Moments of weakness will happen. This does not make you weak.
Wilson had the biggest meltdown I’ve ever dealt with today.
We had an appointment to see our Developmental Pediatrician, who happens to be located in the same hospital where Wilson had a traumatic experience getting blood drawn last month. I worried about this, but figured it would be okay because we were going to a completely different wing of the hospital. He recognized where we were as soon as we drove into the parking garage.
This is when the screaming began. He pleaded to go home, and “no doctor.” I told him we were seeing a different doctor and there would be “no ouchies” today but he could not understand.
I carried his flailing and screaming body through the parking garage, across the street and into the hospital. This is where his meltdown intensified. We would make it about five feet, me carrying him, before he would flail so hard or scream so loud we had to sit on the floor. I tried to help him take breaths like we’ve worked on before, but he was too far gone and wanted OUT.
It broke me to see him so incredibly scared. I sat down on the floor and cried with him, in the middle of the hospital lobby. I couldn’t see a way out of this situation, besides leaving.
We arrived to our doctor’s office to find a construction zone and a sign that they had moved to a different floor. SH*T. A hospital employee walking by stopped and offered to help. I told her I didn’t know how she could. She offered food or drink, but he already had his favorite snack and a juice box in his hands (I think we dropped every other object or article of clothing during this ordeal but he held on to those two things the whole time!) It was really hard to hear one another over his screaming, but we put together that she was actually from the Children’s Developmental Institute that we were trying to get to. She helped us find the elevator and took us in. We skipped check-in and the waiting room and headed right into the sensory room where we calmed down in the dark while watching lights in a sensory tunnel.
I am beyond thankful for this woman taking the time to help to us, and for persisting when I wanted to give up, go home, and never come back.
Wilson said “no ouchies” on the walk back to the car, I guess he finally believed me! He was back to his happy self and moved right on with his day.
He is the strongest kid I know. And I am going to be the strongest mama bear he will ever know.
Tomorrow, we’ll get to work on incorporating new social stories, pretend play and visuals to practice in the coming months to help prepare us for the next visit.
But tonight, mama needs a glass of wine.