That time when all the wheels fell off. Like really fell off.

Just look at these darling pictures of our family.  A friendly photographer from our church came over and took these shots last October.  Don't we look like a joyful and happy bunch?

 

 

Well, we are. 

Some days. 

 

I couldn't bring myself to put these pictures on the blog or social media at the time because they were not telling the whole story.  Not even close.  I've got a few friends that have left facebook over the years and in my mind it's because of pictures like these.  Pictures were you look like you have it all together and life is just one big rainbow.  I don't know.  I'm not sure if people intentionally mean to mislead, or if everyone is just more inclined to put up pictures taken with big smiles and great memories. 

 

I will tell you that we had to reschedule with the photographer two or three times before she could actually come to our house because we had one child that had completely come unglued.  I am not exaggerating to say it would have been impossible to have pictures that didn't contain tears and screaming.  And forget leaving the house, let's all meet up at a scenic park for pictures.  This child had also turned into a serious flight risk.  We tried to just straight up cancel with this photographer, but she wouldn't hear of it.  She was also coming out to shoot us for free.  I would have though.  100% would have cancelled if she would have let us. 

 

Fall of 2015.  Not a happy time in the Motsinger household.

 

Jon and I stood by and watched as one of our beloved boys went through something that looked an awful lot like a mental break down.  Nothing we did seemed to help and we felt powerless as we tried to make sense of what we were living.  In the end, we did get some great help and received a diagnosis of ongoing PTSD, which seemed to fit the bill. 

 

Many people blog for many reasons.  To inform, writing as an outlet, to promote business or ideas, assert yourself as an expert, help others, just to name a few.  Those are not my reasons.  I chose to blog because I think of it as a scrapbook for our family, that we can look back at some day.  Plus we are the only Texas residents on either side of our family and it seems like an easy way to stay connected.   

 

So if nostalgia and sharing happy memories are the drive behind your blog, do you really want to share a child's extreme difficulty?  It's not as if I'm blogging to try and connect with and help other mothers whose children suffer from PTSD.  Those closest to us knew what we were going through and were praying daily for us.  And so the blog slipped.  But my hat's off to those of you that did reach out to us via email or card with comments like, "Is everyone/everything ok? Haven't seen much activity on your blog lately."  Go ahead and add that to reasons I blog.  A portable community.  And in my mind a portable community sounds an awful lot like "We love you.  We are here for you." 

 

So here I am.  Explaining the absence.  Trying to find balance between living truth in an open community and protecting personal boundaries of an experience that's only 1/4 mine.

 

Our school year started out well, good actually.  Everyone was enjoying their new teachers and learning new activities.  Then quicker than we realized what was happening, one of our boys was completely coming undone.  He would come home crying for hours about perceived injustices, which then just turned into rage.  He became aggressive and violent, and had trouble managing his emotions both at home and school.  We switched therapists and found a pediatric behavioral specialist who were both worth their weight in gold.  We began to see small, teeny steps of progress.  And then even more teeny steps. 

 

Then our other son completely fell apart.  We quickly realized we had not done enough to shelter and protect our other son; he had seen his brother totally lose it too many times and he was scared and shaken up.  We added him to the list of those who were seeing a therapist.  We tried to pour into him. 

 

We were surrounded by a wonderful community and family during our toughest season.  People prayed fervently, it was felt.  People brought over dinner.  People took our other son out on a million play dates so he could take a break from home life.  People checked in on us even though it was hard to talk about. 

 

We continued to see small, teeny steps of progress with our disregulated son.  Our other son was back to his happy go lucky self.  Then instead of feeling hope, I totally fell apart.  Would all this happen again? How would we survive it a second time? How would I protect my son if my other son falls off the deep end again? Add me to the list of people in the Motsinger household that were then enjoying the benefits of a therapist. 

 

Ah, this thing that we call living. 

 

Fast forward a few months.  One son has continued to see his therapist and doctors and we are grateful.  All the teeny steps are adding up to be an actual swing in the right direction.  We are also really restricting how this particular kiddo spends his time, trying to ensure he has enough down time and family time to suit his needs.  Our other son has been back to his normal self for quite some time, begging for continued play dates and more foster care placements. I have also been feeling much better and hopeful about the future.  It feels like our family has been emerging from a cocoon over the last couple of months or so.  We are attending our small group again as a family.  We are able to go out and eat as a family.  We are running around outside as a family.  We are able to run errands without a panic plan. 

 

So, there you have it.  The worst months in our family's life.  I don't really want to sound cliché, but could it be true that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger? I hope so.  (And by the way, only I can say that.  It would be too obnoxious and minimizing coming from any of you.  Ha!)