It seems to be widely agreed upon. A diagnosis of Autism with your kids leads to major changes in friendships with others. Why is this? Does it change us? Do others no longer want to befriend us?

Unfortunately, I have become part of this group—the friendless. I have always felt that I was a great friend to others. If someone needed me, I would be there. I would think of them throughout my day and call them often. I would listen to them. I would cook dinner for them when they had surgery. You get the point.

So, why is it when I was slapped in the face with the word Autism, few could be found. Few could even be bothered. My whole life changed. I desperately wanted to have that friend I could confide in. To be able to explain that I wasn’t sure that I could do this. Or how about someone that I could just have fun with and forget about life’s challenges for just a little bit.

Even so, I still would listen to them talk about how their little ones were reaching all the milestones on time with ease—and I would clap for them. I would patiently hear about all the fun places they could take their kids and hold back tears because just going to Wal-Mart was a disaster. Get-togethers always had to include everybody’s kids. Just occasionally I wanted to escape the child scene. Could we meet as adults and not have everyone think I am a rotten parent because I wanted it that way?

An example. My two girlfriends have planned an annual zoo trip two years in a row, both of which I have politely declined. They pack up their one child and husband with a stroller and picnic and head to the zoo. Afterwards, they talk about the fun had by all. The children who behaved so well and for so long. Never stopping to think how difficult it would have been for husband and I to deal with two kids on the spectrum and their sensory overloads.

I guess if they were to read this, they might think I was asking too much. Maybe I am.

If they were to read this, I would want them to know that I needed them at a time when I felt like my world was falling apart. I needed someone to reassure me that I am a great mom and I should follow my instincts about my child. I still remember how hurt I was when she said she thought I was just exaggerating the situation. If she was to read this, I would ask her to think about someone telling her that her daughter might never live independently or get married. She might never have the grandkids she often thinks ahead to. Or better yet, how about someone telling her that her daughter might be mentally retarded and may never be able to speak, the way I was told that about my perfectly beautiful son who I love so dearly.

Those are the types of things I needed a friend for 18+ months ago when I was first told my son had Autism.

I have found ways to cope. I am becoming very active in the autism community and I bend over backwards for my boys. I spend so much time trying to offer them a fun childhood in the midst of everything. Most of the people who know me likely see me as very positive, which I am. But those thoughts haunt me at times just as I’m sure they do others.

Even the moms in the area who are in similar situations seem to be on different wavelengths. They are nice to be around, but they are always on a mission to heal their kids. To reach that point of autism cured. I’m not so sure that is feasible. But how nice it would be to befriend someone in a similar position who could relate.

So, how lucky am I to find a place where there are people who truly understand. I know I won’t be able to meet my new friends out for my well-deserved Alotta Colatta at the local Red Lobster. But I do know that I can flip open my laptop and find someone online, often in the wee hours after one of the multiple wake ups I make every night.