After the last post, a whole lot of things happened. It seemed as if we would not be able to give our son what he needed to become himself, that hope was lost. We were at the lowest point imaginable as a protofamily. There was even talk of finding a new place for our boy. Clearly, something had to give.
Yesterday was a very eventful day. It began with the lad taking a minor tumble down the lower half of the staircase to the main floor. We all thought he'd just pulled something, so I got him off to school. It wasn't until after school, when things had not improved and I ran him down to Children's, that we discovered he had a small break in his collarbone. He has to wear a sling for a few weeks while it starts to heal, and can't play sports for 6 weeks. Not that he had been, but still.
While all of that was going on, the care team was in full crisis mode. We assembled in my living room to strategize the best ways to move forward. We are trying three things: he is going to be evaluated tomorrow by a psychiatrist who specializes in childhood trauma. We are going to begin an intensive in-home behavioral therapy for not only our son but the whole family. We are going to give my husband and I some time off: we will take a weekend, or even a long Saturday, to be a coupe again rather than just parents.
I also figured out a less abrasive way to wake him this morning: rather than talking REALLY LOUD, I simply told him it was time to wake up and then started playing some of his favorite YouTuber's videos. He woke up slowly, but he woke up not aggravated.