I met with Jake’s teacher and resource teacher today. They are seeing the same regression that we’re seeing at home. The inattention. The lack of focus. The copious amounts of impulsive behavior. The loss of independence. The loss of our “Jake”. In the 2 weeks since he’s been on the new medication he has lost so much. Yes, the tics have stopped being so pronounced, but he’s anxious, perseverative, and impulsive. Off the record, there are rumblings of a self-contained classroom next year if he doesn’t start improving. Self-contained.
All of the glorious progress that we saw from last February until the end of this January seems to have vanished. *POOF* Jake is requiring constant input from his teachers. He is melting into puddles on the floor and in his chair because the work is too hard. It’s just too much. He’s falling back on the old pattern of depending on his old friend rather than branching out and playing with the boys. He’s requiring more help with self help chores at home. He needs constant reassurance and his anxiety is through the roof.
We all know he is capable of achieving great things. He is making such strides. Or was. I have to get him off of this medication. It is ruining his life. Literally. He knows he is out of control. He keeps talking about his brain going crazy…and he has been writing so many notes of apology to me, Hubz, Tate and Cole when he’s impulsive and inadvertently hurts one of us. It’s breaking my heart.
It all feels so heavy. All of this. The worrying. The parenting of a special needs child. Of two special needs children. The calls to the doctor. The shuffling kids from therapy to therapy. The insurance EOB’s that pour in. The expenses. The knowledge that my children are different, wait, that their neurology is so different and that they just don’t fit quite right into the standardized world.
And as heavy as it feels, I know I am not alone. I know there are other parents out there struggling with “the weight”. I do find comfort in knowing that there are others out there who understand..and who understand that when I say “this sucks” and “it’s not fair”…they know that it’s just my way of processing through the hurt of seeing my children struggle. So, even with this heaviness within me, I will pick myself up, and keep moving…because I have these beautiful children who deserve no less. And I will hang on to the hope that I’ve seen before..that my heart knows is out there for a better day.