Moments of Grace

Oh… Where to start. Last year in December, I took my non-speaking three year old to a new paediatrician. I wanted to find out if it was too early for her to be put on Risperdal/Risperidone. I’d seen how wonderfully my seven year old has done on it. No more throwing items when angry, no excessive emotional reactions, and no more screaming and crying that can be heard a block away.

My poor girl was her own advocate that day. She provided all the proof needed. She was terrified when we walked into the waiting room. Clung to me with all her might. Was nervous and would flinch every time the receptionist spoke to her. As for the actual medical exam? It was a nightmare. Poor girl didn’t want the doctor close to her at all. He wasn’t able to weigh her. She didn’t want to stand on the scale. I ended up suggesting that I weigh myself then I get on holding her, and we subtract the difference. Even that wasn’t simple. She was in full meltdown, kicking the wall and making me lose my balance. I felt sorry for any waiting children or babies! Those screams were awful. She was so miserable.

Of course, the doctor prescribed the medication.

Today, we went in for the first time since December. Given her reaction, I had emailed when she had a problem but this time the paed wanted to see her. With great trepidation I took her and my eldest daughter. My back and carrying her…

I didn’t realise how traumatic that first visit had been for the receptionist till her reaction to my poor baby happily walking in, getting onto then off the sofa, smiling, and putting her hands on the sofa and doing donkey kicks. The lady was so happy that she said we could allow her to do anything she wanted, as long as she remained as happy and calm as she was that moment. We could let her touch anything, roam around, go to her desk…

When the doctor called us in, she did run away from him at first. But after that, it was basically plain sailing! He suggested that I put her on my lap and sit on the bed but she insisted on getting OFF my lap and sitting on the bed on her own! She let him even put a gloved finger in her mouth! She let him put the measuring tape around her head. She flinched a bit when he looked in her ears but didn’t move away. And no crying at all! This time, he was able to measure her height and she stood on the scale herself!

The difference was astounding. And heartwarming. The paed had hoped the meds would reduce her anxiety. It definitely has.

No trauma! I hate medication with a passion. But sometimes, a mom has to do what a mom has to do for the greater good. That little smile she offered the receptionist is worth it. I’d rather a happy child who might later on have health problems, than an unhappy child who might harm herself today. The brain isn’t working ok, why punish her because of it?