I recently took my six-year-old son, Max, to the doctor. He’s a striking child, with long arms and legs that seem to grow by the day. He appears to be the very picture of health.
As I sat in the doctor’s office, tears streamed down my face as the doctor validated my concerns. “Many parents overlook their children’s unusual behaviors, hoping they’ll outgrow them, but that often isn’t the case,” she said.
“But why are there so many new diagnoses nowadays? It seems like everyone is labeled with something. What happened to kids 50 years ago who faced similar issues?”
“Let me tell you about kids fifty years ago. They learned to self-medicate. They figured out coping mechanisms, and by the time they reached adulthood, you’d often see the quiet janitor with no friends going home to drink a twelve-pack every night. We just have better diagnostic tools now,” she explained.
I felt the tears welling up again as Max returned to the room, looking at me curiously. I told him how much I loved him, and oh, how deeply I do. My heart aches for him.
Max has always had meltdowns during bath time or haircuts—literally screaming at the top of his lungs, completely inconsolable. During these episodes, he seems unreachable, and it’s becoming more frequent, which terrifies me.
In large groups, he rarely speaks. A slight change in our schedule sends him spiraling. When others talk over each other, he covers his ears and cries, “It’s too loud!!” leading to a tantrum from which I can’t pull him. Sometimes, when I enter a room and speak to him, his silence is so profound that I mistake it for defiance.
His teacher mentioned last fall, “There’s something noticeably different about him. The sooner we get it assessed, the better.” My partner describes him as being “on edge” even when he seems outwardly relaxed.
A mother in denial with a seemingly calm, beautiful child—a perfect mix for severe anxiety or sensory processing issues to be overlooked. Deep down, I always sensed something might be off, but honestly… I didn’t want to face it.
There, I admitted it. I didn’t want to know.
It’s perfectly normal to see a kid in an orange jacket playing alone on the school playground, right? Totally normal.
Max has an enormous heart. He’s adventurous and sees beauty everywhere. He never wants to be far from me, and he can turn a scrap of paper into a cube in mere moments. He can visualize how to rearrange his entire room, and once I help him move the furniture, it’s like magic—everything fits perfectly.
I ache for my boy because I understand how isolating it can be to grow up with anxiety and OCD. If I could, I’d take that burden away in a heartbeat, but I don’t know how. I’m terrified of tests, play therapies, and diagnoses. My greatest fear is reaching a point where he feels unreachable altogether.
Perhaps I’m a terrible mom, destined to wallow in my parenting mistakes for eternity. I could contribute to greenhouse gases while my self-doubt consumes me.
Or maybe I’m simply a mom trying my best. Maybe “my best” means confronting the fear of answers I dread. Maybe “my best” involves picking up the phone with that number scribbled on a post-it note.
Maybe “my best” is pushing through the tears when I finally call to do what’s right for Max.
For more insights on navigating parenting challenges, you can visit this informative article. Additionally, if you’re looking for reliable information on home insemination, check out Cryobaby’s at-home insemination kit, which can be a great resource for those considering this path. For more on pregnancy and related topics, WebMD offers an excellent overview that you might find helpful.
Summary
A mother grapples with her son Max’s behavioral challenges, recognizing potential anxiety and sensory processing issues. Despite her fears and doubts, she acknowledges the importance of seeking help to ensure her child’s well-being while celebrating his unique strengths.