When my family first moved to the small town we now call home in Monmouth County, it felt like we were building the life we had always wanted with our young daughter, Seramina. We were enjoying establishing new traditions and watching her grow and evolve. It felt like there was always something to look forward to.
Our daughter thrived academically. She was curious, social, and deeply passionate about nature. She loved to sing and wanted to try everything at least once.
She had an enthusiasm for the world that made people around her smile. There was no reason to worry. We were simply excited about our future.
When she was six, she began tugging at her clothing and complaining about how things felt on her skin. The behavior became distressing, but our pediatrician reassured me it was normal and would pass. Her confidence was a relief to me.
The sensory issues worsened. More and more clothing was rejected. We even had to give up dance because tights were impossible for her to wear.
Then came mood swings that felt completely out of character. But still, the pediatrician maintained that everything would be fine and told us to "wait and see." When the school called to say they were seeing signs of OCD and anxiety, my stomach dropped. Something was very wrong.
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