One family’s real-life adoption story

About a month ago, we admitted L to a residential treatment center (RTC).  This past weekend, we had our first visit.  So many thoughts have been swimming in my mind about our visit, and what follows is my attempt to make sense of it all.

About L

Since taking L to RT, they have weaned him off ALL his medications.  Now, I’m a big proponent of psychotropic meds, but the thing is, we’ve never known L without them.  Not to mention – I had no idea if he’d even be happy to see us – after all, we were the ones who “left” them there.

So when I first saw him, I was overjoyed to have him jump into my arms for possibly the longest hug I’ve ever given him.  And then, as the family went outside to hang out with him, his enthusiasm just thrilled me.  He was articulate, telling us all about the RTC (last time I saw him, he could barely spit out a full sentence).  He told us the names of all the staff and kids (his memory’s never been all that great).  But the most memorable thing was the eye contact.  Eye contact!  L’s kind of famous for not making eye contact, but the whole weekend, when engaging with us, he was looking at us.  Awesome.

He’s also beginning to learning some communication skills.  For example, when pushing him on the swing, I pushed to hard – something that used to set him into a rage.  This time though, he simply said “please don’t do that again”.  Sounds so basic, but it was so awesome.

Of course, it wasn’t all awesome.  There were a couple of times that he didn’t like the direction he was being given, so he started crying.  But even that was new – because in the past, he would have yelled or raged – now, he was simply crying.

And there were plenty of times where he just couldn’t keep focused, and he hasn’t gotten close to beginning to work on his base issues.  To that end, the Director anticipates that L will be there for another 5-7 months, which sounds about right to us.

About the RTC

Having never been to a RTC  before, I had no idea what to expect.

The staff at this place was pretty amazing.  Constantly watching, constantly redirecting, constantly calm.  They were so clear in their communication, and had no fear.  At one point, they even busted my husband for telling a less-than-positive story about L (“positive stories only please”, they said!).

The kids have to ask permission to do everything – and I mean everything.  Want to go potty?  Gotta ask.  Want to talk to someone?  Gotta ask.  Want to brush your teeth? Gotta ask.

And the staff really focuses on keeping the energy level low, to the point where it was kind of freaking me out.  But then I remembered what happens when we’d have L and M go upstairs just to brush their teeth – within seconds, they’d be at each other’s throats.  At this place, there’s about 18 kids like L – so keeping the energy low is essential.

But that leads to some bizarre situations.  For example, there what will forever be known in our family as the “zombie birthday party”.  One of the girls was “celebrating” her birthday, getting to open to presents.  However, the kids had clear instructions to sit still, look only at her, and make no noises.  So as she was opening her presents, there was absolutely no “oohing” or “aahing” over the gifts.  The birthday girl herself barely even cracked a smile – it was truly bizarre.

The Lodging

Fortunately, we were able to stay at the RTC, upstairs in the guest “quarters”.  We’re talking two teeny tiny rooms, with only one functioning window.  And our bed was like some sort of split level, it was so bumpy.  It didn’t help that one of our kids developed a bad case of gas – remember, there was only one functioning window!

The Family

The trip was really hard for M.  Not only because she was seeing her brother for the first time in a month, but also because we were farther from home than we’d ever been.  Her anxiety was through the roof – if she wasn’t occupied every minute, she was a complete wreck.  It got to the point where I had to take her off site on Saturday for about 5 hours.  L was so concerned (another great thing to see) that he tried to give us advice on how to keep her quiet.  Unfortunately, his solution involved putting a pillow over her head , but still, he was honestly trying to be helpful!

M was pretty excited to see L though – at one point, I heard her say “I’m going over here because that’s where L is and he’s my brother”.

I was especially proud of both L and M when we were giving L feedback at the end of the trip.  M said she thought it was great that he never overreacted.  And N said L was great because, well, he’s L!

Final Thoughts

So it was a wild weekend.  So great to see L.  And yet, so hard to see L.  I guess the thing that hit me the most is this.  For the past month, I couldn’t tell you if I missed him or not.  I was so exhausted from all the drama, and so relieved to have some peace and quiet in the house.  But when I first saw him, and he jumped into my arms – I knew I missed him.

It was hard to leave.  But now I know that he’s in great hands, and that there’s hope for him – and our family.

9 days ago, we admitted L to a residential treatment center.  We simply couldn’t keep him safe, and his behavior was causing his sister to regress.  We were fortunate to find a place that came highly recommended, and the funding also came together with no problem.

In the 9 days since, we’ve only just begun to recover from the last 2.5 years, in particular the last six months.  It is as though we gradually went from being parents, to being prison wardens.  Or maybe prison warden is too generous – its as though we became the police force in a high crime area.  No, that’s not right either.  Because somewhere along the way, we just stopped being people – and just started living under siege.  When we weren’t trying to manage the crazy behavior, we were trying desperately to escape it.

So now, I’m trying to remember who I am, what what my life was like before it became a non-life.  What did I do before this all became so crazy?  I think I read books.  Maybe I had a few TV shows I could watch straight through (seriously, unless its SYTYCD or some home design show, I can’t stand to sit through it).  Did I get together with friends, or serve in volunteer organizations?  I must have crocheted, because I’ve got a bag full of projects I started and never finished.

But… when I look at that bag of crochet projects, I’m totally overwhelmed at the prospect of starting them.  I want to be myself again, but I’m totally overwhelmed at the prospect of doing so.

How can I get back to being myself?

My husband and I work full time.  Fortunately, we are blessed with a wonderful extended day program at our kids school, that they attend for about 90 minutes before school and about an hour afterwards.  They certainly seem to love it, anyway.

Thing is, we’ve come to realize that L is incredibly tightly wound – the poor kid’s on high alert at all times, especially when at school or extended day.  And the minute he gets home, there’s a good chance he’s going to blow out.

So starting today, we’re pulling both M and L out of daycare in the mornings, and on Monday/Tuesday afternoons.  That’s another 90 minutes a day (at least) that they get to chill in the comfort of their own home, and don’t have deal with tons of transitions (do you realize how many transitions occur during the school day – and even during a single hour of day care?  It’s a lot!).

Of course, me being me, I’m hoping that this change will solve all the world’s problems, and we can be a nice, normal family.  Of course, that’s not how it works.  Maybe we’ll see a dramatic change, but more likely, we won’t see anything – at least not in the short run.  But even so, it can only help our kids to spend more time relaxing, and less time performing.

Because for the first few years of their lives, relaxation was not an option.  And their little systems deserve a break.

Yesterday, we had what I’m calling a “not-quite-IEP” meeting for L, to deal with some of his behaviors.  The meeting included the school psychologist, his primary teacher, his resource teacher, his therapist and myself.

Over and over again, I was struck by how much this group LOVES my boy.  Their willingness to think outside the box, make sacrifices, answer every question I had, fill out assessments – just boggles my mind.

Because usually, when I hear about schools and special needs kids, I don’t hear good stuff.  I hear about resistance and battles, not participation and cooperation.

I left knowing we had a good plan in place that won’t just help manage L’s behaviors, but will him him heal.  I left knowing more information about my son, that will help us with him at home.

But mostly, I left grateful.  I love this school!

At last night’s therapy session, something became painfully clear – one of us needs to quit our full-time job if we are going to give L the best chance possible for healing.

!!!

We are both employed full time, in fairly well paying jobs.  And yet we live paycheck to paycheck.  I still don’t really know how that’s possible.  Maybe its the mortgage payment on the house we just bought.  Maybe its the grocery bill.  Maybe we just spend too much, I dunno.  But going without half our income is about as realistic as one of us going to the moon.

To make matters worse, the best person to be a stay at home parent is my husband – who of course, has the larger salary.  But it would be just as nuts to lose my salary.

Maybe there’s other options.  Maybe there’s county services we could take advantage of.  Maybe….

But right now, all I know is what our son needs – he needs a full-time parent.   And yet, I have no idea how to give it to him and still be able to take care of the rest of the family.

How on earth…

I know, its been awhile.  I had stopped blogging because things were going so “normal”, that I just didn’t have much to report.  But something changed this year.

I still don’t understand why it started – or if it was already there and I was just in denial – but L is in a world of pain. Angry, defiant, engaging in behavior that gets him in trouble at school, and worse yet, behavior that could get him seriously hurt or killed.

So we’re back in therapy.  This time, as an entire family.  We’re having to move beyond your standard behavior modification methods, and move into stuff that’s much harder, much more time consuming.  And, both my husband and I are having to look at our own responses, and how those responses help or hurt L.

Maybe I was naive, but I really thought that things would be hard for 6-12 months after placement.  To be two years into it, and in a lot of ways feel like we’re back at square one, is both heartbreaking and frustrating.  More often that I care to admit, I’ve wished L would just go away, so we could have a peaceful home again.  But he is ours, he is our son, and we will never give up.

M’s been having nightmares about 2-3 times a week.  They tend to flare up when she’s under stress (such as going back to school).  I hate hearing that scream, running into her room, and finding her standing in the middle of the room sobbing.  Its just heartbreaking.

Tonight, I told her that I thought maybe she should write a story about her dreams (she loves to write).  Much to my surprise, an hour later, she showed up in my room with a four page long (front and back) story that she had written in the dark.

The first two-thirds of the dream, the entire family was working together to fight off the bad guys.  But at the very end, all of a sudden, L dies, and then we all die.

So I asked her – how come it was going so well, but then all of a sudden we die?  Her response?  “Because when L died, we all die, because we all go together.”

Wow, I thought.  Its a nightmare, and yet somehow, her subconscious has incorporated the idea of our family being together into it.  That seems pretty awesome to me.

To top it off, she then said, “and even that’s not so bad, because then we’ll all be in heaven together.”

!!!

I’m sure the nightmares aren’t over yet.  But its so amazing to me to see how much progress she’s made, and how she’s come to see us as her forever family.  That its become such a strong idea in her mind, that not even a nightmare can destroy it.

I was so excited for school to start.  To be back in the nice, structured routine that school provides.

Remind me not to think that way again.

The first two days were great.  And then…

• M started staying up later.  And later.
• L suddenly couldn’t get dressed without “help”
• M started sneaking around, getting into stuff she wasn’t supposed to.
• L would sit and rage for two hours instead of doing his homework.

And here’s the thing – school is going GREAT!  L’s actually holding his own in his regular class, M loves her teacher and her friends – its really going much better than I expected.  Until they get home, that is.  Then, they fall apart.

Because even when school is good, it requires a lot of energy and concentration – so they’re spent by the time they get home.  Then, once you factor for that, you still have the fact that going back to school is a significant change to a kid’s routine.  And no matter how positive it is, “change” in and of itself is enough to send our kids into a tizzy.

By the end of the week, there were signs that things were calming down.  L did his homework completely on his own, and M and a full on meltdown that opened up an opportunity for us to talk about how she’s feeling.  But it was yet another reminder to me that I need to both help prepare my kids for changes in their lives, and prepare myself to handle the fallout.

Often, when I mention to people that L has poor impulse control, they say “oh, all kids do!”

Trust me, L is not like “all” kids.  Here’s just a small example:

At his party, the kids started playing with ice from the ice chest, which is all well and good, until they start throwing it at the adults.  So I said, loudly, “no more playing with the ice!”

L starts moving towards the ice chest.

“L!  Do not get any more ice!”

He keeps going for it.

Now, I’m standing right above him, with my head next to his.

“L – no!”

He starts opening the ice chest lid, as though he’s completely oblivious.

I grab his hand.  He keeps moving the hand I have grabbed toward the ice and grabs some.

I finally had to physically force him to drop the ice.  I really believe he was not in control of his actions.  At some point, he had decided to get the ice, and nothing could possibly stop him.

It may seem silly to even talk about this – after all, its just ice.  But its not just ice – its playing with the dog, bugging his brother, taking stuff from day care, drawing with a sharpie on the carpet – its constant.

THIS is L’s life.  Its not normal kid stuff.  Its why we’re exploring medications.  Its why he’s in therapy.  Its why my husband and I are exhausted and probably developing PTSD ourselves.

I’m so grateful for the ice incident, because its a crystal clear example of L’s behavior that I can share with his psych, therapist, and anyone else who needs to understand how my boy’s brain works.  It encapsulates the issue into one small story. One small story that illustrates so very much.

Yet another birthday, this time, it was L’s.  And fortunately, his sister E was able to join us again.

Let me just interrupt myself here – I have to say that it was a significant effort for E’s parents to bring her to these parties.  They live an hour away, and they were forced to hang out with a bunch of people they didn’t know each time.  I am so grateful for their willingness to support the kids’ relationships.

Anyway… poor M.  This time, she didn’t get quite as crazy, but there was still enough crazy to go around. What was especially interesting was that this time, she hardly played with E at all – she spent most of the time playing with her best friend.  Our social worker friend said that was a good thing, that it means she’s transferred her attachment to her life with us.  But then, I had to feel for E, who may have felt a little left out.

The other day, I was talking to both kids about the excitement around the sister visit.  I was saying that I bet its hard, because they don’t get to see her very often, and its totally fun when they do, and very exciting, and maybe when they see her they remember the bad times.

That last sentence was a total guess.  But man, did they latch onto it.  I guess its all a part of that “trauma bond” concept – they love E, but she’s begun to represent their old, painful life.

And one more thing: I had burst of empathy this morning for M and L. You see, MY brother came to L’s party last night.  I haven’t seen him in months.  I was so excited to see him and his wife, to show off the new house (because yes, I do still feel a need to impress my big brother), and for them to spend time with my kids.   It was so great to see him.  But today, I’m wiped out.  Partially because of the party, but also because of being able to see my brother, and all the emotional baggage that comes with that.  Because even though I’m crazy about my brother, the sibling relationship is really loaded with a whole bunch of crap, isn’t it?  Maybe even in healthy families, I don’t know.

But now, I get it on a level I didn’t before.  Its hard.  It will probably always be hard.  But she’s their sister, another victim in the crazyness that has been their lives.  And as hard as it is, we’re going to have to keep supporting that relationship.