Just Breathe...

My son Connor has never been "normal".  He has been fabulous, wonderful, loving, kind, caring, smart, funny, and a wonderful human being all around.  He was born with bipolar disorder.  Now, he was not diagnosed at birth, but from the get go, he was symptomatically bipolar.  I didn't know this when he was litttle, but when I was reading about it later on, his infancy was pretty typical for one with a mood disorder. Connor NEVER stopped crying unless I was holding him close to my body.  He cried every time I put him down.  He cried when his dad was holding him.  He cried when he had a bath.  This teeny tiny little person was anxious from the time he came out of the womb.  He only felt comfort when in my arms, swaddled in a blanket and close to my neck.  I loved it when he was little.  He just seemed like a little cuddle bug.  I quickly adapted by carrying him around in a snuggly.  He was close to my body and I had my hands free. This was very important since I also had a one and a half year old little girl, my sweet Emma.
Just breathe...
As Connor got older, he seemed ok.  He didn't want to be away from me, but I just thought he was shy.  He cried really hard when I left (for four hours sometimes), but everyone went through separation anxiety, right?  My friend Michelle took her daughter to the same daycare I took Connor to, (Emma went to a sitter who used to have Connor, but she couldn't handle him).  She came to me one day and said, "Have you every looked into Connor's mental health?  I think he has bipolar."  WHAT?!?  Noooooo.....  I had never even thought about that.  I was a teacher and I knew all about behavior modification, right?  I thought I could just teach him to make better choices.
Just breathe...
Connor continued to concern me, but it wasn't until he was 6 that I was really willing to consider that something was definitely not right.  Every night, Connor would go into a rage when I told him that it was time for bed.  He did not handle doing anything that he didn't really want to do well at all.  I would hold him tightly while he raged on, until he would go limp in my arms, crying, "I'm so sorry mommy.  I don't mean to."
Just breathe...
My husband and I decided to take Connor to the doctor.  He was diagnosed with bipolar type two with psychosis (did I mention he was hearing voices?).  Initially, I thought that it would all be ok.   That Connor could do anything that he set his mind to.  Then we started trying meds.  Oy!  That was NOT fun!  Connor tried so many meds in the first month after his diagnosis and there were so many different side effects.  I remember when he tried one of the meds, my mother-in-law was over and Connor started laughing hysterically, rolling on the floor, scratching himself.  I was trying not to appear too concerned as to not scare my mother-in-law.  I called the doctor who said that I needed to stop the med.  I looked over at my mother-in-law and she was sitting on the couch, looking at Connor, tears rolling down her cheeks.  I had already been in the throws of this illness for long enough that I had forgotten what it looked like to others.
Just breathe...
We ended up putting Connor in the hospital.  I felt like I couldn't manage the many different side effects on my own.  I had my third child by this time and she (Abbie) was only a year old.  Getting your child into an inpatient facility is a horrific experience.  I took Connor to the ER (only way to get in), sat in a padded room (where they put all mental health patients) for over eight hours before anyone came to talk to us.  Hungry and discouraged, I admitted Connor into the facility with great trepidation.  I was leaving him there with other kids up to 18 years old.  He was only 8...
Just breathe...
Even though the hospital was hard, it was the answer to our prayers that we needed.  Connor was put on a cocktail of different meds that took the voices away and made his rages disappear.  The bad thing was that he now had a flat affect.  I was assured that this would get better over time.  I felt like I had lost my child and that I was choosing to keep him that way every time I gave him a dose of his medicine.  It was devastating.  I did a lot of praying and a lot of crying.  I was very brave all day and then, when the children were all asleep, I would go to the basement, listen to Michael W. Smith's song He's My Son and I would cry.  I didn't have the words to pray sometimes to Michael did it for me.
Just breathe...
For 5 years, things were good.  Connor went to the therapist every week and the psychologist every month. He was listening well and learning at school again.  Whew!  I knew that this would not last forever, but I sure was grateful that it was lasting as long as it did.  When Connor went into the 6th grade, he developed very significant anxiety.  He had always been anxious, but managed to do everything he needed to do.  Connor began to struggle going to school.  He was worried that someone would throw up near him and that he would get sick.  Flu season was definitely the worse.  Connor refused to go to school and began to refuse to go to the psychiatrist.  He was anxious about everything.  For years we tried to figure out why he was anxious, but we couldn't.  That is why it is called generalized anxiety.  Duh!
Just breathe...
We spent the next 4 years, trying to get Connor to go to school.  We dragged him there, dropped him off kicking and screaming, called the sherriff.  Connor only escalated.  He began to threaten to kill himself.  He also began to rage again.  Back to the hospital...
Just breathe...
Connor was in and out of the hospital through the beginning of 11th grade.  He escalated to threatening me.  I had to press charges.  It was the hardest day of my life.  It was the best thing that I have ever done.  Connor was on probation for his behavior.  He went back to the hospital to get his lithium level back up since he had stopped taking his meds.  He finally decided that he wanted to do well.  He wanted to stop fighting and start living.  I'm not going to say that this has been a walk in the park, but he is doing well right now.  He is still going to the psychiatrist monthly but we are taking a break from counseling.  Connor had therapy two days a week for two years and had become dependent upon the prompting of therapists.  I told him that he needed to take on his learning himself.  I told him that we would go back to counseling if he needed that level of support again.  He knows that it is there if he needs it.
Just breathe...
Mental illness is a life sentence.  There is no cure.  I can tell you that through this experience, you really find out who your real friends are.  You know who they are because they are the ones who look out for you and your other children.  They come and take your 9 and 1 year old daughters out for a little fun while you  deal with the side effects, doctor appointments and overall terror you are feeling, fearing for your child's life.  There were some days when I didn't know if Connor would run away, jump out of a moving car, take pills, cut himself, or try to strangle or suffocate himself.  It was scary stuff.  Your real friends hold you while you cry, meet you at the hospital or show up at your door with dinner because they know you don't have the energy to cook.  We have been through some scary stuff with our little guy, but I have to say that the one thing I always remember is that God has a plan for my son and that plan does not involve being overcome by this mental illness.  Connor's illness has helped a lot of people to learn and grow.  It has made me an advocate for the mentally ill.  I hope and pray that one day there will not be a stigma connected to mental illness, but until then, I think I will just breathe...  :)