Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Quiet, and lonely.

"Mom," Aidan called out from his bed last night.  "I don't know why, but I feel kind of lonely all of a sudden and it's really quiet."

"I think you miss your brother," I called back.  "We all do."

Without Conor's presence, our house is deafening in its quiet.  I've catapulted past the relief I feel at not having to physically manage his behavior, and have recently crept past missing his happy squeals and snuggle bunny episodes.  

(Ok, I’ll admit to still missing him. I miss the big lug.)

Now, I've resorted to wandering around our house, looking for things to occupy my time and fill the silence.  It’s funny; I have this whole to-do list but I just can’t seem to get to any of it.

My husband and I tiptoe around each other, around our anger, our sadness, our fear.  Conor’s not coming home any time soon.  He needs more intervention than we can give right now, and he’s been transferred to a longer-term, inpatient behavioral unit.

We should anticipate a six-month stay, the lead behavioral therapist told us.  We both gaped at her. 

I really don’t understand my own emotions in all this.  For so long, this is what I’ve yearned for--an extended rest, a reprieve from the grueling task of raising this child without sacrificing his treatment and supports. 

Yet, when it’s handed to me, I recoil.

“This is really, very excellent news,” the social worker at Sheppard Pratt gushed to me on the phone.  “He’ll be at one of the premier treatment centers in the nation!”

That’s the funny thing, you know.  Why it’s so hard to accept that my son gets this excellent treatment.  It’s because his behavior is so bad, so explosive.  Why he’s been accepted, that is.  And that’s really not excellent news. 

No, not so excellent at all.

3 comments:

anilia said...

Ah, Alisa. I'm so sorry that you are hear in this place right now. It will pass but that doesn't make right now any easier. Hugs! If you need some noise- I have this two year old I know...

Christine said...

Please continue to write during your son's stay - I can completely relate to your posts. I just sent off the application to the KKI NBU yesterday after being referred there by all of our 15 year old son's specialists here in Colorado. There are more of us out there than people think - living this crazy lifestyle of SIB and spontaneous aggression that has now become our reality....

AlisaRock said...

Christine,
Keep calling KKI and advocating for your son. Email me at mary_alisa_rock@yahoo.com if you ever want to chat.

It may seem natural to us in Baltimore to bug them to death since they're in our backyard and we hear about them all the time, but it seems like a nice group of people who really want to help parents and individuals with developmental disabilities. Just keep calling and emailing. Have your son's psychiatrist call and speak to someone too.

Hang in there. I don't envy you the travelling if he gets in, but admire your dedication. I'm going to try to keep writing, but I wasn't expecting this turn of events and I feel like my blog isn't the wry, tongue in cheek tone I was going for in the first place. But I guess we can't control these things... Alisa