So here we are, waiting for the doctor at Good Shepherd Rehabilitation Hospital. Again.
Coming here is always an unsettling adventure since Grace had a long-standing habit of vomiting in the car on the way here.
The culprit? Anxiety.
And thanks to anxiety, that's why we're here.
After years of discussion and inner turmoil, I caved in to the medical suggestion of medication. No parent wants to willingly submit to medicating their child. You spend hours trying to find way to prevent meltdowns, to encourage success, to breed confidence.
You opt for therapy, you opt for waiting, you opt for changes in diet. And for some children, that works.
But I don't live in that majority. (In fact, only a minority of my four seem to fall in the majority. That may seem illogical, but it is truly rather logical, if you knew my brood.) And to be honest, living with her has often proved to be difficult at times, and I'm sure it will continue to test my limits for the next several years.
Thus, I acquiesced and subscribed to Team Meds in April. Surprisingly, things seem better, as one can tell from the photo. No crying fits on the way to the hospital or in the hospital, fewer bouts of spontaneous crying, decreased protests of self-doubt.
I know there is a large contingency of parents who would greatly chastise my choice to join Team Meds, including some in the medical profession. But right now, this seems to work, even if it means taking it day by day.
It's all part of muscling through difficult times as we continue the journey of saving Grace.