“How are you holding up?” the psychologist inquired after his session with my son.
This question has become a frequent refrain in my life since my son’s mental health diagnosis, posed by caring friends, family, and even my spouse. I appreciate the concern, but honestly, I often find myself at a loss for words.
The past few weeks—actually, months—have blurred into a whirlwind of symptoms, emotional outbursts, fluctuating medications, and a seemingly endless stream of doctors and therapists. This journey culminated in an extensive neuropsychiatric assessment at one of the nation’s leading children’s hospitals.
Following days filled with testing, take-home questionnaires, family history documents, and thorough interviews, we received a list of the mental health disorders my 10-year-old son qualifies for according to the DSM-V criteria. They reaffirmed his diagnosis of generalized anxiety disorder, confirmed our suspicions by diagnosing him with ADHD, and added a mood disorder to the mix.
As I left the hospital, my son gripping my hand while navigating the bustling downtown traffic, the world felt different—almost alien and daunting.
Returning home, I was greeted by the same chaos we had left in the kitchen that morning. My older son was bubbling with excitement over his newfound knowledge about flightless fruit flies as food for frogs, while my husband tried to catch up on work after taking time off to support us.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll repeat it: when your child receives a mental health diagnosis, life resumes as normal. Nothing changes in your day-to-day routine—except your heart. That part is forever altered.
You come home, and the meltdowns continue, sleepless nights persist, and your child’s pain remains palpable. It takes time for treatment to commence and even longer for it to yield positive results. With my oldest son, it took several months before we truly sensed relief. It’s a reminder I cling to during this journey—it simply requires patience.
One of the hardest aspects of this waiting period between diagnosis and therapeutic progress is watching my sweet boy suffer, feeling utterly helpless to ease his pain. As a mother, the instinct to “do something” is overwhelming, yet inaction often feels like the only option. It takes more courage and faith than I thought I had to simply wait.
Strategies to Navigate This Journey
Amid this challenging season, I’ve identified a few strategies that might help:
- Embrace Relaxation: Everything from our schedules to meal planning must be adjusted. We are officially in survival mode.
- Be Present for Your Other Child(ren): My older son is thriving right now, which tempts me to let him be the “easy” child while focusing on my newly diagnosed son. However, he needs me now more than ever to navigate the confusion of his brother’s struggles. He deserves reassurance, attention, and love, even if it means my approach looks different for a while.
- Pray Often: Pray in all forms—honest, raw prayers for healing, patience, and strength. The “Help me, God” prayers and the “Why us?” prayers are essential. I find peace in these moments, reminding myself that God is always present, that my son is a child of His, and that he is fearfully and wonderfully made. A diagnosis doesn’t alter this fundamental truth.
As time passes, I’ve started to see glimpses of my son’s unique mind—a beautiful, intricate puzzle. The artistic, empathetic, and loving boy is still here, not in spite of his diagnoses, but in some ways because of them.
I refuse to selectively love parts of my son. I love him completely, just as he is.
And that’s my response to the question, “How are you doing?” I’m loving him with everything I have.
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