I can’t believe it’s only been 10 days since I got the call letting me know that my child had been rushed to a hospital, unresponsive. The stranger who called told me that it “didn’t look good.”
And he DIDN’T look good when I first saw him, lying there lifeless on a table in the ER, being worked over frantically by a team of doctors and nurses trying to get him resuscitated and stablized.
For about two days, we weren’t completely sure that he would live. Those were the worst two days of my life. However, the day he woke up and spoke his first words were the best day of my life. Nothing will ever touch that moment for me as a mother.
So here we are, nearly two weeks into this. My child is alive. I can’t stop touching him, and stroking his gorgeous curly head. I like to sit next to him when he’s asleep and just watch him breathe, smoothly and easily, unlike the rattled, tortured raspy breathing of a week ago. I can’t bring myself to leave his side. In short, I am grateful beyond words for this second chance to mother my child. I hope I can be worthy of the opportunity.
But even as I count my blessings, I am grieving and adjusting to a new, incomprehensible reality. My child is, at the moment, looking at significant physical and cognitive challenges, starting with the fact that he cannot yet walk …or even stand on his own. And that’s really just the tip of the iceberg in terms of the impact that the hypoxic brain injury has had on his abilities.
We have now moved to an inpatient medical rehabilitation facility where we’ll be spending the next few weeks – at least. After that, we are looking at months, if not years of continuing work to support H in reaching his full potential. I thought he would be starting college in the fall – and I still hope that he will – but at this point, I am a lot more interested in seeing him out of a wheelchair and able to play his guitar again.
Two weeks ago, I was fully aware that I had a child with a drug problem. But I continued to hold out hope that he would accept the help we offered every single day and find his way to sobriety in time to enjoy the rest of his teenage years and his young adulthood along with his friends, doing all the normal things that 18 year old boys should be doing in their lives. Today, such a short time later, my perspective has shifted so radically that it’s like I’ve suddenly and unceremoniously been dropped off on a different planet, or like I got on a plane to Italy and somehow instead found myself landing in Holland.
I am disoriented. I am frightened. I am angry. I am determined. I am heartbroken. I am exhausted.
But mostly, I am his mother. And one step at a time, one day at a time, I will mother my child through this, whatever “this” turns out to be.
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Thank you for talking about addiction…and your feelings as a mother.
This is all so scary. Much strength to you and your son’s entire family.
The difference is you are where you are as the result of your son dealing and doing drugs, not a birth defect.
It’s all too common for addicts and drug dealers to get into this type of mess, and drag the family along. He is not blameless. He needs to take responsibility for his actions. And you need to Get help for yourself.
If you really wanted to help your son, focus on yourself and go to co-Dependents Anonymous and Al-Anon.
Listen to some of the criticism, go to meetings, we might know something you don’t.
You are a very brave Mama, sending lots of healing thoughts to your whole family. Thank you for talking about this. You are helping other families by sharing your journey.
I’m glad that the first IBtH said something, because it’s been on my mind, too.
My heart absolutely breaks for you and your family during this time. I cannot begin to imagine the pain and heartache that you’re going through. I wish all of you the very best as you work your way through the considerable challenge that you guys have in the weeks, months, and years ahead of you.
But just like I can’t begin to understand the pain that you’re going through, you can’t understand the experience of having child born with special needs. I feel like your subtle and not-so-subtle comparisons between what you’re going through and what parents of special needs kids are going through only diminish the unique challenges that we both face.
I don’t intend this to be mean, but wanted you to be aware of how it looks like on this side. I will continue to follow your story, and I wish you all the best.
I am totally shocked to read these comments from parents of kids with disabilaties saying that this mother doesn’t deserve to grieve her own kid’s disabilities because of how he got them. There is no more or less worthy way for someone’s child to end up in a wheelchair or with other special needs. Whether a parent’s kid is disabled by genetics, birth trauma, a drunk driver or a drug overdose, that parent has a right to grieve and wish she hadn’t ended up in “Holland” instead of “Italy.” I also have a disabled child and I for one want to reach out to this woman with compassion and understanding. This isn’t a club any parent ever hopes to join, whether their kid is a newborn or a teenager when it happens.
My son is disabled because of a drug overdose. To be honest there are times I wish he had died. Death is not the worse thing to happen to a child.
I really hope H makes a good recovery.
Katie, I’m so glad he’s alive. I can only imagine I would feel the same way if H was my son–wanting to be near him and being willing to do anything to help him.
I’m so sorry, Katie. Please keep us posted — we’re here for you.
Wow. I thought if nothing else, the experience of having a child with special needs made people more compassionate, like Astounded; I’ve been lucky enough to find that within my own extended community of special ed parents.
Clearly it’s not universal.
I feel in no way diminished by people finding meaning in the Italy/Holland metaphor when their lives have taken a sudden devastating turn due to infertility, a child’s illness or addiction, or an accident out of the blue. That’s what it’s about – ending up somewhere unexpected and adjusting. We with disabled kids have a monopoly on that? Really?
Katie, I’m continuing to check daily and read; your son – and the rest of you all – are in my thoughts and prayers. I hope that this trip to Holland is only a detour, but if eventually you find it’s not, there’s a lot of us who can help.
I agree with astounded. I think the Holland analogy is very apt and can be used by all mothers at some point. We have all gone through those sudden changes of travel plans (some earlier than others and some much worse than others) and have had to adapt. We should support each other through it.
Katie, I have been reading your blogs for years and I know that your destinations have changed before. Right now, as you’re still reeling, I would focus on the positives that are. Right now, your son is not using. Right now, he is in a safe place and surrounded by people who love him. Right now, you get to watch him sleep and run your fingers through his hair. Try not to add buts or what ifs to the end of those sentences (easier said than done) while you adjust to your new surroundings.
As I have said before, I continue to hold H. and your family in my thoughts and prayers. I appreciate you updating us on him.
I think some of you fellow Holland residents are forgetting the Traumatic Brain Injury part of H’s injuries. Katie is not claiming that H’s addiction, by itself, is Holland—the TBI is. And, honestly, it doesn’t matter HOW a patient came to have TBI or whose fault it was, it’s still Holland, on the express bus.
also- it’s not about you.
katie- we’re praying for you and your son.
candid thoughts:
I’ve Been to Holland: might i suggest that you, yourself, attend a meeting? b/c the seething brand of bitterness that accentuated your every word has left me profoundly sad for you, as well as believing you could benefit from some garden-variety anger management classes. sadly, your fiery disapproval isn’t quite hot enough to thaw your frozen heart, is it?
whatever challenges it is you face are ones i’m truly sad for. but your misfortune does not entitle you to be so ugly to someone who has landed in a boat similar to yours, regardless of the circumstances.
I’ve Also Been to Holland: similar sentiment yet expressed with love. good for you. it’s okay to have dissenting opinions. healthy, even. but you catch more flies with honey. expressing your viewpoints with sweetness is never a bad idea.
katie, you are a brave woman. you know darn well that you’ll draw the ire of some for openly discussing this nightmare scenario. but you don’t care. your motives are pure. you want to discuss. you want to illuminate. you want to help. and you want to heal.
IMO, H is lucky to have a mom who’s so brave. this braveness will serve him well as he travels down this unexpected road.
katie? i’m on your side.
Loving the Holland Detour as roadmap to where you are. There are blessings in the accidents that start out as our worst nightmares. Coping with your new reality will test all of you. My friend has been a quad since a car accident left her paralized 25 years ago. Her faith is amazing, her family ties stong. She married a saint who cares for her romantically and physically.
We have no control over many things that happen in life. Accept Holland and hope the Italian holiday is the next stop. We’ll all be waiting for you to send potcards.
I didn’t take Katie’s use of the Holland metaphor as referring to H’s now being disabled as a result of what has happened to him. I think she was talking more about her own journey and expectations and how disorienting this experience has been for her as she adjusts from the road she thought she was taking to the new one she is now on. It’s not the time for people to get oversensitive and parse every word that flows from her pen as she shares hers struggles with us.
Katie,
My thoughts are with you. I haven’t lost anyone close to drugs, but my wife has – and learned of another last night. I don’t know your circumstances well, but I (humbly) disagree with you about the need to react dramatically to a kid’s first use of drugs, as expressed in your last post. I don’t mean it should be treated lightly, but often handling it like an unexpected “D” may be correct. Clearly a different course might have been best for “H”, but that’s often not the case.
I suppose the obvious rejoinder is that it’s better to over- than under-react, but teenagers can be so sensitive that it’s a very case-dependent decision. For most kids, use of marijuana does not lead to anything further — alcohol is really the biggest problem drug. I just wouldn’t want anyone else to place too much weight on what has happened here. (Nor, of course, too little; I feel for your son, however he got where he is.)
Be well, you and your family, and know that many, many people support you in your plight.
Shelby
Um, I live in Holland and I am appalled people with special needs children are whining about the comparison. It’s NOT a comparison. IT’S THE SAME THING. They’re both disorders, diseases, whatever you want to classify it under. Addiction literature all says it’s an inborn disease and trait. Being born with an addiction is not different than being born severely autistic (like my child is). It just shows up at a different time. Stop holding on to your label so preciously. We’re all parents with children who have diseases and/or disorders. Let’s have more love. Unless you’ve been there with addiction, you don’t know. And I’ve been there with family too and thank GOD I got out of the self righteous “whoa is me, I’m the one with the problem, poor me” al-anon groups i was trapped in for over a decade.
So happy to hear that he is okay Katie! Tremendous news. I hope the challenge of recovery proves to be a positive, life changing one for you and H … somehow I think it will.
Oh goodness people. Holland, Belgium, Sweden, whatever…. It’s a metaphor, and an apt one, for what Katie is going through. Let’s show some compassion for what this is — a mother going through a heart wrenching situation that is just so beyond what most of us have had to deal with. I guess had it been a mugging or car accident, everyone would be ok with this metaphor? Please people…
Still praying – thanks for keeping us updated. Social networking is a strange thing but people – mothers in particular, I think – do feel like they know you and your family.
God bless you and I hope with all my heart that he recovers fully and that this moment remains just that, a moment in not only your and your family’s life but also in his life. I really hope this is his bottom and that he comes out being that sweet, intelligent and sensitive boy you know.
I sit here 2 weeks before a surgery for my oldest daughter who has CP cerebral Palsy reading these comments and am blown away. My daughter thankfully is highly functional but still strugles with walking, visual perception, hand eye cooridination and other physical areas of development. I don’t like the idea of compairing one problem with another because each situation has it’s own pain, but here is what i know as a parent: When you find out that your child has lost function and won’t turn out as expected then you feel loss. And as a parent that is difficult an requires adjustment.
Katie, the only advice I can provide as a father who has had a child with brain damage is to work as hard as you can with your child and don’t artifically lower your expectation. Things will be tough and I imagine that someone who had a drug addiction will have a much harder time adjusting to the difficulties then a child who was born that way but this is where you get to be stronger than you ever expected to be and help your child achieve his best.
Katie I’m also involved in a non-profit that is helping fund research in stem cell therapy for children with CP. These therapies are in the very early stages but look very promising and I would imagine apply to this type of situation with your son. Currently the studies that look most promising are using adult stem cells extracted from the patients own bone marrow. This may be something you want to look into in the not too distant future. I don’t know if any studies are being done related to your son’s type of situation but I do know in the animal studies that were conducted there was increadibly high success in animals with recent brain damage.
A friend of mine got in a car accident on the way to my baby shower. He suffered serious head injuries which left him unable to talk, walk etc. I am happy to say that in the following months and years, through determination and hard work, he is back to “normal”. The brain is an amazingly complex and adaptive thing. Don’t underestimate your son’s ability to recover if he truly desires it.
Thank you so much for sharing this story. When I was in high school, my brother had a similar experience only weeks before his graduation. The impact that addiction has on a family is so significant that only a family that has gone through it can possibly understand. I feel for you and your entire family and hope it’s some consolation that even though it took a few years, my brother is back to his pre-addiction self and our family feels whole again. Your family can totally do it too. Hang in there.
Alive. Let that word carry you. While my 3 year-old daughter was battling cancer, it was the word that kept us going, as if we could get through each day as long as we could hope to keep her alive. My heart goes out to you, as only a mom of a sick child can understand. You’re in an epic struggle against a disease that is mighty. Disease is supposed to be for old people, not for our children. It’s unfair, yet ‘love’ can make a person achieve the impossible. Stay strong, seek refuge in the people who love you.