A short term goodbye
Yesterday I wrote an article about the decisions some parents face when it comes to their child’s special needs, and whether they need to consider short, or long term residential treatment programs. For some parents it can be terrifying and a sad affair, but for others it may be that they find relief in making the decision to go ahead with it due to constant battles, extreme behaviors, and an overall sense of emotional exhaustion on their part. Either way, that decision is solely up to you, and you should not feel bad for the choice you make.
With that being said, I made the conscious decision to admit my twelve year old into a program yesterday and after much deliberation for weeks, realized it was best for him to get the help he needed. The first night I tossed and turned, never getting a sound moment of restful sleep. I missed him and I wasn’t used to him not being here with me, with all the constant noises he makes (due to his diagnoses), the loud commentary he makes as he watches youtube videos and the laughter that follows. I missed it all and even as I sit here with my second cup of steaming coffee, I still find my mind constantly drifting to him and how he may be doing with the new change, new schedule and many more restrictions compared to home.
Last night’s phone call to my son was somber and soon sobs could be heard on the other end of the line as my son cried and told me he missed being home with me. It was all I could do to not cry myself and give in to my emotions, because I knew it would just make him that much more sad, and I wanted him to be as happy as he possibly could and not miss home too much. I wanted him to benefit from his time there, take in as much knowledge as he could of new coping mechanisms, and ways to handle negative behaviors before they begin, or at least before they became too extreme.
He had been there several times before and knew most of the staff who continued to work there even several years later. His favorite was a man we’ll call Brian, they were Instant friends and had quite a bit to talk about and even some things in common. The caring nature of the staff made it just a little bit easier each time for him to adjust, and the attentiveness of the staff made me as a mother more comfortable that he would be safe and happy for the length of his stay. Brian was there to welcome us yet again, and was patient enough to listen to my list of things they needed to keep in mind for my son, sensory issues, tics, needs, fears, etc. On the outside I smiled and laughed afterward in a conversation as we were driving home, but inside, I was sad and already missed seeing his dazzling smile and hearing that infectious laugh. I’ve always been very good at controlling my tears and right then was no exception.
Now I’m hoping his stay will be restricted to only a few days, but most of that depends on how well he does behaviorally, and emotionally, but mostly behaviorally. He must respond to the treatments, daily schedules, and rules without pushing back and defying staff. Normally if he can’t follow those, and he shows he may not be able to do so at home, they tend to extend the stay a bit, his longest having been three months. But as a parent, I’m so proud of the progress we have made as a family over the years, him getting better and better with each passing year and his listening skills surpassing what I thought they could. That is until he started hitting puberty and getting older. Now I have a tween and with that comes the normal issues, but enhances his “special” issues.
As parents we strive to protect, teach, love, and care for our children. For some, their children are left to their own devices and become lost in their diagnoses, their loneliness, but are never beyond help. I myself am the former, even when I’m exhausted, even if I yell because I’ve said it a million times to no avail, even when I say things I don’t mean because I’m hurt, or tired, or sad, I still think the world of my babies and I would take the devil himself on, if it meant being there for them and protecting them.
