I’ve heard and read a lot of accounts lately from parents and caregivers about other adults either giving unsolicited parenting advice or making crass comments about special needs kids when they are having a difficult time in public.

A child’s first hospitalization is a watershed event. In my family, life is clearly divided: before that hospitalization and after.

Before my daughter’s first hospitalization at age 15, we had a struggling child and shifting diagnoses. We could occasionally glimpse a “normal” child, and we tried to convince ourselves that things really weren’t so bad. We were sure that our daughter would be fine once we found the right medication. That day couldn’t come a moment too soon!

A few years ago, I was driving my middle child to school when she opened the car window to brush away the crumbs of her hurried breakfast. As her plastic plate tipped, she lost her grip and the plate soared away like a Frisbee.

My daughter looked over at me, shocked, and I began to roar with laughter. Then she began to laugh too, and an idea popped into my head: “This is who I am! I can laugh spontaneously!”

When your child’s doctor proposes a new medicine, past disappointments and future hopes collide.

There are questions, of course: What are the potential benefits? Are they worth the possible side effects? How will this medicine interact with other medications? Will insurance cover the cost?

Each trial is a balance between how awful things are right now and the healthier life that you pray your child can enjoy. The doubts that haunt you are the wreckage of past trials and the fear that things could get even worse.

Do you ever wish you could look down the road 5 or 10 or 20 years, to get a peek at what the future holds for your child? One of the scariest aspects of childhood mental illness is the unknown. The stakes couldn’t be higher.