Page Title

Synopsis

A poignant and sometimes light-hearted look into the true story about a
mother who takes an eleven-year emotional journey to find the answers to the
questions that consumed her. Was her young daughter completely normal as
the physicians insisted, or was there something more to the odd behaviors
she had suddenly started to display?

Should she listen to the physician’s advice, or follow the internal nagging that
was beckoning her to dig deeper to find the truth that might hold the solution to
unlock the puzzle her little girl was quickly becoming. And, when the mystery
finally started to unravel, and pieces of the puzzle slowly started to fit together,
would it be soon enough? Would she know what to do with what had been
discovered? More importantly, was there still a chance that her daughter
would have a happy and successful future?

I can still hear Dwight Yoakam’s song “Fast As You” playing on my radio when I think back and allow
myself to take an emotional dive into the depths of some of the most difficult nights I ever experienced
as a mother. When I think back and recall that song in my head, I feel instantly horrible and terribly
guilty. I can see myself rocking my daughter deep into the night trying to comfort her to no avail,
questions flooding my weary mind.

After laying down in my bed for what seemed the millionth time that night, listening to that song
blaring, and I mean blaring, on my bedside radio, I realized that I was dealing with something I neither
understood nor had answers to. I also realized that I had no choice but to find the answers and
understand them. All along, I had believed that I was the one in control. As if the choice was there
right in front of me and I just had to decide whether I wanted to dig to find answers to the questions, or
not.

But, as I laid there and continued to turn the knob on my radio higher and higher trying to drown out
the sounds of my eleven month old daughter screaming for the fourth night in a row, I knew that I was
not in control of anything. Everything seemed to be spiraling into a dizzy abyss of confusion.
What was wrong with my daughter? Why did she seem so miserable most of the time? And, what
caused her to stop talking or responding to me for hours at a time? Why wouldn't she sleep? How
come she didn’t laugh and play like other children her age? What was making her so angry? Why
couldn’t anyone but me hold her?

I was out of ideas, strength and sadly, patience. I was completely exhausted and running on empty.
All I wanted and needed right then was to know what was wrong with her so I could help her.
But, unfortunately, the only comfort I found that night was in that damned country song that just
happened to be yelling louder than what she was at the moment.

Who knew that that night would come back to haunt me later? Had I known then what was wrong with
her, I would never had left her side. I wouldn’t have had a need for that blaring radio. I should have
listened to what my heart and nagging stomach was trying to tell me. I should have held her all night,
even though it seemed to be providing no apparent comfort.

Who knew I would feel so guilty later for doing the best I could for her at the time. Who knew that it
would take over a hundred medical professionals and therapist three and a half years to start putting
understanding to the questions that as a mother, I could not answer that night.