That Face

This picture of Charity really cracks me up. I thought about just doing a Wordless Wednesday, but I think the reason I find the picture so funny takes some explanation of her personality.

It captures so perfectly her determination. She tries so hard. Too hard, really. She thinks she needs to be perfect. She pays attention to every detail... toes pointed, hands touching toes, jump real high, just the way my big sisters do it... Oh, sweet baby, we love you no matter what! We don't want you to be just like them.

Unfortunately, for a long time her determination was directed towards less than desirable behaviors. She was determined alright... determined to keep us at arm length, to control the house hold, and to cause chaos. She was pretty successful at it, too. She was in survival mode, and I'm glad I understand that now. Because at the time it was extremely hard to swallow.

Oh, the mountains she's beginning to move. RAD is diminishing, and Charity is emerging. I read a great comment a special needs mom made about her daughter. About how her daughter had epilepsy, but epilepsy didn't have her. She talked about how her disorder didn't define her. Unfortunately for RADlings, or at least for me in Charity's case, it did define her for a very long time. It's all I could see. But that isn't true anymore. She's moving that mountain, one rock at a time. We (her family) are trying to help her move rocks, too, but most of the work is hers alone. AND SHE'S DOING IT!!!!! Praise God for His mighty works in her little heart!

She's a hard worker and a perfectionist. To a fault, really, and we're actually working on messing up. And it being ok to mess up. Like, practicing getting things wrong and then reacting nonchalantly. I say, "I want you to tell me the sound this letter makes, but tell me the wrong sound." Then when she "messes up", we laugh and snap our fingers and say, "dad-gum-it, I messed up - now I'm gonna try again." So that maybe when she really messes something up she thinks she should have gotten right, it won't cause a downward spiral of fits and rage.

But my point is that her determination isn't aimed at gaining control or the attention (at any cost) of everyone around her. She's now applying that same strong will and determination to getting along with her sisters. To doing her chores well. To accept what we've said and just say, "yes, ma'am". So when the moments of being stuck or regression come, they are oh-so-much-easier to accept... to respond to her the way she really needs instead of my own anger and frustration oozing out.

Funny how a strong character trait is both a weakness and a strength. The very thing about her that makes me want to pull my hair out is also the very thing I love deeply.

Fairapy

That's what Blessing and Grace call "therapy".

Between 4 hours in the car (2 hours one way -so worth it), double sessions, and lunch, therapy with Charity is an all day event. That's perfect, actually, because it gives us a day to ourselves. No sharing with 5 other girls. Total attention on her. And total enjoyment, too. She's more relaxed without being so worried a sibling might be getting more than she, or trying to control them, and therefore I, too, can quit trying to outwit her every second and just enjoy the beautiful child she is. We eat out... typically at our favorite, Pei Wei.... when weather permits we visit the park to chase the ducks and run off steam between sessions. We sing a thousand songs at the top of our lungs on the way there and back. Great, great days.

When I was a kid (ok, maybe as an adult, too), if someone mentioned to me they saw a therapist, I would've thought they were a few nuts shy of a cluster. Oh, I would respond with an ever-so-polite smile, appropriately, etc., but my head would be screaming, "NUTCASE!!". Yeah, I was stupid. But it's true.

All that to say I always had this sort of negative feeling or perspective about therapy. I've even been sort of guarded about sharing (you know, the whole cyber world doesn't count) with others the fact that we attend. So a few weeks ago when our therapist suggested we begin incorporating other siblings I was curious to how they would respond to needing to go to therapy, fully expecting to have lots of discussions and mold their attitude about it.

No. Turns out from their point of view, "fairapy" might as well be Disneyland. I mean really. You should of heard all the squealing and arguing over who gets to go first and excited chatter. Who knew?

So all but Mercy have had turns sharing our day with us, and all just LOVE fairapy. Like Grace has a meltdown every week cause it really isn't fair that Charity gets to go to fairapy and she doesn't. Poor baby. Sorry, kid, develop RAD or PTSD or something, then you can go. The child is seriously praying to be given RAD or something that needs help processing through so she can go to fairapy. **smirk, snort**

Don't you know some of our grown-up request sound about as ridiculous to God? Aren't you so glad He doesn't always give us what we ask for? Cause we totally don't get it, and He totally does. Ah, God is good.

46 months, Take 2

At 46 months old, Blessing had lived with us for half of her life. Charity, on the other hand, was 46 months old when she came to live with us. Just 2 months shy of her 4th birthday. That means, theoretically anyway, that we can't really expect the fears she has of being ripped from us to leave until she's lived with us half of her life.... 92 months old, 4 months shy of her 8th birthday. I can't think about that now. Our life with her is very much so day to day. I get overwhelmed if I think about continuing to live like this indefinitely. When I look back at Blessing's pictures over her first days and weeks with us, I think about how far she has come, I'm overwhelmed with love and joy and thanksgiving for her accomplishments. Sometimes, it's that bursting heart feeling, like I can't even stand the blessing she is to us and our family. Too good to have. Too wonderful to explain.

Can I be completely honest? Don't misinterpret. I can't even begin to tell you how much I love Charity. In fact, I think that's why this walk hurts so much. She's this amazing girl. I know it. I see it. She's in there somewhere. I know what she's capable of. I know the impact she can have on this world. I know she hurts. I see that, too. I know she's been wounded far beyond what most people can even comprehend. That knowledge, though, makes it SO STINKING hard to watch her self destruct. Maybe it's because we haven't seen the improvement so easily. Blessing changed by leaps and bounds at a time. Every day her learning, loving, and change was noticeable, and tangible. For whatever reason, though, when I look back at Charity's pictures, all I see is this very sick little girl. It isn't the same feeling. It's frustration, sadness, and anger. To the point that I don't like looking at them. All I can think is how sick she is.

Here's where we are with our precious Charity: her attorney has made the recommendation that we be able to adopt. Fantastic. One check on our very long list. Next up: I finally approached her case worker about my disdain for her psychiatrist, and she gave me the approval I needed to find someone else. We found an attachment therapist who was willing to take her, however does not do her own evaluations or diagnosing. In other words, we would first have to find someone who would diagnose RAD, or at the very least say it needed ruled out for her. Another wall. Let me remind you we're here in po-dunk AR, where there seems to be lots of slamming of doors at the mention of RAD. But my pessimism turned out to be uncalled for, and a local therapist did a diagnostic evaluation on our Charity. She came up with 4 possible diagnosis that she felt Charity might be dealing with, all of which need to be ruled out by a psychiatrist. They were RAD, PTSD, FAS, and Bi-polar. And I'm sure any mother of "normal" kids reading is probably blowing a gasket, I'm here to tell you I was not at all phased by the possibility of us facing one, or a combination of any of those. In fact, as strange as it may sound, it's almost comforting. Mind you I do not want anything to be wrong with my baby. I do not want to deal with any of those disorders. But my husband and I are long past the stage of denial, far beyond hoping love will be enough. We know we can't love this out of her. We know just living with us won't somehow penetrate and heal her wounds. We know we need help. We know she needs help. We are more than ready to just accept whatever this is, and get on with how to handle it. Just like if she had cancer or some physical medical condition, we just want the best care, the best doctors, the best chance for her to live a full, joyful life. And in that moment, it was nice to be heard, to know that someone was agreeing that these things are not normal, and that we need more help than, "Oh, she's just a tough nut to crack. Come again in 6 weeks."

So we're in another holding pattern, but this time optimistic about having an actual attachment therapist. The referral has been made, so we wait. And hang on for dear life in the mean time.

Walking Commercial

... for Ergo, that is. Because this is how we spend most of our day. And when people say things like, "Do you hold her all the time?". They really sort of mean it in a you're-spoiling-your-child-and-you-don't-know-what-you're-doing kind of way. But that's ok. I don't mind. Because I do know exactly what I'm doing. I'm making my bed. And I'm the one who will lay down in it (I think, it's looking that way, anyway). You see, parent a RADling, and you'll be all about attachment and bonding, too. I promise. Especially for a little one who is quite at risk for the same thing.

But the truth is, even if she wasn't, I'd be doing the same thing! ;)

Oh, and, by the way... the kitchen and cooking were photoshopped in. Because I would never wear a baby on the front and cook at the same time. What mother would do that? So unsafe!!!!!! Maybe I should have done a "Not Me Monday". ;) And, the picture was taken by a munchkin, hence the cut-off head. At least you can see my smile!

Therapy

So I would be completely ashamed of myself if Charity's psychiatrist somehow ended up here on the blog. But I so must blog this. It's just too ridiculous. And that seems to be the theme of my life lately.

The therapist and I have had little success getting on the same page. She's a kind lady who I think genuinely wants to help kids. I think I'm somewhat at fault because it's hard to really describe fully how things are going, especially when I know my own actions, feelings, and responses are being evaluated. And not as a mom. As a foster mom. One whose care could be considered not the best for this child. Then, bye-bye baby. So perhaps I'm a little guarded.

But I decided before this particular session that all gloves would come off. VERY frustrated with not really having any help. Oh, we go. And we talk. And there she sits across from me talking to Charity as if she's trying to talk her into better behavior. For 30 minutes every 4 to 6 weeks. I'm left wanting help and direction, and feeling like I'm not getting any. I'm reading all these amazing things about tapping, weighted blankets, specific parenting techniques for kids like mine. But what we get is 30 minutes of batting eyes, a high pitched voice, and pleas for better behavior. That's likely to work. Right?

So I went in hoping that clearing the air and setting out better expectations might help things. I started by saying maybe she didn't completely understand what I meant when I say we've had some really bad days. Maybe she didn't understand just how she's been acting out. My husband and I are very concerned and very alarmed at some of the things she's done. We're talking false allegations of abuse (Mom doesn't feed me, she doesn't let me play with toys, she'll be mad at me, etc.). We're talking pet abuse. Enticing first, then a swift kick. "here, kitty, kitty", then a few blows to the head. We're talking peeing in a drawer. Serious stuff, people. My kid is sick, and we need help. I even teared up. I didn't beg with my words but she had to see the stress and frustration and need for some direction.

So, she said that next time she hurt the cat, I should put the her in a kennel. For about an hour. So that she would have a consequence that she could physically see a response to her action.

I used so many "she's" in that previous sentence because that's exactly the way the therapist said it. My response? I busted out laughing. And said, "which one? The kitty or the kid?" I mean does that sound logical to you? Am I crazy? Is that a fitting consequence for Charity?

In my hysterical laughing I noticed her eyes bug out. A look I'm all too familiar with from my husband. It was that look like I had just dropped from outer space or something. A martian in her presence. And then I realized she was searching for whether or not I would put Charity in the kennel. And then I stammered and stuttered all over myself trying to explain that I didn't mean which one to put in the kennel. I meant, which one did she think that was a consequence for?

And she responded in her well trained way, "So, what I hear you saying is... (thoughtful pause while eyes blink)... Charity wouldn't really care if the cat was in the kennel? She isn't really attached to it?" Her EXACT words.

Again hysterical laughter. Um, NO. She has little to no attachment to ANY OF US. That's why we're here. For heaven's sake. Are we on different planets, here?

I went on to outright ask. What can we do? We don't know how to handle this. We are not even considering disruption, in fact, we just received word that we have been approved to adopt her. So finalization is coming and we celebrate that joyfully. But our kid is sick. And just like if she had cancer or some other disease of the body, we want her very best chance at life, and the very best treatment we can find.

And she says we're doing just fine. It will just take time. And unfortunately, Charity may be a tough nut to crack.

Really. Her words. Not one exaggeration.

And what's really telling, is I just told this woman my kid is abusing animals, lying like crazy, and peeing in a drawer. She said I could make another appointment if I wanted to. I asked how soon. She said in 4 to 6 weeks.

She's getting paid for this.

Practice Sessions

It must be some new fad I've bought into about raising kids. I can't tell you how many practice sessions we've had since Blessing's arrival in our home over a year ago. When Charity joined our family, then the ghost, practice sessions hit an all time high. I wish I had video taped some of them. I mean, we practice things "normal" kids don't usually need to practice. Like, with Blessing we practiced looking at the dog without falling into the fetal position and screaming bloody murder. Really. We would stand her in the room, tell her "Let's practice". Pull a stuffed animal dog out complete with mocked growling, and ask, "what are you going to do?" and I'd hold my arms out so she'd know to come to me when she was afraid. At first she didn't get it, but eventually the game of jumping into mom's arms became something fun. I'd laugh and squeeze her, and make a big deal. Then we'd put her back in the middle of the room and call Toby. Of course it took her awhile to come to me in the real situation, but you get the idea of a practice session.

Oh, the things we've practiced. We've practiced saying, "yes, mom" with a smile rather than folded arms and pouty lips. We've practiced putting an empty plate into the sink without licking it down, first. We've practiced a low, normal toned voice rather than whining. We've practiced getting in and out of the car seat quickly. Patting gently rather than way-laying. Petting rather than kicking. Looking at who you are talking to in the eye. Telling the truth. And the list goes on and on and on.

Just a few days ago I summoned all 5 older ones to the rug, where I then told them we'd been having some trouble. I told Faith to tell me "no" when I asked her something. I said, "Faith, will you help me put these dished away?" She said, "No". And then I threw the biggest, exaggerated fit possible. Really. Got down in the floor and kicked and screamed and said phrases common to the two born of the heart babies. "It's not FAIR!!!" and so on and so on. I did a good job. ;)

Then I asked her again. Again she said "nope." And I folded my arms and pouted and whined. You get the picture? We went through that cycle several times, with me giving different, yet inappropriate responses. The giggles were fantastic. Did you know throwing a worthy fit is exhausting? I had no idea my little ones were getting so much exercise! Whew!

From there, I suggested the kids ask me for something they commonly ask for. Then I had them first give the WRONG response. Then I had them give the RIGHT response. This was hilarious to me, because each one actually asked for something that they ALWAYS ask for. Something that drives me crazy, especially when they ask at the most inopportune times. Then, each one did EXACTLY what they usually do that is wrong. Might I remind you I did not tell them what to do, just to do the wrong thing. Faith rolled her eyes. Hope looked pitifully sad. Charity whined with all the flare we usually see. Grace did some fake crying complete with real tears. And Blessing cocked that little head to the side, jumped up and down, and proclaimed, "But, Mom...." and then fell into her fit. Really funny. It proves how devious they really can be, how fake the fits are, and how they often ARE in control when I want to chalk it up to something in their past. I'm NOT saying there aren't times when rage-full fits are a result of being overwhelmed and their little bodies' way of releasing major stress, but more times than not it is something they can control... or at least should be learning to control. Any way you think about it, it was certain proof they absolutely understand their normal responses are not correct, and they are fully capable of rising to the occasion and responding appropriately.

So... go practice! (If your kids need it, like mine!)

Really?

Ok, so you really can't understand this post unless you read this first. It's another RADical mom, one of whom I've sort of attached myself to in my effort to find some support, non-aloneness, and ideas for helping our RADish heal. I read that particular post a few short days ago, not having any similar experience. Then, BANG, and the last few days my RADling has been ridiculously giggly. She has also taken some significant steps backwards, leaving me frustrated again. And the giggling drives me INSANE!!! It sounds insane when she does it. That mom describes it well. It's exactly what my baby's laugh is like. "maniacal fit of the strangest laughter". I'm left wondering if the cause is the same as her Em.

And the title is what I'm left with. Really? I mean even after everything I've read, and everything I've first hand seen that gives the crazy stuff I've read validity, I'm still just having a hard time swallowing this one. I almost can't believe that this crazy giggling thing Charity has suddenly started could really be a reaction to feeling love. A feeling she's never felt before. And so her body doesn't know how to react, and the maniacal giggling is what comes out. I want to believe it. That would mean maybe we are on our way to some healing. And it might even explain the steps backwards in behavior. For RADlings, feeling something like affection or love brings with it great fear. It might as well be killing them, and they have to push back. And I do believe this mom is likely right on target with her little one. But is that what this is with my Charity? Really? Because I'm telling you everything in me wants to tell her to STOP!!!! You're acting CRAZY! Of course I don't say that, but sheesh, I'm thinking it!

I usually don't beg for comments, but if you are reading because you have a RADish, too, please, speak up! I'm dying to hear of others' experiences.

Camp

For all of those wondering, we do not a baby girl yet. I did not get a confirmation call, however I wasn't holding my breath, either. Last time we received an infant for placement I was supposed to get a phone call first, too, but they just showed up at the door. So, I still have no idea whether she's coming or not. She was not scheduled to be discharged from the hospital until today, though, and the case worker had already said she would not be able to go and get her until later this afternoon/evening. So I may not know for some time, still.

On to more news. We will be traveling out of state for a week long camp by LeeAnn's Horses for Attachment!!!! I can not even begin to accurately articulate to you all this means for our family or how thrilled I am. First of all, we don't typically have a few thousand dollars laying around to fund such an adventure. I'm not usually one to talk money, but just so you understand what kind of miracle this is, you need to know that we have been living on $300 per week for several months. And we do have both a house payment and one car payment. So, the ability alone to go is miraculous. We home school, which allows my entire family to attend and be a part of the camp. This is not necessary, but recommended, and I'm excited that the siblings of our RADish will be having some time with and now adult sibling who completely understands what that position in such a family is like. The week will be full of training sessions for my husband and I as parents, trust building activities and games for our entire family, sessions/crafts for both our RADling and all her siblings. There will be chores and work, but lots of family time to promote attachment. After talking to the director over the telephone for more than an hour, I am very excited about not only the parenting methods (Nancy Thomas often directs these camps, though she will not actually be present at this one) that we'll come home educated about, but just the atmosphere of the week should provide lots of fun as well as learning about developing conscience and promoting attachment. So, we leave in just 2 weeks, and I have even cleared taking the new little one along if she's here. Can you imagine making a 500 mile trip with 6 kids, 4 of which are 4 and under? I giggle thinking about it. We made a trip to Florida this past summer, it actually wasn't as hard as I had anticipated, but I thought if I had to sing, "The Wheels on the Bus go round and round" one more time, I would die. Really. Faint dead away! ;)

Here's to another thousand times singing that silly song!!!!

Fair Night

Every year, the kids get armbands for one night at the fair. You know, a little paper bracelet that allows them to ride any ride as many times as they want from 6 to 10. Feeling very brave, because you can't take any kids without expecting the full day to be crazy with distractions and fits and over stimulation, I purchased the arm bands knowing the fun they'd bring along with all the melting down. So, after packing a back pack with sippie cups and light jackets and crackers and extra clothes for my pee-not-in-potty kid, we headed out to the fair. We were just a little before 6, so we rounded the exhibits and the animals (such fun!). I thought Blessing was never going to leave the pig. He was snorting away and she thought that was the funniest thing ever. I'm racking my brain, thinking, surely she's has seen a pig before. But I guess maybe she really hasn't.... other than the pictures in the books we read. She snorted and squealed and turned circles, oh how I wish I'd had a video camera!

I can't believe how big the kids are getting. Even my 2 4-yr olds jumped on rides that just seemed way too big for them. The big swings. The Ferris Wheel (with their siblings, not with their parents.... we didn't have armbands). The Tilt-a-Whirl. Which, by the way, I'm SO old! I could ride anything I wanted over and over again at one time in my life, now I can't even watch my kids go round and round without being queasy. The Tilt-a-Whirl was their favorite, I think. At least they rode it a thousand times. I wish I had brought my camera so that you could see how little they looked! They squealed and laughed and ran from ride to ride. Blessing clung to my neck after quickly jumping on a ride, then realizing she didn't like it, cried the whole ride, and then wouldn't try another one for quite some time. There was one slide, though, that she slid on a hundred times. The guy in the gate just stopped making her go out the exit like all the other kids, she was free to go right from the bottom back to the ladder again.

My RADling? Not a hitch. And we're talking a public place!!!!!! I think she was so excited about the rides that charming everyone around her was too far back in her brain! She had a couple of whines about not getting to go to the exact ride she wanted to right at the moment, but no fits or aggression when corrected and explained to that we have to do what others want to do, too. Very good night for her. There was one incident of pushing a sibling, but she paid her consequence without too much of a fuss, and even allowed me to comfort her afterwards right in the middle of all that noise and crowd and lights. I couldn't believe it. She also was nurturing towards a friend's baby while sitting out a ride because of the pushing. Ok, for those of you who can't appreciate this...... I'm saying she pushed, yes, but when dished the consequence of sitting out for a ride, she cried. Usually it would be met with screaming and fitting. Very loud, obnoxious crying that isn't genuine. These were real tears, yes it was only because she didn't get to ride, but that would be any kid's response. The fact is, it was genuine. And, after a few minutes of turning her back to me, she turned back around and held up her arms for me to hold her. I then explained what she did, what she should have done, and that she would get to ride again when the other kids got off that one ride. She stopped crying, smiled and talked to ME about OTHER things while we waited. No more whining. No more blaming. And, she even focused her attention to a nearby baby, which she lovingly patted on the back and talked to softly. Where did this kid come from? Wooo-hooooo!!!!

I had 2 kids that didn't last till 10. I brought them home at about 9 (after getting our 12 passenger stuck in the field and being pulled out by about 6 guys, including one with a 4 wheel drive and a chain....another post for another day). I'll bet you can't guess which 2! It wasn't my RADical darling, or my fraidy cat (Grace)...who was riding everything there...go figure. One was Hope... who loves to ride and is much less cautious about what she'll ride than her older sibling, unfortunately for her she gets motion sickness. So, looking very green she finally agreed home sounded good, and I brought Blessing along with me. Blessing wasn't convinced she was done, but she was beginning to wilt. So I pulled the "I'm the mommy" card and made her come home, too. But no one was actually in bed until after 10. They did stay in bed a little longer than normal this morning....we'll see what today holds! No matter what, it was very worth the trouble! Lots of fun and hopefully some great family memories!

All's right with the world

There are 5 children under there, somewhere. Tent building has always been a favorite with my kids, but lately they've hit it full force, and I've folded more blankets in the last 5 days than anyone should have to in an entire lifetime.

While it isn't quite as cool as I would like, at least a wave of heat doesn't steal your breath when you walk outside. The kids are all running in and out of the house, and I hear squeals of laughter (and some of I-didn't-get-my-way squeals occasionally are heard, too) and the sounds of happy kids enjoying the lazy day and a break from draining heat. I couldn't care less about watching football myself, but I love this time of year when a game can regularly be heard in the background in our home. Only today, it isn't so "background". And apparently, it's an interactive ball game. Arkansas must not be doing so well, as my husband is jumping around the living room complaining about the incompetent players, and telling, er, I mean yelling, out the way it should be done. Because, you know, he knows better than any of them. That's why they are begging him to come and coach the team. I wish. But the truth is, I love that about him. What fun is someone who JUST watches?

I know I haven't posted as often lately, but I figure most of you are tired of reading about RAD. It's all consuming right now, as I am gathering every scrape of information I can find. Christine has shared some great links, and Annie sent me several books in the mail. Little else has come to mind to post about. My most recent reading has brought much needed hope. There is substantial research that says prognosis for RAD is not the very dim, psychopath outcome that was once suggested. In fact, new research, with more understanding and newer therapeutic methods, is finding that disoriented/disorganized attachment patterns can be resolved.

We ventured out to our school's football game last night, made a trip to the park today for a game of kickball ( I LOVE that our family is big enough we can actually have teams and everything!) and some swinging/sliding. We lounged the day away, after a huge breakfast the kids have just been snacking through the day. This kind of day, especially after a late night away (I did no cleaning after the ball game last night and having guest for supper) means the house was a WRECK! But each kid took a zone in the house and we had it looking pretty decent in about an hour. So now, we'll have some popcorn and a movie. If only everyday could be this way!

Quarantine

I spent the entire night last night grabbing the trash can and sticking it under Grace's mouth, holding back hair, filling sprite cups, washing bed clothes and towels in HOT water (like, 4 loads), and calculating how long it would take for such a virus to run it's course through 5 kids. Also, hoping it will spare the 2 adults. Since, you know, we can't afford for one not to work, and it's kind of hard to hold down the fort with your head in the toilet. So far today, my patience is low from the lack of sleep, and more patience is required because no sleep for Grace means she's extra whiney, and is melting down over every little oh-so-unfair act by her siblings. You know, since they breathe her air and they're watching her movie, too.

Despite last night's battle (and what I'm assuming will be a week long battle as everyone else falls victim to the virus), we've been doing extremely well. Our RADilicous baby (Charity) has had some marked improvement (at least at home, but not in public, yet). She tends to take 2 steps forward, then regress again for a few weeks, but once a new (good) behavior is there, we can usually see it take root more and more often over time. What we've seen, that we had previously not, is affection. I mean, she has been more than capable of wrapping her arms around strangers, extended family, climbing all over them in a ridiculous manner. In fact, that is often accompanied with "evil eyes" from her towards us as she overly affectionately hugs and kisses those around us. Rest assured, I AM NOT trying to make her out to be a monster. The opposite is true. More and more we are seeing that she is an amazing little girl, and we love her more each day. It's just that what we see at home is most often (some of our church family is beginning to see it and understand it - after keeping her for our Life groups and hanging out with our family for extended periods of time) much different than what the outside world sees. But I do want you to understand what this RAD can be like to live with.

Back to the affection for us. Before last week, true, relaxed, genuine affection without some agenda has been rare, if not completely inexistent. Eye contact had been extremely slim, unless she's lying, of course, and attempts by us to hold her were not pushed away exactly, but you could feel the tension in her little body, and if I scooped her in my arms and placed her in my lap, she would only remain for a few seconds before hopping down. Lately, however, she's sat in my lap contentedly. Looking me in the eyes and talking about all kinds of things. Once, after discipline, she even hung on to me while crying. THIS IS HUGE, PEOPLE! The only other time I think I saw sincere crying from her was only for a few minutes the day her brother left our home. And that day, she would not allow me to comfort her. She walked away, and cried for about 2 minutes with her back turned to us. Then, you could visibly see her shake her little body, as if to shake herself back into control. She shook her head, stopped the crying like she had a sudden revelation, held her chin high and then walked back to where we were standing. That's it. That's the only time I've felt her crying was sincere until the other day after a very extended time-out session and stand off between the two of us. There was one other time when one of the kids pushed her in the pool, and she clung to me from fear, and allowed me to comfort her. Even needed me for comfort. But 2 times in 8 months for a 4 year old? This kid has not had an adult to trust. No adult has convinced her that he/she is not going away. No adult has consistently met her needs and not disappeared shortly. It's amazing what this kid has survived. It blows me away. She's been with us for 8 months....that's longer than she's ever stayed anywhere.

So I just read back over the post, and it seems depressing. That was not what I intended. I wanted it to be a celebration of her life. I wanted the love we have for her to shine through the words. I wanted the joy of being a part of her life to be clear. We didn't just end up with her. And we aren't somehow frustrated that we're now dealing with a horrific disorder. We wanted her. We still want her (though that is still to be determined by DHS). We delight in her. And we are thankful that we get to be a part of her life....and just hope that she continues to be less and less guarded, fearful, and controlling, and that her spirit will be more and more free to enjoy the life God gave her. Oh, she could change the world one day! She's incredibly smart, discerning and methodical. Just you wait, world!

Battle Fatigue

After several email conversations, Annie suggested this book about disorganized and disoriented attachment disorders. Hungry for information, but finding very little, I dove head first into the book. It's the first (I hope of many) books I've opened on the subject, and my working information previous to it was limited to a few articles sent to me by a friend who is a psychologist, websites, and a few blogs by moms of kids with RAD. The book did not disappoint, at least not the first half of it.

The first half was perfect for me on MANY levels. You see, we do not have a diagnosis of RAD. Or any diagnosis for that matter. Actually, she did receive a diagnosis before she was placed with us, at the tender age of 2, with adjustment disorder with anxious mood. But the mental health services she's received once placed with us only entail one visit with one counselor that lasted about 20 minutes. I wrote about that here. I may be jumping extremely quickly to extremely ridiculous assumptions, but based on our first meeting I have little confidence in her competence to help my daughter with healing or adequately diagnose/teach us to deal with this disorder. If you are able to understand my ramblings, and are still interested, my point is that there has been basically NO understanding, no pointing in any direction, no support, and no affirmation. The book most certainly answered any lingering doubts about the disorder. No, I'm not a psychiatrist, but much of the book might as well be titled with my little girl's name. It was as if they studied her and then wrote the symptoms. I can not begin to tell you how much relief that alone has brought. Self doubt has certainly been a way of life for much longer than I care to admit. But there it was, in text, things I thought I might just have made up.

It completely disassembled the behaviors, the reasons behind them, and therefore furthered my understanding of the disorder (and thus my understanding of my little girl). I almost feel as if I know her better just because I have gained a little more insight into her behaviors. Because she has such a flat affect on big things, while blowing very small things entirely out of proportion, it's been hard to connect with her. Love her, yes, but know her? Not yet. She's quite skilled at keeping us at arms length. She may need us, and therefore she'll string us along, but only for her own agenda. Not really letting us in on her life just yet. I still believe it will come, though.

Not only did it solidify my growing belief that she has this disorder, but it even pegged my own feelings as if they'd prodded my very soul and wrote what they saw. More relief. My reaction may not always be right, but it's not abnormal. It's understandable, and apparently predictable. I know I've written the word relief way too many times already in this post, but I just can't think of a better way to describe the weight that lifts when you can see plainly that others have traveled this path, felt the same way, acted the same way, and that my family is not alone.

Where I felt the book came up short, though, was the area of what I can actually apply. First of all, it is directed to therapists who will be implementing corrective attachment therapy. It's process includes 2 weeks of 3 hours of therapy per day. Therapists. Not parents. And strongly urges unqualified individuals from employing the process. It did include case examples and very specific dialogue, but no child under 7 was used. My little RADling is only 4. And while it clearly states this order takes root in VERY young infants/toddlers who might not even remember their abuse/neglect/trauma, the dialogue in every case study it uses as an example is with children who do remember. Again, doesn't apply to us.

So, it's now my life mission to find out everything I possibly can about this disorder, and becoming an expert on every therapeutic method out there. I'm not interested in any re-birthing or other insane method, though I can certainly see how a mom would be willing to try it. Right now, while I find more information to read, I'm just concentrating on lots of eye contact, appropriate touch and holding. I've heard some moms make mention of things like letting kids put stickers on their face (promoting touch and eye contact) and popping sweet candy into their mouths while looking into their eyes (connecting pleasant with eye contact and touch), so I'm wondering where they got that type of applicable information? I'm asking, since, you know, you guys are experts in this disorder, right? Actually, Annie does read, and she's fighting this battle, too. And sounds as though Dean might be an excellent source as well.

And if you aren't sleeping by now or if I haven't put you into a boredom coma, you can pray that the battle fatigue that has consumed my husband and I lately (and includes many other aspects of our lives other than helping our little girl heal) will fade. We know Whose we are, and we have not mistakenly put our trust in Him. But walking the walk minute after minute becomes exhausting and frustrating at times. We just need a little boost and will take it in the form of your prayers, please. We reciprocate, by the way. And do not hesitate to fall to our knees on your behalf. In fact, I can think of several of you that we are currently interceding for. You, and You, and You(and family), and You......

The book

On this particular day, I felt extremely alone. I had built up that day in my own head, believing whole heartedly that I would be coming home with a new sense of purpose, direction, support, and guidance. I had been hanging by the very end of my rope, and thought the rescue team was finally showing up. But instead of beginning the process (and I did expect a process, not sudden cure) of pulling me back up to where both feet would again be able to stand on their own, they just shook the rope. I was barely hanging on to the thing, anyway. It didn't take much of a shake to send me spiraling down to the self pity vastness below.

That day, I did choose to share with the world (the world being the 5 of you who read my blog) my grief. Only words can't describe how I really felt when I typed that post. What you don't know is how my husband reacted when I spilled all to him later that night. I'm aware the publicity I give him here on the blog doesn't really paint the accurate picture of him. The few times I've mentioned him it was because his reaction was not exactly what I needed at the moment. On that night, he was equally blunt and did not indulge me in my pity party. Only, this time, he was right. Maybe he's right every time, but I won't give him that much credit. "What are you so upset about? We know her so much better than they do, anyway. And we know her Creator."

So, we hit our knees. Again. They were still bruised and carpet burned, as I suppose knees should always be. I've clung to the God breathed words of James, who said true wisdom comes only from God, and that he gives when asked. I began to seek out websites and even blogs where mothers share their deepest thoughts and struggles through fostering and adoption. I found this mom, and this site, and Annie suggested a book by these guys. The aloneness faded. I'd chase rabbits explaining all the details, but the short of it is our current financial situation leaves a lot to be desired. My mom graciously ordered the book for me, though, and I'll be picking it up from her tomorrow. I hope I'm not setting myself up for another downfall. You'd think I'd learn not to place so much hope on one event, or book (unless it's God's precious Word). But here I am again, hardly able to stand waiting to peer inside it's cover.

Many of the sites I've found list symptoms of RAD or other attachment disorders. I had seen several lists, but only recently saw some lists that included this symptom: Parents seem hostile and angry.

I'm no psychiatrist. And that symptom has not been explained. I can only speculate what I think it means as a mother of a young girl struggling with an attachment disorder. I can think of a couple of ways that applies. But the biggest thing that struck me when I saw that listed as a symptom was relief. I'm not making this up. I'm not making it out to be worse than it is. I'm not the only parent in the world that outsiders are watching and thinking I'm not being fair to this kid. Yes, she's only 4. Yes, she's as cute as a button. Yes, she can charm and please and has fantastic manners and looks as innocent and sweet as a lollipop. So, when she tells her Sunday school teacher that she can not play with toys because her mommy would be mad and doesn't allow her to play, and when her teacher mentions this to me while my cute-as-a-button RADling watches with utter glee and complete satisfaction, it is still me that looks out of control and ridiculously overreactive as the smoke runs out of my ears. A hostile, and angry response.

It's like that all the time. The action of the child in and of itself does not seem that bad. It is beyond most people's comprehension that one so young can master mind such a scenerio. That she can, indeed, pull the strings of most puppets around her. That sounds so insane. I hear myself. I realize how ridiculous it sounds. And before her placement with us, I'd think anyone who said such was crazy, too. That sweet little face who has been through so much trauma can not possibly be bad enough to elicit those hostile reactions from her mother. I saw what she did, her mom is making it out to be such a bigger deal than it is. She's just being a typical 4 year old. 7 days, I say. Live with me. For about a week. Then we can talk about this.

The flip side of that is, though, that on some level I am hurt. The triangulation (pitting one adult against another), the pushing away, the frustration. And I'm sure there are times when my reaction is not what it should be. It's battle fatigue. Just fatigue. Just plain tired of fighting the fight and trying to be affectionate and loving.

So, that's where we are. It's honest. Brutally honest. As honest as I can possibly be and still preserve the privacy of my baby. I'm beginning to understand. I know she's operating out of fear. I know that no matter how hard she's pushing right now, that there is a tiny beating heart in there that wants my unconditional love. Even if her brain hasn't figured that out, yet. I also know she's worth every tear I shed. She's worth sleepless nights and carpet burned knees. And if your knees aren't already burned, but you'd like them to be, burn them over her. And us. And other mothers who are battling attachment disorders. It's tiresome work.

Ridiculous: Take 2

That can of worms is starting to look enticing. Where do I even begin? Let's start with my expectations. Even I am almost laughing at what I THOUGHT was going to happen. For over 6 months now, I've been entangled in a mess of miscommunications about mental health, who it was that needed it, who exactly needed to make the referral, where to, and paperwork out the wazoo. FINALLY, 7 months after initial placement, I got an appointment at a child development center that I was ECSTATIC about. About a week before the appointment I received a thick packet of papers to fill out and information to read. The letter said the average appointment lasted 3 hours, and could last much more. It tossed around words like "full evaluation" and "head to toe assessment" and "holistic care". My excitement rose. As I sat rating behaviors on a scale, I began to get the idea that someone would be listening, taking every word into account and putting our baby's symptoms/behaviors down to form a care plan and guide us in beginning to heal her hurts and teaching her to form appropriate attachments. I envisioned a team of doctors watching her behavior alone, with just me, with other children, when strangers come in..... from behind a window. You can laugh. I don't know what I was thinking. Ridiculous. I know. I expected a doctor who would be decisive and truthful, some support, assurance, and applicable ideas. Someone who understands attachment disorders, children of abuse and neglect, and has a plan for them. I expected 3 hours of jointly designing a plan specific for my baby. That's what the letter said, right?

What I got was 20 minutes of eyes that blinked 60 times a minutes and said "What I hear you saying is____________" about 300 times. I'm not saying she wasn't genuine, but the calm softness of her voice could only be made, not natural. We were in a 4x4 room that was HOT. She asked me questions in front of my little one that the real answers would scar a regular child just to hear. I wanted to scream. I didn't want someone to repeat back to me what I was saying. Like I needed to know she heard me. I wanted someone to have some answers. Or ideas. Or at least, "Keep doing what you're doing, it is helping her, it's just going to take time". I ache for some kind of sign that I'm not screwing this kid up farther. I'm completely OK with however she will be all her life. I'm not OK with blindly stabbing at how to guide her. After our 20 minutes of fame, we were ushered out, paper in hand stating next appointment: more than a month away. Lovely. I'm already dreading a 2 hour trip, finding care for the remaining 4 for the day, for more of NOTHING. Can't wait.

Ridiculous

It's a word I use to describe a lot of different things. The noise level in my house right at this moment: ridiculous. The expectation for those shorts you wore yesterday to be clean today: ridiculous. Our bank account: ridiculous. The current predicament we're in (no job, last pay check drawn): ridiculous. And best of all, my entire day yesterday: ridiculous.

Let's start with my attitude. The ability to completely trust in God's timing in fizzling fast. My once, "it will all work out" mindset is quickly beginning to focus on how long it's been since we've had any real direction. Frustration and stress and irritability is kind of winning over my normally laid back attitude. I understand attitude is a choice. And it's something I believe pretty whole heartedly. But for whatever reason, whether it is really under my control or not, I'm having trouble changing it. Overwhelmed is not a fun state to be in day after day.

Yesterday was NOT good. My blessing couldn't seem to pee in the potty not one time. Not to mention her uncontrollable obsession with pouring out bottles of soap and shampoo. My Charity seemed to think acting like she did on Day 1 of her arrival would be better than all the progress she seemed to have made lately. Grace was extra whiny and insistent that her doctor needs to take off her "ganglion cyst". And yes, she calls it by it's actual medical name. It was cute, the first thousand times. Faith and Hope seemed to think treating each other like, well, like children would treat each other, was suitable. And if you didn't catch it in the last sentence, hind sight allows me to see the problem was with my expectations. They were only doing what children do. But my reaction? RIDICULOUS.

I lost it. By "it", I mean everything. My temper. My sanity. Any semblance of filtering what I say FIRST. I even lost my soft voice. Decibel 5 seemed to be the only level I could say anything. Couple that with glaring eyes. I had to apologize to ALL my children. And quit entertaining any thoughts of being Mother-of-the-year. Sheesh. Just when I thought I had it all together. (better read that sarcastic. That's how I meant it)

My husband came in for lunch about the time I exploded. He looked at me like I was growing horns or something. I busted out crying, throwing up all my feelings of worthlessness and failure all over him. He continued to look at me like I'd just fallen from outer space. Then, in his all understanding, gentle, loving manner, he said, "Gotta go back to work". And left. You're jealous, aren't you? You know you want him for your husband.

This isn't meant to bash him. But that's what happens when we expect our husbands to fill a void that they can't fill. It's unfair to expect them to. From there, what did we do? We dug in the change bucket for a dollar and 10 cents per person. Then went to the dollar store. Yes, I bought forgiveness. Maybe. Does it cost more than a dollar? What is the going rate these days?

Then my children, who I fully expected, and even wanted to spend on things completely cheap and fun and RIDICULOUS....no, every last one of them chose practical things. We came home with some headbands, chapstick, a hat. A different day I'd be proud. But at the moment even that seemed like a testimony of my horrible parenting. Guess I'll go eat worms. Long, thin slimy ones.

Thank the Lord today is a new day and His mercies are new each morning. Gratefulness reigns again.


I wonder how long before I screw it up.