Today is Saturday, which means Family Group Therapy at the PPH. Our whole family was able to go together, for once! There was another family there this week. It was their first time because their son is new to the PPH. They seemed like very sweet people. Good parents, cute children, but I could see that shell-shocked look, especially in the mother’s eyes. Whatever brought their son there was not a happy story, of course. I don’t know him at all, but I do know that you only land yourself in the PPH if something very dramatic has happened. I saw in that mother all of the love and fear, the hope and pain. She and I shared a few moments of total understanding. I don’t know her, I don’t know her husband, I don’t know her other children, and I don’t know her son at the PPH (though they all seemed like great people). But oh my golly, do we get each other. We shared smiles and nods and a sense of solidarity. At the end of therapy as we were leaving, she wished me “good luck” and I returned the sentiment. And then we both sorta sighed and half-laughed and nodded our understanding. I hope it helped her to know that she’s not alone; it helped me.
(Not that any of you have ever let me feel alone! You have all been such an amazing support through all of this. Your notes and kind words and prayers and everything else are so very appreciated.)
Isaac had a pretty good day, from what I could tell. He was mostly pleasant and engaged. He was, of course, determined to lick the green paint during our artsy-craftsy therapy session, but only because he had been specifically told NOT to lick it. But he was happy and playful and mostly did a good job. Once again, our therapy session had a “moral of the story” sort of lesson to go along with it, and, once again, Isaac completely missed it. Haha. But, really, who knows what bits and pieces might be sinking in, taking root where none of us can see them. I guess that’s why we keep trying, right?
Well, that’s all for tonight. Thanks, as always, for everything. xoxox