Did I mention that Ethan bangs his head all the time? Like all the time? Like fifty times a day all the time? Okay, fifty might be an exaggeration, but twenty five is not. This is one of the reasons we were sent to neuro-developmental a few months ago. One of the many reasons. Sigh. It's the only reason for my sake. I don't much mind the slow talking, the not pointing to things of interest, the lack of eye contact, the extreme OCD behaviors. (Okay, that one does drive me crazy.) It's the head banging that holds me back. Holds me back from friendships. Holds me back from wanting to take him to church. Holds me back from wanting to take him where people will be present. Holds me back from even wanting to see my family. Holds me back from wanting to look in the mirror.
Because you see, he has constant bruises on his forehead. I never understood parents who medicated their children, but I do now. It isn't always a last resort. And I'm not even sure that he's eligible for any sort of medication, but if there were, I'd do it. Because every time he bangs his head, my heart breaks into a thousand pieces. It's a stepping stone to different types of self-mutilation, and it breaks my heart. Everything that I read just says they outgrow it, but sometimes they don't. What do you do about that other sometimes? Do you look back ten years and wish that you had done something more proactive when they just started? I don't see anyone writing about that. No one ever has answers for those types of things.
So we have to have faith. It's easy to compartmentalize faith, I think. Faith that Ethan will turn out as intended. Faith that Benjamin will turn out as intended. Faith that you'll have enough money to pay your bills? Faith that you'll always have good health? But faith that it will all turn out? I'm still working on that one.
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