Well that just did it, I’m calling in the big guns. And when I say that, I mean the pediatric neurologist.
My child has barely left the house in the last six weeks. She’s basically happy being a shut-in, although she’ll venture into the front yard and play with a few friends.
Today she had such a massive break down at therapy. She really never made it back to even start therapy. After she started to get so upset, she threw up, and I realized this has been happening a lot. I asked our speech therapist, “When was the last time Gabby actually made it to the back and completed a full therapy session?”
She looked at her records and came back and said, “Six weeks!”
Then both her occupational therapist and speech therapist explained they’re at a loss on how to help Gabby. At this point she won’t attend therapy, let alone school. They explained that in all their years of being therapists, they’ve never seen a child so riddled with anxiety and fear.
Believe it or not, this is not the first time we’ve discussed this. I’ve had several conversations like this before. They all believe Gabby is bright, but they cannot even fathom getting started teaching her anything because she’s so crippled with fear, anxiety and routine OCD.
Most parents would be devastated by this news. Don’t get me wrong — there was a time when I would have been too. But I just looked these sweet ladies in the eyes and told them, “We will go get a medicine change. Usually when we’ve hit a wall with Gabby, she’s gained too much weight from the dosage of medication. We need a tweak, and we need to try a few things.”
I grabbed both of their hands and said, “Don’t worry so much, we will work it out. It will probably get worse before it gets better, but we have time.”
It’s weird having to be the cheerleader for your child and her therapists. Autism sucks, and it not only affects the ones inflicted with it but those trying to help them.
I just wasn’t in the mood to fall into a black hole that day, and I wasn’t going to let two sweet ladies who are trying their best to fall into it either. Screw that. Every day doesn’t necessarily have to be a good day; you just have to find a small part that is good in it.
I looked at my beautiful girl in the back seat, swinging her bare legs and humming to herself, drinking her water on the way home. I thought, so we might not be the healthiest mentally, but physically she is healthy, we have a nice home, my husband has a good job, good insurance, running cars, money in the bank and a good God that is present and faithful.
Want to end the stigma around disability? Like us on Facebook.
And sign up for what we hope will be your favorite thing to read at night.