What do you do when you don’t know what to do anymore?
When you tell yourself daily to call the doctor, to push for a second opinion…but you fear ‘the look’ you know will happen on the other end. The one that says, “You’re overreacting.”
When your child throws themselves into such an intense, self-injuring, shriekingly horrible fit that she is unable to pull herself out of it?
When the comfort you try to give her leads to pained cries – deep, gut-wrenching sobs filled with tears that tear at your heart – and you’ve never known what caused it?
When the two years of therapy have done nothing to help a problem that only seems to be getting worse, but no doctor seems to think that your fears are justified?
When you think there’s more wrong that they just haven’t gotten a fix on yet…but you have no clue where to start…and the one venue you can think of using could cause you to lose all support you currently receive – or at least have to have it re-evaluated?
When you are faced with watching your child – every day- struggle to be…anything?
Watching her struggle to be just like her sister, but unable to compete in an uneven battle?
When you see her grow tired every two hours, but have to force her to stay awake and still playing so that she will sleep when it’s actually appropriate?Â
When you see that the moment she has gotten tired all possible control she had weakens, and her feet turn in, and the clumsy begins, and the tantrums come quicker and stronger?
When you watch her destroy toys and property, without the faintest idea how to stop her?
When not even the trained psychologist is sure how to help with all of her issues?
When your own faith in your motherhood is tested and you doubt your own instincts on whether there is a problem or you’re being a hypochondriac?
You do the only thing you can do. You sit back. You watch her play, you give her hugs and kisses when she runs up to you. You find the amazement and wonder at her intelligence when she surprises you by showing it off. You see the happy in the smiles she grants you liberally between tantrums. You note the way she’s like you – dancing at every little bit of music, the way her toes point when she’s at rest, the cheeks, the smile, the crazy buck-teeth, the eyes.Â
You remember that you are her Mom. That in your heart you know the truth. You remember that your instincts ARE on, and fight for them, and for her.
You take a break, you revel in the love of your little angel…and you fight anew tomorrow to give her every bit of life, love, and help that she deserves.
What a difficult and heartbreaking place to be in for a mother. You are truly doing an amazing job. It’s not easy, but if you persist, I know that you’ll be able to find answers. (Hugs) Beautiful post.
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