I was checking out of our local grocery store this morning when the clerk asked me if I wanted to make a donation to Autism Awareness.
"Not really. We live autism awareness every single day. I think I've had my fill."
What can I say, she got me on a bad day. Also, the organization they chose to support was Autism Speaks, not my choice of non-profits to back.
Before this exchange, I walked through the store like a certified zombie. Going through the motions, unable to show or feel any sort of emotion as I made my way through the aisles.
That's because last night, after our rage de jour, we finally made the decision we've been avoiding these last few weeks. We have never truly enjoyed stabilization with Big Brother in the last six years. And we can no longer handle him at home.
Our fateful call to Social Services brought us next to nothing. They offered to give us 15 hours a week of in home help. While this may sound OK, it's simply too little, too late. Their other suggestion? Do a forced placement in an unqualified residential treatment center.
Thanks, but no thanks.
In the aftermath of his destruction yesterday we sat in the living room with our therapist -- who happened to have a front row seat for the festivities -- and once again went over the options. And now the plan is a short-term hospitalization, all while we work to coordinate a long-term placement out of our home.
God, it was hard for me to type that last line. I just can't believe we're here. We have worked so hard over the years to get him help, used just about every intervention, but it comes down to the fact that developmentally he may not be at a point where he is able to change.
Last night, I tried to get him in the car and to the hospital. He kept crying, "Don't take me back there. I've been there too many times. If I go again, they'll NEVER let me out. Mom, please, please don't get rid of me."
Talk about pain. As a parent you want to help you child. You figure if you keep trying everything will eventually be OK. No one ever prepares you for that moment when you realize that love and hard work are no longer enough.
It's hard to admit you can no longer care for your own child. Its even harder when you feel relief at the prospect of having him live somewhere else. Guess I'd better get back to my phone calls before I lose my resolve.
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Comments (3)
I am so sorry! My heart breaks with you.
*hugs*
I've been there too, my daughter is in residential school now. Try not to think of it as a failure, see it as doing the best you can to get what he needs. Sometimes they need so much more than just great parents :(
You have to do what is best for your family. Not everybody can handle staying at home.
As long as you do your research, you're doing what is needed. (I say research, because the government does a lousy job of regulating, example the Judge Rotenberg Center)