Tags
ADD, ADHD, anxiety, Brazelton, child rearing, childhood, family, goals, guilt, introspection, Memories, parenting, repressed memories, shame, tears, Teen mother, Therapy, transference
When he got back after the cross-country U.S mission’s trip he found a job at a big box electronics store and did very well in sales. Then the economy took a nose dive and a bunch of big box stores closed, including his employer. He ended up unemployed and he spent an alarming amount of time playing video games and surfing the internet.
During the Spring I asked him to talk to his primary care physician about his ADHD. I talked to him about co-morbidity and how some times depression or anxiety like to run shotgun with ADHD for a variety of reasons and reminded him that it is ok to feel lost or overwhelmed but you have to let someone know especially since depression can become chronic without treatment. He agreed and spoke to his Primary Care. He tried another trial run of Strattera. This time there wasn’t much of the noticeable improvement we saw in 11th or 12th grade. Just a lot of fatigue, acid reflux and headaches. So the Strattera was discontinued and I continued fretting and being concerned about the palpable ennui surrounding my son.
Well, let’s fast forward to our night out on the town for the ADHD symposium. We got gussied up and drove to a swankier part of town to a Marriott Hotel. I was hoping that he would hear something that would help him on his journey to wholeness and I was not disappointed. The first omen of good will was a “celebrity sighting”. I think I’ve mentioned in other posts that I had a weird preoccupation with childhood growth and development and psychology in general as a child. Well when I turned up pregnant 5 weeks after my 17th birthday with no intention of getting an abortion I felt really awful about the situation I was bringing this kid into. So to make up for it I bought subscriptions to Parents magazine and Child magazine. I bought every book I could find authored by the holy trinity of child-rearing Dr. Spock, Penelope Leach, and T. Berry Brazelton.
I tried my best to channel a crunchy granola, caucasian, earth mother. I breast fed and followed the tenets of La Leche League. I bought age- appropriate developmental toys, designed to stimulate intelligence. We spent our afternoons at parks and playgrounds in upper-middle class neighborhoods, or at the Museum of Fine Arts with a sketch pad in tow, or The Museum of Science, or the Children’s Museum.
My favorite child development specialist was Dr. Brazelton. I watched his TV show “What Every Baby Knows” religiously. By the time my son turned 4, his salad days were over, I finally succumbed to the reality of my situation and quickly decompensated to survival mode. more things to feel horrible and guilty about….:-(
Anyway when we sat down in the meeting room at the Marriott, my ears pricked up at a familiar voice and I looked up and saw much to my delight, a very old but familiar Dr. T. Berry Brazelton. I could barely contain my delight. We sat through the whole presentation and all I could think of was what to say to Dr. Brazelton! At the end I realized he had taken out his hearing aids, so I tapped the person that was with him on the shoulder. “Hi, is that, um, Dr. Brazelton?” I asked sheepishly. “Why, yes it is.” the guy answered. “Is it ok if I introduce myself? I would really like to meet him.” I said. The guy gestured as if to say sure, go ahead. So I tapped Dr. Brazelton on the shoulder. “Hi, when I sat down I recognized you and I just wanted to say that when I was a teenaged mother I bought all of your books and watched your show everyday and I really used your principles and insights to raise my son.” I took a breath and gestured towards my son. “And this is him and he has an IQ of 142 and he turned out great, so thank you so much! You are such a gift and it is really an honor to meet you!” I gave my best 100 watt smile and let the mortification of the moment finally sink in.
Dr. Brazelton let out a hearty laugh when I told him about my Jack, he beamed from ear to ear. “Well, thank you! That is just WONDERFUL!” he exclaimed as he laughed some more. He gave me his autograph, while his friend (?) looked on with an expression of bewilderment. “This is incredible, how did you know it was him?!?!” he asked incredulously. “I know his voice, and when I saw him smiling, I know his face, I’d know his face ANYWHERE.” I stammer. “This is unbelievable, what a story. Look at your son he is confident and well-spoken and bright, you must be so proud. Plus you look like his sister not his mom. You know you just made Dr. Brazelton’s day right? Look at him! What a story…” The guy keeps shaking his head. We exchange a few more pleasantries and leave quickly.
On the ride home me and Jack have a long, much needed conversation about all the short-comings in his life and how they came about. I try to explain that I know I was wrong and I made terrible choices, partly because of my age and partly as reactions to my trauma history. I do point out that he was very lucky in so many ways. Lucky that his genius was nourished and encouraged. Lucky that I wanted to do right by him. things could have turned out much better, if I had made better choices, but things could have also turned out so much worse if I had just reacted like any other 17-year-old, unwed, binge drinking, PTSD, Self-injuring, Depressed, Suicidal, Abandoned, Sexually abused, Physically Abused, Verbally Abused girl would have reacted…………
On the upside, he is considering stimulants when he gets his medical insurance. I’m hoping I can talk him into an ADHD life coach as well.
You know I could have stayed and talked to Dr. Brazelton about so many things, but I was afraid that I would make a fool of myself, and that was too unbearable to imagine. I just did not feel worthy..