August was a busy month. I brought Matthew into the pediatrician, who referred me several different places. It was such a hassle to try and get him in anywhere; there were either nine month waiting lists, or the clinics were closing for some reason or another. I finally got him into a nurse at the U of M. She referred him for more testing (neuropsychological), so now I'm filling out a bunch more paperwork and waiting up to six months after the paperwork has been sent in. Which, to be honest, is what I thought we were doing in the first place. This is all very frustrating. And why am I doing it? I know it's not going to change how I feel about Matthew. I know Nick doesn't want a "label" on him. But I need to know. When I was pregnant with him and they found that growth on his neck, it was a month of hell wondering what was wrong. Then, right before I had him and I was in the hospital with that migraine and they figured out there was almost no more fluid left for him, I wondered if something was going to be wrong. I continue to wonder, could I have done something different while I was pregnant? And if he does fall on the autism spectrum (or if he's diagnosed with something else), at least we can get him the help he needs both inside and outside of school. I was pretty pleased with the way things were going Friday and Saturday night, when he fell asleep before 9 without Melatonin, and he slept until 7 in the morning. I thought we had a good thing going on. Turned out to be a fluke, though, because tonight it was 10:30, and he was still going strong. That's okay. I'm going to try and wake up early tomorrow and get him going. He needs to be used to waking up early because he starts school on Tuesday.
I think I'm ready to go off the extra 20 mg of Prozac now. I've been relatively stable for over a month, and I think I can do without it. I see my psychiatric nurse the day before my birthday, and I'll discuss it with her then. That gives me another 3 1/2 weeks of being on it to make sure that I'm truly ready to be done with it.
I sprained my ankle last weekend at my parent's house. I was looking at their lilac tree, thinking that they need to trim it down because it blocks the light on the stairway, when I missed the last step and my right foot folded under me. Man, did that hurt. I was up that night in pain for a few hours; I honestly thought I broke it. My mom took me in to urgent care the next day. But it's just a sprain, and I'll be in a support for another three weeks.
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