My 500th Post Here... On Being a Therapeutic Parent

Being a Therapeutic Parent is not just hard. I am sitting here, nursing my swollen hand, scratched face, and bitten arm and looking at Hope. Hope is in control and doesn't have a mark on her because of the last ninety minutes of sweat-pouring-down-my-back effort. It is only 2 o'clock in the afternoon. 5 1/2 hours to bedtime. My question is "How do I continue to be a Therapeutic Parent?"


After thirty years of parenting kids from the hard places. I have mastered (mostly) the art of waking up and looking at each day as a fresh start. I have always struggled with the day that has already gone south. I struggle with feeling that my best wasn't good enough. Obviously, since my child has just managed to rage for X hours. Or my sweetheart just called the worker a F*cken' B*tch. My child walking out of Manifestation Hearings also tend to make feel like it is pointless to go on. If I stay in that place long, the tears start.


When I reach the why*bother*stage, I find I have to intentionally fight my way out. And, so far, I have not found a sure fire way out. Sometimes, really cold ice tea and a rocking chair, helps me reset. Another time it might working in the garden. Occasionally, another Trauma Mama can talk me down. Before all my health problems, a long walk helped. Chocolate has a good shot, too. None of these methods give the grace of a new day.  I am tense. I keep Hope on a short leash because I know if she has another major meltdown, I will be unable to keep my therapeutic panties on.


I can appear patient. I can sound reasonable. I can even go through motions correctly. So what is the problem? The problem is children with Reactive Attachment Disorder have a built in emotional radar that spots a sore points and aims for it. They can't  help themselves. Time and healing are the only things that help. 

We are on our way home, facing 17 hours of driving. I am asking God for the grace to keep myself regulated because I know Hope won't be. It would be unreasonable for me to expect it to be any other  way.

Through the Rage

Hope came home from school yesterday surly. I gave her a snack and afterwards told her it was homework time. She responded by kicking me, with her shoes on, hard. I immediately took her to the floor and restrained her. I.am.NOT.getting.beat.up.any.more. 

Hope was prone, I was on my side. I had Hope's arms crossed over her head. I took her shoes off. All normal stuff. She tried to head butt me, and I put my cheek in the hollow of her neck so that she couldn't. Skin to skin contact. Hope struggled a little less. I realized I had enough movement left in my left index finger to reach Hope's cheek. I started softly stroking it. I used no words, just touch.  After fifteen minutes of screaming, threatening, and trying to scratch me, she went limp. I kept stroking her cheek. Time passed. When I felt safe enough to let Hope up, the rage was gone. 

The games were still there. The homework was done incorrectly. She tried her usual bag of RAD tricks. BUT... the rage was gone and for that I am thankful.

Failure

Our experience with the Holter Monitor was a failure. Hope spent most of yesterday raging, tear off the leads and throwing the monitor itself. When we finally gave up on the monitor, she started throwing everything she could get her hands on. The Dad ended up with Hope in full restraint multiple times over the day. We will have to try again next week. The Dad is really down that  we were unable to maintain her to complete the test. I am just resigned to having to repeat it.

Yesterday was no fun for GB. Today one of us will take GB swimming and give her one on one time.

Staying In the Moment

The Dad went out to dinner with friends tonight. He fed the girls and got them in pajamas first. The Dad definitely needed the socializing more than I did. The girls watched a fairy movie on Disney  and there were only a few flare-ups. When the movie was over, I gave then their meds and said bed time. Hope flipped. She was not tired, she was not going to bed with out her father and I couldn't make her. I said "bed" and she started screaming and hitting.I forced a PRN into her and set her down. She screamed, cried, and threatened me for 45 minutes. As the PRN started working, there were pauses between her outbursts. When we had 3 minutes of silence, I quietly told her to go to bed. She did. I got through this evening by staying in the moment.


She is asleep and I am angry. I am so tired of being abused by a six year old- traumatized or not. Tomorrow is a new day. I am taking the morning to myself. Hopefully, that will be enough for a fresh start. I am not Christine. Now I need to try to sleep.

Hope No Likey Homework

The girls came home from school yesterday, had a snack, and sat down to do homework. In less than thirty minutes, GB's homework was neatly done, correct, and in her book bag. Hope had done one problem and had done it incorrectly. It wasn't rocket science- just writing a number sentence to go with a picture. All she needed to write was 4+1= 5. We went over the picture, and wrote the corresponding number for each group of balls directly on the picture. Since she has been writing number sentences for homework for the last 6 weeks, I reread the directions and told her to fix her number sentence. When she came back with 4+5=1. I knew she had shut her brain down. At this point I told her, like I usually do, that we would work on the homework for 1/2 hour and then put it away. Today was different. The Dad was home. Hope informed me she didn't need my help, her Daddy would help her. The Dad came in the room to help her with her homework. He quickly figured out Hope wasn't interested in actually doing the work, she wanted him to do it for her. He wouldn't. At that point, all was left was the rage. Short Version: She screamed, stomped her feet, slammed doors, and eventually started throwing things at people. It was almost 5 when the Dad had enough and put her to bed kicking and screaming.


This morning, we put her incomplete, damaged homework sheets in her folder. Ms. Very Young Teacher is starting to come around. I received an email from her saying that Hope was busy taping the homework sheets together and would be completing them before starting on today's work.

Both girls' CSE meetings have been rescheduled for Monday. So far, a productive morning :)

UUUGH!

I received a call from the girls school this morning. Hope had a high AND irregular pulse. Of course, I am still stuck in bed. I called our doctor, got a hold of the Dad, and off he went to pick up Hope. Hope saw the doctor and after she spoke to the school nurse, she ordered blood work. The Dad took Hope to the lab, where she proceeded to flip out. No matter how he tried, he couldn't keep her still enough that the tech could take the blood sample needed. They are home now. The Dad is pissed angry that he couldn't get the blood test done, Hope is busy telling me how it is the Dad's fault, MKs fault, my fault- anybody's fault but hers. I am left here in bed, worried about Hope's irregular heartbeat. UUGH!

The Dad Asked

Last night The Dad asked me to write a post like yesterday's post, except make it about Hope instead of GB. There have been some logistical issues. We have only had Hope for a little over a year. I don't know the real Hope. We haven't broken through the RAD yet. Hope is still physical whenever she rages. And she is still raging. My instant reset button is broken. I know a lot of you understand that.  I can't keep her safe without risking getting hurt- especially in public. I will not willingly take Hope some place public by myself because of that. So today's post won't be the same. It will be shadows of future possibilities.

Hope is an angry little girl. Given her background, it is unreasonable to expect anything else. I get 90% of her anger. Again, it is unreasonable to expect anything else. I do not always deal well with being the constant focus of her anger. The Dad wishes that were different. So do I. Right now it is not.

Hope is not FASD, ASD, Bipolar, or ADHD. She is broken. What happened to her with her first adoptive family broke the child God made. God gave us this child to help her become what he intended. She has music in her soul. She is never as happy as when dancing her ballet. She trusts no one- not even The Dad, although he gets more trust than anyone else. The fact that she does trust The Dad more than anyone else, gives me hope... the ability to trust has not been completely destroyed. Hope is so far behind because of the neglect she lived with- she is missing concepts such as first, last, yesterday, tomorrow. After a year of working on them, they are still not usable. Rhyming words and beginning sounds do not exist to Hope- yet she wants to read and takes every opportunity to "read" to me. A drive that strong comes from a survivor. Hope has cause and effect and the ability to think abstractly. She frequently chooses not to use them, but having them puts her so far ahead of most of our kids.

Part of me regrets adopting Hope. I am too old, Hope's needs are so different from GB's, it never stops. This part of me is real. There is another part of me that knows God meant Hope to be ours. God believes The Dad and I are the people Hope needs to heal. I have found that arguing with God is usually a waste of energy and time. I would rather put that energy into Hope. Hope can heal. I can help.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.

The Good: It was school pictures yesterday and Hope held it together.

The Bad: As soon as I took her homework out of the book bag, the Hope I know so well was with me. Arms crossed, face set in a glare, and the traditional "You are being mean to me".

We took GB to her gymnastics class. GB had an outstanding 90 minute class. It was non-stop movement. Hope got no homework done. Afterwards, we met friends at Fri*ndly for dinner.

The Good: The Dad was there so I didn't have to deal with Hope's rage by myself.

The Ugly: Hope refused to eat, screamed, yelled I was hitting her (I wasn't) and that I never let her eat. I eventually figured out she was not going to stop (duh) and went to take Hope to the car. She immediately got physical. The Dad picked her up and carried her out. This particular Fri*ndly's is in a large mall. As the Dad carried her out, the manager of the restaurant stopped me to see if a coloring book or a balloon would help. By the time I got away from him, The Dad was 40 feet ahead of me. Hope was trying to bite and punch him, all the while yelling that he was hurting her. They received a mixed response; some people said it was good to see a parent that could do the tough things; other people said that poor child. We made it to the car without the police being called on us. I stayed in the car with a kicking, screaming Hope, while the Dad went back to the restaurant. I played 8 games of Word Warp on the ipad while Hope screamed. When the Dad was finished and brought GB back to the car, he was still shaken.

This morning it is like nothing happened. Hope is at her dancing lessons and I think the Dad is going to take her to a birthday party this afternoon. I, personally, don't plan on ever bringing her out in public again. The Papoose board is too heavy to carry around.

Hope's Rages

Hope has not raged since I dragged the papoose board out. The next morning I told Hope I would not be restraining her any more. I told her if she tried to hurt herself or anyone else, I would just get the papoose board out and we would use it to keep everybody safe.

Hope has not had a good day since. Interestingly enough, she also hasn't raged. She has been openly defiant, cries frequently, and yells and threatens on a regular basis. The "poor me"s are running rampant. She has not crossed the line to a rage. Obviously, she has more control than I thought.

Famous Last Words.

It is day four  of the Dad's trip to Michigan. Hope isn't doing a whole lot better today, but I am. So far, at least. Yesterday, her whiny cry hit me like nails on a blackboard. Today, I am ignoring it with little effort. We were going to go shopping for first day of school dresses today, but I chose not to. This started GB whining, but I am not responding to her whining either. I know school starting on Tuesday is contributing to the girls' instability. The Dad comes home tomorrow night. Until then, I am trying to keep everything low key. Hope still needs to stay in line of sight and is very unhappy about the restriction. She has been forcing herself to cry for the last 45 minutes- but every couple of minutes, she forgets she is crying and has to start over again. She hasn't hit me today, so I think today has to count as a better day.

Famous last words. As Hope was crying and I was typing, she asked to color. I told her when she was done crying, we would talk about it. She instantly started raging. For almost an hour, she attacked me. I am bruised, welted and bloody. I finally gave up trying to restrain her and got out the Papoose board. At the sight of it she stopped raging. Just like that. If I didn't see it, I wouldn't have believed it.

Maybe it was the blog jinx - before I even posted?

I Don't Know How, but I Did

Hope raged this afternoon. She threw furniture, kicked, hit, bit, scratched and screeched. It went on forever. The Dad came home and we got some PRN medication into her. It hasn't knocked her out (it should have) and she is sitting on her bed singing happily. I don't know how I contained her or kept her contained. I am a mass of scratches and bruises and I hurt all over. Hope doesn't weigh 46 pounds yet. I think it is time to muster up some outside reinforcements.

Ever notice how close RAD and RAGE are, alphabetically?

Can't Have One Without Having Them All

Thank you for all the prayers yesterday. I needed them as much as I have ever needed them. Our kids feel tension in anybody else and feed on it, Hope had a Ragefest all day yesterday. I was ready to put her to bed before  2 PM. I hung in there until the Dad got home around 6:45. Hope just kept going and when the Dad tried to intervene, she hit him multiple times. As a result, The Dad had her in bed before I had cleaned up dinner. GB reacts differently to stress. She broke down twice yesterday, crying in my arms for over a half hour each time. Comforting her and keeping Hope from hurting either of us was energy draining. This morning GB was up at 4:30 AM. I couldn't settle her down to sleep again, so our day began very early. It is only a little past 9 and I am ready for lunch. I will try to settle everybody today and look for a better day tomorrow.

And The Rage Goes On...

Today is Therapy Tuesday. We went off to the Little City for our late afternoon appointments. Lately, therapy for Hope is a ragefest. Rage before, rage after, rage during, sometimes rage without stop. Hope rages at other times, but Tuesday is a given. It always starts with a control issue. Hope wants to go first, Hope wants to go last. Hope wants to sit on the left, Hope wants a drink.

Today Hope wanted gum. GB gave it to her. Five minutes later, I glance in the rear view mirror. The gum wasn't in Hope's mouth any more. It was on both hands, her face, a loc, her leg, her shirt, and her shorts. Also on her face was the biggest Ain't-I-Cute RAD smirk smile. GB went in to see the therapist first, while I cleaned Hope up. That was the start of the rage.

I don't know what will start next Tuesday's rage. I just know if it is Tuesday, there is rage.

So Far, So Long

Yesterday, Hope was dysregulated all day. We tried physical contact, a 2 mile walk, early lunch, one-on-one time and nothing helped. The Dad had to carry her raging out of the home improvement store. She ended up watching us swim because she chose to sun with with only part of her bathing suit where it belonged.

The Dad has a four day weekend and when we talked about what each of us wanted to do, GB knew what she wanted. She wanted to go to the gym with The Dad, because they hadn't been there since Hope joined the family in a long time. It is something they used to do together two or three times a month. It was their "thing". The Dad didn't really want to, for reasons that had nothing to do with GB, but he recognized how important it was to GB. Some of the changes we have had to make to accommodate Hope have not been easy on GB.

The shrink and I (by email) decided to dramatically increase Hope's Risperdal  in an attempt to get the rages back under control. The insurance company, MEDCO, in their infinite wisdom and based on their vast experience with Hope, decided she didn't need it. They refuse to talk to us and only the doctor is allowed to even try to change their mind. Fourth of July weekend... I am not optimistic, and so, for now, I guess we live with the rages.

While The Dad and GB are at the gym, MK is talking Hope and the baby for a walk. I think I will be keeping both girls home today. Between gardening and swimming, they should have enough to keep them busy.

How I Deal With the Wango Tango and Hope

Hope is my second full blown RADish. When I adopted my first RADish 20 years ago, there was very little knowledge available to parents and nobody said attachment disorder. My first Radish even snowed all the professionals until she was 16. I was the one that was labeled crazy. And, really, I didn't know how to change things.

With Hope, many things are different. There is a wealth of reading material on RAD available. Even living in the middle of nowhere, I was able to locate a psychiatrist who gets it and a therapist that is competent. I only have to drive an hour each way. There are many different versions of best in the RAD world, but I sort through them and cobble together what seems best for my kid. The biggest thing I have now, that I didn't have the first time? The internet which led to bloggers which led to Trauma Mama's who share there ideas, offer love and support, give suggestions, and let it be known that I am not alone; we are all in this together.

A reader, Penelope , recently commented... Wow! Please share your insights on how to deal with the tirades. Ignore? Nurture? Discipline? I would love to hear more!


So, in response, I am sharing our current strategies, such as they are for Hope's Wango Tangos.

• Hope is either with the Dad, with me, or in school. She is always under strict observation.
• If she is in public and she starts, one of us leaves with her. We always deprive her of an audience.
• Nurture during a Wango Tango does not help. However sometimes just being quietly available until she runs herself down allows us to slip straight from the Wango Tango into the nurture.
• If she starts attacking people or throwing and/or breaking things we move to containment, with the message "we will keep you safe when you can not". When we have to contain her, it takes a lot longer to get to the nurture. On the flip side, if she needs to be contained, she frequently goes longer before going off again.

We also have a lot of structure in our day, with planned opportunities for attachment activities.

• We always fix and serve Hope breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks. We want her to know that we will always make sure she is taken care of.
• We give her (limited) choices everyday, so that she knows her opinion is important to us.
• We keep her world small enough for her to experience some successes and always acknowledge them.
• Each of us makes sure there is mandatory cuddle (The Dad) and rocking (me) time each day.
• We are quick to notice and respond to any genuine emotion she allows us to see.
• Morning and bedtime routines seem to be very important to her stability- if one of them has to change, we all pay for it. We do everything in our power not to change them.
• We made wordless picture books of Hope's life story, that we look at regularly together, letting her use her words to tell us about the pictures.
• A lot of conversations start, " In our family, we always __________"
• Most important, we start off with the attitude that every day is a new day, with a new chance for success.

What Trigger?

Today, I bit the bullet and went shoe shopping after school. GB chose a pair of shiny black sneakers with neon designs all over them and a dog charm. Hope chose sneakers similar to GB's except they were white and had a cat charm. Hope also got black Merrill's because she had outgrown hers. GB's Merrill's still fit. I bought first walker's for my grandson. It took us an hour, but nobody melted down, which is pretty good for a Friday afternoon.

We arrived home and Hope started the Wango Tango. Why? Because nobody loved her. Didn't make sense to me either and after twenty minutes of getting no where, I finally sat her on the couch and let her Wango Tango, figuring she would get it out of her system eventually. She never really let it go, and now she is sleeping. I never figured out what the trigger was, so I am hoping for the best- that tomorrow is a new day and Hope will think so, too.

Still Hope

We are on Day 12 of Hope's latest tirade. I don't know how many meltdowns she had today, probably because I don't want to. She  finally managed to alienate MK. 45 minutes into the rage that landed her in bed, MK tried to contain her, with the baby in her arms. Not a good idea.  The Dad lost his cool, but he has been taking the brunt of Hope any time he is home. I had no trouble taking over. She didn't get a rise out of me, but I have to admit I wasn't feeling much empathy either. Hope is asleep and most of my furniture is intact. Fortunately, one thing we have been good at is giving a fresh start every morning.

I let Hope go swimming this afternoon, even though I didn't think it was a good idea. Tomorrow, Hope will be next to one of us all day. We are staying home from church and aiming for boredom. And this time, I will not have MK fighting me.

Show and Tell

Hope continues her week long *snit*. I have stopped waiting for it to pass. She was fine this morning until GB woke up. Then she *couldn't* do anything. Couldn't use the toilet, couldn't find a shirt. Couldn't wear such ugly pants, couldn't put on a sock.  Couldn't find her sneakers until GB handed them to her. And then the rage started. Doors, walls, high pitch screeches, things flying across the air. The rage lasted until GB and I were sitting down to breakfast. Hope wanted to know where her breakfast was. I told her I wasn't feeding out of control children this morning. It was magic. The rage was gone. The polite, controlled Hope was sitting at her place saying "May I have breakfast, please?", as if the last 45 minutes hadn't happened.

I am grateful that the predicted snowfall never came. After breakfast, the girls grabbed their backpacks and we went to the bus. The only reminder of the morning was GB had her show and tell in her book bag and Hope went without. GB had used the time Hope was raging to pick something out and Hope-  well Hope was busy raging. Better luck next week.

The Green Eyed Monster

`GB had a crafty birthday party yesterday (because I will be in Orlando next week!!!!!). It was combination of NT and special needs kids. She loves crafty stuff and with a couple of  stress-relief breaks, she did well. So, this post is not about GB. My Green Eyed Monster is 43 pounds of pure adrenalin. Hope woke up yesterday, raring to make her mark. Chairs were flying before 8 am. Hope was very clear- she did not want GB to have friends, a birthday, a party, gifts or a good time. It.was.not.fair. We looked at pictures from her party and I had her tell me about each picture. She remembered how much fun she had, what presents she got, and who was there. I asked her if GB had done anything to make her  birthday  less fun. Hope looked puzzled and said no. I told Hope that GB had let her have a great birthday and I expected her to let GB have a great birthday. The arms folded, the death-ray stare crossed her face, and she shook her head no. Hope had real rages yesterday- the kind we haven't seen in over a month. Adrenalin fueled, fear and anger driven- I am so glad she is still so small. She was still fighting herself when she went to bed.

She woke up this morning and the Green Eyed Monster was gone. Until the next time.

HUH ?!?

I expected a huge meltdown from Hope this morning. The Dad took GB out for breakfast before school. Hope did not get to go, because she spent yesterday not doing her homework. I refuse to fight the HW battle. I told Hope twice she was making a poor decision and the HW would have to get done.  She tried to engage me and I refused to play. GB ignored her and got her HW done. At bed time, I gave Hope her medication and told her to get ready for bed. She did the wango tango because her HW wasn't done. It was exactly the same homework she has been doing for three weeks. I pointed that out to her and reminder her she could have chosen to have it done in less then 15 minutes, but she spent 45 minutes choosing not to do it. The HW would be there in the morning.

I put Hope to bed (no Dad last night) and read with GB until Hope was asleep. I wasn't looking forward to this morning, but was ready for it. Hope woke up, came to me, and asked where GB and Daddy were. I told her they went out to breakfast. She very calmly asked why she didn't get to go and when I reminded her about the undone HW, she said Oh yeah. That was it. She was cooperative with the whole morning routine, ate breakfast without any attitude, and spent about three minutes finishing her HW. She couldn't find her shoes, which is usually good for a meltdown all by itself, but she just spent ten minutes looking- no frustration, no hissy fit. GB and The Dad came back, and Hope was all smiles and wanted a hug.

Ten minutes later it was time to go out to the bus. We gathered book bags and put on coats. I zippered Hope's coat up and she went off. She wanted to do it herself and she wasn't very nice about it. She undid the zipper and I went to zip GB up. Hope realized she couldn't zip the coat up by herself. The rage I expected an hour earlier swooped in and caught me by surprise. Such is life.