Your child was just diagnosed. The doctor has left the exam room. They shook your hand, told you to follow-up in six-months or a year but be sure to call them if needed.
Then they walk out.
You walk out as well, because that is what is expected. You are either pushing a baby carriage, holding tight to your toddler’s hand or trying to get your teen to look at you.
Your heart is in your throat. You want to throw up, but know people frown on that in public. You are doing your best to make it to the parking garage, to drive home, to get into the shower before you lose whatever strength is holding you together.
You cry, ugly and silently. You ask, what the freak do I do now? Continue reading