I was that mom. I was the mom who noticed something wasn’t quite right, the mom who stayed up late and Googled and read, the mom who grew weary as I watched my child fade.
The mom who brushed off each symptom at first, the mom who reasoned it away with the logic of other’s voices in my head … “It’s just stress, he’s anxious, you coddle her too much, he’ll grow out of it, she needs to just suck it up …” I was that mom.
The mom who mentioned it to the pediatrician who ordered bloodwork just to appease me. I was that mom. The mom who knew there was something else, the mom who just knew, but couldn’t explain.
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