THIS BOY WE MADE

A Black woman with an anxiety disorder chronicles the process of caring for her son, whose undiagnosed illness thrust the family into uncertainty.

Just before his second birthday, Harris’ youngest child, Tophs, woke up listless, silent, and thirsty. When Harris felt his racing heart, her gut told her that something was wrong—but she wasn’t sure if she could trust her gut. A lifetime of managing an anxiety disorder made her feel like she was constantly overreacting to something. Luckily, she overcame her doubts and took her son to the hospital, where the doctors found that his glucose was dangerously low and recommended the start of a process that eventually became years of shuttling her son among geneticists, endocrinologists, and neurologists. While waiting for a diagnosis that would never come, Harris and her husband battled reluctant school systems to get their son the special services he needed, a struggle complicated by their family’s Blackness. “The city needed fewer Black boys in special education, and my Black boy almost got caught up in the quota,” writes the author. “Maybe it wasn’t an intentional scheme, surely it wasn’t a written policy, but it could derail lives of the most vulnerable nonetheless.” Throughout, Harris describes struggling with anxiety, leaning on her Christian faith, and coping with the discovery that she carries a gene that put her at risk for cancer. She leaned on her family and faith to help her live with the reality that her high-needs child would probably never receive a diagnosis and that she would have to parent him without fully understanding his body or his brain. The author deploys humor and delight to infuse the narrative with nuance and hope, and her frank, vulnerable voice makes the book feel like a conversation with a close friend. At times, though, the prose is overwritten, and the flashback-laden timeline can be confusing.

A compelling, insightful memoir about parenting through the unknown.