Broken

When Andrew was first admitted on August 11th, the doctors thought that part of the problem may be his school placement. That he couldn't function in a SED (Social Emotional Disorders) setting but also couldn't function in a typical classroom with noise and chaos. I, for one, grabbed on to that and held hard - I thought - that's it - that is what will fix my child - proper placement and a revamp of his medications. Then he would be fine - no problems, no anger, no suicide threats - just snips and snails and puppy dog tails. Our world would be right. It hasn't been right in a very long time.

He made friends - he made progress - each medication removed and added held promise - we held our breath. We've been holding our breath for a very long time.

The last weekend was rough but Monday and Tuesday - he had two great days and nights. Then as the gods got wind of our happiness - he had a horrific incident on Wednesday, where he almost kicked a child in the head - thank God the staff stopped him. He was held and fought back with the staff. Last night was rough - because he was agitated and I tried my best to stay the course - I remained calmed and used all the words and behavior I was taught over the last month - while I died a little more inside. 

He must show safe behaviors for two days before being allowed back in with his peers in the day treatment program at the hospital. When he heard that plan this morning, he became enraged and tried to turn over the table - ran out of the room, grabbed a laundry cart and started propelling it and him up and down the halls of the unit. A staff member grabbed the cart - and Andrew made a fist but didn't hit her - and I died a little more inside.

I know we have a long road - I am trying to hold onto hope but there is a little part of me that fears my broken child cannot be fixed.

Two Roads

For over ten days, I have been terrified. Terrified that Andrew would never leave the hospital. Terrified that he will always resent me for taking him to the ER. Terrified that my mothering weighed heavily on his issues. Terrified that I could have done better by him - done more sooner for him. Fought harder.

After ten days, I have learned a great deal but I am still terrified. Andrew does resent me - in our family meeting yesterday - he expressed his anger at me for putting him in the hospital and that he doesn't love me anymore. Dr. G explained that his unsafe behaviors led him to the hospital. It was hard for me to hear the hurt in his voice. Jim started tearing up and told Andrew no one in this world loves him more than I do. Andrew started crying - it ended in hugs and exchanges of I love yous but the resentment is still there - raw and open for both of us.

I came to the realization that I had to take his feelings and my feelings totally out of the equation and do what was best for him. It was the hardest thing I have ever done. In the ER two Fridays ago, I almost left with him twice. I messaged Jim who was in the same room with me and said, "let's just leave with him - I can't leave him here". I couldn't bear feeling the overwhelming pain he was experiencing. During the last week, I wanted to walk out of that ward with him a number of times. When he was having a bad day, I felt every second of his anxiety and pain. I went to the hospital overcome with unbearable sadness - knowing that he was feeling that sadness or completely awash with anxiety because he was. People who claim they are empaths - believe them. I have been this way my entire life. 

I am still terrified. Tomorrow he comes home - we pick him up at 2:30. He will have day treatment the remainder of this week and all of next week. We will have an IEP meeting to fight for what we want for him on the 24th. We have a long, hard road to travel - the easy road would have been to walk out of that ER or never to have walked in. To paraphrase, Frost: I have always taken the road less traveled and that has made all the difference.

Learning Gratitude

Since his birth we have been on a roller coaster of good and bad times with our child – a handsome, smart, recently turned 13-year-old with several diagnoses. As a parent, I have screamed, cried, despaired, prayed for a miracle, blamed God, hated parents of typical children and yes, sometimes, felt utterly sorry for myself. I have been his advocate, his lawyer, his counselor, his mother, his only friend, the one who has loved him, hated the things he has said and done and sometimes truly not liked him. And yes there have been times that I have resented him.

He has threatened suicide to end his pain, he has called me horrible names, hit me, bit me and tried to choke me – he has done the same to his father. He has been on as many as ten medications. He has lied and we have had the sheriff show up at our house because he said a bruise on his leg was put there by his father. It was investigated – he admitted to banging his leg with the game controller when he got angry at a video game and we were cleared of any wrong doing. He has been the star of massive scenes at restaurants, at school, and even at church. 

Through all of this I have held onto hope making false promises to myself - when he’s a little older things will be better, once the hormones are done causing havoc he will balance out. If we just find the right medicine things will be better. Countless emails to his therapist, his psychiatrist, countless prayers and pleas gone unheard. I have slowly eroded into a numb yet jangled bag of nerves – going through the motions of being his mom all the while fighting for help from his medical and school team - from anyone. 

Last Friday, we concluded that there was no recourse but to take him to the ER after a meeting at the school went horribly off the rails. We had been trying to get him in all summer to even out his meds – to get him the most help we possibly could but his psychiatrist didn’t think that was the answer. On Friday, he was admitted. We now have hope - we haven't had that for a very long time. 

Since his admission, I have felt empty like a part of me is missing and also ashamed. I now know what gratitude is for this amazing child - I haven't felt that, too, for a very long time. I don’t deserve this beautiful, special boy – he deserves better.  I am reminded how much I appreciate who he is and I will do everything in my power to ensure that he gets all the help he needs to be a kind, responsible human being and I will never take him for granted - ever again.