THE AWKWARD MOM

because uncomfortable conversations are the ones worth having

Tag: diagnosis

May You Never: Memos from a Child’s Cancer Scare

Reading Time: 7 minutes

I’ve wondered for awhile how to start this post, what to write. I’m still assembling the pieces in my head like a jigsaw puzzle without the photo on the lid, and wondering if some of the pieces have fallen into the couch for good.

I’m hoping it doesn’t feel overdramatic? Guess I’ll just try to be honest with you. read more

Denial, What Lies Beneath, and Why it Matters to You

Reading Time: 5 minutes

denial medicine diagnosis

So I should probably tell you that generally (weirdly?) I do not go to the doctor when sick. I’ve taken kids for ear infections and all that, and certainly that time when my son’s staph infection on his jaw made him resemble Jay Leno (also weirdly. And yes, I remember writing about the importance of getting your kids’ behavioral diagnosis.

But still.) read more

When You’re Afraid of Getting Your Child’s Behavioral Diagnosis

Reading Time: 3 minutes

It’s been more than one mom who I’ve talked to about it. I recognize the furtive look in their eyes, the zealous advocacy–of a different kind than mine, I think. He doesn’t need the stigma, they’ve told me. Do you know what teachers think of kids with ADHD?

Actually, I do.

I recall vividly the very night someone suggested my son might have ADHD. I remember the day, too, when his teachers suggested there might be something wrong. And while a diagnosis was scary? From the place where I stand–the opposite is scarier.

A Note for the Day You’re Feeling Powerless

Reading Time: 4 minutes

I woke up the other day feeling—well. Feeling needlessly angry. (It wasn’t the first time, lately.)

I drilled down a bit in my surly little soul. Anger, I recall, is secondary; it stems from something: disappointment, fear, hurt, sadness. For me, there were slices of sadness—but also a big hunk of fear. More specifically, I felt powerless.

As I was scrawling thoughts for this post, I felt rather sheepish for even labeling that. The reasons I feel powerless are nothing like some of you reading this, huddling (or scramming) when an abusive spouse comes home. Or perhaps you’ve got a boss who makes you feel about an inch high, or even threatened—but you’ve gotta pay the rent. Or maybe you’re a person of color, feeling terrified and estranged after the last election. Or you have a dark diagnosis and a couple of small kids.

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