I am Wyatt’s Mom

Wyatt’s Mom

I always thought I’d write about this when it was over. It’s almost twelve years now since Wyatt developed his addiction. It has not only changed his life, It changed mine too. It changed me.

My love for Wyatt has always been protective, almost desperate, but unconditional.

I almost died being pregnant with Wyatt, I joked he’s still trying to finish the job. Wyatt and I have a very similar sense of humor, not every one gets it, one of the reasons we are so close.

As a baby he was similar to a doll. Pick him up and his eyes opened, lay him down his eyes shut. As a kid he was always attached to my leg, loved to play, and his laugh was contagious. I was proud how caring he was to others and his tight circle of friends lasted from grade school to high school. His best friend Seth came over one day and never left, Wyatt was fun to be around.

When he was in high school I was struggling with depression and my own addiction with alcohol. I tried to end my life. Wyatt found me and called 911, he saved me that day but I believe I broke him. I was supposed to protect and nurture my children, I live with so much guilt from the trauma I caused both of them.

He was 17 when I found him unconscious, I was aware he was making bad decisions before that. I thought he was smoking pot, drinking occasionally in the woods. The same things I did at his age. Nothing prepared me to find out he was using heroin. That wasn’t an option when I grew up and I always envisioned it as a drug for the hard core street people that you see in big cities..Not my son.

His first rehab was a beautiful facility, located in the mountains with hiking, and great food in the cafeteria. He had meetings everyday and I got to visit him on the weekends. I believed this was an end to it, if I only knew the journey ahead.

There were many rehabs between the first one and now. Some were very fancy, some were basic hospital wards. Mostly the same program and message. I took him back to his first treatment center years later. He really seemed to do well there and again he completed the program. All the councilors praised how helpful and likable he was. He even wanted to return there for his 30 day coin since he finished at 29 days. The facility informed me later that evening that Wyatt showed up to the meeting high and was escorted off the property. I still get my hopes up though, how can’t I?

He took my car and wrecked into a tree and broke his neck. He needed his arm reconstructed too. My heart dropped when I woke up for work the next day and saw my car gone. My answering machine was filled with calls from the hospital and police. I still cry thinking of that day but it didn’t register to him how lucky he is to be alive.

It’s frustrating as a Mom, it’s our job to keep our kids alive. The absolute minimum part of the mother role. As toddlers they had no self-preservation instincts and we had to predict every hazard they might encounter. And have a plan for first aid if they did. I make him carry Narcan if something happens, and hope someone will have the sense to save him.

Being Wyatt’s Mom has become my identity. I’m stuck until he’s ok. On good days I let myself entertain the thoughts of having Wyatt at family picnics again, Christmas, being close with his sister like they used to be. All the things we’re both missing.

On bad days I picture him finding me passed away, going through my pockets before he calls the morgue. Such different scenarios but this drug has made him a different person.

I miss Wyatt and my heart hurts. I finally put him out of my home after being stolen from and lied to constantly. I’d be at work and see my television or power tools listed for sale on Facebook Marketplace. I couldn’t wrap my head around how easy it was for him to hurt me.

I’ve done so much research on this disease and even though I’m still hurt and sometimes angry at him, I can’t help thinking this is an addiction that isn’t fully understood yet. The lawsuits that were launched at the Pharmaceutical companies that triggered this epidemic are paying out billions to states.

I hope to start a conversation on Substance Use and how to help. I hope to convince people to have a better understanding of this, ending the stigma that surrounds addiction. I hope a real cure for our loved ones can be developed.

Treatment, therapy, support, vocational training and employer participation in recovery friendly workplaces, sober living housing with medication assistance can be the start to reuniting families and improving communities. Law enforcement being involved in supporting treatment over incarceration for drug related low level crimes has been an effective program in Seattle.

I believe one thing is involuntary treatment to get the person over the obstacle of having to choose to live. I know Wyatt won’t make that choice while he’s actively using. He saved my life and I want him in my life. I want Wyatt to be well and come home. -Wyatt’s Mom