Prayers...I've been where you are

Today, I lift up prayers for the red-headed mom with the blonde little girl in the psychiatrist's waiting room this morning. As I sat down and Minky headed to his regular spot in the waiting room, this mom hesitantly struck up a conversation with me. Looking back, I'm pretty sure this was her first experience of taking her little girl to a psychiatrist.

"Do....do....do they provide you with notes of the discussion?" she asked as she saw me reviewing paperwork.

"Oh these? These are for something completely different and unrelated," I responded warmly but unengaged.

"What do they do? I mean...you've been here before? How does this work? Have they helped you with your son?" she continued after a pause, grasping her daughter's coat almost as if it were a blankie.

I answered her as best I could, at first not realizing that she was new to this whole shtick. I provided too much of the wrong information and not enough of the information that will get her through the day today. Just as I figured out her experience level and some of her needs, the doctor called her to come to her office. Like that, she was gone.

I wanted to yell out, "Wait! There's so much she needs to hear!" I wanted to tell her that there will be days she has no idea how she'll cope for another moment (she likely already knows this...), but that caring professionals do exist and will help. I wanted to share our experiences of experimenting with medications, of living in trial-and-error mode, of wiping the diagnostic slate clean and starting anew when the hoped-for answer to all our problems ended up being the wrong diagnosis. I wanted to hug her and hold her and reassure her that being a special needs mom never stops, but it is a vocation full of as much blessing as challenge.

I wanted to be able to hand her a card with my e-mail, a list of a bunch of great websites, a chance to ask all the questions that never seem appropriate for the doctor. I wanted to make sure she knew that she isn't required to go through this with fear nor by herself. But, just like that, she was gone.

So prayers, prayers, prayers for you, dear mom in the waiting room. Prayers for strength, prayers that God might catch all of your tears and calm your rampant fears, prayers that your little girl obtains the medical interventions she needs and that you, dear mom, are able to find hope in the midst of the foggy realities of special needs parenting.