To the Friend Who Persisted Through my Son’s Autism Diagnosis

“Let me know if you need anything. I know what it’s like. When my son was two years old, he also had to have surgery.”

Those are words very few people can say to someone whose baby is recovering from a major surgery and their entire world has just been flipped upside down.

My friend spoke those words to me when my son had brain surgery. Brain surgery. Words I cannot even believe I can type so nonchalantly, because in retrospect, that wasn’t even the hardest part of our journey.

The hardest part for me was when I got the confirmation that our son has autism. The diagnosis came a year and a half after the brain surgery.

But, the symptoms of autism were juxtaposed with the brain surgery recovery. The numerous calls I’d get from wherever he was being watched, like the church nursery, or at daycare when I was able to go back to work, tore at my heart.

Why can’t my son just be normal? Yes, I said it. You may decide you hate me now. But it’s true.

That is what I wanted. A normal life. Two kids, and a white picket fence I suppose. Because, not being normal makes everything so much harder.

I mean, at that point in time, I would have settled for maybe just easier, rather than normal. But the point was, I did not want to know that the rest of my life was going to be so much harder, every single day, than I had ever pictured.

The thing is, now that I think about it, it was not really the ‘everything being hard’ that I couldn’t take. It was the complete loss of relatability to anyone around me anymore. It was the idea of having to do our extremely difficult ‘day to day,’ in a drastically different, and isolated, world.

From the day I started to recognize my child had differences, challenging behaviors, and struggles that I didn’t understand, I knew. I knew the isolating feeling it brought up in me.

I could already see that because I’d have to focus everything on helping my son with autism, I would be able to focus nothing on maintaining friendships that I had before.

After all, as I said, nothing was going to be relatable anymore. What would we talk about? All the things their child was doing that mine might never?

Would we talk about my son’s behaviors and how hard they were to deal with even though I’d always know deep down, they could never relate and could not even imagine? Because, I couldn’t before I lived it.

Would we talk honestly? Would I be able to admit that sometimes I hated being home with my kid? That sometimes I hated the effects of autism on my life? Would anyone want to be friends with someone who had felt things like that? I hovered in the lonely pity stage for quite some time.

But, back to my friend. The person I want to thank.

She and I had already been friends before the autism diagnosis. But, I felt certain that even though we made it through the brain surgery phase, that autism would surely be the thing that would separate us. Not intentionally, but by necessity.

Our kids would be too different.

My son, Lucas, would need too much for us to have a good time, if we went anywhere all together. That’s what I told myself. I told myself, I will have to let go of all my old relationships to focus on the autism. There will be no room left for friendships.

Who would want to choose hard anyway. I mean, I was already in it, but to choose it?

So Lisa, my very special friend, here goes.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Thank you for seeing me when I felt unseen.

Thank you for loving me when I felt too far off to be reached.

Thank you for never being turned off by the ugly sides of me, and pointing out the beauty when I couldn’t see it.

Thank you for never forgetting about me and always checking in to see how I am.

Thank you for thinking of me so many times while you were out and bringing me things like fridge magnets with inspirational quotes, bottles of wine, funny tshirts, earrings, and rotisserie chickens from Costco.

Thank you for reminding me that I am important to you, and that so are my children.

Thank you for including us so often.

Thank you for sharing everything that you have with us. Your home, your WiFi password, your awesome SUV that fits us all when we go out together and letting my son sit in the seat with the DVD player.

Thank you for sharing your food, your baking, your time, your heart.

Thank you for bringing me extra sets of those weird keys that I don’t even know where to buy, because you know my son locks us in rooms.

Thank you for giving your old IPads to me for Lucas, so he always has backups to his backups- which is necessary for my peace and his!

Thank you for sharing your journey with ADHD and motherhood.

Thank you for your friendship.

Thank you for bringing me out on moms’ nights out.

Thank you for pushing me to be strong, but also letting me fall apart when I am not.

Your friendship is genuine, it is the rock on which I have been able to stand to keep half of me in the world outside of just autism.

Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, for all that you are, and all that you do.

Thank you for keeping me and my boys always in your heart and your life.

I know that God sent you in just the right time for us. You will always stand out as the diamond in the rough for me.

Thank you.

Written by, Nicole Garcia

My name is Nicole Garcia and I am a mom to two wildly fun and loving boys. My four year old has autism. We have been on this journey for a little over a year now, learning as we go. I blog at Atypically Joyful and share things via Facebook at AtypicallJoyful.

(Editor’s Note: This article was provided by Nicole Garcia and is part of Cooper’s, ‘I’m Thankful For You’ Campaign.)

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