When it comes to our children, moms don’t need a reason to cry. We cry when our babies take their first step, perform in their first play, break a bone, learn to ride a bike, lose their championship and graduate from pre-school, elementary school, high school, college . . .
The highs, and in this case particularly the lows, of our children’s lives, move us, taking us out of our own skin and placing us in theirs. When painful episodes unfold around us – we feel engulfed in the emotion and the vicarious experience of the moment. And sometimes that moment is an excruciating painful one.
Tonight I cried because I felt my daughter’s anxiety and sadness. Separate and aside from that, my beautiful hyper and oppositional son couldn’t calm down and threw himself into yet another rage with very little provocation or any apparent logic.
So like many brave and wonderful women who have come before me, I now stand on the harrowing, uncertain and unnerving precipice of having to medicate my children.
I did not come to this place quickly or lightly. In fact, I have spent the majority of their lives seeking any alternative possible.
My exhaustive measures and endless trials included everything natural, homeopathic, nutritional and complimentary, but because of my children’s daily struggles I made the decision to try medication as a way of giving them (and me) hope.
Today I cried because I know, to be completely true to my inner wisdom, I have to accept that my babies, like all the beautiful children who are struggling on our planet, are suffering. We call them by a myriad of names such as Indigo’s, Crystal and Rainbow children. Some are autistic, some are on the spectrum, others are beyond the spectrum. Some are classified as ODD, ADHD, OHI and any number of other initials that mean everything or nothing at all.
But for us, as mothers, they are not labels and check boxes. They are simply our children and we call them by name as we try to soothe their tempers, connect to their emotions and lessen their fears and anxieties.
For these children, medication may be a necessary step as part of their soul’s journey. And accepting this unwelcome fact is a huge part of my own soul’s growth.
Today I cried because it’s been years that I’ve avoided the Western medical approach to my kids’ special needs and now I’m not sure if what has prevented me from being open to this modality was a passionate connection to what I believe is best for them or that my own story had clouded me from seeing medication as a potential blessing. Part of my mentality has to do with my own family of origin history with medication and depression, but more on that at another time. Truth be told I have tried medication for my son before and when it failed (three times) I was quick to smugly offer to the ex-husband, doctor, special ed committee: “See? I told you he is special/different/Indigo and that medication isn’t the answer.”
A mother cries for so many reasons and today, I am a mother who joins thousands, perhaps millions of mothers who cry because they just need to release their sadness and self-imposed feelings of shame. This isn’t just one of the hardest decisions a mother can ever make for her child, it’s excruciating.
Thankfully, I know I am not alone in this journey. And just knowing that helps, even if just a little, while I sit here and cry.