Writing that last post took a lot out of me. It was like baring my soul to the world and admitting that I failed. I can no longer handle my severely autistic child and had no choice but to place him in a residential facility. In reality, there's MUCH more to discuss and dissect before such a statement can even be made. There's the years of build up and exhaustion and the toll a child like this takes on the family. And believe me, the decision was not made lightly, and not without a fight from me - a lot of fight. I did not feel ready to take this momentous step until a year ago when Dovi's level of aggression and the incredible strain his presence was having on every member of my family - my husband, me, and our other two boys - became unbearable. Even then, the amount of tears I shed, the number of nights I could not sleep, and the enormous amount of inner work I had to do to process oodles grief and guilt, would fill a book. I was hoping that once Dovi was settled in and I knew he was happy, I'd feel better too. But it took two weeks for the initial depression to pass. I felt like a limb had been amputated. I couldn't do anything those first two weeks. My family was blossoming, Dovi was doing great at his new place, but I was doing terribly. My heart was waging a war with my brain. Even though my brain knew that we had done the right thing for everyone involved, my heart just couldn't let go. Thankfully, I've gotten used to our new normal, and I will be visiting Dovi finally this week, so I'm feeling a lot better.