I've got to start somewhere.

I don't know what's wrong with my son.

He is a beautiful, almost 17-month-old, curly headed, blue-eyed angel who happens to cry incessantly. We've been to physical therapists, occupational therapists, two neurologists, and of course his pediatrician, and have come to the conclusion that he might have something called a Sensory Processing Disorder. What in God's name is that?

Henry has been sick since Saturday night (right now it's Monday night). I literally haven't been able to leave his side in 36 hours. My husband, Bob, just came home from work about an hour ago, and right now is the first time I've been able to have a bit of alone time.

With that spare time, instead of relaxing, I decide to start a blog. Maybe I'm the one losing my mind.

I need a place to vent and process my thoughts. I started a group on Facebook to keep close family and friends up to date on Henry, but I feel like I need something more than that. Why a blog? Who the hell knows. It's just what came to mind tonight.

So here I am, wondering what the hell is wrong with my son, and writing about it.

Maybe I will find some relief with this, and maybe I can figure out Henry Wayne just a little bit more. That would do our family a world of good.

To back up, I am a 32-year-old mom to two children. Vivian Louise, my scary-smart six year old, and Henry Wayne, the 16-month-old who happens to be the topic of this blog. I've been married for nine years to my Bob, and we also have a six-year-old mutt, Harvey Dog. That pretty much rounds out our family, oh with the addition of Viv's two fish, Splashy and Fin-bar.

Henry has turned our family upside down. From the moment he was born, he has rocked our world to the very core, and, as much as we love him, not always in a good way.

We noticed at around 9 months he wasn't recognizing who "mom" was or "dad" was or any type of words for that matter. He had no interest in walking, talking - all he wanted to do was EAT. And by eat, I mean he would stuff his mouth with any type of food in grabbing distance. It was a sight. We couldn't feed him enough food.

Sleep has been non-existent from the time he was born. For example, today (granted he is sick) he has slept 1 hour since 5 am. It is now 8:19 pm.

And my Bob has just walked back in the room with Henry (who is crying), so my free time is over.

To be continued.