For anyone who has never had a child in a psychiantric ward - it cannot be truly imagined - when we arrived that first night I had been awake for more than thirty six hours and my mind and thought was scattered in the storm that we drove through to get there - It was raining as it would in a summer downpour, but it was January in the Midwest and the rain didn't stop. Somewhere in the night it seemed that my soul had merged with the rain and I poured and poured out - perhaps there would be no ending. The nurse who helped me fill out the paperwork brought me out of my numbness a bit - as she spoke about rules and regulations - of all the items I couldn't bring my son because he could find a way to kill heimself with them - some of the stark reality began to seep in and I broke down and cried and though I was ashamed I couldn't stop - the nurse understood - I'm sure she had seen it many times before.
One of the hardest things I have ever done was leave him there that night - all I wanted to do was lay down and hold him in my arms, cradle him as I did when he was a baby - but I had to walk away and abandon him to that alien place - so different from the normal world at home that now appeared just a dream. To be Cont.