Undiagnosed Childhood
We have returned from the first step in finding out what makes Max's world so difficult to navigate. I brought the same list I published here on the blog of Max's "quirks" to the doctor and she did me the service of actually reading it. She spent a lot of time talking with Max and asking us questions. I will not be able to paraphrase well everything that she said but at one point she did comment on how surprised she was at how well we had all been doing considering the list I submitted. It echoed what my first therapist said as well which was how surprised he was I had made it so far in my life, so well, without the help of medication or therapy.
At my own first mental assessment, after taking psychological tests and talking with the psychologist, I asked the doctor if he thought my insurance would pay for therapy because they would only pay for major mental illnesses... did he think I had a major mental illness? He chuckled and said there was no question at all that the insurance would pay for my therapy because I was definitely seriously mentally ill.
Which I already knew, of course, just not officially. I have mentioned before what a relief it was to me to be actually diagnosed. To have a professional say to me that I was in need of help and that there were things I could do to stop suffering all the time. That there were options available to me to make my life easier. Not everyone else around me was as relieved to have me diagnosed. People tried to deny it "Oh, well, you've never really seemed that depressed" or "Are you sure you trust the psychologist?"
The person I really trusted was myself.
When a woman gets pregnant she has nine months to imagine all the people her baby might be. She has nine months to imagine the cozy life she's going to live as a wonderful mother (hear the angels singing in the back ground? The necessary voice-over for mothers world wide.) and to picture her perfect sweet child. Or maybe she imagines all the worst things that could happen to her baby. The things that might be wrong with it. I believe you can never guess what the real challenges will be. I was sure Max was going to be a Jock type guy who would force me to watch team sports for 18 years.
You can never prepare. You can never be ready enough. You can never anticipate the wild cards that nature deals.
After some period of discussion it was clear what the doctor suspected, though she clearly admitted to not being the expert and recommended testing with the appropriate professionals, and I concurred. Still, I needed to know something concrete, to take away with some kind of token of this step we'd taken.
"So, whichever diagnosis he ends up with, what you're saying is that this list I gave you- that is not the profile of normal child behavior?"
"No! Definitely not." She said, kind of surprised I still had to ask.
I had to hear it. I needed to hear it because I am so tired of other parents suggesting that everything Max does is normal even though they don't know any kids like him. Tired of getting advice from parents who have normal kids and don't know fucking shit about what it's like to parent someone like Max.
But always there has been the seed of doubt. The little kernel of doubt that there is something wrong with the kid, maybe it's all just me. Maybe I am just an awful incapable mother. Maybe that neighbor of mine was right and I just don't cook good enough food for Max to like. Maybe if I threaten him with starvation he really will be grateful for every crumb I give him after that.
I am trying very hard to not kick myself for waiting this long to start this process. Why listen to people telling me to wait because I might just be projecting my own issues on him. Why have I ever listened to others more than to myself who knew the first time I heard him express a wish to kill himself that there was going to be trouble ahead- that my kid did not behave like a normal kid.
For the first time in Max's life he has been described as "high functioning". Whatever his diagnosis will be he is high functioning.
I can't help but have divided feelings. If I'm being really honest I have to say that like every other mother on earth I don't want to hear my wonderful boy described as "high functioning" because you don't have to describe normal boys in such a way. At the same time I feel like flipping off every person who has ever used the "normal" yardstick against my extraordinary kid. You can't compare him to yours because he is other.
Not worse, but other. And when you have a kid who is different you can't follow the usual parenting rules. Nothing applies. It's like flying without a parachute. Without a net.
It seems most likely that my son has some "high functioning" autistic spectrum disorder like Aspberger's or Sensory Processing Disorder. Testing and therapy will follow to determine specifically what we're dealing with- no- what he's dealing with.
I am not surprised. There was no winning this one. Either I was going to find out that my child was completely normal and I'm just way more of a basketcase than I thought, or I was going to find out that my kid wasn't normal which explains why parenting has been more like a trial by fire for me than a deeply satisfying endeavor.
I choose to flip everyone off for judging my boy against the usual yardstick and for judging my parenting against the usual expectations. I flip everyone off who has had the regular kids and wondered why the hell I was finding this all so much harder than them.
I feel validated in not following advice that I knew in my gut would have been cruel to a kid like Max. I feel validated in many of the ways I have supported him in his strange way of seeing things and not blamed him for his food issues. It would be like blaming him for having a hole in his heart. It would be like blaming him for having his teeth grow in crooked.
I am trying so hard not to kick myself for having waited so long. Maybe I wouldn't have become a fat alcoholic if I had addressed this sooner. Maybe Max would not have had an entire rotten year at school last year. Maybe maybe maybe maybe.....
But you can't ask those questions. You can't look back like that. You can't kick yourself for being cautious with the life of your child. My child is my heart, my smart-ass crooked little side kick who few understand and quite a few have not liked. Fuck them. He's an awesome guy!
I am brusque when I write about him sometimes. I am always tired of trying to figure out what he'll eat. Trying to keep his world arranged so that he won't fall apart. I am edgy and I am not fuzzy about parenthood. If you ask me if being a parent isn't the most wonderful thing in the world I might just tell you it's a crap pot and you'd be stupid to have a child. It's what I feel like saying every time someone gets all dewy like a cartoon with images of babies for pupils.
Then I realize that having children might actually be dewy for a lot of people. And I'm ashamed at how angry it makes me that I didn't get to experience that part. I was not given that gift. Mine is raw and relentless and different and a constant challenge and I drink a lot of beer to keep myself asleep when I should be asleep and sane when I need to be sane. It's not what I thought I was signing up for.
You can see what mixed feelings I have. It brings so much up to the surface that has been laying in wait. Operating on a passive aggressive platform of silence and strike.
I have felt continually punished by the examples of happy parenting all around me. All of them making me feel lesser than others. All of them making my boy seem like a lesser person than the usual and me having to offer up excuses to try and help people see the boy I see. He's gorgeous and he's smart as a fucking whip and so many other child's minds pale in comparison...but I know he doesn't play as well with others. I know he's impossible to feed and you think I'm coddling him to death by letting him eat crackers and ordering our world to be more comfortable for him than it is for me.
A mother knows. I will never let myself forget that now. From now on I trust myself as the mother of my child more than I will trust anyone else. I know him. I knew he was not normal by the time he was three. Frankly, I had my suspicions from the moment I met him. I could sense his otherness. Funny little fellow! I have been doing better than I thought. Suffering with no support. Getting fatter and more tired all the time from no support.
I have been hurting for my kid and myself and our quirky ill-fitting family of three. My friend Angela recently described herself, her husband, and her child as a family of three "special needs" people which made me laugh out loud and now I keep saying it to myself in my head.
We now know that our kid is special needs just like us. We really already knew. But now there is the beginning of the paper trail. The beginning of permanent knowledge. Public acknowledgment in the form of official files saying that my child isn't normal.
From here on out I will only take parenting hints and advice from parents who know who my child really is. From parents who have their own "other". Who have gone through the hell that we have gone through trying to raise a son who doesn't fit in with the world he was born into with compassion, firmness, and love.
For all of the conflicting feelings I have right now, I have to say that relief and anger are the two chief feelings fighting for the loudest position in my head. I know that when I go to sleep tonight relief is the one that I will hear the most because I can feel it in my chest.
I am also scared.
Scared to know what the real diagnosis is. It will cement so many courses of action. It will direct the rest of our lives. It was such a deep relief to get my own diagnosis because my course of action was clear, my choices were obvious and making decisions for myself has never been difficult.
But to have to decide on a course of action for my kid is heavy. Having to make choices for an unusual child that may impact everything he might become, everything he might be capable of achieving, and how he experiences this world- that's a pretty huge responsibility.
I know now why his spirit came to me. I've said it before but I think it bears saying again- for all of my shortcomings as a person (and I have many) and all of my weaknesses as a parent, I am peculiarly capable and prepared to raise an unconventional person in possession of a body that doesn't operate optimally. I know what it feels like to be him. After hearing all the advice other parents have seen fit to give me, I know that with most other parents Max would have already been pretty impressively more fucked up than he started out.
Now please pass me another beer.
At my own first mental assessment, after taking psychological tests and talking with the psychologist, I asked the doctor if he thought my insurance would pay for therapy because they would only pay for major mental illnesses... did he think I had a major mental illness? He chuckled and said there was no question at all that the insurance would pay for my therapy because I was definitely seriously mentally ill.
Which I already knew, of course, just not officially. I have mentioned before what a relief it was to me to be actually diagnosed. To have a professional say to me that I was in need of help and that there were things I could do to stop suffering all the time. That there were options available to me to make my life easier. Not everyone else around me was as relieved to have me diagnosed. People tried to deny it "Oh, well, you've never really seemed that depressed" or "Are you sure you trust the psychologist?"
The person I really trusted was myself.
When a woman gets pregnant she has nine months to imagine all the people her baby might be. She has nine months to imagine the cozy life she's going to live as a wonderful mother (hear the angels singing in the back ground? The necessary voice-over for mothers world wide.) and to picture her perfect sweet child. Or maybe she imagines all the worst things that could happen to her baby. The things that might be wrong with it. I believe you can never guess what the real challenges will be. I was sure Max was going to be a Jock type guy who would force me to watch team sports for 18 years.
You can never prepare. You can never be ready enough. You can never anticipate the wild cards that nature deals.
After some period of discussion it was clear what the doctor suspected, though she clearly admitted to not being the expert and recommended testing with the appropriate professionals, and I concurred. Still, I needed to know something concrete, to take away with some kind of token of this step we'd taken.
"So, whichever diagnosis he ends up with, what you're saying is that this list I gave you- that is not the profile of normal child behavior?"
"No! Definitely not." She said, kind of surprised I still had to ask.
I had to hear it. I needed to hear it because I am so tired of other parents suggesting that everything Max does is normal even though they don't know any kids like him. Tired of getting advice from parents who have normal kids and don't know fucking shit about what it's like to parent someone like Max.
But always there has been the seed of doubt. The little kernel of doubt that there is something wrong with the kid, maybe it's all just me. Maybe I am just an awful incapable mother. Maybe that neighbor of mine was right and I just don't cook good enough food for Max to like. Maybe if I threaten him with starvation he really will be grateful for every crumb I give him after that.
I am trying very hard to not kick myself for waiting this long to start this process. Why listen to people telling me to wait because I might just be projecting my own issues on him. Why have I ever listened to others more than to myself who knew the first time I heard him express a wish to kill himself that there was going to be trouble ahead- that my kid did not behave like a normal kid.
For the first time in Max's life he has been described as "high functioning". Whatever his diagnosis will be he is high functioning.
I can't help but have divided feelings. If I'm being really honest I have to say that like every other mother on earth I don't want to hear my wonderful boy described as "high functioning" because you don't have to describe normal boys in such a way. At the same time I feel like flipping off every person who has ever used the "normal" yardstick against my extraordinary kid. You can't compare him to yours because he is other.
Not worse, but other. And when you have a kid who is different you can't follow the usual parenting rules. Nothing applies. It's like flying without a parachute. Without a net.
It seems most likely that my son has some "high functioning" autistic spectrum disorder like Aspberger's or Sensory Processing Disorder. Testing and therapy will follow to determine specifically what we're dealing with- no- what he's dealing with.
I am not surprised. There was no winning this one. Either I was going to find out that my child was completely normal and I'm just way more of a basketcase than I thought, or I was going to find out that my kid wasn't normal which explains why parenting has been more like a trial by fire for me than a deeply satisfying endeavor.
I choose to flip everyone off for judging my boy against the usual yardstick and for judging my parenting against the usual expectations. I flip everyone off who has had the regular kids and wondered why the hell I was finding this all so much harder than them.
I feel validated in not following advice that I knew in my gut would have been cruel to a kid like Max. I feel validated in many of the ways I have supported him in his strange way of seeing things and not blamed him for his food issues. It would be like blaming him for having a hole in his heart. It would be like blaming him for having his teeth grow in crooked.
I am trying so hard not to kick myself for having waited so long. Maybe I wouldn't have become a fat alcoholic if I had addressed this sooner. Maybe Max would not have had an entire rotten year at school last year. Maybe maybe maybe maybe.....
But you can't ask those questions. You can't look back like that. You can't kick yourself for being cautious with the life of your child. My child is my heart, my smart-ass crooked little side kick who few understand and quite a few have not liked. Fuck them. He's an awesome guy!
I am brusque when I write about him sometimes. I am always tired of trying to figure out what he'll eat. Trying to keep his world arranged so that he won't fall apart. I am edgy and I am not fuzzy about parenthood. If you ask me if being a parent isn't the most wonderful thing in the world I might just tell you it's a crap pot and you'd be stupid to have a child. It's what I feel like saying every time someone gets all dewy like a cartoon with images of babies for pupils.
Then I realize that having children might actually be dewy for a lot of people. And I'm ashamed at how angry it makes me that I didn't get to experience that part. I was not given that gift. Mine is raw and relentless and different and a constant challenge and I drink a lot of beer to keep myself asleep when I should be asleep and sane when I need to be sane. It's not what I thought I was signing up for.
You can see what mixed feelings I have. It brings so much up to the surface that has been laying in wait. Operating on a passive aggressive platform of silence and strike.
I have felt continually punished by the examples of happy parenting all around me. All of them making me feel lesser than others. All of them making my boy seem like a lesser person than the usual and me having to offer up excuses to try and help people see the boy I see. He's gorgeous and he's smart as a fucking whip and so many other child's minds pale in comparison...but I know he doesn't play as well with others. I know he's impossible to feed and you think I'm coddling him to death by letting him eat crackers and ordering our world to be more comfortable for him than it is for me.
A mother knows. I will never let myself forget that now. From now on I trust myself as the mother of my child more than I will trust anyone else. I know him. I knew he was not normal by the time he was three. Frankly, I had my suspicions from the moment I met him. I could sense his otherness. Funny little fellow! I have been doing better than I thought. Suffering with no support. Getting fatter and more tired all the time from no support.
I have been hurting for my kid and myself and our quirky ill-fitting family of three. My friend Angela recently described herself, her husband, and her child as a family of three "special needs" people which made me laugh out loud and now I keep saying it to myself in my head.
We now know that our kid is special needs just like us. We really already knew. But now there is the beginning of the paper trail. The beginning of permanent knowledge. Public acknowledgment in the form of official files saying that my child isn't normal.
From here on out I will only take parenting hints and advice from parents who know who my child really is. From parents who have their own "other". Who have gone through the hell that we have gone through trying to raise a son who doesn't fit in with the world he was born into with compassion, firmness, and love.
For all of the conflicting feelings I have right now, I have to say that relief and anger are the two chief feelings fighting for the loudest position in my head. I know that when I go to sleep tonight relief is the one that I will hear the most because I can feel it in my chest.
I am also scared.
Scared to know what the real diagnosis is. It will cement so many courses of action. It will direct the rest of our lives. It was such a deep relief to get my own diagnosis because my course of action was clear, my choices were obvious and making decisions for myself has never been difficult.
But to have to decide on a course of action for my kid is heavy. Having to make choices for an unusual child that may impact everything he might become, everything he might be capable of achieving, and how he experiences this world- that's a pretty huge responsibility.
I know now why his spirit came to me. I've said it before but I think it bears saying again- for all of my shortcomings as a person (and I have many) and all of my weaknesses as a parent, I am peculiarly capable and prepared to raise an unconventional person in possession of a body that doesn't operate optimally. I know what it feels like to be him. After hearing all the advice other parents have seen fit to give me, I know that with most other parents Max would have already been pretty impressively more fucked up than he started out.
Now please pass me another beer.
Comments (22)
Oh my dear..I feel your pain. I do not know it, but I feel it. But I want you to know, that you have completed the first, and I'm sure hardest step for Max: making the appointment for him and being brave enough to KEEP it. I'm proud of you and in a way, hopeful for Max. I realize that the diagnoses may be scary but also it might just bring some relief. To know that you are not alone, that there is help available, and some guidance for bringing up your extraordinary child, can only help your family in the long run.
Posted by Casa de Lulu | January 28, 2009 10:51 PM
Posted on January 28, 2009 22:51
Hi, I have been reading your blog for a couple years now, but have never commented; but feel compeled now. Henry-Thomas was diagnosed with autism when he was 2 1/2 years old. He is 9 now, non-verbal, and in a special class at school. I have gained my share of weight (alot) and drank my share of wine (alot) LOL. My whole life changed with that diagnosis; I'm not going to say all good (I would be lying up a storm), but I know what I'm dealing with now and that's better than not knowing. I once asked a doctor about Henry's eating habits because at the time he only ate cherrios and everyone was also telling me he needed to eat different things. He told me the best thing~"as long as he gets his vitamins he'll be fine, and eating what we wanted him to eat was more for us and not him". Henry only eats things that are crunchy (i.e. fried foods, crackers, etc LOL). So, I feed him what he wants and if anyone wants to comment on it, they can go have their own child on the spectrum :-). Enough rambling for me, just wanted to let you know that there are people out there that know what you are going through. Feel free to contact me if you would like to talk.
Janice
Posted by Janice | January 29, 2009 6:59 AM
Posted on January 29, 2009 06:59
I do understand wanting to beat yourself up for not getting a diagnosis sooner. I still do that - and my son will soon be 17. But, as my husband says, we did the best we could with the knowledge that we had. We did what we thought was right. We would never have knowingly done anything that we didn't think was in the best interest of our child. However, I must say, there are still times that I beat myself up. But then I manage to do that on a regular basis.
Posted by MichelleB | January 29, 2009 7:15 AM
Posted on January 29, 2009 07:15
Casa de Lulu- thank you old friend. It was a help talking with you about this the last time! I tried calling you last week- (or earlier this week?) and I'll try again. I supposedly have unlimited long distance now. You know I always appreciate your support. Plus, you've known Max since he was born!
Janice- just hearing you say your kid will only eat crunchy things is comforting. Although Max will eat protein bars sometimes, his eating habits have been pretty consistently limited to crunchy type foods. If we would let him only eat crackers and cereal he would be happiest and frankly, we probably would be too. Thank you for speaking up now- I appreciate it! It really does make me feel better hearing from parents who have had similar experiences.
Posted by angelina | January 29, 2009 7:19 AM
Posted on January 29, 2009 07:19
I have written before about my child who is 20 now. Oh my dear, you hit it right when you said it is like flying without a parachute. My child would only eat a large order of french fries (very crispy) every third day. That was the only thing she would eat for three days! She is my youngest (of 3) and everyone said I was babying her...they had no idea what it was like. I just want to say that I feel your pain and I know your pain.
Posted by Anonymous | January 29, 2009 7:55 AM
Posted on January 29, 2009 07:55
Congratulations on the first step.
Oh, boy, do I know a lot about part of what you are talking about. Is it ME? Is this obviously smart (always) and good (mostly) kid not really screwed up at all...have I just made him out to be something "wrong" in my own mind? Is the "other" all in my head?
Validation is a wonderful thing, because it releases us. Yes, it releases us from the human (and womanly) tendency to place every damn little thing on our own shoulders, and we can let it go. Once we are sure it's not our doing, we can lose the selfish grip on the situation and begin to turn it around for our kids. The past is past, now we turn to the future and what can be.
There is an amazing community of special needs families out there in the world. We've all seen different things, at different levels, but we are all "other" in our own way.
Welcome to the club. Officially, that is.
Posted by Aimee in the ATL | January 29, 2009 7:58 AM
Posted on January 29, 2009 07:58
Thinking of you.
Posted by Diane | January 29, 2009 8:14 AM
Posted on January 29, 2009 08:14
I remember when Alex was young and feeling the piercing judgment from other parents. At some point I decided they could all go to hell and I was not going to be the one who made my child feel badly for the person he was so we forged our own path and I was his fiercest protector. They had no testing back then, just a question/answer survey so it was up to me to follow my gut. And I always, always felt that he was brought to me because I was strong enough to protect his spirit from the cruel plastic people of this world. One thing I firmly believe is spirited children turn into incredible adults.
You are Max's protector of body and spirit and I know from your words that you will guard him so that he may grow from incredible boy to amazing man.
Posted by Kathy | January 29, 2009 8:41 AM
Posted on January 29, 2009 08:41
I remember holding the hand of a dear friend who was afraid to seek help for the same reason: she knew something was wrong but she was afraid to be told that nothing was wrong. So many people had told her to just buck up, it's just a phase, you just need to get over it, it's just your personality that she was afraid that a professional might say the same thing. And if the professional couldn't see that anything was wrong then there was nothing to do and things would never change and never be any better. So she kept putting off going. She was afraid to be told she was normal because her life as it was was unbearable.
The initial consultation hadn't even gone its course when the professional said, "Usually I like to see people two or three times before coming up with a plan of action, but you need immediate help." So she sent my friend to a specialist to get meds. When she told me about the interview she was laughing and crying in relief.
I know that some people might not understand your relief to have someone tell you, "Yes. Something's wrong here. This is not normal." But I'd want it in writing--to show that irritating teacher, those judging parents of schoolmates, those friends that don't get it, and just myself from time to time--just to say (if only to myself) "I'm dealing with something here that you don't get. Now back off."
Yes. There is something wrong. Now you don't have to spend time battling to convince people on the outside. Now you can focus on the real battle.
Posted by mss @ Zanthan Gardens | January 29, 2009 9:14 AM
Posted on January 29, 2009 09:14
Rereading this very valuable post made me think....you know, I bet you could write a book about this. Because all the conflicts, the guilt, the relief, being misunderstood by other parents, the uncomfortable feelings being measured by a different yardstick...these must all be things that anyone with a child who is different must be going through. I think you've got the first third of your book written. And I can't think of anyone else who could write this kind of parental pain with the same brutal honesty.
Next, part 2: the search for the right strategy. But I know that will be interesting too. And something that other parents in your position would find encouraging.
Posted by mss @ Zanthan Gardens | January 29, 2009 1:09 PM
Posted on January 29, 2009 13:09
I'd like to add my congratulations at having taken this enormously difficult first step - I have absolutely no point of reference for your experience here, but I recognize that given the circumstances, you are a very brave and capable mother. He is a lucky kid to have such a perceptive advocate in a world where differences and "other" are often shuffled off as unworthy of our attention and acceptance.
That said, I'll keep a pint chilling for emergencies...just have to figure out to pour it through this box!
Posted by Allison | January 29, 2009 4:04 PM
Posted on January 29, 2009 16:04
Sending you virtual hugs, and wishing I could send you more. My son (now a teen) is blind and has Asperger's. We face continual challenges - and we, too, are good parents. Please take care of yourself, and take advantage of any services available. Respite care was a great one for us. Seriously, much good luck and take care.
Posted by Daisy | January 29, 2009 4:28 PM
Posted on January 29, 2009 16:28
Some of the brightest,most amazing people I know have a diagnosis. Aspergers, autism spectrum, manic depression, schizophrenia, major depression, anxiety disorder.....they all have something to contribute to the world that would definitely never happen if their brains were wired 'right'. The world may not be set up to accommodate us but it would be boring without us!
Posted by crgilvr | January 29, 2009 6:17 PM
Posted on January 29, 2009 18:17
yes
Posted by Blaize | January 29, 2009 11:22 PM
Posted on January 29, 2009 23:22
Hi Angelina,
I have only been reading your writings for a short time but I have to admit pretty much every post you write touches me deeply.
I know nothing of motherhood, or personal mental illness but I grew up in a household where my mother had diagnosed depression and then fell in love with a wonderful man that sometimes just wants to curl up and die for the same reason. It can be so hard not to fall into the trap of "if I could just give a little bit more he would be fine" but I can't, and even if I could it wouldn't change anything because this is about him not me.
My heart breaks simultaneously for you that your precious boy is never going to be the person you thought he might be...but also celebrates for him because he really does have a Mum that will love him whoever he is and understands from the inside that being different comes with its own set of joy's along with the challenges.
Kind Regards
Belinda
Posted by Simply.Belinda | January 30, 2009 12:36 AM
Posted on January 30, 2009 00:36
I am pretty sure that Jesus and Mohammad were "high functioning" as well as being the most brilliant prophets of the last few centuries and most likely only prefered crispy flat pita bread. The smartest people I know are mental, in fact, one of the best writers and most generous, hilarious, warm, loving person that i know is mental. You.
and if i could join you with a major flip off salute to all the parenting police out there, i wish i had more hands just to do that. then i would beat them to a bloody pulp with their measuring sticks.
Posted by Riana Lagarde | January 30, 2009 3:26 AM
Posted on January 30, 2009 03:26
As excrutiatingly hard as it is for you and will continue to be Max has just the right people for his parents, who not only love and understand him, as your perceptive summary of observations shows, but who are also strong enough to seek out diagnosis and support.
Posted by French Knots | January 30, 2009 6:09 AM
Posted on January 30, 2009 06:09
Isn't Max lucky to have you for a parent?? Imagine him being stuck w/a fluffy angel speaking parent?? Great Luck Max!!!
Posted by blop | January 30, 2009 12:43 PM
Posted on January 30, 2009 12:43
i've been without internet for a week, so am catching up tonight on my favorite blogs...
am so relieved for you...that you're on the right path now. and was thinking something similar to what blop said...that it's a great thing that Max has a mom who is so no-nonsense.
sending you lots of love and support. xoxo
Posted by kelly | January 31, 2009 4:34 PM
Posted on January 31, 2009 16:34
Anon.- oh wow- what a nightmare that must have been for you. I know only too well how emotional it can be trying to get your child to eat anything remotely healthy but to experience her not eating every day must have been so very hard on both of you! I really appreciate you sharing that with me here. It gives me perspective I sorely need.
Thank you everyone for so much support- I really do need it and each of you sending such good encouragement makes me feel a little stronger and a little less alone which is the hardest part of parenting an unusual kid.
Riana- you're like my personal mobster! Such a sweet friend and spirit protector!
Posted by angelina | January 31, 2009 6:06 PM
Posted on January 31, 2009 18:06
Hey Angelina,
My best advice having gone through a similar experience is arm yourself with knowledge! Go to the public library or book store and read. After Max is given a formal diagnosis buy age appropriate books for him. He will appreciate it. Connor has tons of books on ADHD and reads them all the time. I think he finds comfort in the fact that he is not alone. It also feels better that we are not in denial about it. There is shame when you try and hide the truth. Max is a great kid and don't let whatever diagnoses over shadow that!
If you ever need to talk just call!
Love, Nicole
Posted by Nicole Jeffries | February 1, 2009 3:46 PM
Posted on February 1, 2009 15:46
Nicole- that is such good advice! I'll bet Max would find it interesting enough to read about others like himself and also comforting. but must wait to get a diagnosis first. As you know, it's a process. One step at a time!
Thank you for so much support everyone.
Posted by angelina | February 2, 2009 2:52 PM
Posted on February 2, 2009 14:52