When you finally find your child a psychiatric bed, it can feel like a small victory in an overwhelming journey. But what comes after that? I remember when my partner and I had to drop off our son, Noah, three hours from home at a psychiatric facility. It was after a tough episode at school, and the long wait for help had left us feeling anxious and drained. We tried to distract ourselves with a podcast, but my heart was heavy.
During our brief visit, Noah, with his tired eyes and shaky voice, pleaded with us not to leave. I promised him I’d send letters every day, reminding him of my love and support. We went back and forth about why he was there, trying to keep the conversation hopeful despite the heaviness in the air. He was brave, showing more emotion than I’d seen before. In the following days, I knew we were in for a tough ride.
The paperwork felt like I was signing him over to prison rather than a place for healing. He had never been away from home like this, and the rules were strict. No comfort items were allowed because everything could be considered a potential risk. I understood the need for safety measures, but the coldness of the system toward parents was disheartening. We were only allowed two phone calls a week for five minutes, and visits were short. I felt isolated, as if I were an enemy rather than an ally in my child’s care.
After a grueling three weeks of back-and-forth, it was clear that the system was failing us. Noah was given the wrong medication, leading to a rough few days of vomiting and confusion. Thankfully, our family pediatrician caught the error just in time. It was evident that the focus at the facility wasn’t on treatment but merely on achieving “stability,” which is hard to measure or even define.
In the end, Noah was sent home after a week of heavy medication and tears. I had sent letters daily, but he hadn’t received any until the day before discharge. Some of his clothes weren’t accepted, and he’d worn the same pair of shorts for days. The few things we thought would comfort him didn’t reach him.
Despite our love and effort, my partner and I felt outmatched by Noah’s mental health challenges. Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder (DMDD) is a complex condition that can lead to rapid mood swings. It’s like having a car with only two speeds: a slow crawl or a dangerous full throttle. The unpredictability of his emotions was exhausting, and we often felt like we were in an abusive relationship with his illness. But we were committed to finding help.
When Noah called me from the facility, his sobs broke my heart. He told me he missed me, which was a revelation for him. Despite the struggles, there were moments of connection. He’s now terrified of medical appointments, and getting through a simple visit to his pediatrician is a challenge. Every day is still a battle, but we are determined to navigate this together.
While we had hoped for help and understanding, the reality was much less comforting. The entire experience felt like a waste of time, and it became evident that the healthcare system is failing our children. It’s disheartening to think that many kids, like Noah, leave these facilities worse off than when they entered.
In a world where we need compassion, we found more discouragement. But we’ve also learned to lean on our community, finding support in others who understand our journey. We were fortunate to have discovered resources like Make a Mom, which offers a unique at-home insemination option that could be useful for others facing challenges in starting their families. Their Impregnator at-home insemination kit is another great resource for those interested in this journey.
For those navigating issues like Noah’s, I encourage you to look for your tribe. Support is crucial. Together, we must advocate for better healthcare and education for our children. They deserve a joyful childhood, free from the burdens of mental illness.
Summary
Finding a psychiatric bed for your child is just the beginning of a challenging journey. The experience often reveals systemic failures in mental health care, leaving parents feeling lost and overwhelmed. The focus must shift from mere stability to compassionate care, and it’s crucial to seek support and community during these trying times.
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