A Mother's Journey

It starts

My son has schizo-affective disorder with bi-polar manic depression. Wow, two years ago I couldn't even spell it........and now I live it. As a mother I always worried about the broken bones and bloody noses of my children. I imagined that the worst that could happen was they would end up in a cast for 6 weeks or have many stitches. What I wouldn't do to trade this disease for a cast or two. My middle son was born about 3 weeks early and he seemed to be mad at the world for making him leave his nest! He had a minor birth defect, his anal opening was scar tissue and too small to insert a rectal thermometer. After a year of having to stretch the opening he had surgery to correct it. All went well except I now had a "spoiled" baby. I held him all of the time and "babied" him because it was so hard for him. And then we went about our lives. At the age of two he started having temper tantrums and holding his breath until he turned blue and passed out.........oh the terrible twos. In retrospect I have to wonder..........Life continues rather normally. When he entered school he was socially immature, so his second year he went to a half day of kindergarten and a half day of first grade. The third year he was on his way. Academics were not a problem, behavior was. At the time I just thought that he was going to be "that" child out of the three. Always the daredevil, he would jump from anything and at age 7 wanted to try hanggliding!! And was angry that he couldn't. In retrospect I have to wonder.........We moved around a lot. My son's father was a logger, and a drinker. I worked from the time my youngest son was one, as logging and drinking didn't quite pay the bills. My husband was an awesome father. He played ball, took the kids to the woods and explored, everything a dream dad could do for 3 boys. Our positions switched and he became the caregiver and I the provider. So, when he died at the age of 34 from a self-induced drunk driving accident, all hell broke loose. I realize that the death of either parent in any situation is devastating, but for my second son it seemed that it multiplied his behavior problems twentyfold. Once again, I have to wonder.......So, I began the chore of raising my boys without a father. In my own grief, I remarried very quickly....it was after all more fun to plan a wedding than it was to deal with the realities of my husbands death. I began to drink.....a lot. It seemed as though everything was gonna be "ok". Then in the 8th grade my son told a teacher he wanted to committ suicide. He explained that he wanted to be with his dad. How heartbreaking that was. The school counselor talked to him and did a couple of grief counseling sessions and away we went again. His behavior problems grew and grew. My new husband and I decided that maybe a move would be beneficial to us all. So, off we went to Wyoming to make a fresh start. My son had more difficulties in school and while at work one day I got a call from school. They were sending a police officer to pick me up and bring me to the school. My heart was pounding....."what has he done now?" I thought. I was lead to the counselors office where I was told that he had been taken into protective custody by the court because he told a teacher that he had attempted suicide. When I asked them what that meant they said that he was going to be appointed a guardian and would be sent to the Wyoming State Hospital for evaluation. I was completely stunned. In one fell swoop, I had "lost" custody of my son and he was being sent away. I made it to the court house just in time to kiss him and say good-bye. As I walked back to my work and got in my car I cried. What had just happened? I returned to my home, sent my youngest across the street and sat in the dark. My husband was a truck driver and he was gone. So I drank, and I cried, and I drank some more. As I write this the emotions of those days are washing over me in waves. I think I shall stop for awhile and will continue this later.