a hint of light at the end of the tunnel . . .

Almost 8 years ago, God blessed me with the most handsome little boy a mother could ever dream of. Our journey has not been an easy one but we're getting there. Nate has always been one of the sweetest kids you could ever meet. He was the type of toddler that always had a smile which made his chubby cheeks look even chubbier and you just simply wanted to squeeze him. Somehow, when I wasn't looking this all started to change about two (2) years ago. I can't pinpoint the exact time I notice that Nate's temper was beyond normal temper tantrums (god-diddly fits as my grandmother calls them). At first I notice that little things would set him off, he's get upset and throw things; toys mostly. When we'd tell him to do something, he'd scream "you're not the boss of me" (Mark got that comment moreso than me). "I hate you" became a common scream during his, what I have termed, "Meltdown". The screaming and throwing toys has since turned into screaming, throwing anything in sight (usually at someone), holding his breath until he start turning a nice shade of blue, making fists and tensing up, and when his meltdown involves being upset at the cat (who has more than likely scratched him at sometime during this meltdown because she's scared) asking where his BB gun was (hid of course), all this while crying uncontrollably followed by snot running down his face. Are you getting the mental picture here? IT IS NOT A PRETTY SIGHT.

When these "meltdowns" first started we thought, maybe its because Mark had moved in and was an authority figure that he now had to mind. I mentioned the increase in bad behavior to his pediatrician and was assured "it would pass, he's probably just upset because another man moved in and this man was not his father, that he was just missing his father". I wasn't convinced, after all his father had not lived with us since he was 7 months old, and at this time he wasn't seeing him on a regular basis either. But I trudged along, hoping and praying things would get better; but they didn't. Last March, the first day of Spring break I took the kids to my parents house for the day while I went to work. I didn't go in as I usually did because I was running extremely late for work. I got the phone call at 10:19 a.m. (I'll never forget the time or that call) my Mother had called to say My Daddy was gone, but worse than that, my kids had been the one to find him in his bed. What a traumatic experience for a 6 year old child to experience, the man he looked up to and loved so much was gone. Nate expressed his grief, he cried and still cries because he misses Pa.

From this the behavior has stayed basically the same ... simple meltdowns..... crying, throwing things, screaming.. nothing real extreme... until Nate received the double whammy, Mark was deployed. Since my Dad's death, Nate and Mark have bonded. Mark has become the man Nate looks up to, the man he wants to be like when he grows up. The man he misses and asks me everyday how much longer till "Dad" gets home. They watched wrestling together, they played together (wrestled each other or played baseball), Mark took Nate to baseball practice or his games, if he didn't take him he was sure to show up before the game was over. Since Mark's departure my son's behavior has gotten worse and worse and worse. After the 4th time of being sent home from school I was told I had to take him to the doctor, so I did. I was at my wits end. I didn't know what else to do. I had seen my son's behavior go from this sweet adorable little boy to someone I didn't know. The look in his eyes when he becomes angry simple evil, there is no other way to describe it. I honestly felt that at any given time during one of these "meltdowns" he could hurt himself or someone and I expressed my concerns again to his pediatrician. I had to get my son some help. I wanted my sweet little boy back and I know he's in there somewhere.

Three weeks ago, our appointment with the Behaviorist finally came. She sat down and talked with us both asking lots of questions, then she spoke with Nate alone. After about an hour or so, she came in to talk to me. She recommended Nate go to therapy to address his feelings regarding my Dad and Mark's leaving and anything else he wants to talk about at the time. She further wanted to prescribe him a small dose of Prozac to help keep him calm and from having the sever outburst due to his "family history" (depressions runs on both sides of his DNA pool) with hopes that treating him early on for this will keep prevent him from having to be medicated as an adult for the same issues. (there's more to it but that's the readers digest version)

I have been very apprehensive about giving him Prozac. I've heard the horror stories and read the warning labels. However, upon my personal research I've found that the suicide rate among children Nathaniel's age is basically non-existent. I'm not going to say it doesn't exist but the numbers are very minimal. Still I was reluctant to medicate my 7 year old son and I definitely didn't want him labeled with "mental health issues" at such a young age. I had the prescription filled but didn't give it to him. I wanted to wait to see if therapy helped. However, I couldn't get an appointment as quick as I had hoped and his behavior wasn't improving.

Last Friday and Saturday were absolutely horrible, it was a constant battle with Nate. I found myself wanting to simply give up, but I knew that I couldn't give up on him. I loved him to much. God gave him to me for a reason, because he knew I wouldn't give up on him. I swallowed my pride and I gave Nate his first doge of 5mg Prozac. Sunday, it was like the switch had been flipped. I had my sweet little boy back. He's had one "meltdown" this week and that's because he accidentally stepped on his hamster, killing it. He didn't mean to, he didn't see her. He was devastated. (I'm thankful he showed such emotion). He's a much happier child. I still hate giving him that little pill everyday and I haven't increased the dosage as I'm told I'm supposed to do according to the prescription but I'm torn. Why increase the dosage if the current dose is working?

He starts therapy Tuesday. Please keep our family in your prayers. I love my children with all my being. I'd do anything for them and if that means I have to swallow my pride and give my son medicine that scares the hell out of me then I'll do it because I want him to be happy. I don't want him to be so angry and harbor such resentment. There's so much love in him, it just needs a way to get out.