We find ourselves in the unenviable position of having to make a very difficult decision regarding Noah. The most difficult decision we have faced yet. It's not that we haven't made difficult decisions about his care in the past, and I know we will likely face even more difficult decisions in the future, but this one just sucks. It means we have taken that next step forward on the path of mental illness.
Noah has been spiraling downward for several months. We've watched it happen, but kept hoping with every doctor appointment, medication change, and relatively good day scattered amongst the difficult, that maybe it would get better.
It isn't though. It isn't getting better. He is getting worse. The line is getting thinner, and more and more often I see him leaning perilously close to the edge of reality.
There are times that I am not sure if he's walking in the same world that the rest of us are.
He needs to be admitted to a psychiatric hospital. He needs his medications changed and we can't do that safely at home. He needs a set of eyes on him 24/7 that aren't mine or Rich's.
My head and gut know what needs to be done. My heart though is fighting me and fighting me hard.
I'm scared. I'm scared to leave my little boy somewhere that I can only visit twice a day for an hour at a time.
I'm scared because he has never been away from home without us.
I'm scared that he will be scared.
I'm scared he won't be able to take GG's blanket. Or worse, that he will and it will get lost.
I'm scared that he will hate me for doing this.
I'm scared that something bad will happen to him there.
I'm scared the other kids will teach him things, or behaviors, that he doesn't need to know.
I'm scared if we don't do it he will keep getting worse.
I'm scared if we do that they won't be able to help him.
I'm scared that I'm going to feel relief when he isn't here.
I'm scared that if we have a few days of normalcy and peace in our house, days where we aren't constantly dealing with behaviors and meltdowns, that it is going to be even harder to go back to it when he comes home. And yes, I do want to throw up after writing that because I know it is awful. I also know it is true. I don't doubt my love for him, but I am so tired. What does that say about me?
I expected the psychiatrist to tell me today that he needs to go. Instead he left it very much up to us. He didn't say it was the wrong thing, but he also didn't say "yes, you need to do this now." He did remind me though, that I'm the grown up and that I need to look at the bigger picture, because Noah can't.
The psychologist thinks we should, and he's spent more time with Noah than the psychiatrist.
His teacher is concerned, and said today that Noah isn't the same kid he was last fall.
I know what needs to be done.
I hate it, but I know.
I'm just not sure I'm ready yet to tell my heart to shut up and let my head lead the way.
I'm scared for what is and what is yet to come.