The psychologist I spoke with this week, told me to make an appointment for my son with a pediatric neurologist. She said that the episodes of zoning out could be petit mal (absence) seizures. I’ve been up and down emotionally in handling all of his issues. Things aren’t too serious; let’s face it, it could be much worse. But since I made the neurologist appointment, all I feel like doing is crying.
I shouldn’t be surprised with all of the neurological issues in our family – adhd on both sides, depression, anxiety, tourette’s, dysgraphia – I thought I had prepared myself for the reality the Diego might have some challenges. I’m thankful it’s not more serious. But I just can’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that this is his reality.
My beautiful, sweet, and oh so smart boy – why should he have to deal with these things? Why can’t his body stop moving, why can’t his father pick him up for a hug, why can’t I get a picture of anything but the back of his head? Maybe it’s because we’re moving towards getting a true diagnosis for him, that I am feeling so sad for him. Sad for us. His life won’t be what I envisioned. I’m not talking about some fantasy that my kid will be the president or a famous doctor, or anything like that. I never wanted to plot out his career path. I’m talking about a life where living up to his potential isn’t a daily struggle, where he can do things that other kids get to do; have a spontaneous, whimsical day; eat pizza, be able to sit down and read a book.
I know that I'm grieving. I want him to have the world at his fingertips. Everything is just so much work. Even simple tasks. Go get your shoes. Time to go. Walk to school. I know life isn’t easy. But childhood should be. And for my beautiful boy, it is not.