We are in the weeds. Smack dab in the throes of hurricane autism. We are seeing behaviours from Parker we haven’t seen in a very long time. His eating has regressed and he’s losing weight. It’s hell on earth trying to get someone to eat who has zero interest in the food in front of them. His OCD tendencies are so out of control that most days he’s got the most haunted, tormented look on his face. He’s sleeping excessively yet always looks tired. His face is drawn, dark circles under his eyes, chapped lips and skinny arms.
I can’t help but picture him trapped inside a glass box, screaming and crying and trying to make us understand. And it just kills me. It’s like a gut punch right to your core when you cannot help your child. Honestly it’s the most impotent feeling as a mother that you can have.
It’s these moments, when he’s pulling out clumps of my hair that I worry I have failed him in some way. That I missed that one magical therapy that would have helped him more. That one thing that would have given him his voice. These moments when he’s running away from me that I worry that when he’s 20 years old I won’t be able to take him places on my own. It’s moments like these that have left scars on my heart that never fade.
I know this is temporary, another bump in the road. We will play detective with patience and love until we figure out how to get our happy boy back to us. Until then, we just hang on to each other and weather the storm.