is a cornerstone of my own journey and deeply informs my desire to love others well, my coaching approach is always gentle, accommodating, and safe for families of ALL backgrounds, beliefs, and brains.

Whether you’re seeking to understand your child’s unique PDA profile, untangle cultural or generational expectations, create a home environment that works for your family, or simply need a space to process the emotional weight of this journey, I’m here to walk alongside you. This is a space where you can ask hard questions, grieve, celebrate, and most importantly, find a way forward that honors both you and your child.

MEET KEEMA.

Hi, I’m Keema.

I’m an author, musician, and sometimes stand-up comic making a mid-life pivot in support of my two incredible neurodiverse kids who are 8 and 5. Now I’m dropping demands left and right, and bringing my creative skills to parent coaching, where I specialize in supporting families with a PDA child or teen seeking clarity on low demand parenting as they pursue safety and ease in their household.

I’m neurodivergent by way of early childhood trauma, and I’ve always instinctively been a child-led parent. I believe every kid is a good kid worthy of safety, security, and belonging. That behind every behavior, there is a cause. Still, I struggled to find the root “why” beneath my youngest child’s arousal patterns. His nicknames as a toddler were The Screaming Goat and Destructobot, because of the path of high-volume destruction he left behind him as he tore through the house every waking minute that he wasn’t held or nursed.

I knew in my bones that my son’s behavior wasn’t a “toddler thing.” Not a phase, not a failure to understand the word “no” or follow rules, not caused by pandemic isolation or failed attachment, and not gendered (I heard all of that, and more). Still, three separate preschools said he couldn’t be autistic when I asked for an evaluation. “Look at his eye contact,” they said. “His incredible language skills, how deftly he manages himself on the playground when things are going his way!” 

Eventually, I found a neurodiversity-affirming therapist who saw what I saw: a delightfully impish, wildly self-determined, highly sensory seeking child who’s escalating panic attacks after only 8 hours a week of Special Education preschool were impacting his basic needs. Especially sleeping, eating, and toileting. They recognized that he was still growing into his autistic traits, and that no amount of body doubling or gentle transitioning was enough to get my son through even two hours of preschool play without needing to come home and decompress by trying to break everything in sight. Toys, instruments, sister’s art projects, often just my arm.

In seven words that therapist saved all our lives: Autism with a Pathological Demand Avoidance profile. 

What a life-changing thing it is to finally have language for our challenges after years of searching. 

Despite our luck with that therapist and those seven words, my son went into autistic burnout two months later, at the end of his first full year of extremely part-time preschool. I couldn’t get the world on board fast enough to support him and the rest of my family, and I went into caregiver burnout right along with him. It was both easy to see that school wasn’t a fit, and hard to accept that school might never be a fit, and that I needed to drop my career and creative pursuits to keep him home for good. We’ve since healed from burnout together and found our way into a new groove that allows us to flex and grow while continuing to steer ourselves toward that safe, secure belonging.

I’m committed to helping other families find safety, security, and belonging, and to help you get your world on board to support you and your family much faster than I did. We can work together to better understand your child’s unique expression of PDA, collect data around your PDAer’s threshold of tolerance, walk through burnout and recovery for your child and you, identify your household’s stickiest demands and get creative about dropping them, craft declarative language scripts specific to your household, support siblings and partners, brainstorm cooperative and parallel play opportunities for engagement (yes, I can even give you a primer on Minecraft, Roblox and YouTuber speak if this is a challenging area for you), or create a practical bridge to invite family and caregivers into your PDAer’s world. This is also a safe space to grieve, connect, weigh your cost/benefit decisions, and wonder aloud. I welcome all neurotypes, genders, cultures and partners. 

MEET GABRIELE.

Hi, I’m Gabriele.

I’m a dreamer, artist, avid reader, deep feeler, and late-diagnosed AuDHD mom to three autistic children — ages 3, 4, and 5. Two of my kids have a PDA profile, and I’m finally in a phase of motherhood where I feel like I’m coming back to myself.

My parenting journey started with three children in 28 months during a global pandemic. The first few years were a blur of isolation, sensory overwhelm, and burnout. I often felt like I was failing — at parenting, at regulating myself, at keeping everyone safe. I blamed myself for everything: my complex PTSD, my children’s meltdowns and feeding struggles, their inability to tolerate one another, their aggression and sleep difficulties. I was convinced that my stress was harming them, and I carried that weight daily.

Eventually, I found language that changed everything. I learned that neurodivergence was more expansive than I had ever been taught — even with a degree in Psychology focused on Child Advocacy. As I dove deeper, I began to understand not only my children, but also myself. I realized that I wasn’t broken. We weren’t broken. We were just wired differently.

Life didn’t suddenly become easy, but it became more possible. I gave myself permission to accommodate my children and myself. We began to heal. I rediscovered my hobbies. I started setting boundaries. Our family redefined what mattered. Dinners at the table? Gone. Rigid hygiene expectations? Gone. Instead, we model and talk. We center emotional intelligence and build skills for self-accommodation. And I see it paying off — my children no longer assume other kids are “bad” when they’re having a hard time. They’re learning compassion because we’re living it.

I’m also working through the grief of not being able to give my kids the “perfect” childhood I once dreamed of — one without instability, loss, or chaos. But I’ve learned that healing doesn’t come from controlling every variable. It comes from compassion — for them, and for myself.

I still have hard days. I still get lonely. But I’ve built a community — and I want to be part of your community, too.

As a coach, I’m here to walk with you through the hard, messy, beautiful reality of parenting autistic and PDA children — especially when you feel like no one else gets it.