As I'm lying in my bed, nursing my youngest to sleep and listening to my oldest scream bloody murder over the baby monitor, I'm reminded of the query that goes something like: "your 2 children are in the ocean, drowning. You can only reach one of them. Which one do you save?".
My 4yo was stopped from one steroid and started on another. With only 3 doses of the new medicine, he was suddenly experiencing adult-like fits of rage. I knew what it was because it happened once before when he was on another medication. I stopped the new medicine and put him back on the old stuff. He's had 3 doses of that and his rage is still scarily present. I'm hoping he'll regulate soon.
Before, when this happened over a year ago, I didn't know what was happening. We were in the thick of trying to find out what's been going on with him medically, and when he was prescribed Singulair we just gave it to him. Rage was never discussed as a side effect. But suddenly, my sweet, soft, compassionate, almost 3 year old was throwing himself into closed doors, running through the house knocking any and every object down that was within his reach, punching, kicking, scratching, and biting. He would scream so loud and forcefully that his face would turn a reddish purple and he was giving himself headaches. I, never even thinking it could've been a side effect of this medication, suffered along this journey with him. I started out angry that he was "misbehaving" and having temper tantrums. That was, after all, what had been ingrained in me; children act out because they are being fresh. I would yell, threaten punishment, take toys away.... none of this worked. Hell, he couldn't reason, of course it didn't work! I decided to try to stay overly calm. When he would start running through the house screaming or wouldn't go to bed, I would sit on the couch, in the dark, waiting. After a few minutes he would come over and rest against me. I'd pick him up and carry him to bed. If he started hitting, biting, kicking, scratching, I would do my best to hold his hands or gently deflect him while speaking quietly. Let me tell you, having restraint when someone is biting you or punching you in the eye or face is fucking hard. But, this was my small child and children just aren't wired to be violent. Something was wrong. The more I sat on the floor during these outbursts and calmly said "Mommy's here, I will help you when you're ready.", the shorter they lasted. He would fall into my lap, still screaming and crying, but when I would ask what was wrong, he'd say he didn't know. That broke me. My poor baby didn't know why he was throwing sneakers into lamps, or ramming his shoulder into the closed door, or throwing papers all around. Although these episodes lessened in duration, they were still abundant in frequency. He was on that medicine for over a year when a new specialist mentioned rage as a side effect. I stopped him immediately and these fits disappeared. He eventually started a new medicine and his rage came back for a short period of time; obviously some sort of adjustment period. I would sob every single day because I was so afraid my kid was going to have some type of mindfuck because of all of these fits. I cried because I didn't know how to help him. I cried because of the days I lost my patience and yelled at him. I cried for the times I tried to spank him. I cried for the times I yelled so loudly it scared him. I cried because why was this happening to us?
Stopping the Singular stopped the rage and outbursts. Bedtime was no longer a 2 hour ordeal. He no longer acted out or got crazy. So, when he started flipping out the other day, after starting him on Advair, I knew right away what was going on. He's still experiencing the rage, and I'm going to assume (pray) that it's just the transition back to his regular steroid. But, while this is ongoing, I now have a 10 month old. I can no longer give my full attention to my oldest during his fits. Today was my first experience with this. I was preoccupied with some work this morning and our routine was off. I could tell he was nearing the edge of his cliff so I made some lunch and prepped him for a nap. While on a call, he started sliding downward over the edge and started screaming and throwing things. Simultaneously, the 10 month old decided "Hey, I'm fucking tired and want to nurse and go to sleep NOW!". I made my way through the end of the call - grimacing as the man on the other end could hardly hear me say "No, you've been a great help" over the 4 year old's shrieks, and ordered my 4 year old to his room. I had lost my patience. 10 month old was standing at my legs, pulling on my pants, crying, and I needed to get him to sleep. I walked with both boys to their room and told my 4 year old it was nap time for everyone and I needed to get his brother down. This launched him into a full fledged fit. Over the past hour and a half, I've gone from child to child, leaving them to flip their shit as I tended to the other. When I left the 4yo to go to the baby, he would slam doors, throw sneakers (knocking down and breaking a glass container and knocking a lightbulb out of his ceiling fixture) and lose it. He'd come running into my bedroom where I was trying to nurse his brother to sleep and he would scream at me, slam my door, and repeat this cycle. I went back and forth between the two probably 8 times. I did lose my shit again - which I fucking hate. It makes me feel weak and like a terrible mom to yell at him. I KNOW why he's acting like this. I KNOW he can't fucking help it. But, after an hour, I have almost nothing left. I yell. Loudly. I tell him not to leave his bed. I go back to my room, pick up the crying baby and start to nurse him. Again. The 4yo comes in, yelling, and without looking at him I quietly say "if you want to keep screaming go in the other room. Your brother needs to sleep." He slams my door. Comes back in; 4yo: "Did you hear what I just did?!" Me, so quietly: "yes. If you want to scream or slam the door, go in the other room. Please, your brother needs to sleep." Door slams. He bangs it. I can hear him go in his room. He starts to cry. My heart is torn.....10 month old's eyes are fluttering closed, he is ALMOST asleep! But, I can hear the 4yo has peaked; he's done and is now emotionally crashing. He needs me... how do I choose which boy to help? Keep nursing the youngest until he falls asleep or go help my bigger one, who has just been through an emotional rollercoaster and needs to be comforted? I know what that emotional crash feels like. I know that it feels like you've just run 26.2 miles after not sleeping for 6 days and your body is just limp. I listen to him crying, not yelling, just those sad sobs of a little boy. And as my own throat tightens, he comes into my room, clutching his blanket, breaths spasming. I tell him to come lie down on the other side of my bed and wait for me. He does, and his movement alerts the little one. Now the one whose eyes were closed is now awake and rolling around trying to get to his brother. This. Is. Not. Happening. I put munchkin in the playpen and walk little man to his room. He says "mommy, I'm the worst ever. I'm so so sorry" and starts to cry. I pick him up and sit down with him in the recliner. I assure him he's not the worst ever. I tell him it's okay to be angry, but we need to work on not hitting, throwing and yelling. I remind him that I'm here to help him when he feels out of control - he asks "what's out of control?"... yet another reminder that kids are not vicious, angry heathens. They have great big emotions that they just don't know how to manage. We talk a little longer and I carry him to his bed. I tuck him in and give him a hug and a kiss. I don't even make it to my room and I see on the monitor he's already asleep. I pick up munchkin, lie down with him and nurse. He passes right out, too. I slip out and finish writing this as my body starts to show the weary signs of the battle I just encountered. I'm off to make another cup of coffee and hope they sleep for at least an hour.
Y'all, this shit ain't easy. Give yourself grace. Let yourself cry. We don't always make the right choices, but we can always keep trying to be/do better; just like we ask of our littles.
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