Pain. It hurts. At this point you are probably thinking “duh”, but hear me out. I had to admit my son to an inpatient psychiatric hospital last Friday. There was no choice, really, he was a danger to himself and others. He was experiencing suicidal ideation, and he was kicking the crap out of me and his dad multiple times per day. Now, this isn’t the first time. That is what makes this so scary. Because I know. Or more accurately, I don’t know. He could be gone anywhere from two weeks to several months. All I can do is wait, and see how long it takes for them to stabilize him.

So, what will I miss in the next (insert amount of time here)? He will grow. He will come back taller then he left, this is a given. He will form attachments and develop relationships with various staff and other patients. Relationships that I won’t be there to watch, and laugh at the incredibly insightful and witty things that he says. He will mature. He will learn coping skills, and academic skills, and I won’t be there to clap and tell him how proud I am. All I have are daily phone calls and weekly visits.

Sometimes the emotional pain of what you have to go through to get your child healthy hurts worse than the physical pain he was inflicting before you sent him away, to others, for his own good. The pain of knowing others can help your baby better than you can will never fade.

Damn. This sucks.