The past several months have had us on a roller-coaster with our Matt. The challenges that were so consuming and confusing started in Jan of last year and began to mellow ever so slightly mid-May. They have continued to improve with short periods of regression scattered throughout the past several months. During that time, we have come to understand that this will be par for our course in life--that Matt will be challenging and have periods of profound psychiatric and behavioral struggles mixed in with periods where things will be calmer.
During the worst of his behaviors and challenges, things in our home weren't manageable and we started to explore all sorts of options to get a break. None of them materialized which was devastating to us at the time (we felt so desperate and were hanging on by what felt like a fraying thread), but I can see now that there was Divine intervention in how things actually played out.
One of the options we explored is called Enhanced Respite Services (through the state of WA) and it is basically a break for the family. Matt goes away for a month to a home that is run by the state and gives the family some time to regroup. The discussion about this started ages ago and after months of applications, conversations and overcoming different obstacles (a.k.a. his sleeping tent was considered a restraint), we finally were able to drop him off on Monday.
The week leading up to Matt's "vacation" was rough--he has been engaging in a lovely (sarcasm intended) and very socially inappropriate behavior lately where he sticks his hands down his pants. Unsanitary at best, we have worked really hard to extinguish this behavior through therapy and redirection, but unsuccessfully. It doesn't seem to be attention seeking; in fact, it almost seems like a tic or a habit...like he can't help himself--his hand just goes there. To add insult to this, he decided it would be fun to start shredding his diaper while in there and I find parts and particles of his diaper all over the house and car. The worst is when he would have some time in the back row of the car (I have to put him there so he doesn't grab my hair and neck while I drive) and the back seat ends up looking like a snow-storm hit. Remember when you accidentally washed a diaper and opened up the machine in surprise? Yup--same story, back seat of my car. Since that isn't quite gross enough, he decided it might also be fun to start eating the insides of his urine-saturated diaper. I don't want to talk about it any more.
To prevent this (because it became much more than a socially inappropriate behavior and reached the level of both disgusting and unhealthy), we started to use a wrestling singlet all the time. So little mister figured out a way to access his parts through the bottom of his shorts, pull his little man out to the side, and pee everywhere. So we put him in pants...and he gained access by going down the pants, up the singlet and little guy was released from diaper prison again and pee flowed freely.
Dealing with all of this--the loads of laundry, the vacuuming, the disinfecting, the changes of clothes, the disruption to running errands at all--took its toll and I started counting down the days until I didn't have to deal with it any more. Enter Mamma Guilt (capitalized on purpose). In all of its amazing technicolor, I started to experience feelings of absolutely crushing guilt at the fact that I wanted my son out of the house.
In the days leading up to our drive to Spokane, I was so emotional--partly because I was constantly frustrated with him, and partly because I would miss him desperately. It was as though he could sense this wrestle and while the behavior increased, so did the hugs and the intensity of them. I call them his "aggressive" hugs and I got so many of them. I would cry a lot that week when he would hold on to me extra tight and for a long time.
Todd and I were both so conflicted dropping Matt off--we had no idea what to expect in terms of the facility, but I already knew I was going to love the people working there since we had talking on the phone and via Zoom. They were bright, energetic, delightful people that I instantly felt connected to. The house exceeded our expectations and was so clean, comfortable, and located in a beautiful area with chickens and deer running through the yard when we pulled up. It eased our minds significantly, but we were still going to walk out the door and leave our little dude here. That's so hard to wrap you head around--how do you leave him behind? How is it even possible to let yourself do that?
We did manage to get in the car and drive home, totally confident in the people that were taking care of him, but feeling insecure about a few things: 1) what if I like having him gone a lot? 2) what if he's mad at us? 3) will we be ready for him when he comes back home? 4) what if I've been hiding behind Matt? What if this experience without him exposes things I don't like about myself?
We both cried a lot. I cried while I said my prayers, pleading for my baby...cried myself to sleep that night. And then I woke up in the morning to a totally different life. I wasn't jarred awake by screaming noises when Matt got up. I didn't have to deal with anyone's bodily fluids, run extra loads of pee sheets, change anyones clothes a thousand times, prep every detail of the house to avoid a disaster before school. During the day, I wasn't scrambling to get things done in preparation for him to come home. I wasn't picking him up from school for therapy. So many little things that are part of my normal were able to fall out of my brain which simply left me with more mental space. I can't describe what that feels like.
Am I a horrible person that I feel so relieved? Everyone would say no to my face, but there might be some judgements from those who say "I could never let anyone else take care of my child like that! I could never leave my flesh and blood in someone else's care." Me neither. This took an act of God. Mountains were moved, roads were paved, earthly angels intervened, and therapists validated. This is the right thing for our family right this minute.
This was a big deal to me...to Todd...to our kids. It's only 30 days, but it is also the first 30 days in 15 years that we have ever experienced this kind of life. It's different. We talk to each other...a lot. When Matt gets back, we'll be better able to love him without resentment. It's a battle every single day. We were worn out. I'm excited to miss Matt for a minute. We all are.
