“How are you holding up?” the psychologist inquired after his session with my son. Lately, I hear this question a lot from my friends, family, and even from some of you. I truly appreciate the concern, yet I often find myself at a loss for words in response.
The past few weeks—well, more like months—have been a whirlwind of symptoms, tantrums, medications that work sometimes and medications that don’t, and endless appointments with doctors and therapists. This culminated in a thorough neuropsychiatric evaluation at one of the top children’s hospitals in the country.
After several days of testing, forms to fill out, family history questionnaires, and in-depth interviews, we received a list of all the disorders my 10-year-old son meets the DSM-V criteria for. They validated his generalized anxiety disorder diagnosis, confirmed our suspicions about ADHD, and added a mood disorder to the mix.
Walking out of the hospital, hand-in-hand with my son, who was nervously navigating the downtown traffic, everything felt different—unfamiliar and daunting.
Back home, the kitchen still looked like a disaster zone. My oldest son was bubbling over with excitement about what he’d learned regarding flightless fruit flies as food for frogs. My husband, meanwhile, had work to catch up on after taking time off.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: When your child receives a mental health diagnosis, you return home to find that nothing has really changed. Except for your heart—it’s never the same.
You come home, and the meltdowns persist, sleepless nights are the norm, and your child continues to hurt. Treatment takes time to begin and even longer to show results. With my oldest son, it took months before we finally sensed some relief. I keep reminding myself that patience is key—it just takes time.
The toughest part of this limbo between diagnosis and treatment progress is witnessing my sweet boy’s struggle, knowing there’s little I can do to alleviate his pain. As a mother, sitting idly feels utterly wrong—absolutely wrong. It requires more courage and faith than I feel I possess right now.
Strategies That Help
Through this waiting game, I’ve discovered a few strategies that help:
- Breathe and relax. Everything from schedules to meal planning needs to be adjusted. We’re officially in survival mode.
- Make time for your other child(ren). Luckily, my oldest son is thriving right now. It’s tempting to let him coast as the “easy” child while I focus on my newly diagnosed son. However, that wouldn’t be wise. He needs reassurance and understanding, especially as he grapples with why his brother is not himself anymore. He needs me to show him he’s still a priority, even if things look a little different for a spell.
- Pray a lot. Pray all the time—honest, raw prayers for protection, healing, patience, and simply for help. The “Please, God, help my boy” prayers, the “Why us?” prayers, and even the ones that come out as tears without words. I need them all; it’s my way of finding peace amid the chaos. With every prayer, I’m reminded that God is by our side. He always has been and will be. My son is His first, and a diagnosis doesn’t change that truth.
As time goes on, I’m starting to see the beauty in my son’s unique brain. The artistic, empathetic, sweet, energetic, and loving boy is still here—not in spite of his diagnoses, but in some ways because of them. I refuse to pick and choose what I love about him. I love him just as he is.
And that’s my answer to the question, “How are you doing?” I’m loving him with everything I’ve got.
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In summary, navigating a child’s mental health diagnosis is a challenging journey filled with uncertainty, patience, and unwavering love. Each step brings its own hurdles, but through it all, the essence of our children remains unchanged.