What We Need

     It is amazing how your circle of friends change when you have kids. You find yourself bonding with people you might never have known if it weren’t for your kids’ connection to them. Having a child who is “special” has brought me all kinds of friends I might have never met otherwise. Friends who have become integral parts of our lives simply because of our shared experiences, even if they aren’t the same experiences. These are the kinds of friends you don’t have to explain anything to if your child has a 2 hour temper tantrum at their house or can’t eat anything in their kitchen because he’s allergic to everything. These are the best kinds of friends, even if the only thing you have in common is your kids.

     For a long time I completely surrounded myself with these friends in a protective cocoon. I couldn’t be around people whose kids were developing “typically” because their lives were so different than ours, and it hurt. We were so worried about our child and had no idea what was happening with him. It seemed like the whole world of parents I used to know took everything their child did for granted while we were teaching C how to swallow food. Not true, I know, but it felt that way.

     Even though I have made it back to the world where one has friends simply for friendship’s sake, those somehow connected to the world of special needs remain the best. There’s just something about being around people who have an understanding of what is happening in your family that is both empowering and relaxing at the same time. Autism can at times make for strange bedfellows, but I’m thankful it has brought us some dear friends.

     C is full of enthusiasm. At a recent tennis class, he cheered and applauded every other child in the class whether they’d hit the ball or not. His objective was to hit the ball over the fence, and since he can’t even come close to that, he enjoyed everyone else’s ability to do it instead. “Great shot!” “Good grief, that was high!” “Holy cow!” He clapped, shouted, and jumped around excitedly as he awaited his turn to try to connect with the ball.

     The other parents watching took great delight in him, as adults generally do. The other children in the class looked at him like he was from another planet, averted their eyes and kept their distance. It was in that moment I decided perhaps C is how ALL children should be. Perhaps he has learned the lessons all of us try to teach our children; be supportive, engaged and caring. Applaud your friends’ efforts, good or bad. Take joy in their accomplishments. And most of all, cheer when they hit one over the fence.

     C is the friendliest child in the world. He cares about everyone and everything. He talks to babies, kids, adults, elderly people, animals, planes, trains, cars, flowers, trees and bikes. Still, however, he is the friendliest kid without any friends you could ever meet. He is “friendly” with many children at school, but he doesn’t have any close friends. No one is running home from school begging to have him over. If I don’t initiate the contact with a parent and invite a child to play, he would never see anyone, because no one ever invites him over. It’s heartbreaking.

     That’s part of why we moved close to my family, because we figured if Ga and Pa were two of his best friends, so be it. His friends will probably always come in unusual forms.

     A case in point is a program they have at his school. Mentors come in and volunteer their time once a week to hang out with a child. Generally they are children that are struggling in some way, and while I know C’s mentor, “Mrs. T,” probably wonders what she can possibly teach him in terms of academics, she gives him the world in his having his own special friend at school who is only there for him. It is the highlight of his week…well, maybe next to gym class.