Faking It...

Parenting is the greatest form of hum-a-few-bars-and-I'll-fake-it-skills.

Duma Key by Stephen King

...and fake it I do...

Today, we went to a checkup with Anthony's developmental pediatrician.  I love this guy.  I adore this guy.  I lurve this guy (Woody Allen reference).  He listens to what I am saying while looking me in the eyes.  He "gets" Anthony and cares about my boy's comfort level now and the long term view of his overall health.

Anthony has not been doing well at home the past couple of weeks.  We are back to the brittle, fragile, emotional child we had seen in the spring.  It doesn't take too much thought to come up with the reasons why.  The past two months have found us leaving him with a friend for several days, taking a week-long family trip to Michigan, taking a trip to Kentucky, and starting kindergarten.  Add that to a mommy that cries during Umi Zoomi, I think we found a reason for some anxiety.

The good news is that he is doing great at school.  He is very quiet, but will communicate.  He is not showing any abnormally anxious behavior at school.

I took that information to the doctor, and he suggested we increase the medication. I wasn't floored, but I was certainly surprised. I asked the doctor if time could make these "at-home" behaviors better, and he replied "yes, but at what cost? And how long will we have to wait for that?"

Those words helped me view this whole "medication" thing differently. I had an epiphany, as my friend Amy likes to say.

This medication is (and always has been) just a small comfort. Of course, this medication is optional. The same way a visual schedule is optional. The same way a predictable bedtime routine is optional. These are ways to help Anthony handle a world that does not make sense to him right now. Someday, he will be able to fill in these holes for himself. We thought so long and hard about medicating Anthony, that it was easy to overlook the long-term benefits of creating a childhood for him that was not completely awash in fear and confusion.

Of course I am faking it. But I realized today that every parent is faking it. None of us really have concrete answers. We show up (as my sister-in-law Rose often says), we love these little people as hard as we can, and we fake it...

A Calm Moment

We are having a calm moment in our household.  It is our moment to breathe in, look around, and not deal with any crises.

I am grateful that I can enjoy it.

Our little guy has a new doctor who connects with him in a way his psychiatrist could not.  Our Zoloft journey is continuing successfully.  Each day, I see in him less anxiety and more attempts to communicate.

Our sweet girl got some much needed one-on-one time with me last week, and my husband and I celebrated our 18th anniversary yesterday.

As I take my breath, I can see how people get addicted to drama in their lives, though.  In this calm moment, I am needled by the buzzing flies of cultural and personal guilt awareness.  I see all the issues that get pushed aside during the rough spots.

• How can I give back more to my community?
• How can I decrease my carbon footprint?
• How can I eat better and exercise more?
• How can I be a better friend, sister, aunt, mother, teacher, wife, human?
• When the hell am I ever going to finish Anna Karenina?
• Are my teeth as white as they could be?
• Will I ever care about fashion or own a pair of heels?

I see how it would be easy to start complaining; how tempting it would be to look for a cause or an injustice or...any distraction. That is not what I want.   

This is my Life.  It is imperfect, messy, unfashionable, sincere, and has a carbon footprint about a mile wide.  And I will enjoy every blessed minute.

I will not squander this gift of time.  I will not invent problems out of the business of everyday living.

For all of you reading that are in my Life, I thank you from the bottom of my heart and I love you.

Our Zoloft Journey 2

My little guy is three weeks in taking anti-anxiety medication, and the people closest to him have noticed a marked difference.

He is noticeably more talkative and less cautious at school. He has significantly less anxious behavior at home. He has become more independent, vocal, and sassy. His most obsessive OCD actions are fading a bit.

I should be happy, right? I am relieved that it is helping. However, I still am afraid.

I can't find any long term studies on this drug for children (other than the Zoloft website). I can't find any other momma out there giving it to a little one (which is one reason I started this blog).

I just want to make sure this really is in his best interest. I want to make sure our observations are accurate and not viewed through the screen of self-justification. As for now, I am convinced.

I also want to make sure all this vigilance doesn't keep me from enjoying the good moments with him. That's not too much to ask, right? I will let you know when I get good at doing those at the same time...

Our Zoloft Journey

So, we've decided to medicate our child.

It has been an excruciating, lengthy decision. We have this bright, beautiful boy whose anxiety and nervousness are palpable. We have tried everything we could think of to try - predictable schedules and relaxation techniques among them. After a particularly tough evening, we made the decision to ask our pediatrician's help. We knew the implications; we knew exactly what she would suggest.

So,here we are. With a Zoloft prescription. And hoping. And I question the decision daily.

What is the price that my son will have to pay? Any? How will we know when to quit? Will it ever get better without medication? What does that mean for his future? Will he resent this,our intrusion into his brain? Will he ever know with how much love and fear and regret and hope I force this into him?

Does every mother in this position feel like a failure? I take every side effect (bad taste, loose stools) personally. Rationally, I know this is the best option for him right now. I am grateful we do have this choice. Without it, we would all be pretty desperate here.

We are at the beginning of our Zoloft journey; no measurable changes yet... Here's to hoping.