Moms 'L'inked' by Autism [VIDEO]

ElizaBeth Webster is not walking for a cure. All the fund-raising miles in the world won't change the fact that her son is autistic, always will be.

For better and for worse, it's made her who she is today. Even if she had regrets, they'd be futile. She has no time for sympathy, for pity, for wondering what might have been.

When she travelled to Taiwan 21 years ago to meet her adopted child, she brought with her every hope and dream a mother brings to the experience. All these years later, it's been an unforgettable journey – nothing like the one she'd mapped out for them, but she owns and embraces it for all it has been, and all it has not.

Since then she has learned about autism – a complex developmental disability that is usually diagnosed within the first  three years of life, affecting how a child interacts and communicates.

Autism is described as a "spectrum disorder" that affects about 1 in every 110 children, more often boys than girls; it manifests in individuals differently and to varying degrees, according to AutismSociety.org.

One thing Webster is certain of: She could not have survived all these years in the trenches with an autistic child if not for the strength and support of her friends, fellow moms who understand completely the particular trials and challenges of loving a child who does not speak, does not acknowledge your devotion, does not know he has turned your world upside-down and inside out.

Two years ago she hatched an idea that, last month, materialized in the way of a tattoo she designed herself.

In December she traveled to New York with her three best friends – Mary Ellen Yatzus, Kirsten Murphy, and Viki Gayhardt – all "Autism Sisters" and got inked on national TV for an episode of TLC's "NY Ink," which originally aired Jan. 26, and should be on again tonight at 8, Webster said.

"This tattoo isn't for our kids. It represents the sacred connection that mothers of children with autism have," said Webster, who works at Easter Seals in Manchester, as an Autism Family Support Specialist.

The tattoo design is based on a "triquetra," or ancient Celtic symbol that encompasses to Webster the notion of mind, body and spirit, with a puzzle piece entwined in it, a commonly recognized symbol for autism.

"Basically it looks like an upside-down triangle with a puzzle piece in the middle. It's simple, but it's meaningful," Webster said. "And it can be added to, or modified."

Going to New York was a great way to launch the tattoo idea. Now, Webster wants to build on that momentum. So on Feb. 4 at about noon Webster will head to on Amherst Street in Nashua where at least 18 others have already signed up to get Webster's copyrighted tattoo.

Depending on size and location, the tattoos will cost each person between $65 and $120. Included in the price is a $10 tattoo artist's tip and a $15 fee that will be donated to NH Council on Autism, toward providing trained parent support specialist for any parent in need.

Webster would like to organize an annual tattoo party.

"It's hard to explain to someone who hasn't been through this what it takes to raise a child with autism. It becomes your whole world. Everything revolves around your child and his sensitivities," Webster said. "There are studies that have determined primary caregivers of kids with autism have stress levels equal to a soldier in combat."

She said her organization, autismmotherstattoo.org, is not involved with changing policy or child advocacy; it's simply a sisterhood of women with a common, empowering tattoo, nothing more.

"Mothering a child with autism carves you. It doesn't add to who you are; it literally cuts into you. That's not a judgement; we all know this. Once you've been through some of this your expectations are much more realistic. There's almost an element of acceptance that has to happen before you can get on with your life," Webster said.

Webster, of Manchester, has a sense of humor about her life and her relationship with her son that transcends the typical. She has a treasure trove of stories, bittersweet examples of how her son is, and always will be, anything but typical.

"For eight years he has been calling his former middle school teacher every Monday at 2:30 p.m. Back then she was Ms. Soucy. Now she is Mrs. Stevenson. No matter where we are, or what we're doing, that is the only thing Eliot can think about on Monday at 2:30. He calls, and she answers.  He doesn't say much. 'Hi. I saw a train today. Grandpa's in the hospital.' I have to prompt him to ask her how she is, how her kids are," Webster said. "It's weird. It's Eliot."

She laughs a little because it helps, before settling into a much deeper thought.

"I named my son Eliot because I thought it would be fitting, no matter what he grew up to be – a football player, a scientist, a hippie. Turns out Eliot will never live independently, or support himself. He lives in a tunnel. He has good days and bad days," Webster said.

"Through it all, it is this amazing bond I have formed with some amazing women. We completely understand the weird, odd, unusual things that have become our normal. There's an acceptance among us that we don't find anywhere else." Webster said. "And that is what we celebrate."