I took my 7 year-old neurodivergent son to the sensory room at the World Cup. He loved watching the matches in silence under a weighted blanket.

• I decided to take my neurodivergent son to watch some matches at the World Cup in Qatar.
• I was surprised when we entered the sensory room, which allowed us to still watch the game.

"Pack ear protectors," read the sticky note on my passport in advance of my recent last-minute trip to attend the FIFA World Cup hosted by Qatar. My neurodivergent, soccer-loving, 7-year-old son and I joined the 1.5 million fans from all over the world that descended upon Doha this past month to see two matches and report back on our lived experience at the most controversial World Cup in history.

I will not defend FIFA as an organization or the Qatari government. While I initially had no interest in attending, my son's love of football made me change my mind. My mother died from domestic abuse when I was 13, and this trip to Qatar with my son allowed several teachable moments around women's, LGBTQ, and migrant-workers' rights. The "elephant on the field" was omnipresent on our visit and always in the back of my mind.

FIFA's president, Gianni Infantino, boasted that Qatar 2022 is "the most accessible World Cup ever," and I was surprised to find that some of FIFA's claims were true.

There was a sensory room in the stadium we attended

We spent the first half of the England versus Senegal match in the first few rows of Al Bayt Stadium, among 65,000 fans. For the second half, we visited the stadium's sensory room. I envisioned a blacked-out space in an obscure bolt-hole like the sensory rooms we'd seen at other large venues. The sensory-room tickets were approximately $11 for a neurodivergent person and free for their carer, and were on sale via the standard FIFA ticketing system. The accessibility tickets required a letter from a healthcare provider and only 10 tickets were available for each game. The accessibility pricing is a stark contrast to the general international seating, which is the most expensive ever in a World Cup.

We ended up buying regular tickets and getting a last-minute ticket for the sensory room when another family canceled. Having been in the stands with ear protectors to dull the cacophony of cheers and a visor to limit the crowd he could see, my son was struggling and asked to leave at halftime. A 10 p.m. start and jet lag did not help.

But he sprang back to life when he stepped into the sensory room on the VIP level.

You could watch the match from the sensory room

The "room" was a vast, soundproofed skybox overlooking the stadium with seating inside and outside the glass. The trained staff encouraged guests to work their way up to sitting outside and being in the stadium. Having come from outside, my son instantly popped off his shoes to jump and move his small body on the padded mats. I headed out to watch the match, and the staff reminded me that as the carer to the person in the sensory room, I needed to stay within arms reach of my son. I grabbed a coffee from the mini kitchen and watched through the clear glass with a perfect view.

Not only is this the first World Cup to have sensory rooms, it's the largest sporting event in history to use sensory rooms. The suite had soft lighting and colorful, soft play mattresses where he could watch bubble lights, LED strings, and touch different textured walls. Three stadiums at the World Cup and most of the fan villages deployed sensory rooms.

Watching my eldest child cocoon himself with a weighted blanket into a foam nook where he could see a silent screen of the match, I realized this match may be the only time I'll feel safe enough to attend an England match abroad. Having banned alcohol at the 11th hour, the World Cup in Qatar may also be the first in which a drunk England fan didn't get arrested. Due to my family history of alcoholism, I've been sober since my 20s and appreciated avoiding the unwanted byproducts of mass drinking.

We exited the suite at 1 a.m. and stepped into calm, white hallways with chandeliers overhead. We walked out of the VIP exit lit by a huge torch, far from the crowded concrete environs where we started. After parting ways with lines of Qatari men in thobes, we crossed the road, where the international crowds were singing together, in search of an Uber back to Doha.

Like much of the World Cup in Doha, I felt the whiplash between different worlds colliding and reconciling into something so positive — celebrating neurodiversity while watching an England victory — among so much catastrophe.