As it turns out, three is the loneliest number.

I've read that being an autism parent is lonely. I'm not sure if that's true or not, but I am definitely lonely.

I ask myself on a daily basis if our social lives would be different if we didn't have Henry. Not because I don't want him, but because I torture myself trying to figure out reasons. Are we not hospitable? Are we not friendly? Are we not fun? Do we not reach out enough?

At church I'm surrounded by people I care about and who, I think, care about me to some extent. But if our family perished tonight in a house fire, I know there would be no grieving here in Chapel Hill. The people I see, save one, I see because I make the effort.

We don't have friends who ask us over for dinner, on playdates with their kids, to parties, or on double dates.

The reason I think maybe this is because of our sweetheart of a son? We always had friends before. When I look back over the scrapbooks of our lives, Keith and I have always had many friends and lots of meaningful, fun relationships.

But then we started losing dearest friends, one by one, to other states. The last one left when Henry was 2, and we've never recovered. Coincidence? I don't know. And there's no way to find out.

I know Henry is worth it. But we are so stinking lonely.