Having the Only Autistic Kid at the Party

I want to tell you something I’ve learned. If you read my blog regularly you know that I talk mostly about my experiences raising an autistic child and how they make ME feel. I feel like I rarely ever give advice because I spend 95% of the time in survival mode.

And autism is the biggest mystery in the world to me. But I try to help when I can.

So I am pretty excited to say that I had an epiphany this weekend. I guess you could call it self growth.

I am now okay with having the only autistic child at the party. Maybe you are shaking your head at that sentence. Maybe you think I am an awful person. And that’s fine. But there were so many times when I couldn’t bring Cooper somewhere.

I couldn’t be the mom with the different child. Partly because I wasn’t ready. And partly because it was just so damn hard. The screeching and flapping and meltdowns would wear me right down. But also out of sadness.

My son was so different than the other children. And whether you want to believe it or not…that stings. It’s crushing at times. You see kids playing and your child is running away. You hear kids talking and singing and your child isn’t. You see children enjoying themselves and yours is not.

I began to morph into this bitter, ugly person who resented the normal children. It was bad. It wasn’t me. I loved kids. I loved my son.

So, I eventually stopped going anywhere with Cooper. And holy shit would Jamie and I fight about it.

I remember one specific time when he told me that I couldn’t hide Cooper away like a monster. I remember screaming, “Cooper isn’t the monster…everyone else is.”

If I could use my body to shield every stare I would. I would physically destroy someone if they hurt Cooper. But the funny part is that Cooper would have no idea if anyone teased him. And I felt it double.

I brought Cooper to a birthday party once and as all the kids gathered around to open presents my child roamed the room pulling pillows and cushions off the couches. I cried for days and days. I vowed to never bring him anywhere again.

Another time I brought him to a party and he spent his time eating snow off of people’s boots. He sat right down at a friends feet and started eating. I was mortified. He also went through a phase where he sucked on his shirts. Not just a sleeve. The WHOLE front of the shirt. He’d lift it right up and eat it until it was in a ball and drenched.

Or he’d run and push and throw. It doesn’t matter what the ACTUAL behavior was. What mattered is that the behaviors were so different than the other kids. And the behaviors weren’t just different. They were challenging. They were confusing. I didn’t know how to talk about them…yet. I didn’t know what to say…yet.

So I isolated us. And I said it was because Cooper was to hard to handle in public places. But I was also so crushed.

For a long time I used to think I wasn’t strong enough. But that’s not it at all. It just hurt too much.

As we walked around the mall this weekend Cooper saw the indoor play gym and just like the merry-go-round incident he was hooked. He wanted to play so badly. And I said something that I didn’t even know I was thinking. I said to Jamie,

“Are you okay with having the one and only autistic kid at the party?”

And my sweet husband said, “hell if I care.” And I burst out laughing. I didn’t really care either. Not anymore.

I really was okay with it. I just wanted him to have fun in that moment.

Cooper ran and jumped and crawled. He felt every piece of carpet. He rolled.  He cased the room. And per the usual he didn’t notice the dozens of kids or people surrounding him.

He noticed the lights and the textures. And mostly he watched me.

That kid never lets me out of his sight, I sat down on the bench and let him climb all over me. I am his jungle gym. He played with my hair and begged to be tickled. And I tickled him until he squealed. People stared.

All nice stares I guess. And I just smiled. My son was clearly different. He was clearly autistic.

Cooper flapped. And he screeched. And I was just thankful that we were there. We needed to be there. I needed to be there. I couldn’t hide anymore.

You have to be okay with having the only autistic kid at the party. You have to be okay with watching all the other children play and interact when your child is feeling the carpet. And you really have to be okay with people staring. And looking. You just do.

Being embarrassed or crushed or whatever is okay. Give yourself time to be okay. It won’t happen overnight. It takes time.

But it will come. I promise.

You will be crushed the first time you notice people staring at your baby. Or the first time you notice how different they truly are. And you will be crushed the first time you notice kids teasing him.

The hurt is inevitable and it’s not going to go away.

But don’t hide. Autism is already lonely enough.

Parenting a special needs child can be very hard. And it’s as much of a journey for you as it is for your child. Give yourself some grace and time.

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Finding Cooper’s Voice is a safe, humorous, caring and honest place where you can celebrate the unique challenges of parenting a special needs child. Because you’re never alone in the struggles you face. And once you find your people, your allies, your village….all the challenges and struggles will seem just a little bit easier. Welcome to our journey. You can also follow us on Facebook and subscribe to our newsletter.