I haven't talked about The Boy lately. My baby isn't having a real easy time in this ADHD world he walks in.
When a mother gives birth to a baby, the most important first thing is that cry. You listen so hard for that cry and your first thought is, "Alive! My baby is alive!" I wasn't able to immediately hold Makenna (Paige's birth was an emergency c-section and I was knocked out) because of meconium. She was checked out by NICU staff within seconds of arriving. I honestly don't remember if I held The Boy as soon as he was born. Is that bad? My main concern was that my husband didn't hit the floor. I kid you not.
After all the hoopla calms down and you are finally able to focus and truly check out that sweet baby, you open that blanket and take in every millimeter of skin. You count toes and make sure there are fingernails and toenails on the tip and you marvel that there is. You check between the toes because you have to see that perfect wrinkly skin in such an inconspicuous place. There is nothing on that baby you don't know before you're are done. Your heart swells to a bursting point and you know deep within your soul that you will do whatever it takes to take care of that baby for as long as you're allowed.
I am no different even though my baby is 4 (almost 5!). I have found myself, instead of relaxing a small degree, even ever more diligent about every millimeter of his being. Now, I watch his eyes to see inside his head because mental is just as important as physical. I know now that the mental is the most important thing at the moment. The Man and I have started "checkin' his pounds" (that's what he calls it) on a regular basis so that the mental doesn't interfere too much with the physical part of him. I find myself watching him as he plays. I pay attention to the movement of his hands. Are they jerky? Does he look shaky? I pay attention to his furrowed brows. Are they furrowed because he can't focus? When he has meltdowns. Are they because he's over stimulated or just being four?
Being his mother has honed my parenting skills until they are sharp. Not quite razor sharp...but on top of the game.
I am not afraid to tell his psychiatrist when I don't feel something is right. I meet him toe to toe.
The last two weeks, I've noticed that, for lack of a better term, the medication seems to have started slipping. The best way I can explain it is that, to me, it's like his strong-willed little body has said, "OH NO YOU WON'T!" and is fighting the medication. Where my child was enjoying a full day of results (8 a.m.-6:30 p.m.), the length grew shorter and shorter until he having issues again at school.
I went into Super Diligent mode. I watched his every move even closer. I missed that little boy who could sit at the supper table and interact. Now, he was unable to sit there and enjoy his meal. Up. Down. Jiggle. Wiggle. Jump up and run a second. Supper became torture again no matter what we did.
Fortunately, he had an appointment with his Doctor yesterday. I had Miss K, his teacher, write a note with her observations from the classroom. I was prepared to see this man.
Have I told you The Boy hates Dr. M (psychiatrist)? Yeah, with a purple passion. We don't know why, but he despises going there. To the point he had a meltdown in the waiting room when we were called back and The Man had to pick him up and physically tote him back. Good times.
I explained the past month and a half to the doctor and then added that I think we needed to up his dosage. See, this medication, when it works? Is wonderful. I don't want to switch because my baby can function with this medication and still be four.
He agreed and today we start a higher dosage.
I know. I know. The ADHD road is a hard one. I've been told over and over again that it is. A part of me can't help but wish it were easier for my child. My baby.
I will continue to be the best advocate I can be for my children. It is my honor and I can't think of anything else I'd rather do.
So, if we have to? We will try again. As many times as it takes.