Getting it together

This has been a work in progress for a while now. As many know, getting doctors to listen to your concerns in regards to your child's mental health issues is a huge challenge. Mental health issues are so easy to dismiss when you're not living with them. In fact, I'd argue that mental illness is so hard for people to be compassionate about. We know how to love and care for a person with a physical illness, but we don't know how to do that when the illness is more vague and misunderstood. We've broken through that barrier after a long battle. My kids are finally getting the support that they need to conquer their illness.

I'll never forget the first time I brought up mental health issues with the kids' doctor. His response? "This is how people from Africa are." I wanted to shoot him, but realized he's the only infectious disease doc in the state. I kind of need him alive. I dropped my concerns and just let it go. I knew better, but what choice did I have? Maybe I was just being too critical of my child....expecting too much.

Then Freckles came home. I knew he needed help from the moment I met him. That first and second night together he didn't sleep a wink. It all makes sense now but at the time I had no idea what was going on. Freckles' behavior escalated when we got home. It was quite terrible. I'm not going to lie. I had no idea how to help this child. The thousands upon thousands of pages I'd read about helping children like him meant nothing. In fact, all the "stuff" your supposed to do to help hurt kiddos just made things worse. I finally had to throw it all out and just do what it took to survive, to keep him and the rest of the family safe. When I brought it up with the doctor he didn't seem too concerned. In fact, he suggested it was normal behavior for a child that age. He finally gave us a referral to a psychiatrist who diagnosed him with ODD. Both Freckles' teacher and I were dumbfounded by the diagnosis of ODD. That didn't make sense. It was such a lazy diagnosis. There was no way this child had ODD. He wanted so badly to do the right thing but was incapable. My heart broke for him because I knew that he wasn't going to get the help he needed.

Finally disaster happened. I had one child that exhibited severe behaviors that raised major red flags. His issues were finally taken seriously and he received a referral to a neuropsychologist. It took months to get in and he's doing his final testing today. We'll get answers how to best assist this child. We can give him what he needs and help him to keep himself and others safe. That brings me so much hope for him.

Then Freckles' broke down. It came on suddenly. I was lost. I had no idea what to do or who to call. I tried to get him help but it was insufficient for the magnitude of the situation. I ended up taking him to the ER and from there he received the care he needed. It was a heartbreaking experience for all of us. I felt so hopeless and lost. I couldn't help this child. We were going to lose him. I was sure of it. I had little faith in the professionals and even less faith in medication. I didn't know what we were going to do. But then I got a phone call from a psychiatrist that was treating Freckles. He had a name for what was going on. It wasn't Freckles' fault, or my fault, or the fault of anyone that cared for him previously. It was likely something he was born with (combined with enough trauma and loss to drive anyone mad) and there was hope for him.

Freckles has been properly medicated for a little over a month now. He is the person I always knew he could be. Sweet, helpful, fun, kind, thoughtful, and hilarious. His teacher (the same teacher he had last year) has noticed a significant change in him from last school year. He's focused and friendly. He's outgoing and shares an easy smile. Freckles is currently thriving on a soccer team, something that I didn't think he'd ever be able to do due to his unpredictability. He's thriving in a family, something he finds both annoying and wonderful at the same time. I still have moments where I panic when I hear a noise that sounds like the beginning of a rage, or a scowl that looks like he's starting to go downhill. But these scowls and noises are usually jokes or a normal reaction to something he doesn't like. He no longer falls down the hole of despair. I'm learning to trust that things are getting better.

Getting it together for my kids has been an uphill battle but we're finally achieving success! This is the healthiest I've seen them. Now I've just got to work with my own grief, something I've been repressing while I've had to remain strong for the kids. There's also some grief from a couple of the other kids. This has all sort of rocked their world. I aim to make their pain over this situation a positive thing. It's going to make them strong, more compassionate, and more patient....at least that's my goal.

Keeping up the fight is so absolutely worth it. There was a time when I thought our life would never get better. And maybe it's too soon to be so optimistic. I don't care. It feels good to know that everyone is safe, healthy and happy. I'm going to revel in that while it lasts.