There is not a parent out there who hasn’t at some point in time wished that their child came with an instruction manual. There have been, and I am sure still will be, many times that I have been stumped on how to raise this child of mine. A book would be great. Let’s say I was getting a major attitude, I could flip to attitude, look up her age and read something about how it is against the law to kill her on the spot.
She was in 5th grade when she started waking me up in the middle of the night asking me questions about middle school. What if she can’t get her locker open? Why do you switch classes for each subject? I tried to tell her not to worry about it and to just concentrate on getting through 5th grade. But nothing I said would calm the child’s fears. Scott and I talked about it and decided we needed to address her anxiety with her doctor, because it seemed to be escalating. Her doctor informed us that it was not going to get any better until we put her on medication to help it.
Scott and I had always kind of been anti-meds. We were bound and determined to teach the child coping skills. How we were going to do this? We had no idea. We consulted doctors, we did research on the internet and we beat our head against the wall because nothing was working.
So we relented.
I remember crying and telling Scott how worried I was because these medicines mess with your brain and one thing Court really has going for her is her smarts. I told him that I just didn’t feel right doing this. While he agreed with me, he asked me what would make me feel better about it.
I told him I wanted Jesus to come down here and tell me face to face that I was doing the right thing.
He just smiled at me then told me he didn’t think he could make that happen.
So we decided that we would try this medicine and if we felt like it wasn’t working, we could take her off of it just easily as we put her on it.
And put her on it, we did.
And it worked.
For almost three years.
Then lately we noticed that she was starting to complain about a stomach ache and she was walking around with her shoulder up around her ears. This is a sure sign that she is anxious. And no matter what we said to her, it was the end of the world. So, we talked to her doctor and they decided to raise her medicine. They told us it could take up to two weeks to see a difference.
It has been 9 days.
And I have my happy kid back!
And I guess I don’t need Jesus to come down here. He handled it from right where he is!
Thursday, December 10, 2009
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