As you get closer to discharge, the hospital will start trying more overnight passes, and try and get your child home safely. In our case it’s a little tricky, because my daughter has been there so long, she’s more institutionalized. She’s forgotten things like chores, washing dishes ( no dishwasher, so that means really, wash your dish!), sharing a bathroom and other shared social graces. The idea is get them home, do normal things, and see how they react. You get things set, perhaps plan a special meal, and fingers crossed, you might even forget there’s any issues.

A dear friend had made a special lunch for us. We stopped on the way home to pick it up, and I was truthfully super relieved not to have to worry about cooking when I got home. Now in a normal situation you would think nothing of jumping out of the car and running in somewhere with a teenager left to wait in the car, but in this case, that could be the difference between ……well let’s not go there. I took the small chance (building trust – tefrifying) and got the meal – it looked beautiful and I was so excited. When I got back to the car, I was told my phone rang twice. I looked at the missed call and it was the hospital. “Why would they be calling? I have her with me. Seriously?! Did they see me get out of the car? Am I being watched ?”

“Yes. I see. Ummm yes. Ok? Do we have to come back? OK then. I will in awhile. Yes, I understand. That’s not likely. I’ll let you know. Thankyou.”

Pretty obvious at that point there’s an issue. The nice day we’re having now has a hiccup. As if it wasn’t hard enough having an small escalation the night before, now we have to deal with something else.

Apparently, 1 in 3 kids is cutting, or has at least tried. Word on the unit was that my daughter had been sneaking in sharps, taping them to her body and then self harming on unit -probably at night, but most likely the night before. I now was stuck with the chore of questioning her about the whole situation and trying to find out if she was injured and needed care.

How do you tell if your child is cutting? It’s very hard because they’re sneaky creatures and very good at hiding. Are they wearing clothes that are loose fitting or long sleeves when they wouldn’t otherwise? Have you noticed the first aid kit out, if you have one? Have you noticed a request for pain killers or your child avoiding hugs or personal contact? These could all be signs that something suspicious is going on. Instead of bullying her with a bunch of questions I was very matter of fact. I then drove to Walmart and went to the first aid section. The look on her face was one of surorise, especially when I said to her “tell me what you need. If you won’t show me the wounds, at least tell me what you need to keep them from getting infected.” She was reluctant so I reached foe the alcohol swabs. “No, those hurt.” She reached for the gentle bandaid cleaning anti sceptic, some polysporin, and latex free bandaids. Once we got home, I let it go for awhile. Another call from the hospital, angry texts to me from her dad – seriously everyone, this is hard enough as it is – give me a chance already! At one point I thought we would be making a trip back, but each time she managed to use coping skills to recover, and she did. Listening to music, looking at pictures of puppies and kittens, talking with her brothers, having a snack – all distraction tools to move beyond the pain. The fact is that whatever had happened the day before was still with her, and the pain of that was real. Bed time comes along and it’s shower time – another trust building exercise. All went well but after was when I had chosen to talk. I needed to pick a moment away from anxiety that I could get real. The choice was given – “you want to build trust? Let me take care of the wounds, or at least see them so I can assess if further care is needed.” I don’t think I was very popular at that moment, but she reached out to me, and I did what a mom does. I stayed quiet and cleaned the wounds. Perhaps others would have scoled, shrieked, cried, been upset, but not me. No room for that here. This is one time to keep my emotions to myself and just deal with it. Bedtime. All is well. Late night check in – very scary. “ Dare I look? I’m sure she’s sleeping. What if she’s not? Nah, i have to trust. This is ok. Shes ok. What if……..?” Deep breath. Look around the corner – sound asleep. Whewf. We’re good. Trust is going g to be a huge difficult endeavor. Should I get a nanny cam? Baby monitors? Or do I just inch forward, blindly hoping for sucess. I don’t think there’s a right answer. The big thing here is building trust with eyes wide open, and hopefully not being caught off guard. Hopefully.