Straight Jacket, Anyone?

Today was a saving grace. After the last few days, anyway, it was.

Operation Adderall has begun. Today is day four and we haven't seen much of a difference yet. I didn't quite expect to see results this soon anyway, but his doc said to go ahead and increase his dose today. Bottoms up, kiddo.

The past few days have been hard. Rowen's mood swings are giving me a headache. When I start to entertain the notion that he is bipolar (really, I do), I do a quick self-check and start to wonder if I am some days (ok, really I don't, but anyway...). Let me explain.

I spent a lot of yesterday kicking myself in the butt for not being able to handle Rowen as well as I should. It started off a rough day when Rowen decided it was time to start his day at 3:30 in the morning. Goodbye peaceful goodnight. Actually, it wasn't that peaceful given that Lane had already been up twice, finally kicking daddy out of bed at 2 a.m. But I digress.

Rowen was a madman. Uncontrollable and wild. Belligerant and oppositional. Big brother bully to Lane all friggin' day. The F-dash-dash-dash word went through my head on more than one occassion, I have to admit. Though it died down a bit in the afternoon, it roared back to life when Rowen took a whiplash turn into opposition once again.

Let me set the scene. I'm feeling better. Rowen seems better. I think I can handle today without a straight jacket. "Hey Rowen," I say. "Let's read a book together." I walk up the stairs to get a book, come back down and Rowen is crouched behind the couch screaming and ranting with me as the target. If the devil himself could have swooped in and taken over, it might have seemed that way to passers by. His eyes were wild with tears, teeth clenched, and red-faced awaiting a fight. He started calling me names, yelling like a madman, and for a moment I was thankful he didn't have an AK-47 in his hand. Here's the part where I lose it. And lose it I did.

I told Brenner that I don't know why I can't get it. Yes, essentially I am being verbally abused and the target of undeserved, crazed anger, but it's by an autistic 6-year-old. That's the part I can't seem to come to grips with. I still react. I get mad. And then when all is said and done, I feel like a failure. I just can't seem to get this. Ok, yes, so if someone walked in the door and started tearing you down Navy Seals style and then repeated it day after day after day after... well, you get it. You'd probably go crazy. I think some days I have too. But I need to somehow disconnect that and realize he can't help it. Why can't I get that?!

So I had a heart-to-heart with myself. Brenner came home to a wife in tears, but I think I worked it out doing a little kickboxing later. Thank you, TurboFire.

So back to redemption. I took Rowen and Lane to SkyZone today (an indoor trampoline park) and prayed on the way there to not have to run away in tears at the end. Rowen put on his game face and protested for the first half-hour. He even semi-assaulted a woman who tried to talk to him, to which I followed my usual protocol to put out that fire. At least she was understanding. So I watched Lane jump for joy, thankfully oblivious to big brother's stance. I had followed all the rules: 1.) get there first so there aren't so many people there. 2.) Put on stupid SkyZone shoes myself (the only parent out there) to help Rowen get into gear. 3.) Give him space and time.

Despite my rule-following it still blew up in my face, for awhile anyway. A few panic attacks later by me (ok, so I exaggerate), the ice melted. Rowen's arms fell to his sides from being defiantly crossed against his chest and he said, "I want to try it."

And that was that. He was rockin' it from there (his words). He even handed over the money to the concession worker for his snack at the end himself-super big feat for him. So what if Lane cued up a fabulous fit because he couldn't play dodgeball? I sweated that one out with him screaming for 15 minutes and then multi-tasking a game of air hockey with Lane while watching Rowen do his thing. He'd make sure I was watching, gear up for a run, and then divebomb into the foam pit again and again. With joy. He'd disappear into the foam blocks for a moment, and then I'd see that toe head pop out from a sea of blue. The first thing he did was look for me and smile. That made the day worth it, sweat and all.

Round 4

Tucking my little man into bed tonight, I knew there was a boogie monster in the closet waiting to pounce. Rowen had a pretty good day today, but I knew the mention of his fear about school a time or two would pummel him at some point. I managed to get him in bed and read Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs to him before the tears sprouted from his eyes. His face turned red, the tears fell, and he started begging to stay home from school the next day. He worries so much about everything school related and especially lunch time and whether his friends will sit with him. Brenner and I quickly scrambled to comfort him. I think it worked -for now- but there's never a shortage of prayers needed to help him through the anxiety.

It's been a pretty rough week, I have to admit. We are weaning medication #3 (if you include the vitamin regimen) and looking ahead to the next. I really hate this. Our options are running short, and the big boys are staring us in the face. Medicines like stimulants, anxiolytics, and antipsychotics are next on the list. The most recent medicine he took just didn't do the trick, putting his blood pressure readings as low as 80/50 and making us crazy at home. Very crazy at home. I know the docs say that is normal, but something in my mommy gut tells me this is not ok. On to round 4...

I was sitting in church last night watching a young girl sing on stage with her mother looking on with pride in the front row. I was marveling at how well she sang, but also at the courage it took to be on that stage in front of so many people. I thought to myself, Rowen will never do that, with tears stinging my eyes. But as quickly as that thought came to mind, another voice stifled it. There are times when we want to hear God and then there are times where we know we hear God. This was one of those time. Just as I finished my self-defeating thought, I heard "Rowen will do other great things." The tears still came, but they stopped coming in the form of self-defeat and instead, of pride.

So he doesn't have to sing on stage to let me know that he is going to be ok, and furthermore a success. Rowen is already a success just being himself. He may not have the successes that this world categorizes as so. Or maybe he will. But I was energized thinking once again that he will do well and be cared for by his Creator in ways that I can't possibly dream.

On days I want to throw in the towel and scream that I give up, I need to be reminded of the graces that come with having Rowen as my son. He makes me laugh. He makes me cry. He makes me want to pull my hair out some days, but he also cares for me like no other. He is Rowen. And that is enough.

Laughter is the Best Medicine

The only constant is change. The only change around here is autism.

It is never the same from one day to the next, or one moment for that matter. For awhile we were chasing the anxiety and aggression/opposition that Rowen was consistently having. Then it was the hyperactivity and lack of focus. Now it seems we may be succumbing to a nice cocktail of all of the above. Lucky us.

We started Rowen on Guanfacine, a medicine originally created to lower blood pressure. I know, right!? I'd be just this side left of the nut house if I would go for something like that. Yet here I am, administering such a medication to my 6-year-old. My 6-year-old. The first week he was a zombie. He slept and slept like he hasn't in years. This past week, the anxiety started to kick back in. He woke up screaming about school last Monday. So afraid to go, he told me he was sick. I have a kindergartner now trying to pull the oldest trick in the book. A little too soon in my book, I might add. His stomach hurt. His head hurt. But then he said, "mommy, my heart is beating slow." What the--??

That last one was a little too sophisticated for me to push him out the door for school. I kept him home and took him to the fire station for a blood pressure read: 92/58. A little too low in my book, but not seeming to alarm his docs. So we trudged ahead, with an increasingly anxious and more oppositional (welcome back my fine friend) child.

Which leads me to this morning. At breakfast, Rowen started crying again about going to school. I asked him what made him scared about school, as my mind spun for the umpteenth time toward God's nudging to homeschool. After much prompting, through tears he said, "A lot of the kids don't want to sit with me at school!"

Sound of mom's heart breaking.

I'm sure I had the reaction that most well-intentioned moms would. I want to fix it. I don't want him to feel that way. How can I make this better? But then the autism mom part kicked in too. I'm sure it's hard for some of the kids to see through Rowen's wild personality. I'm sure he's said some things that haven't been too kind either. I'm sure his inability to control himself spins others' heads all day long.

I didn't much entertain the last sentiments, because that wasn't going to fend off the tears. Instead I told him I loved him and gave him a hug. I tried to explain that he does have some good friends and we can't please everyone, yadda yadda yadda. Not sure how it landed, but at least things started to change. I heard him wildly laughing as he went upstairs to get dressed. So much so, I thought he'd lost his mind a little. When we were driving to school I asked if he felt better about going.

"Yes," he said.

"What made you feel better?"

"Laughing." he answered.

Such a simple thing, hopefully to get him through a difficult day. I hope I can do the same when I turn on the computer and see headlines that read "Children with ADHD more likely to commit suicide as adults." I think I need a dose of laughter too, and a few prayers for a broken heart. Because I'd love to say he will be ok, but I honestly don't know some days. I do know he is in the Hands of his Creator, so in that I will take comfort. And maybe a good laugh too.