A Hard Word For Me To Say

Trauma. It's a hard word for me to say. It is even harder for me to relate this word to my sweet little boy. For the past year and a half I have refused to entertain this word in my thoughts. I have purposely left it out of my parenting plan. I have attributed my youngest son's "issues" to lack of structure, to DNA. Structure and DNA most likely do play a part in what is happening in his little body and his strong mind. But a few weeks ago I came to understand that I need to allow for another answer to the behavior puzzle. Early life trauma.

A year ago, when I should have been embracing this word and all that it implies, I was running from it. I knew about the parenting philosophies geared towards traumatized children. It is hard to be a part of the adoption community and not hear about Beyond Consequences and other parenting plans. Yes, I knew it was out there, but it wasn't right for my family. I wasn't parenting a traumatized child.

After months of struggling, after visits to doctors and behavior specialists, after meetings with daycare teachers and more tears than I care to admit, we sought help in a different direction. And while I still don't know exactly what we are looking at, I do know that when I sit down to read another chapter of the first Beyond Consequences book I feel as though it was written for me. About me. About my family. About my son. About how I feel. And about what I worry about.

I watch my young son playing with his older brother and I smile. I watch them race around the house, laughing and screaming. I watch my oldest son using parenting skills I wish I had in negotiating a toy exchange or the right to pick the radio station in the car and I smile. I hold my tiny three year old tight against me as he screams at bedtime, myself exhausted from the day, and sometimes I smile and sometimes I cry. I watch him playing by himself across the room and I wonder. What is he thinking? Why is he repeatedly sticking out his tongue? Why does he like to rip paper so much? Will he make good eye contact today? Will he let Mommy make even one decision for him today? Will he go to sleep? Will he eat today?

I listen to his ever increasing speech and language skills and I marvel at how far he has come. I welcome his endless questions and his constant desire to "kiss Mommy". I smile, I worry, and I cry, like every mother does, I suppose. Sometimes I do all three in one day. Sometimes I do all three in one hour.

When my little angel has fought me at every turn and I am at the end of my rope I worry about his future. The horror stories of internationally adopted children growing up into unstable adults are plentiful, if you know where to look. I love my children. I want them to grow up to be healthy, strong, compassionate and loving men. I want them to be a blessing to others, not become something others fear. I want my sweet young boy to be seen for who he is underneath the trauma. He loves music and Curious George. He loves to dance and is quite the little jokester. He gives amazing hugs and kisses. He is so much more than the arm that sweeps the toys to the floor or the anger behind the hitting. He is more than a tiny child screaming as a weary mother fights to stuff him into his car seat after a particularly difficult trip to the store. He is more than a shoe flying into the front seat or a crib broken at his hands. He is more than food thrown on the kitchen floor. He is more, my son.

Other mothers have felt this way. I am sure the now deceased mother of the young man who has caused so much heartbreak for so many families in Connecticut felt this way. We don't know what happened there, and we probably never will. And let me be clear: I do not think my son has mental illness. But now, finally, I agree that he has suffered trauma. I have let that word into my world and I know that we are all going to be OK. A few weeks ago we had gone from many good days in a row to a few terrible ones and I was sitting at the kitchen table, dinner uneaten, defeated. My sweet husband showed up behind me, put his hands on my shoulder, and reminded me that we have the kids we are meant to have. God gave me this, and he will walk with us through it, if I let him.

It's a relief, really, to finally feel as though we are on the right path. Our new approaches, while still in their infancy stage and certainly not habits, yet, are slowly starting to work. Whether these are short term solutions or techniques we will use for many years we have yet to determine. And who cares. If it works, I will gladly do it every day. To see my youngest son smiling more than screaming, to see him becoming a part of the family, wanting to help and showing compassion towards us, more than we see  him staring through us with cold vacant eyes is reward enough. I am learning that it is OK to not be just like me. I am learning to be a little more patient. To slow down and take a little more time transitioning from one of life's activities to the next. I am learning that we are all brilliant, in our own way. As the parent we so often feel as though we have to impart our wisdom on our children. That if they are not successful then we are not either. I know that it is God's plan for me  to help my son, sure. But I'm beginning to think that it might also be His plan for my "traumatized" son to teach me a thing or two as well.

I will smile

This post was originally published on July 25, 2011. It is an essay on smiling through the feelings of always being on display as an transracial family. It is being re-posted in honor of National Adoption Month.




It has been three years since my oldest son joined our family. And these first three years have been filled with joy, laughter and the unwelcome stares of thousands of complete strangers. That's how I have been thinking of them - unwelcome. I ignore the looks, usually. But they bother me nonetheless. I just want to parent my child. I am going to have my bad parenting moments, just like everyone else. I am going to have tones of frustration in my voice sometimes. I am going to have to pick up a screaming child and stuff him under my arm as I practically run from the grocery store, or the library. There are going to be times when the floor under the restaurant table is covered in food thrown there by my two beautiful angels. Mama said there'd be days like this, right?

The problem is, before these moments pop up, while we are just that quiet family in the library or that happy family at the restaurant we are still gathering the stares of many of the people around us. So when the tide turns and the bad behavior rears it's ugly head we are already on display.

The other night I couldn't sleep, something that has been happening to me a lot lately. At first I couldn't sleep because I was just so content- suddenly I had all this energy, all from being just so gosh darned happy with my life. Then I couldn't sleep because my return to work date was looming and I knew I was going to walk right back into total craziness. But I found another more family friendly job and gave notice at the old job and so why I couldn't sleep the other night is beyond me. I decided to spend some quality alone time with myself and catch up on my magazine reading.

Skimming through the family and adoption magazines made me think about that day's trip to the grocery store with my boys. As usual, they were relatively well behaved albeit their normal level of boisterousness. And par for the course, we turned our share of heads. But that night I really thought about it. I can't stop staring at my boys. I find them beautiful and sweet and I make eye contact with them on a near constant basis. I truly stare at them. And it is not because they don't look like me. It's not because I am trying to figure out what nationality they are. It is simply because I love them and because they are so cute. So am I that different from everyone out there staring at my boys?

I have to entertain the possibility that people stare because my boys are beautiful. I know a handful of them are trying to work out how they could be related, or what country they may be from. I know some of them are trying to figure out why I chose international adoption over domestic. Some of them are wondering about the situations that led to these beautiful boys needing forever families. But most of them are probably staring because they are sweet and loving children. Simple as that.

So I need to stop letting these stares get to me. But I need to stop ignoring them as well. Next time I will tear my eyes away from my boys and make eye contact with the person admiring my children. And I will smile.

transitions...

When my Big Five Year Old was a toddler I used to drive myself crazy with each new, annoying phase he toddled into. He used to knock over the television speakers and climb up onto them, standing tall as though he had just conquered a mountain. He stopped doing that and started biting me. Always on my neck when I was holding him, and always when I wasn’t expecting it. And always me. He never bit my sweet husband or anyone else. He was laying claim to his new mommy, and I couldn’t wait until he felt the transaction had been complete.  Eventually he stopped biting me and entered the phase where he threw everything he could get his hands on while sitting in a crowded restaurant. That was a super fun stage. That guy never saw that piece of toast coming…

 

Just when his phases started to slow down and I could walk away from him without fear of him hurting himself or others, we brought home the Tiny Toddler. And the phases started all over again. Along with the new crop of weird toddler behaviors came the work we had just started letting go of: back to changing diapers, spoon feeding, preparing special foods, wearing the baby 24/7. And I didn’t complain. It was exhausting, but it was also wonderful. A whole new blessing.

 

And while we enjoyed the blessing still we looked ahead to the days of more independence. And now, our Big Five Year Old is there.  He is gone from me now, spending every day in a classroom at his new school. He has new friends and new mountains to climb. And this phase, is so. much. harder.

 

The transition from preschool to kindergarten has not been an easy one for my sweet boy. While he is academically ready for the work, ahead of the curve there, really, he still needs to work on respecting authority and following orders.  This is not news to me, of course. But that doesn’t make it any easier. It’s hard on him, and it’s hard on me.  For the past three weeks our whole world has revolved around what “color” he ended his day on- anything green or above means a good day, yellow, orange, and, heaven forbid, red, mean not so good. So far he has been all over the color board, landing on the dreaded “red” just the other day. Now we know that just telling him to behave is not going to work. We know that this is a work in progress. We know there is a fine line between enforcing the rules and assuring that we don’t cross the line into a world where my sweet boy no longer enjoys school. There is so much pressure here! We are laying the groundwork  for his entire school career, and I want him to get off on the right foot.  I can already see him starting to shut down when we spend too much time talking about his behavior. He seems genuinely confused when I ask him what choices he made that pushed him into the lower colors. And I know he needs to figure this out for himself. We can guide him, we can gently redirect him, we can show him the correct way to behave. And after that, he has to figure it out for himself. But it is so hard! I want to be there, in the classroom with him. I want to be able to stop him when he makes a poor choice and say, “See? That is what your teacher is talking about! Don’t do that!” I want everyone at that school to be able to look past the tough transition and see my amazing kid for what he is, which is, well, amazing.

If you ask my Big Five Year Old what his favorite part of the day is he will tell you recess. Smart man. He can run and jump and scream and do all those things he isn’t allowed to do anywhere else. But when I ask him who he played with that day he always mentions the same two boys that he knows from church and his previous daycare. Neither of them are in his class, although they are both in kindergarten. His face will then often get a little cloudy as he tells me that no one else wants to play with him. We talk about how he can’t always be in charge of the games, that he has to let the other children pick the games too, how he has to do what others want to do too. We talk about how he should ask the other children to play, instead of waiting for them to ask him.  Sometimes he says he understands and his face brightens. Sometimes he tells me that the other kids not wanting to play with him makes his “eyes water”, which is what he says when he feels like he is going to cry. Which makes my eyes water. I want to be there on that playground, I want to show him how to make friends. I want to sit those other kids down and lecture them on how wonderful my little boy is. Or better yet, I want to keep him home with me, where I will play with him and be his friend.

 

We are doing all the right things. We role play conversations with friends. We practice sitting still and listening. We are in daily contact with his teacher. We stick to the rules and enforce the consequences. And he is a smart kid. And he is outgoing and friendly. He will get through this transition just fine.  I know he is not the only little one in his class feeling these growing pains.  But he is my only little one in that class, and it breaks my heart to see him struggle. This phase, this is the hardest. And I can see the future. It isn’t going to get any easier. There will be fights with friends, crushes on girls, sporting events lost…  The years before, they were physically hard, true. But this next phase, this is going to be a tough one. But my sweet boy needn’t worry. I won’t just see him on the other side. I will be walking through it, right along with him.  God give me strength…

odd behaviors, angry outbursts and car seat dancing

We took the tiny toddler to the Nationwide Children’s Hospital Behavioral Health Center this morning to finally look into what is going on with his odd behaviors and defiance. The good news is that even though he displays a few markers that would place him on the autism spectrum the assessor did not think that we need to worry about that. And even though he also displays a few markers for oppositional defiance disorder, she didn’t feel that was a concern either. Whew. She also reinforced that my sweet husband and I are, in fact, not crazy. Having the chance to witness just a tenth of his total lack of interest in behaving in a manner that would welcome him back to her office, she informed us that we were not over reacting in bringing him in for a visit. Whew again.

The first few days/months of his life with us were not easy, as many of you know. His young life, measured still in months at that point, had seen so much loss and confusion that I understood the acting out.  We ripped him away from the only home he knew. We sounded funny. We smelled funny. I am sure he had seen other babies leave the orphanage, never to return, and so he quite possibly may have been terrified of what his fate was going to be as we walked him down that dingy hallway, through the heavy wooden door and into the gray, cold night. It brings tears to my eyes still to think about the wild look on his face as we drove away, me holding him tight and attempting to whisper comforting words into his little ear. So his outbursts at the hotel, the airports, those first few months home- I understood.

Then those first weeks stretched into months and before we knew it a year had passed. Our tiny toddler spent most of that first year continuing to display his anger. Again we thought adoption related.  It is not uncommon for a child adopted as a toddler to push away people who love him, in an attempt to protect his heart. He had already lost a birth mother, never feeling that loving touch that begins to build that lifelong connection. He had seen caregivers come and go, possibly never bonding with any of them.  He had lost the only home he had ever known. He had no guarantee that we weren’t going to leave him as well. So he spent months pushing us away. This was super frustrating for us because during all those months of fighting and pushing us away he was also bonding and pulling us in to his heart. Every day was filled with hugs, kisses, screams and punches. And my heart felt as though it was being pulled apart, “I love you, I hate you, I love you, I hate you” is very exhausting.  But through it all I kept thinking, “This will pass. He will soon trust that we love him and that we are not leaving him and he will settle down.” Only he never did.

The days got easier, I guess. Or maybe we all just got used to it. I really don’t know which. Some days are better than others, as it is with any parenting hurdles. My sweet husband and I read books and took online parenting classes. But so far we really haven’t found what works consistently. Which brings us back to this morning, and our appointment at the behavioral health center.  And the relief of finding out that our sweet little angel probably is just a stubborn and defiant toddler.

OK, so now the real work begins. We don’t know if he will outgrow this behavior. We don’t know if this is somehow adoption related, seeing as he spent the first 24 months of his life in basically a free for all setting, where it was OK to hit other kids and where he had to fight for everything he got.  I’m choosing to believe that he will work it out. I’m choosing to believe that I will not have a tall, strong teenage son who is quick to anger and can’t handle his emotions. I’m choosing to believe that I will not have a 7 year old who can’t focus on the activity at hand and who’s favorite word is “no”.  I’m choosing to believe that if we put in the work and help him through this now that we can have calmer days and my tiny toddler can have the calm and happy life he deserves.

So we will participate in the program being offered by the hospital. We will read the recommended books. We will take deep breaths and walk away before we explode and we will take turns handling the odd behaviors. I will research diet changes and alternative medicines and make an appointment to discuss having the metals removed from his body. We will run our lives on routines, something it is very clear our little guy needs. We will anticipate and redirect and teach teach teach.  We will be thankful for our beautiful son, for the times that he laughs so hard that he instinctively covers his mouth with his hand and when he dances in his car seat. We will not lose sight of our big five year old, who soon will be starting kindergarten and may have his own struggles pop up.

So we really don’t know any more now, at the end of the day, than we did this morning, before our appointment. We know what our tiny toddler probably doesn’t have but he remains a mystery to be unlocked. And even though I am often exhausted and frustrated and ready to throw in the towel, I will happily plug away at finding the key to unlock the beautiful little person I know is in there.

more positive parenting successes!

We are nearly nine weeks into our Positive Parenting journey and I am embarrassed to admit that my sweet husband and I have not taken any new classes lately. We do have plans to get back to the classes this week. We may not be learning anything new but we have continued to use the processes with mostly good results. I know this is a journey and not always an immediate solution - we are setting the tone for our family and we are seeing results. Here are two of our recent endeavors...

Two weeks ago my big five year old was starting to bounce around during our donut time before church. We were sitting in the cafe at the church and we were surrounded by other church members and it really was a time for sitting on our bottoms and using our manners. After a few reminders I explained to my oldest son that if he chose to not sit down and use his manners then we would not be able to enjoy a donut before church next week, something he really looks forward to each week. He repeated it back to me and understood the consequence. And then he continued to bounce. So we quietly packed up our show and headed off to Sunday school ten minutes early. And I resisted the urge to say "I told you so". Saying nothing about the behavior, not pointing out what he had lost due to his choices, was very very hard for me! But I did it.

The next Sunday we were on our way out the front door when my big five year old asked if we were having a donut. I explained that we were, in fact, not having a donut that morning and explained why. Pouting ensued and continued most of the way to church. Amazingly, by the time we parked and walked into the church, past the cafe and all the other people enjoying donuts, he was fine. No more pouting, no asking for donuts, nothing. And this past weekend we were back in the cafe before church, enjoying our donuts as a family. And he sat in his chair and used his manners. Now do I think I won't have to do this again? Of course not. But it works, people.

Here is another Positive Parenting success. My big five year old has been doing "chores" for a few years now, long before we started the Positive Parenting classes. We never called them chores- we never really called them anything. Positive Parenting suggests calling them "family contributions", which is a bit much for my young boys. So I now call them "helping the family". And I make sure my big five year old understands that when  he puts the clean silverware away or delivers the rolls of toilet paper to each bathroom he is "helping the family". (By the way, having him deliver the toilet paper is a GREAT little job for him. he has to open the large package, count out the rolls, make sure each bathroom gets the same amount of rolls... he is counting, dividing...) This weekend my little man put the silverware away and then asked me for another job. Let that sink in, people. He said to me, "Mommy I want to do more to help the family." I could have cried. Again, I know this is not the end of the story. I know we will still have our moments of whining when asked to help. But we are so on the right track. It is so true. Our kids, they want to help. They want to feel included and important. And I am growing right along with my boys!

three weeks of positive parenting

We have been knee deep in positive parenting approaches for almost three weeks now. We are still working our way through the classes, and there have been many times that I have gone back for a refresher course on something we have already covered. So far, I have to say, it is working. Most of the time. Not all of the time. And not always with the tiny toddler. Don't get me wrong. I didn't expect these techniques to work every time with the little guy. All I am really looking for is the opportunity to lay the groundwork for his future behavior. It is my hope that he is watching us right now, just taking it all in, and maybe one day it will "click" and he will just get it.

Here's what I have figured out so far: My boys are happiest when they have 100% of my attention. Not their teachers' attention, not their father's attention, my attention. Which they just cannot always have. That being said, the positive parenting approach is helping us find solutions to the behaviors that occur when their "attention buckets" are empty. I have been dragging myself out of bed 15 minutes early every school/work day to have "matthew & mommy" time first thing. He is really responding well to me waking him up and not forcing him immediately into his clothes and down the stairs for breakfast. We sit in the big chair in his room and read a few books or play Wheel of Fortune on my iPhone. He still usually wants me to stay and help him get dressed, but I am determined to choose my battles. After all, it only takes a few minutes to get him out of his pull up and into his play clothes, so I have been reminding myself daily that there will come a time when he won't want my help, and I will miss my sweet little boy kicking his pull up off and across the room, trying to hit whatever target he has chosen that day.  The key, I have found, is reminding him both before we snuggle and after that we are enjoying "matthew & mommy" time. He is now usually dressed, with socks and shoes on, and teeth brushed before we sit down to breakfast. No nagging. Let me say that again. No nagging. And because the big five year old is ready to go I can focus more attention on the tiny toddler, who is having fewer morning meltdowns. Which is all leading to happier exchanges between my sweet husband and me in the morning, and no one has left the house late in nearly three weeks.  Mornings, conquered.

I have also been working on assigning an appropriate consequence to whatever negative behavior I am witnessing from my boys. After taking a few of the Positive Parenting Solutions classes my sweet husband and I have determined that we were assigning consequences that didn't match the behavior. My big five year old couldn't draw that imaginary line between action and consequence, but now we are making that a little easier for him. For example, he loves to go grocery shopping with me. If he acts up in the store and doesn't stop when I ask I simply say, "I expect you to listen to me and stop ______. (insert crazy behavior here.) If you choose not to stop you may not come with me to the grocery store next time." This is very hard for me, because it requires two things. First, I have to be able to explain the consequence and then ignore the negative behavior if it doesn't stop. Second, I have to remember what consequence was given, and not take him to the grocery store next time. I am still working on this. It is so hard to let go and just ignore the behavior when it is driving me crazy. This past Sunday my big five year old was starting to get a little too bouncy while hanging out in the cafe at church and so I explained to him that we would not come early next week for a donut before church if he chosenot to behave. Then I turned back to my friend and continued our conversation. While he continued to bounce around a little. Ignoring him, while convinced that everyone around us was thinking, "Why is she letting her kid bounce around like that?" was very hard. I had to keep telling myself that no one around us was even thinking of us. And don't any of you tell me otherwise.

So right now I am working on myself, and not my kids. Letting go of some of the behaviors and not expecting them to be perfect is job number one. Not being so controlling is job number two. And I am seeing some improvement. Like I have said before, my kids behavior isn't really all that bad. We have our chaotic moments,  but those are getting better. And bonus, I am starting to see a slight improvement in my tiny toddler's behavior. We have totally taken time outs off our "go to" list; they didn't work for the little guy anyways. I may put a toy in time out, but not the kid. So far, so good.

It is definitely a journey. And we have so much more to learn and more classes to take. But in the meantime, I am building my confidence, which will come  in handy as my boys grow up! And I am already a calmer mommy. Last night my boys all headed into the house just as I was putting dinner on the table. My big five year old asked me what was for dinner and I told him that we were having roasted chicken but I knew he really didn't like that so, as a special treat, I made him chicken nuggets. usually he eats what we eat or he doesn't eat. But because I was calmer and happier I could see my way to making him a little happier too. And you know what he did? He climbed out of kitchen chair and ran over to me, yelling, 'Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mommy!", and ran right into me giving me a huge hug, Totally worth the effort.

no one ever talks about the guilt...

No one ever talks about the guilt. Adoptive parents hear "you are so lucky" so often that maybe we feel we can't occasionally complain about the trials and tribulations of raising children. We all know that sometimes just getting through the day with our little ones is quite a chore, no matter how they joined the family. But if they just happened to have joined through adoption then those trials sometimes get a little harder. Toss in the guilt of being frustrated at this beautiful child that you wanted so badly that you couldn't sleep at night and a little worry that whatever behavior is causing you your current stress might be adoption related and you've got the potential for a major mommy melt down.

My little guy is still so new to us. He is doing so well, especially considering all the changes he has lived through in the past two months alone. The bonding is going well. And I love every minute I spend with him. And when I go back to work I will look back on this time alone with him every day and miss it so much that I will find myself tearing up while on the company's clock. I went through this with my oldest son, the not being able to put him down or walk away without setting off a screaming fit in the baby. I would imagine nearly every adoptive parent goes through this. And, of course, in case you are thinking of sending me a fan letter, I know that biological parents go through the same thing. Of course I know.

But the months of trying to get pregnant. The testing and planning and oh my god, all that money spent on pregnancy tests. The pregnancies that ended much too soon. The invitro fertilizations. The drugs, the shots, the painful egg harvests. The daily blood tests. The waiting. Oh my god, the waiting. The years of wanting to be mommy. And now I am, only to want to hand over this baby to my husband the minute he walks in the door at night. Only I can't, because to do so I would have to also hand over my arm. Or my leg. Or whatever body part he had attached himself to.

And then there is the older son guilt. Am I doing right by my oldest child? Am I spending enough time alone with him? Is he adjusting well to his new brother? Did I do any long term damage by leaving him for a month to finalize his brother's adoption? Why is he so sensitive? Is he worried about something adoption related, like being "given back" or is he just being a typical over dramatic 4 year old?

So we feel we can't mention how hard it sometimes is. My new little guy really learned to survive. This means he will fight for what he wants. And if that means smacking or biting Mommy then so be it. He is getting better with this every day and I know that shortly it will only be a distant memory. The typical response to a 24 month old who hits when upset doesn't really work for my son, not yet. I can't really walk away. He needs to feel safe and to understand that his needs will be met. Eventually we can parent by "typical" means. But not now. And, to be honest, we may never be totally "typical" parents. Because some of that guilt will always be there, lurking behind every decision we make regarding our boys. Welcome to adoptive parenthood, again! Oh guilt, how I have missed you...