Where to begin...

Some days I have a million and one things to write but they are so jumbled up in my mind that I can't find a place to begin. Usually when that happens, I walk away. Today is more or less one of those days but so much has transpired in the past week that I do not dare NOT put fingers to keys, for fear of forgetting something.

Last Wednesday the Little Man was admitted to our local Children's Hospital in the inpatient psychiatric unit. A walk I've travelled with his father too many times is now becoming equally familiar with my son. Ironically, the Little Man was admitted exactly one year and 8 days after his stay last year. It's obvious that a pattern is emerging, one that is being noted and will be planned for come next Spring.

Last year we began at the Children's Hospital but they did not have room for him. He got to take a ride in an ambulance to another psychiatric facility, one that we would come to find was nearly institutional in their approach. May 5, 2008 - that day is painful to me and still makes my heart race and my palms sweat. I can tell you the color of the walls, the layout of the room, what the Little Man had with him. I can picture every minute of it and it plays out in my mind more often than I care to remember, I pray that the Little Man does not share my memories of that night. If it weren't for my sister, I don't know how I would have survived. Obviously the Little Man was terrified of being at the hospital, not knowing what to expect, never spending the night with anyone other than his mother and the few (count on one hand, few) sleepovers with his cousins. He was beside himself in fear and was violent and rageful at the staff. They felt it best to make the break from me and they took him - kicking and screaming for me, taking him through locked double doors to goodness only knows where, while I hyperventilated and nearly passed out sitting at the desk in the pale blue office. I had never met these people, was entrusting my son to their care, and had no idea what to expect in the days to come. Needless to say, we were both very apprehensive when we made the drive to Children's last Wednesday.

In the car I tried to make small talk (choking back tears) - the weather, school, did he have everything he would need. He ignored me, though I did catch him gazing (or was it glaring) at me in the rear view mirror a few times. When we got to the hospital he refused to get out of the car and when he was finally coaxed out - he threw his shoe underneath and ran like a wild man through the parking lot. Eventually I tamed him and we made our trek down a LONG hallway, down the elevator, to what would soon be his new home for days to come.

When the doors opened, we were greeted by the kindest, most respectful staff imaginable. Immediately I felt more at ease as they asked the Little Man if they could get him a snack and acknowledged his anxiety. I was able to spend five hours with him that first day, a far cry from the hour at lunch and 1 1/2 hours at dinner that visitors were allowed at hospital number 1 (while there, they asked me to stop coming at lunch because leaving was too difficult).

This hospital is amazing and they focus on him and his needs, respecting how his mind works and what we know to work best for him. He is not forced to conform in to their way of doing things, they take the time to find out about him and use his skills and abilities and build off of them. Family involvement is the rule, not the exception. I have learned more in the past 5 days in regards to parenting him than in the last 7 years combined. They believe that you can not help the child if the family is not informed and taught the same skills. At seven years old, he can't tell me how to help him, but I can observe him and find out what his triggers are and how to best help him work through those.

Before he can leave I am encouraged to participate in support groups, have a one on one parent support meeting where I can ask questions about specific scenarios that will come up at home. They will help me come up with a picture schedule for him because I now know how very important that is to help him effectively manage his anxiety (as well as his autism).

Last year I felt that we were getting nothing out of our hospital stay and I just wanted my baby home with me. This year, I'm terrified to bring him home. I am not worried about his behavior as much as whether or not I will be able to implement our new skills. This will be a new way of approaching conflicts for us and with time, and a lot of effort, it will be a much more positive way of life for our family.

It doesn't stop there. They are getting us situated with services that he now qualifies for due to his autism diagnosis. Respite care, time for me to take care of...me. Something that I have avoided at all costs because it was too difficult for the Little Man. It will still be difficult, but the results for me and my parenting, will directly impact him.

They are going to help him talk to me on the phone. Separation anxiety tends to rule a lot of our life and the simple act of a phone call with me is more than he can handle. When at the hospital last year, he would beg to talk to me but then become so distraught and angry when I had to get off the phone, hurting people and throwing things - they said he was not permitted to call me. Here, they are encouraging him, creating successful opportunities to practice, providing a coach on the other line so that he can be walked through his coping skills when he does get upset. He is still to scared to call right now, but we are working towards that goal.

Earlier this year his school nurse put him on the phone to talk to me one day. He became so distraught that he shut down, completely stopped responding. It got so bad that I was called to pick him up from school because they could not even move him. This hospital - they care. They understand the importance of him being able to talk to me when he wants and needs to. They don't care about whether or not he talks to me in the hospital, they care about him - regardless of where he is.

If you have never experienced a child with severe separation anxiety, you are blessed. With all that he has, his bipolar, his autism, his anxiety - the one and only thing that I wish he could be rid of is his ability to separate from me. I can't volunteer at his school, I can't take him to Dr appointments in the morning because then he has to drop off different and he won't be able to, I can't go on field trips, I can't talk to him on the phone, I can't leave him at birthday parties, or step into the hall for a private conversation. I would give anything to have no separation issues. This hospital, trying to get him to be able to talk on the phone with me - it brings tears to my eyes that they care, and no one has cared about him in that way before. Sure they care at school, but what happens at home...if it does not affect them, they don't worry about it, we're on our own.

He is half way through his stay. I hope that I can learn as much in the 2nd half as the first. If even a little more is learned, I feel like we will be much farther ahead than we were last week. I know it will be difficult, challenging at best, but now I feel like I can see a glimmer of light. It might not be the end of the tunnel, but maybe this tunnel is turning a corner, we're on a new path, heading in a better direction. Walking on to the unit last Wednesday, the doors opening before us, was a new chapter in our lives. Maybe I am hoping for a miracle, for a new child to await me come Friday afternoon. I hope that I am realistic in my hopes for the coming weeks. Even if small steps forward are made, rather than giant leaps, I will be grateful.