It's 1:15 am and I can't sleep. Hunny has been out of town this week and won't be home until Friday night. When he's gone, the boys and I have a slumber party, but tonight there is absolutely NO room in the bed for me.

I had some shocking news today. I've written about my sweet Older One and his ADHD/OCD. It's very trying. This year has been brutal. He started in the intermediate school, started out with a difficult teacher, car wreck, my step-father died, the list goes on. Just a tough time for him. A few weeks ago, he started having emotional breakdowns. I couldn't believe how he would fall apart over small, simple things. Like, the teacher accidentally had another student do his job or forgetting to pay lunch money in the morning, but still getting it paid before lunch, inside recess because of the cold. He would get into the car after school and have complete meltdowns. Just, excuse the phrase, vomit his feelings/compulsions allover me. Then the really bad stuff started happening. No matter what I said, or how loudly I said it, he would ask me to repeat myself. Then, it had to be the exact same way/tone I said it the first time. Then, I had to be standing in the same place where I was standing the first time I said it. Then, I had to wait the right amount of seconds between each word I said. If I didn't, he would pretty much crawl out of his skin. The final straw, I couldn't remember how I exactly said a comment and he went into total meltdown in the car. Banging his head on the door, trying to jump out of the car. It was awful. Well, after a trip to the pediatrician and his counselor, we were sent to a new Psychiatrist and Psychologist. This morning, I took him to the specialists in Columbus and after an hour and a half, he was diagnosed. He has Tourette Syndrome. I really, really wanted to cry. My baby has Tourette S. My sweet, sweet boy has Tourette Syndrome. Why? I just wanted to take him and run away with him. Just hold him and never let anybody ever hurt him again. My baby is sick. He's 9 yrs old.


I got myself together and was thankful we finally had a diagnosis. We could call this behavior by name, and we could start treating it. Later this evening, we saw a second doctor for therapy. He had a great session and seemed to be doing well. But then, it reared it's ugly head and was tormenting his mind again. He couldn't let go of a simple statement I made about being home. Something like, "Yay, we're home. Let's go see our puppies!" Within seconds, we were back to crying and hating. He finally screamed, "God, if you're so perfect, why did you make me like this!" In the car was myself, him and Little One. We all sat and cried. I drug everyone in the house and sat and held them tight. Little One slipped behind the couch and started praying. He prayed for his brother. I really could just die. So, I'm trying to pull it together, get things ready for school tomorrow and keep things as normal, light hearted and loving as possible. You know, put on the happy face so no one knows? I know most of us do it.

I have a lot of learning to do. I'll be reading everything I can about this. Somethings I found out so far, it's going to get worse before it gets better. Puberty will exacerbate it. But after finding the right type and dosage of medicine, he may be able to control it. As an adult, it may be completely controlled unless aggravated by extreme stress. My heart is breaking for him. This is my baby and I want him to have a wonderful, joyful life. As parents, we always say, "I just want my kids to be happy." And we mean it. We really, really mean it. That's what we want for our children. Happiness. When he was born, I felt like God himself had handed me an angel. I remember never putting him down. I held him for hours and hours. I played soft, sweet music for him all the time. I still can't hear "Return to Pooh Corner" without tearing up. I wanted to always protect him. The first time he was in a car and I couldn't be in there with him, I felt sick. Who was going to throw themselves in front of him if there was a wreck? The first day I went back to work, I cried harder than I had ever cried. I wanted to be there, protecting him, loving him, taking care of him. Where did those years go? When did he turn into a little boy? I want him back in my arms, always, no where to go, just playing with toys and having a snack while Sesame Street is on. I want that back.

We have a long road ahead of us, but tonight, I'm just watching his sweet, beautiful face as he sleeps.