Last May I was blogging for 5 years. During these years I’ve been able to laugh, cry and vent about what it’s like (for me) to raise these kids with intensely serious issues involving developmental delays, medical issues and mental/emotional problems and I’ve been able to process things so I could become a better mother and advocate.

The blog wasn’t always a place for me to process this life. Early on it served as a way to share updates with family and friends without placing the burden on me to contact them, so it was selfishly an easier way for me to live. But it became so much more to me. Sometimes it was the only place that I could come to release what living this life is like from my insides while preserving the woman I am outside. The woman outside the mother and advocate.

The blog was always a way I could record what I was feeling about the experience of whatever drama/trauma faced us as family as a result of developmental delays, failing kidneys and behavior plans. It has become so much more I’m learning. It became a record for the kids. It became a place where people could identity or learn about helping a student or a friend with sick kids, or as I learned today, because of a delurker’s comment – a way for a researcher to stay motivated. It became a place where I could find comfort in knowing I was not alone. I didn’t know that I would find people that would reach out to me in tangible ways with friendship, information, compassion and understanding.

I love blogging. I love being able to experience it and write about it to get it out of me. I love the act of hitting publish and knowing that on the other end there are witnesses to my happiness and my despair. I love getting comments and private emails to offer support and advice. I love hearing from Julian that someone mentioned to him a blog post about him. I love to give him a hard time about not reading my blog (“I live it! Why would I want to go through some of this twice?”). I don’t feel so alone about our experience because of blogging.

Gage and Quinn know I blog about our lives. Big or small events. The kids often ask if I’m going to blog something when it happens. They know that everyone can read it, including people in their school. They know what that means.

I blog. Our family is public. It’s what we do.

Living a public life is sometimes hard, obviously. I know that it pays to have a thick skin and sometimes that can be hard when you are vulnerable, which is the situation I was in during the days during and after Gage’s hospital stay for his mental state.

But that is not where I am anymore. I’m feeling strong and sure and proud that we were able to find another way to help Gage. Gage is doing better. But as is the case with any mental health issues it is a dance. A long dance, not always good, not always fast or slow, but always present. We don’t know the next move until we get there so we don’t have a leader or follower but we know we will be dancing for a long while.

I want to share this experience, too. Gage’s mental health is every bit as serious as kidney function and failure and deserves every bit of understanding and compassion as he has ever received. This blog has always been honest and I won’t change it because of a diagnosis. It’s a place to express and share the very real experience of one family’s journey.

This blog isn’t a place to lie. It’s not a place to hide or feel ashamed of a mental health condition. It isn’t a place that people should come to use negatively out in the world, even if it is just our little corner.

And it isn’t a place for me to tell part of the story either.

So much has happened today…

2 conference calls with clients

3 calls regarding client work

2 calls with doctor who treated Gage

2 calls with nurse at hospital about discharge, regarding paperwork needed to get him back in school

2 calls with school about his return and separately, updating his IEP – meeting scheduled today for that.

1 call to ped to get Quinn in this afternoon.

1 call to my BFF for Q duty.

1 call to my mom to relieve BFF while I pick up Gage.

2 calls to Julian out of town

But Gage is home and doc has released him to return to school.

1 PB&J (gober) sandwich and half a jar from a spoon.

1 happy-to-be-home boy

1 happy sister

1 happy dog

28 blog posts in my head about all of this

1 blog post about parents who are about excluding rather than including, unlike Gage’s BFF Laura’s mom, who not only allows her daughter to have a friendship with my son, but often encourages it.

More later.

I had two good visits with Gage; one yesterday and one today. This is what we know:

- He was interactive with me. Both days we did nothing that we wouldn’t do with him living on the outside; we read a book, did a small puzzle, played a card game, played with a magnet board and read a couple of cards and notes together.

- He is on “One-to-One” orders right now and has been since he arrived on Wednesday. He said he can’t leave the unit or go to the gym or outside because of the order. The order includes 24 hours a day. So someone watches him sleep, too. He found it hard to sleep while someone was staring at him. The weekend person said she is going to give the doctor a good report for the weekend. He’s been compliant, participating and calm.

- Gage looked shaky yesterday but today I didn’t notice any of it. He also SAT with me FOR A WHOLE HOUR, which might not mean much to you folks with kids not living in a mental hospital, but for me? Pretty shocking. I know we were playing , but usually he’d rather take apart a chair than interact for an hour doing anything.

- I am so relieved that he is safe. Those first two days were rough for him, but on the outside? Unbearable. Parents shouldn’t have to hold their child and keep them in a “safe room” and watch them for 24+ hours. I mean we would have but I’m glad I don’t have the memory of it, even if I know it occurred. I’m so thankful there was a place for him. I understand it is the only place in Atlanta.

- I am not sure what Gage remembers from the episode. So far I know he remembers the safe room. Not sure he has a concrete memory of the spiraling out of control, and I hope he doesn’t.

- I get to see him tomorrow for an hour as well so I asked him if he wanted me to bring anything special. He mentioned a specific coloring book of his. He also enjoyed the notes and pictures I brought. His BFF, Laura sent a note and picture and as I left he and his STALKER were going to hang it up in his room.

- Things are very calm in the house without him here. I hope when he comes back some of that calmness remains. We’ve been in the war so long, I forgot what calmness felt like. I so badly want this to be a new beginning for him; a stepping stone to a better life for himself. And one that involves a better life for the other three in the family.

We will know more tomorrow when his doc is back on duty. We might get an idea of when he will be coming home. In the meantime I need to have an IEP meeting with the school so we can talk about reentry. The social worker told me Friday that the average stay is 5-7 days for stabilization. Wednesday will be one week.

If we are going to focus on anything it would be that Gage is out of crisis.

Friday I was able to see Gage. The hospital called me to come in to see a social worker along with Gage late in the day. I met with the social worker first because I needed to address some items that were bugging us about the first day and a half stay for Gage.

1. When we called Thursday night to check on Gage and confirm they gave him his transplant meds no one could really tell us what time they were given. We spoke to 5 people trying to get an answer. There is a difference between the time a med is ORDERED vs. the time a med is GIVEN. And no one could answer that question. Not comforting. Yesterday, I met one of the few people that dispense meds at 9 and 9 and she knew the meds, doses and importance.

2. A month ago I started notebooks that each morning I write a message in to each of the kids. I started it for Gage so I can give him a message about the things I love about him. So each night I write a note and each morning he says, “I saw your note.” And that’s it. One night I forgot to write it and he really did miss it. The second I walked downstairs he said, “Mommy, you didn’t write in my book!” So I know the notes each morning meant a lot to him. So when Gage was checked in we had a quick meeting with the head nurse and he gave us all the details about contact, visiting, phone and fax. I asked him specifically if I could fax Gage notes each morning and he said yes. But I sent two and he didn’t get them when I checked today. Annoying. I know it seems like a little thing, but I want Gage to know that the notes are important to me and it’s important he know that each morning I am still thinking about him even though he is out of sight. I want him to know I am thinking about him.

3. It was annoying that the social worker hadn’t read the file or met Gage. She hadn’t even talked live to anyone before hand to get any back history. I don’t know about you but I’m guessing if you are going to talk to a patient and their parent about how he came to be there and how it is that he can get home, then you had better read the file. But that’s just me.

When I saw Gage in the hallway it wasn’t very dramatic. I immediately put my arm around him, kissed his forehead, noticed two bruises (guessing they got there during the hours of raging) and told him how happy I was to see him. He looked zoned out a bit, but he was up 31 hours straight the day before and so he’d taken an hour nap before I got there.  Or it’s the med and his body’s adjustment. When I was leaving he got upset (presumably because he wasn’t coming with me) and went to his bedroom, where he was crying under his weighted blanket.

He didn’t really participate in the social worker meeting (and I didn’t think he would, so my expectations were low) but we both did tell him that our goal was for him to come home and that in order to do that he needed to participate and learn some coping skills to help him deal with his anger. I told him that I bet he could learn a lot there if he tried and I encouraged him to do so. I told him that I loved him and that I wanted him home.

He said he hated it there. Yeah, figured that sweetie. But then I realize too, that maybe home won’t look so horrible. We have to be better than a mental hospital, right? Yeah, that’s what we think, too.

I held it completely together while I was with him but when I was leaving I was crying. Such is the life of leaving your child behind to deal with their problems in a setting you hope will help. Still though, with the leaving. Suckage.

We can call him and talk to him each night between 8-8:30. Since I saw him I wanted Julian to talk to him so he called and Gage answered yes, no, then said, “I have another call, I have to go. Bye.” Julian called me and asked him if I was calling him. No. I guess they only have 2 phones that work (whatever) but 40 kids, who all probably get calls. Julian called back and the nurse explained that she told Gage that other people needed to make calls. She did tell Julian that Gage had a great evening, was compliant and even participated in group. Stunned.

In a little while I get to go see him. I have a couple of card games to bring, this morning’s note and my love. That is all because they will not let me bring anything else. Nothing that could be a weapon or something that a kid could harm themselves with and so, nothing else.

I am so thankful that Quinn got to spend the night at a friend’s house, so she could just be normal in the midst of all of this with Gage. She watched movies, played and this morning I understand she had pancakes and bacon. My lovely friend Sue is keeping her until after I see Gage today and then we are headed to see one of Quinn’s favorite people; our goddaughter Tess.

I am largely numb today, feeling like our family life is out of control yet I’m keeping it all in check because that’s what moms do. I had the privilege of going through stacks of medical bills/statements and the total owed is nearing $70,000. I know Medicare will pick up most of it, it’s that other $10-$15k I’m worried about but also know it will work out, as we always have to believe.

I’m at work catching up and distracting myself until it is time to go see my boy. The boy with so many challenges that I see it makes me wonder how he is viewing himself and the situation. It is a sad, scary time for all of us as we contemplate the immediate future and the distant one, too.

But that is not new to us. I just always thought it would be his physical health in question. I never imagined that his mental health would be in question. This is exactly what I was talking about when I said it is never-ending. It honestly never ends. But deep down we have to believe it can only get better. Right? Right.

In list form because then I don’t really have to be coherent. I know you understand.

- When I woke up I realized Gage wasn’t in the house and I started to cry then Quinn said, “Mommy!” and I said, “Good morning Quinn!” all excited because she had a performance at school this morning and she deserves for me to be happy about her waking up to perform. Which was extremely adorable, by the way.

- Many people in our Village are offering their love, support and prayers. Along with food and help and wow, again, after having just called on all of that for Quinn’s transplant you still want to help and I’m overwhelmed with love and warmth. Your love surrounds us like a blanket.

- Already working on next steps for Gage’s IEP stuff. One thing I know, until we have a meeting about the recent incidents and without the team having more information (which I am not willing to share here yet)  it is way too early to speculate on where Gage will go to school when we returns. I believe that with proper meds, an adjusted IEP, therapy support increased and more understanding about what is truly going on with Gage, that our school can serve him. But there will obviously be changes to his IEP. But speculation? Not good.

- What do we need? Prayers, love, support, understanding.

- Quinn hurt her foot last night and I thought it was broken, then I thought it wasn’t. Then I was going to take her to the hospital but she had a performance this morning at school and so we said, if you can go to school, great. If it’s too hard to walk, we will take you to for an xray.  She can walk on it, it just “hurts real bad.” But still.

- I have a meeting with the social worker and Gage tomorrow at 2:30. Apparently it was a rough night for him. A safe room, with one-on-one care, which he desperately needed. Today was better, even without sedation, but still bouts of anger/lashing out. However a new med is being started this afternoon, so I’m anxious to hear if that helps him in the short term.

- Julian and I are doing okay. I am joking when he’s upset, he’s joking when I’m upset and so it balances out. We did have one fight about a fax of all things. It lasted about 20 seconds when HE REALIZED I WAS RIGHT. Yeah, he’s great like that.

- I am without a doubt running on pure reserves. Reserves I guess that I’ve stored up since Quinn’s kidney transplant 3 1/2 months ago. Is that enough time to store reserves? Hell no. Which means I’m in negative reserves.

- I spoke with Dawn earlier and it was good because I can make really inappropriate jokes about my son and she can handle it. Not so with Grandma, I’m sure.

- Wow am I glad for my work. Honestly. I’m not just saying that because some clients read my blog either. It makes my life seem normal when I can do my normal things.

- We’ve cried a lot in the last 24 hours. A lot. Some from sadness, some from relief, some for each other, some for our family, but all for Gage. Wanting so deserpately to help him have some peace and happiness. Like the kind of happiness from cereal boxes which sadly always eludes him, no matter how much we try. Sure, he can be happy about a thing or an activity. But true blue happiness? Not seen that for a while. Too long if you ask me. But I’m just his mom.

- The good thing about him being in treatment is that the doc gets to see the worst. One thing his other med doc didn’t. She is very conservative and didn’t always want to act on what we told her about Gage. But this doc? He’s treated kids like Gage and that gives me great comfort.

- Must go, because really, I’m taking my girl to the hospital for an x-ray. BECAUSE MY LIFE IS CRAZY.

All typos and crappy writing must be forgiven today.

If you follow me on twitter and facebook you already know what has happened. For those that don’t, we’ve had to commit Gage to a psych hospital today that serves children.

This has been the hardest day of my life. He’d had, including today, 6 episodes of rage/anger (post below) recently and they’d been escalating. Last night and today at school and well, it was so clear that he needed more help than we’ve been giving him with a team of psychiatrist/psychologists and support and love. We needed more and he needed more.

It was a horrible day that involved us watching our child escalate into a manic-like state that shook us to the core. We are not surprised it has come to this, but we are heartbroken for our son. We watched four people restrain him and we watched him weep while swinging his arms and body to try to leave the little in-take room. The last time I saw him they had him in a safe therapy hold on the floor and the last thing I said was “I love you Gage.” The 2nd to last thing I said was, “If you will calm down we can ease up on the hold, baby.”  The absolute hardest thing I’ve ever done was to drive away from that hospital.

They sedated him after many phone calls and pager calls to the transplant team pharmacologist to make sure of what meds would be safe for his kidney. When we left (4 hours later) they said he was resting. When Julian returned tonight with a bag and his weighted blanket and transplant meds, we heard he was in a “safe room” where he was on one-on-0ne care and very agitated. This very nearly broke my heart, but then I think, I still have a little girl, the sacrificial child a lot of times because of Gage’s highly demanding special needs and my heart has to hold on the breaking for later.

If he can calm down and participate in the semi-real world again, he has a packed day of group and indiv therapy, therapy games, fun activities too. He is in his own room and throughout the night they have checks every 15 min. There are motion sensors at night so he is very, very safe. There are currently 11 kids on the wing between the ages of 4-12.

We cannot see him until Monday (and wed) for visiting time, but we can call him every night and we can call the nurses throughout the day to check on him. We’re comforted that Sally the Cat is with him and providing some comfort to him because I know he is scared. Julian will probably get a short visit with him tomorrow night (exception) because Julian is going out of town on Friday (through wed). Julian is still going out of town because that is a part of this life – moving on. And at $6250 a week for the hospital (not sure what insurance covers, if any) we need to make sure we are both working.

How’s Quinn you ask? Well, she is unfazed as of today, but when I told her that he was having a lot of trouble with his emotions; something in his brain and were trying to help him she said, “Yeah, he gets mad a lot” and then she said, “When he comes back do you think he will like me again?” Which is also heartbreaking in itself.

Obviously, we are terrified, scared and sad for Gage. But we are also relieved. Relieved that this might help him. We’ve already spoken to the doctor and after review of the files and talking with us they are working on his meds. We’re in constant talk with his other doctors so everyone knows everything.

The in-take psychologist started off on a not-so-great start with me because she saw Gage and Julian in the other room (Julian had him in a hold to control him) and she kind of judgmentally said, “I need to teach you all how to therapy hold.” I calmly said that is fine, but she needed to leave her tone and attitude outside of the room we were in and she needed to realize that we were in crisis, having never seen our son in this state and that she needed to be a little more gentle with her instructions with parents, thankyouverymuch.

We had a long in-take interview with her after Gage was in what I assume was some kind of padded room (seriously, see the madness in that!) waiting to see what sedative drugs are safe for him to take. I have to say, as parents, in between bouts of tears between both of us, we did okay. We were able to give her a history, talk about triggers (or lack thereof) and rationally discuss his many issues, diagnoses, possible diagnoses, cycles of sadness and rages. She commented that we were very informed parents.

We know this is the right treatment for right now because we have to believe or we would crumble into a heaping bowl of crazy ourselves.

What about Julian? My husband of nearly 16 years, for which my life would be bleak without? Him? He’s an amazing father and husband and I’m lucky to face this mess of our life with his heart, tears, humor and love.

We are asking for all prayers and good thoughts to God and Jesus and Buddha and the Easter Bunny, the Light and the Universe, or any Higher Power you like for extra love, peace and protection for Gage.

Gage had a full on melt down after school. Three hours long with a lot of destruction. It was the 5th since December 31st but we’ve been unable to find a concrete trigger.

He’d had an okay morning but wasn’t listening after recess and then the teacher made him go outside to pick up something and he said he threw it behind a gate and so she told him to get it and there it was…the irresistible item known as a breaker switch. It turned off the power to the entire gym while kids were in there playing. Obviously, not good.

The principal wasn’t there today so we will talk to her tomorrow but it is serious. He knows it’s wrong but cannot for some reason control his impulses. When we got home I mentioned he had school work to finish and then it went downhill. He spiraled into a state we’ve seen 4 other times and it was manic-like. Crying, destructive, hateful, hurtful, threatening, mean but also, sad, sad, sad. Crying uncontrollably for 3 hours.

I remained calm through the entire thing. I filmed it (wanted to have it for therapists) with the flip and ran out of battery before the episode ended. It involved me hugging/holding (against his will) and a lot of tears.

When he calmed down (hours later) we did homework and then we took down his bed and computer (because he damaged the bed and the many things he was throwing could have knocked over his computer.) Right after the episode I told him we were taking his computer away, “Fine! Throw it out then!” So we are giving it to Quinn.

We’re simplifying his bedroom so there isn’t so much to throw, damage. For now his dresser is cleaned off, no ceramics, trophies with sharp edges. Right now he’s got a mattress on the floor and that’s just fine. Less is more, as they say.

I am not sure what the repercussions are at school. I guess we will know soon and go from there. But some conversations are going to be taking place between his therapists, teachers, and us to figure out the next step in treatment/behavior management. We have to be able to figure it out with us and much smarter people.

What’s sad about this is that is always takes us a day to get a parent legs back. We were in such a state last night that we could barely talk to each other about it. It’s like we’re in a war zone and we know how bad it is but voicing it seems just like putting salt in the wound.

My sister called, she is a teacher, and has a lot of experience with behaviorally challenged kids and she gave me a lot to process, which is good. She offered to come down and visit alternative schools with me when we are ready (for middle school) and so we’re surrounded by people who care about him and us and sometimes that, and kidney function is all we feel like we have.

Last night at the end of the episode we had tears, hugs, a cocktails, and dinner (post kids’ bedtime) provided by my BFF who offered dinner before we knew what our evening would look like. Sometimes it’s best to just move forward with the plan because the normalcy of that just helps.

There isn’t much I can do right now to ease Gage’s pain. I can see it on his face and in his actions; he is hurting. We are doing everything we know to do – love, therapy, psychiatry/meds, behavior intervention, understanding, forgiveness (cause he is mean, mean) and anything else we can do to keep him busy when he is cycling in a downward spiral.

Last night I got an email from Master of Irony in response to my post yesterday about Gage’s latest episode. She’s been a great resource for me because Gage’s behavior mirrors bipolar and because of his suicidal thoughts and feelings (doc hasn’t ruled it out bipolar but isn’t thinking he is at this point) and she often sends an email telling me what Gage might be feeling during an episode, or she’ll comment on something I said in particular, or she might offer advice. Sometimes she will just say for me not to give up. Sometimes I just need someone to say they know it’s hard, they know it is nearly unbearable to watch someone you love going through day after day of debilitating pain.

So, last night Just Me (her pseudonym, obviously) sent me an email to offer a perspective I really hadn’t thought of and it made me weepy until the early hours of the morning, but it also helped me immensely.

She said basically, even when it doesn’t seem like we are doing any good for him, it’s enough for us to show up. To let him know that we won’t give up. To be present. To be witness.

Even though he can’t express it that it means something for us to try to reach him during then meltdowns/episodes/shut downs and that it also probably means something for us to move on to the next thing, to act as if things are normal, because he doesn’t feel normal and that lets him grasp onto normal for a bit. But by us doing so, we are telling him we love him, but more importantly, we accept him.

Deep down, even if he doesn’t know it logically, being witness helps him know that we will keep doing whatever we need to do to hang on to him. That we will never give up. And that means something to him, even if he can’t say it, even if we can’t feel it from him.

I can’t express to you the depth of gratitude I have to Just Me right now for sharing her wisdom and her experience with me and in turn, my hurting, smart, beautiful boy that I will never give up on.

Gage is having a hard day. He had a hard night last night, too, but we were able to bring him back from it…today is a much harder time. Because sometimes we aren’t sure of the trigger (it’s usually something associated with his self confidence) it’s often hard to back peddle and reach him to turn it around.

It could be and probably is a number of things and is manifesting in a number of ways (for a few hours now):

- Coming off vacation with a long road trip home – an extra 2.5 hours to hold himself together yesterday.

- School is starting again in two days. We assume re-entry will be rough, as I am sure his teachers do.

- He is hateful, hateful to me right now because (Julian’s theory, whatever) I don’t do enough with him. So it’s attention-getting.

- Something he feels he should be able to do, but then can’t can send him into a meltdown.

- He now wants to get rid of all the items he’s collected over the past year to take apart. Broken appliances, cords, broken electronics, that sort of thing. Wants it all gone. Work bench, gone. I keep saying  he’s having a hard time now, but what he is doing is permanent. “I don’t care.”

- He wants to get rid of all of his legos. Hundreds of dollars worth of legos, mostly Indianan Jones sets he’s paid for himself, and he loves. I’m trying to give him an out to save himself from his own choice, but not sure I can.

- He is attention-seeking so I keep trying to get him out of his room to do a puzzle, a game, anything. But no go. He’s very fixated on tearing apart his life, one item at a time.

- If I was an outsider, I’d say he was getting ready to kill himself because he’s giving away all that he loves.

- He said the only thing he cares about is Lucy. At least there is that.

It will be a long, long day and evening. Poor Gage. Poor Quinn. When he’s like this he really can’t be alone (could do something stupid like hurt himself or property) yet, we still have another child and so, Gage gets all the attention for the behavior we want to get rid of.

—————

Since I started writing this he found something on my craft shelf (a stuff yourself horse) and wants to do it. So he wants to do that and he appears to be working his way back to us.

Remember when he was happy? And he didn’t talk about dying young?

I do.

I want him back.