Luke, Little Rock, and Prayers

Mark was out of town.  Of course.  Isn't it always that way?  I was sick Wednesday and Thursday.  Of course.  And Friday, today, I loaded up the kids, picked up printed out directions from Mark's office (Thank you, Paula!), drove to my friend's office to borrow her GPS (Thank you, Kim!) and then we were on our way.  Well, I hadn't slept but a few hours the night before (nerves and still didn't feel well and Mark was gone) so I drove through McD's and got coffee.  THEN we were on our way.  Luke had a very important appointment with a doctor in Little Rock who specializes in testing, rating and assessing children in order to diagnose anything from Autism to ADD.  I was a nervous wreck.

We've had three appointments with a therapist here in Searcy and have felt pretty good so far with the progress we've seen.  Luke is smart.  He's creative and funny and handsome and sweet.  And he has more moments of uncertainty and sadness than joy every single day.  He is constantly worried about not being good enough (smart enough, cute enough, sweet enough, etc...).  He is concerned that he is letting everyone down and he vocalizes his anger at letting himself down more times than I count during each day.  Mark and I have exhausted our resources and have, through much prayer and support, begun to reach out into the possibility of medical answers.  (And again, I must give credit to Kathryn for putting us on this trail)

Luke's therapist has told us that, yes Luke is precious and smart, and he has a terrible habit of negative self-talk.  She assured us that, after her observations, she knows this has not come from us or any negative environment.  He has initiated this himself and most-likely it was born of high expectations for himself.  Luke is a perfectionist.  I'm not talking OCD.  I'm not talking fear of failure.  I'm talking about truly believing that he is stupid and has no talent.  It is very frustrating to see him correct mistakes in a math text book, spell seven-syllable words, write a children's book within 30 minutes (complete with illustrations), and study French and then hear him wailing that he's so dumb because he lost a video game....that he is the worst brother in the world....that he is worthless.  :(

Today's appointment was all about putting a measurement in place.  We need to know exactly what we are dealing with.  I've avoided tests and assessments because I don't like labels or putting a person in a box.  My brother was put in a box very early on in school by short-minded teachers who were either lazy, ignorant, or both and he began to believe he wasn't smart.  He can build computers from trashed parts and reprogram your iphone to sing to you without you realizing he even had it in his hand.  He's gifted.  And I could single-handedly take to task each of the idiots who trampled all over his genius as a child.  So...I have never wanted to have Luke's iq tested.  What if he was having an "off" day and scored low (or what some consider low) and lived his life believing what that number said??  I'm terrified of that.  I so often struggle with trusting God.

I have always known that I'm a monkey-mom.  (This is a mother who believes her child is beautiful but really the child looks like a monkey)  I have always known that I see my children as the best, brightest, bla bla bla...I actually believe EVERY mother should be a monkey-mom.  But at the same time, I'm an honest mom.  I have always believed in keeping things in the Light, facing things head-on, owning the truth of who we are and doing our best to glorify God no matter what that truth is.  So, I've lived with the belief that Luke's gifted...but I haven't been ready to actually learn the truth and meet it head-on.  Until this negative self-talk began stealing my son's joy.  Have I mentioned that I'm also a mama-bear?  Don't steal my child's joy.  Big mistake.

So.  We parked the Jeep and eventually got to the door of the office of this doctor in Little Rock.  I won't keep you in suspense.  She's wonderful.  We love her.  We felt at home with her right away.  And she proved her credentials in a very short time.  She also fell in love with Luke (see?  Monkey-mom) so she had me with no strings.

She and I talked for an hour and a half.  Not coffee-talk.  She drilled me.  She asked me about Luke, beginning with conception.  I'm not kidding.  It felt good to just talk about my child without worrying that I sounded like I was bragging.  What mama doesn't enjoy talking about her child?  She took feverish notes the whole time.  I cried while I confessed that Mark and I are at a loss as to how to help our son.  "I've been told over and over that he's super smart...but I don't even care anymore about that!  I just want him happy!"  She assured me she was going to test his i.q. but then also test everything else.  Social, cognitive, mental, emotional, etc...

And she did.  And Luke had a meltdown.  And then it was just the doctor and me in the office again.  (She had a great playroom for the kids)  She said, "That poor baby.  He's depressed."  I said, "I know!  He's so sad!"  She said, "No, I mean I'm diagnosing him.  He's chemically depressed."  I started crying.  Because I know that chemical depression is genetic.  I've given this to my child.  She smiled (while passing me the tissues again) and said, "This is good news.  Chemical depression is fixable.  We have great medications."  We talked about this for a bit and then she said, "Have I even told you about his tests?" 

She said, "I cannot call your son a genius."  Deflation.  Then disappointment in myself for being deflated.  She continued, "I was taught that the meaning of the word "genius" is having a high intellectual capacity in a certain subject.  Your son has a high intellectual capacity in every subject.  So I'd call him gifted.  Your son his scary-smart.  And he didn't finish his test.  He had his meltdown before we completed it so I only have a partial reading.  From that reading, I can tell you without a doubt he is in the 99 percentile of his age in every subject.  This means that if we lined up 100 children, he'd be smarter than 99 of them."

Wow.

"But," she continued (and did I just hear that other shoe drop?) "Until we get his depression taken care of, he will not be able to do anything with his gift.  He is frozen.  This poor baby has no joy."  She talked to me about his abilities...it blew my mind.  She began telling me about a special school in Colorado that only takes the smartest of the smart and how they would love to have him.  I was quite overwhelmed.  The heartbreak of it all is this depression. 

So, we are on the road to medication.  It takes a bit of red tape and doctor's signatures before the pill actually goes down the hatch, but we've started the process and believe that within a month's time, we will have a different child on our hands (in a good way). 

I am humbled.  I am relieved.  I am exhausted.  I am going out in a few minutes to buy pizza.  Mark just flew in.  We leave tomorrow for a vacation with Mark's family in Iowa.  My cup runneth over.  In fact, my life is blessed more than I have the capacity to grasp or express. 

Thanks for tagging along on this journey.  To be continued....