The last few days have been ... trying to say the least. And I'm exhausted, emotionally and physically.
Ten days ago, we took L to the doctor to try and get her prescription changed. She was on Prozac to help with her anxiety, but it was making her aggressive when she was in melt-down mode, which was pretty often. It got to the point where she would slap at my face, grab Oma's nose hard, hit or bite herself, etc.
I think I'd take that over what we've experienced for the last few days.
We weaned her off of the Prozac over a week's period. Then, we started a new pill that was supposed to help calm her down, help her control her impulses, etc. Everything has been completely opposite.
The new medicine makes her hyper. Bouncing off the walls. Unable to sleep. OR whiny, inconsolable, perseverating on things that aren't an issue. Nothing in between. And it's been a nightmare.
I can fully understand why couples with a special needs child have such a high rate of divorce. This has been an extremely stressful last few days. I'm too tough, he's too lenient. I cover my ears and walk out of the room, he sits with her trying to get her to talk it out. He says I don't handle it well, I get mad at him. Seems about right, doesn't it?
We came home from church today and listened to L whine at the people who were "laughing at her" (no one was), or crying about her hair band disappearing (she yanked it out), or not wanting to go to the doctor (which she started joking about just a few minutes earlier) the whole ride home. I told the "people" to quit laughing at L! She got upset with me b/c I scared her. I put her hair up in a new hair band, she pulled it back out. We confirmed over and over again that there was no doctor, she didn't hear us.
I sat in the back seat crying from complete helplessness.
Shannon couldn't get out of the car fast enough when we got home. He ran to L's side of the car and got her out as quickly as he could and just sat on the porch with her trying to help bring her back.
After she went inside and started banging on the drums, I sat on the porch with Shan trying to figure out where to go from here. I feel like every decision we make is the wrong one. I'm tired of trying new drug after new drug to only get worse and worse results.
As her parents, we're supposed to be able to help her, to do what's right for her, and I feel like we're just making it worse. I can't seem to make anything better for her and there is not enough preparation in the world to keep her from having a meltdown.
For now, we sit on our respective couches, noses in our computers, trying to get as "far away" from it as we can. We need to reorganize our thoughts, get a new game plan, and call the doctor in the morning.
Tonight, however, I'm just hoping she goes to sleep.
That'd be nice.