Orlando 2014 . . .

The registration for next year's Orlando Retreat begins May 1st .  Yesterday a friend on facebook posted that Orlando was "the best thing I ever did for myself".  I had the privledge of meeting her last year.  She came in a day early and joined a bunch of us in a hotel tha first night before we got to the villas.  She had not ever left her state alone and had never flown.  She took a HUGE step of faith in registering.  This year, she stayed in the same villa as I did.  She is a true gem!  I responded on facebook with "So glad you did.  I am better person for having you in my life."

This is how I feel about all the ladies I have been blessed to meet because of Orlando.  The support I have garnered has been instrumental in the good space our family is in at this moment.  They have HELD ME UP when I have faltered.  They have given me HOPE when I swore that all was lost. They have LAUGHED with me when I had no other choice and they have CRIED with me when I felt I couldn't possibly take anything else.  They are the glue that holds me together and I couldn't be more thankful for the blessing of meeting these S T R O N G women.  Had it not been for them, I picture a very different place that we would be in at the moment.  I am not sure I could do this alone.  I am not sure my marriage would be intact and I am not sure that my son would be living in my house.  They are my foundation in parenting my child and I could not more grateful. 

If you are parenting a child from Trauma or one that struggles with Attachment, consider yourself invited.  I promise that you will feel welcomed and a part of a sisterhood that you could not imagine. If you think you won't fit in, I promise you we will take that challenge.  If you think that stepping out and heading to a place that you don't know a soul is too big a step, I promise you we will hold your hand.  I PROMISE you that you will never look back and regret your decision. I swear that your life will be changed for the better.  

Go on.  

Do it.  

I promise it will be worth facing every fear.

Visit our BeTA retreat FAQ page and get some information and take the leap! 

Enough . . .

This year's concept  for Orlando was ENOUGH.  I am Enough.  You are Enough.  We are Enough.  It is Enough.   Our shirts were emblazened with the mantra. We had notebooks and charms with it on it.   Each year it seems that the theme for the weekend was so fitting.  This year more than ever it resonated within me.  Perhaps it is where I am at this time.  Perhaps it is knowing that my son is now 18 and would normally be celebrating turning into an adult had his life been different.  Perhaps it is simply because I am worn out.

I have to come to grips daily that I am a failure.  I go to bed nightly knowing that NOTHING I do can change the trauma that my son suffered in his early, formative years.  NOTHING I can do will change the fact that his brain is missing pieces due to alcohol consumption while in utero.  NOTHING I can do will help him be less impulsive and make better choices.  I can simply do what I can to get him through each day.

I go to bed nightly thinking I could've done so many things differently. I could've tried harder, had more patience, said nicer things.

I lose my cool. I say things I shouldn't. I am not perfect.

The first time I ever voiced my concerns of being a failure to our psychiatrist, he said to me "You are never going to feel like a success with a kid like Dustin.  Getting up in the morning and doing it all over again is success."

I keep moving forward. I have to. For him, for my other kids, for all of us. We start each new day with a clean slate. We start over with a new perspective. We give it one more shot.

We can advocate for our kids. We can fight for services. We can beg and plead for help. When it comes down to it, we are left alone to deal with the aftermath of the trauma they suffered as children. We can make it better, but it will never ever go away. My child's brain damage caused by alcohol in utero will not repair itself. We have to cut them some slack. Why shouldn't we cut ourselves the same slack?

It's hard. It may not be what I signed up for, but I keep going. What other choice do I have? You do what you have to and hope you get another day to do it a little bit better than the last.

It's hard. It's what I do.

My husband is a person who always looks for the bright side.  He is the first one to say that thinks will get better, we will see it differently with a good night's sleep, etc. When I ask him if we made a mistake adopting Dustin into family or if we were the wrong family for him, he always responds the same way . . ."We were the only ones willing to take this on.  We were the only ones who stepped up.  We love him. That has to be enough."

We do the hard stuff.

We do the best we can.

It has to be enough.

Be gentle with yourself.  Even though you feel as though you are ill equipped to deal with your child's issues.  You are enough.  Even though your child fights the love and healing you are helping to get them to accept.  IT is enough.  Even though there are those that don't understand our struggles, our choices and our family dynamics we are enough.

I have to rest in the fact that what we are doing is sufficient.  We hope for the best.  We give the love and the comfort and the understanding and sometimes he chooses to accept them.  That has to be enough. It is better than the alternative.

Quiet . . .

Things have been a bit quiet around here.  The Orlando retreat came and went.  I have a wonderful weekend with 120 women who "get it".  They do the tough job of raising kids from trauma who struggle with attachment issues.  We help one another by offering suggestions, emparting skills, talking about what works for them and what has failed.  We give one another a place to sit and vent but also to learn to help our kids heal.  It truly is an amazing time away.

Since then, I have been hard at work on the website for the organization that is taking over the yearly retreat and offering more in the way of year round support.  The original organizers are stepping down and one brave momma has stepped up in their place.  Beyond Trauma and Attachment, also known as BeTA, (www.momsfindhealing.com) has been born and we are working hard to fill the gap.  My job is the new website, as well as maintaining the facebook page and support groups.  

Can you do me a favor and share our website with your facebook friends or real life family? You may not know that a family you are close to is struggling. So many families keep this sort of thing quiet because they feel like they are the only ones going through this or that they are dong something wrong. Early Trauma and Attachment issues are not just reserved for adoptive families either. You could be helping hold up a family who are living a life they never imagined! Support groups are now available for moms, dads and siblings.

Adoption is LOSS . . .

Today I was directed to an amazing article entitled, "Adoptee View: What Can a Tiny Baby Know?".  It is something that everyone, whether involved in the world of adoption or not, should read.    It is powerful stuff. 

"Adoption is a trauma that happens to a child. The child is torn away from her biological mother, placed in the arms of strangers and is left with questions, doubts, fears and anxiety with no way to verbalize, express, mourn or contextualize those feelings. Though the common misconception is that a child won’t remember any of it many psychologists believe, with evidence to support, that children remember their birth and the following events, including relinquishment and adoption, up to the age of three."

Even as a fairly clueless foster parent, I refused to have my foster kiddos call me "Mom".  I found it disrespectful to their birth parent and not a good practice for the child when it can to attachment. The foster children in our home either chose to call us by our given names or they could choose Aunt and Uncle.  I did have one girl who asked if she could refer to me a school as her mom because she didn't want to be different.  I totally understood and told her I was okay with that if she chose.  I recall her whispering in my ear, "I know you are not my mom and please don't tell my real mom because it will hurt her."  I knew that day that we were making the right decision.  

As an adoptive parent, I have never felt like I am a saint for bringing my adopted child into my family.  I resent it when people talk about what we did as a miracle.  I hate when people tell us we are special.  I hate when they say that my son is LUCKY to have us.  He isn't LUCKY.  I bet if you asked him he would've rather been LUCKY enough to have a parent who could raise him in his own family.  I bet he would tell you that the abuse he suffered to get to us wasn't LUCKY.   While I understand their sentiments,  I know where their heart is, but it is basically a slap in the face of my son's journey.  His journey is ugly, hard, tragic and filled with grief.  There is nothing LUCKY about it.

 "Research shows that, at birth, a baby is able to recognize her mother’s voice. Within a few days of birth she will recognize familiar faces, voices and smells and be drawn to them. With research showing that babies do have a memory, in contradiction to long held beliefs, it becomes unreasonable to assume that a baby would not remember or recognize (at a visceral and thus almost imprinting level) the loss of her mother upon separation."

I know as a pregnant momma I spent hours talking to my baby.  We are told by doctors to read to our children in utero and play music.  We are told after birth they like to hear our heartbeat because they heard it all the time in the womb.  We are foolish to think that that baby who is removed from their birth mother won't experience trauma that that voice, that sound, that smell, that presence is no longer there. 

I had a friend this week tell me that her family is considering adopting an international teenager.  I hate that my first thought was "No!".  I am sad and ashamed that I cried for her family.  While I support her in her decision I wept that her life (and of course the child's life) will be turned upside down.  I prayed for guidance and I messaged her asking if I could share my heart.  Thankfully she was open to what I had to say.  I explained that if she went into this thinking everything was rainbows and unicorns that she would be extremely disappointed.  That if she went into this thinking that she was going to "save" a child and give them a better life and they would be eternally grateful to come to America she would be sorely mistaken.  I wanted her to go into this with her eyes wide open.  I wanted her to adjust her expectations so they are not dashed and she ends up on the other side battered and bleeding asking me why I didn't tell her it would be this hard. I explained that it could be not quite so terrible, but it wouldn't be easy.  And the "hard" that it is is not the "hard" you have ever experienced.  It changes you in ways you never knew existed.  It cuts and it hurts.  When you finally come to the understanding that you, even through the best of intentions, are a part of the pain that your child is experiencing, it is heartbreaking.  It is life changing.  It takes your breath away.  When you understand that small piece, you understand the pain of attachment issues.

That being said, I will support her in whatever she chooses.  I will be her greatest champion.  I will rejoice if it goes swimmingly.  I will support her and her family in any way I can!  She will make the best choice for her and her family, I just wanted to keep it real from my perspective.

 The article talks about the two different ways that kids react to adoption and the loss is creates.  I can't do the subject any more justice than he did . . .

"Every adopted child, allow me to reiterate, every adopted child falls into one of two categories. She either acts out and is difficult or is quiet, adaptable and compliant. Of course the degree to which each adoptee acts out or becomes compliant is individual.
 
Some who act out will go to the extreme of running away from home, threatening their adoptive parents, rebel academically and even attempt suicide. A 2001 study shows that of teens in grades 7 through 12, 7.6% of adopted teens had attempted suicide compared with 3% among their non-adopted peers. The compliant child may become a model citizen in school as well at home or she may just kind of fade into the background, trying not to be noticed or cause trouble. Either way they are both reactions to the trauma of being adopted.

The child who acts out, is, in essence, attempting to initiate some form of rejection from parents, teachers, peers and others in order to prove that she is unlovable or she finds herself rejecting these same people prior to being rejected by them. This type of child is obviously troubled and it is easy to identify as needing help. However, parents and therapists often try to counsel the child into acting more appropriately, instilling tough love or even unknowingly furthering the child’s abandonment issues by sending them to boarding school, camp or other such institutions. Rarely do adoptive parents and counselors see this behavior as a reaction to her adoption trauma. They are never truly treating the source of the wound.

For the compliant child the situation can actually be much more devastating. As a compliant child who is either not causing problems or actually well engaged and visibly successful, she is not seen as having any problems at all. Parents see this child as well adjusted to life, including being adopted, and with no outwardly troubling signs of concern, this child is often overlooked and not given any form of counseling or assistance in dealing with life or emotional wounds. It is difficult for anyone to see that the child who is often referred to as, “mature for her age” or “pleasant and articulate,” is actually in equal distress to the child who is acting out. Both are hurting, both are devastated by the trauma of relinquishment and both have no way to articulate, understand, contextualize or grieve the loss they have endured.

These two behavior types present themselves at various ages, though adolescence is the most common time for them to reach their strongest levels. Additionally, some may actually experience both behavior types, switching from one to the other depending on their environment or transition back and forth throughout maturity. Also noteworthy is that no matter the age of adoption, infant through teen, all adoptees essentially suffer from the same issues."

For me, these paragraphs were eyeopening.  While talking to people about our adoption struggles, I have often said something like, "You could be fortunate, your child might escape these issues, they may do well with the loss surrounding adoption." I think the author does a good job of mentioning that even though a child is compliant and seems to adjust well, there are still underlying issues that need to be addressed to help them become a well rounded, productive adult who is happy in their own skin.  Depending on the child, I think this could be done just by parents being open and honest about the issues.  I think individuality it a HUGE part of this.  Every child is different.

As I have progressed in my own journey and dealt with my son's "demons" I have come to see that we are waging a war.  A war with what he believes to be true and what he feels.  It is ugly.  It is hard.  It is something he will never, ever forget.  I can only hope that I am able to help him through it to be who he is meant to be.


 

Collateral Damage . . .

I worry.  It is who I am and who I will likely always be.  I worry about things  that I have no control over.  I worry about things I cannot change.   I worry abut worrying.

Lately by biggest worry has been my 2 younger kiddos.  I worry that raising them in a home that is as chaotic as mine and as crazy as ours can be will "break" them.  I  worry that all the attention given to Dustin will make them feel "less".  I worry that they are not getting what they need from me as a parent.  Are they getting a tired, grumpy and on edge parent?  They deserve better.

Logically, I can tell myself that no one grows up in a optimal environment and that this life will make them more compassionate, more patient and more loving.  Logically, I can tell myself that I am doing the best we are doing the best we can and it will all come out in the wash.  But it is HARD.  It is hard to see them struggle.  It is hard to see them get frustrated that their 17 year old brother is on the porch in his underwear when we come home from daycare.  It is hard to see them get angry that he can't just do what he is asked.  I hate seeing them grouching at him.  I hate hearing them say "Can't you just listen for once!?"  I hate denying them the ability to go somewhere as a family because it is a place that Dustin can't handle the sensory aspect of.  I hate saying no to sleepovers and play dates at our house because of what I would be exposing other children to.

Today is teacher conferences at their school.  I know that both kids will get talked to about not completing homework.  In reality, that is more my fault than theirs.  Typically they get fabulous grades and do well in class. Our life is so chaotic in the evenings, homework is one of the last things I push.  Most nights we scrap it in order to have some semblance of family time or Dustin is so out of hand that nothing would get done anyway.  It is my issue and something I am going to have to address with the teachers.  I hate airing our "dirty" laundry, but sometimes I feel like it has to be done.  I hate feeling like a failure not being able to juggle it all.

Both of my kids have definitely inherited a piece of my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and I think that s where the problem lies.  The way that is presents itself is different in each child, but our household and it's atmosphere is not helping.  I have to come up with a way to calm the entire house and to make each child feel as though they are an integral and important part of our home.  And maybe they already feel that way and these are my own insecurities spilling over!  I thought as the kids got older, it would be easier, and it seems to just present new challenges and hiccups. 

There are no easy answers.

Rough . . .

Things have been rough around here lately. We have had another incident in public the weekend after the last post.  It was not too drawn out because I caught him before he actually took off.  But we became a spectacle in he parking lot when people began gawking at us and I lost my cool.

Last weekend, Dustin spent a half hour on the corner of our busy street at about 10:00 at night in his underwear in freezing temperatures.  At first, I left him thinking he would come home, but later it became obvious that it was going to take coaxing to get him home.  It was not fun.

This week has been better, but today I got screamed at for most of the day.  Fun times. 

We did just turn in paperwork to file for guardianship of Dustin when he turns 18 next month.  Makes me wonder if we are making the right decision.  The problem is I am not sure there is any other decision to make.  He has no options and I made a  commitment to him knowing that he would not be able to live on his own at 18. We are doing the right thing.  I just wish it wouldn't be so damn difficult.

Ergh, embarrassment . . .

Yesterday I had to run some errands and help a friend with a home improvement project.  I took Dustin and McCartney and then we decided we would go do a bit of shopping.   Heading into Kohls he asked if we could go to the pet store.  The answer was no.  He obsesses over pet stores and truly I was not in the mood for it today.  I told him we were going to the mall next and I would get him a pretzel.  I could tell in his eyes that was not acceptable and he was going to make me pay for it. 

Once we were inside he kept venturing farther and farther away from me.  I ignored it.  I could tell he wanted me to chase him.  We have not had an issue in public like this for a long time, not since our trip to Kmart where the police were actually involved.  I decided that I would not chase him and I actually needed to try on some undergarments so I would just let him wander the store.  I was fairly confident he would not leave the store and every time I saw him sneaking by me I would mention to him that he could keep walking around and I would tell him when we were leaving.  Of course I was smiling even though I wanted to holler at him to get his butt back over here where I asked him to be!  I did not want an incident, little did I know . .  .

When it was time to go, we headed toward the checkout.  He came by soon and I told him we were leaving.  He jumped, hollered NO, and ran away.  I explained to the checkout girl that he was special needs (even though he is bigger than me and look completely typical)  and I didn't want to cause a scene.  I told her I was going to go sit on the bench near the door and wait.  She was very kind and asked if I wanted her to page him, I knew it wouldn't do any good.   I wanted to chase him down with every fiber of my being, but I knew it would be ugly, and quite frankly since I broke my leg last year I have a hard time walking, let alone running.  Also, I am trying to have GRACE this year and I thought that waiting patiently and being non-confrontational would result in a better ending for all of us.

After sitting there about a half hour, I knew we had not made any progress.  I knew it was time to see if I could get him to comply.  I walked toward the back of the store and asked McCartney to stay up front.  I saw him and he ran back to the bathroom next to the service desk.  I was thrilled.  I knew he was trapped and I knew if I just waited him out, I could snatch him when he came back out.  I explained to the service desk that he was special needs and that I would likely be creating a scene when he came out.  The young man and woman there seemed to understand and gave me those sympathetic eyes.  There were 12 or so people in line to return merchandise too. I was irritated and embarrassed by the point and my voice was bit quivery but I was holding it together.   The worst part is that McCartney had no idea I was standing there and I was worried because she was still up front.

I waited.  And waited.  After about 10 minutes I figured he knew I was out there and he was not going to come out.  I decided to go into the men's restroom and talk to him.  Nice.  He was huddled into the corner of the handicapped stall and refused to talk to me at all.  I knew we were at a standstill.  The stall lock was not one that I could unlock from outside and I was not able to crawl under (ew!).  I walked back out defeated with people staring.

The young man at the service desk asked if he could try.  I told him I didn't think it would make a difference and I was worried it would irritate the customers standing in line to be helped.  HE said he wanted to try.  After about 5 minutes he opened the door and Dustin came walking out.  I was thrilled! I told him how thankful I was and that I appreciated his kindness.  I began to sob and he siad, "Can I hug you?"  It was very kind and very much appreciated.  I was mortified and he made me feel very understood.  This young man was only about 25 years old.  I was so very thankful. 

I held Dustin's wrost and made the trek back up the front of the store with him hollering all the way.  It was fabulous I tell ya! (not)  By this point McCartney had found me and was just as embarrassed as I was.  We left the store with him yelling and me sobbing. 

I put him in the car and took him home.  I picked up Harrison and we went to the mall.  I really did not want to go but McCartney was looking forward to spending her gift cards from Christmas.  We stopped at the pretzel place and sat down to eat.  A little girl walked past us with her parents.  She was mentally handicapped and had an obvious outward disability.  She was carrying on and her parents were simply holding her arm and walking through the mall.  Harrison looked at me and said, "Mom, see that girl over there? I kind of wish Dustin looked like her.  Then people would know why he acts like he does.  They wouldn't think it was your fault." 

Yes, dear boy.  Me too.  Sigh.