My oldest was born in 1999. At that time, many of my friends were also having babies, so she had instant playmates. We’d take our little ones to the zoo, parks, or just have play dates at each other’s homes. It was a lot of fun and so good for her, but also for me. It was nice being able to bounce ideas off of fellow moms, laugh, cry, and share war stories which usually had something to do with diarrhea and/or vomit.
In 2002, my son was born. I expected much of the same: play dates and commiserating with fellow moms. We were at a friend’s baby shower when the mom of honor said, “He never stops moving, does he?” I had no idea why I was so much more tired raising my second one, but realized at that moment that I spent most of my day following my little crawler around. He was into everything, very different from his older sister.
Not long after that, I began to notice that he didn’t play with others. He didn’t play with toys like his little friends or his sister did. He stopped responding to his name and started screaming. Outings became near impossible. I started scrambling for answers. I didn’t know what Autism was. I’d spend hours every night on the internet. I’d reach out to my friends, but most of them did not understand and they’d say, “Oh, he’s a boy. He’ll grow out of it,” or “Don’t you think you are overreacting?”
His behaviors made play dates and outings difficult so we just stopped going. I distanced myself from my friends and some of them distanced themselves from us. It was a very lonely time. I was living in Texas then and although there were some parent groups in the vicinity, I was not ready. I was in a state of confusion, depression, and in a battle with our pediatrician and even my own husband to be heard. I felt like a crazy person. There was something wrong with my son and no one would listen. I isolated myself, cut myself off from almost everyone.
Within two years, my son would receive a formal diagnosis of Autism and we would be moving to California. He started Kindergarten in a special education classroom with an amazing teacher. I met some amazing moms. We all had so much in common. I started attending parent support group meetings with them. The Coachella Valley Autism Society offered these meetings and often had a guest speaker. I learned a lot, but I learned the most networking with other parents. The knowledge and emotional support I gained from these moms and dads were not only what I needed at the time, but what my son needed, too. We had play dates with our autistic children and their neurotypical siblings. We’d go out together to the zoo, parks, restaurants, or even just to get some shopping done. We were a united front against a world in which our babies did not fit. We’d take turns watching each other’s kids so a mom could get a break. We cried together, we shared ideas, and we’d laugh our asses off.
The moral of the story, my friends, is this: You do not have to be alone. It’s easy to crawl under a rock, hide from the world, lick your wounds, but it will not help you or your child. We need support, friendships, understanding. When mama’s happy, everyone’s happy? Well, hell yeah. Reach out from under the rock.
