Showing posts with label older child adoption. Show all posts
Showing posts with label older child adoption. Show all posts

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Twenty Things My Adopted Kids Wish Their Biological Family Knew


If you’re an adoptive parent and you haven’t yet read Sherrie Eldridge’s book, “Twenty Things Adopted Kids Wish Their Adoptive Parents Knew,” you’re missing some good insight.  The book will not reveal all the things adopted kids wish their parents knew.  Some adopted kids (now adults) disagree with some of what Eldridge writes.  However, the book will give you some knowledge of what it feels like to be adopted, and some seeds for thought as you try to understand the heart of your child.  I highly recommend you read it.  (I get no financial gain by saying that.)

There is a flip side to the 20 things adoptive parents should know, at least for my kids.  My kids experienced significant trauma at the hands of their birth family and the people that family allowed to become a part of their lives.  Because those adults didn’t handle things well, they ended up in an orphanage system that was often harmful and hurtful.  The things my kids have told me about their caregivers are about the only thing that makes me want to go back to their birth country.  I would very much like to give certain women there an education they’d never forget.

The thing is, my kids don’t care about those people very much.  They were temporary “mamas.”  They were hired help.  They weren’t family.  It is family that caused the deepest pain and left the biggest scars.  It is to family my kids wish they could communicate the things they want to be ingrained into the soul of people living in Eastern Europe.  Here are 20 things my kids wish their biological family knew:

*You caused me more hurt and pain than any child should ever have to bear.  You are ALL responsible.  Those letters you send me now only cause that pain to deepen.  If you loved me so much, why didn't you take care of us when our parents could not?

*I am ashamed of you and I am scared to death I’m going to end up like you, even though I have a good life and parents who know how to love me now.

*Even though you’ve caused me so much pain, I still love you and I still wish we could be together.  I grieve that loss deeply every single day.

*Sometimes I grieve losing you so much, I take it out on my Mom and Dad.  I wonder if that would make you happy?  When my anger is over, it makes me ashamed that I treated them that way.  It’s you I’m mad at!

*I don’t talk about you that often, but when I do, it’s hard for me and for my parents.  They don’t like seeing me upset, so I hide that I’m thinking about you.  I think about you every day.  My parents know that and even though it hurts us both, they still try to show me it’s okay to remember you and talk about you.

*Even though I think about you, I don’t want to talk about you most of the time.  Sometimes, it feels like my parents and my therapist are prying stuff out of me and that makes me even more mad at you, but then I grieve for you right after I get mad.

*I am really mad that I wasn’t worth enough to you for you to register my birth.  (The Princess)  I am really mad that everyone relied on me to remember when my sister was born.  (Youngest Son)

*Even though my parents tell me you were not allowed to see me anymore when I went to the orphanage, I wonder if you didn’t come to see me because you didn’t love me anymore.

*I worry all the time that my new Dad will die, or that my Mom will be with other men.  I freak out whenever my mom goes away on a trip.  I hate it that my Mom and Dad are planning an anniversary trip this year and I am not going with them.  I’m scared they won’t come back.

*I put up a good front in public.  I’m a good Eastern European and the only emotion I show is when I want to let someone know they’re bothering me.  Most of the time, people outside my family don’t know I’m any different than any other American kid – unless they hear my accent.

*You gave me no sense of control, so now I fight to have a sense of control.  It’s hard for me to let my parents care about me and it’s hard to care about other people.  I do care.  A lot.  But it’s very hard.

*I like it when people say I look like my Mom and Dad.  I like it when people say I sound just like my Mom or that I’m as smart as my Dad.  That’s okay.  I don’t like it when you write my parents’ names in letters to me.  They are my Mom and my Dad.  Call them that.  However, I also like it when people in my family tell me I’m as handsome as my Papa or as smart as my Babushka.

*I love my parents.  They drive me crazy sometimes.  I drive them crazy sometimes.  But so do my brothers.  My mom says all teenagers drive their parents nuts and all parents embarrass their teens.  We’re a normal family that way.  I love my parents and I still love you, though I don’t understand that.

*I don’t like telling people about you.

*My parents make my birthday special, but I always feel bad on my birthday, on other people’s birthdays, on holidays, vacations, or any celebration.  You did that to me.

*I hate it that I don’t know my medical history or the truth about my first family’s medical challenges.

*Even though I know I’m forever home with my real family now, I get really scared that I’ll get sent back to you.  I have nightmares about it.

*When I make poor choices, I wonder if I’ll make the really poor choices you made when I’m an adult.  My parents reassure me that I can choose to have a good life, but I’m still scared I’ll be just like you.

*I need extra help because of the things that happened when I was little.  I blame you, but I forgive you.  I do this over and over again.  Sometimes I do it multiple times per day.

*Even if I decide to search for some of you someday, you are not my real family.  My home is here.  I don’t come from here.  I come from you, and so they cannot replace that.  My beginning is with you.  But remember my real home is with them. 

I imagine some of these 20 things will strike a nerve or two with some of my readers.  I ask you to consider the raw, traumatized, developmentally delayed, teenage emotion and thought behind these 20 things.  They are from the perspective of my two particular teenage children who suffered a very traumatic background, and who are home only 4.5 years.  These are raw emotions, but they are honest emotions.  This is what being real is all about.


Friday, January 6, 2012

Dear Teacher: About My Child in Your Classroom


Dear Teacher,

Thank you for your willingness to spend your days inside a classroom with two to three dozen energetic children.  You must certainly be an exceptional person.  While each of your students is exceptional as well, a child who has suffered from significant, complex past traumatic stress (C-PTSD) and reactive attachment disorder issues (RAD) is enrolled in your class this year.  This child is indeed “exceptional.”

Children suffering from C-PTSD and RAD, or “RADish” issues, can come from various walks of life and live in different family structures.  My child was adopted in 2007 at the age of 12.  Until his adoption, my son lived in an orphanage for special needs children located in a former Soviet state.  His birth country is now its own independent and proud nation, but its child welfare system is still much as it was decades ago throughout Eastern Europe.  Specific details of my son’s story are private, but in order for you to understand what this child has been through, there are some specific things you need to know.  These things are to be discussed only with me, or with professionals you work with at school, and on a confidential basis only.  These things are never to be discussed in the classroom.  There is never a need to announce to your class that my child was adopted.  (Yes, there are teachers who’ve made that mistake.)  Don’t do it.  Not ever.  It’s common knowledge for many, but it is not a topic for classroom discussion.

In the orphanage, my son slept in a room with a few dozen other boys ages 7 to 16.  He saw things that boys do who are unsupervised during much of their time.  These things would put children into rehab programs for child predators here in the states.  Some of those things he may have seen – he probably did see – they may have happened to him, too.  We will never know the full story.  Our son was abused and neglected by orphanage workers.  He had belongings stolen from him.  He stole (and sometimes still steals) things, too.  He learned to lie and to act as well as any award winning movie actor.  He was beat often by both adults and other children.  The scars you see on his body were not put there because of normal childhood accidents.  Those scars are from things that happened to him both in the orphanage and in his first family, years before we ever knew him.

My son may seem pretty “normal” to you most of the time.  He wants very much to “just be normal.”  The fact is, the trauma of his past and the abuse and neglect he suffered during the first 12 years of his life have altered the way he thinks and the way he functions in the world.  These are not things that are healed with time or love.  C-PTSD and RAD are not curable.  They are not miracles just waiting for God to heal.  They are life-long challenges for which my son needs to learn skills in order to navigate this life and be productive in society.  He has the potential to lead a life far different than the life he knew as a young child, but please understand his brain is FOREVER changed because of those early years.

The Association for Treatment and Training in the Attachment of Children (www.ATTACh.org) defines attachment as a “reciprocal process by which an emotional connection develops between a baby and its parent.”  Attachment influences the child’s physical, neurological, cognitive, and psychological development.  It is the foundation of the development of basic trust and shapes how the child relates to the world, how he learns, and how he forms relationships throughout life.

When a child’s needs are not met, or if his needs are only met on a sporadic basis, his brain is forever changed.  He operates from a systemic need to fight or flee.  Fear and shame are his base emotions.  Survival is his base motivation.  He must gain control.  Otherwise, he feels, quite literally, like he will die.  This is the nuts and bolts of C-PTSD and RAD.

His reactions can appear in several ways.  Unless you know what to look for, you might even miss a reaction to something that has triggered his trauma and caused him to go into that “flight or fight” mode.  Kids who deal with C-PTSD and RAD are often either very inhibited (withdrawn, passive/aggressive, sneaky) or very dis-inhibited (hyper-active, talkative/argumentative, superficially charming).  And sometimes, a kid who is usually inhibited, can display himself as very disinhibited, or visa versa.

You can read about things to look for in traumatized and attachment disordered children at this blog post:  If It Walks Like a Duck

You probably learned in your Child Psychology class in college that babies learn to regulate themselves emotionally and behaviorally in the arms of loving parents.  When a baby cries, the attentive parent soothes the child through rocking, feeding, singing, touching, and lovingly gazing into that baby’s eyes.  This helps the child learn to self-sooth in an emotionally healthy way and to cope with strong emotions such as rage.  Children who are not held or comforted when distressed learn to self-sooth in other ways, some of them very destructive.  Rage is not something that they can cope with easily and for this reason, many children with RAD or C-PTSD have difficulty regulating their emotions and behavior.  They’ve learned to survive.  Some of the behaviors they employ to survive do not serve them well in society or at school.  However, hurt kids are not “bad.”  They are not acting out because they are “spoiled.” 

Another thing to understand as my child’s teacher is this:  I did not cause this hurt for my children.  My children came to me deeply hurt.  I need to parent my hurt children with methods that are very different than the traditional parenting methods I used to raise four healthy, well-adjusted and productive biological sons.  I am not coddling my hurt children.  I am not spoiling them.  They are not “getting away with murder.”  Any behaviors you see or report you may hear (true or false), you would see or hear no matter in what good family my child was placed.  My child is a resilient survivor.  His survivor instinct is well-ingrained into his very psyche and he continues to use strategies that enabled him to cope through multiple traumatic events including his mother’s abuse and prostitution, his father’s neglect and suicide, his parents’ and extended family’s drinking, and his placement into a very corrupt and abusive orphanage system.  There is no glossing over the trauma of his past.  I will not make it “pretty” to protect you because it will serve neither you nor him to do so.  Please don’t pity my child.  Understand he’s been through much more than we will ever fully imagine.  But, his survival strategies are no longer effective.  We are working hard as a family, together with our child’s therapist and other support services, to help our child learn how to have his best life now that he is safe.  We also need your help and cooperation.

I am one of those parents that teachers are always saying they wished there were more of, but then complain about as “helicopter parents” soon after.  It is true that I am intensely involved in my child’s therapy and healing.  My child is not – cannot – be parented by the traditional parenting methods that helped me before I adopted.  I have spent a graduate degree’s worth of time researching, learning, writing about, counseling, teaching, and practicing methods to help my child and other hurt children.  I am not naïve.  I know what you have to deal with in the classroom every single day.  I’ve been there.  I know now, however, I am not meant to be in a classroom every day.  But I also know my child is not your only student.  In fact, I know on average, you have five attachment disordered and traumatized children in your class, though you may not be fully aware of it, as they may be undiagnosed.  Helping a child who has suffered the kind of trauma my child has suffered is hard.  REALLY hard.  It’s hard as his teacher.  It’s many times more hard as his parent.

There are some VERY IMPORTANT things you can remember to do in your classroom in order to help my child:

1.  Remain calm.  Even when you feel like letting my child really have “it,” stay calm.  A child who manages to upset or anger you is in control of the situation.  Model and verbalize desired behaviors:  calm voice, open and relaxed arms and stance, attentive eye contact, friendly face.

2.       Stay in contact with us – the child’s parents/family.  We are excellent sources of information about our children’s strengths and current challenges.  Many of us are very well educated and can provide you with resources that will help you better understand our children, as well as other children with traumatic backgrounds.  And this is really IMPORTANT:  Remember children with RADish issues often attempt to maintain control by creating chaos with triangulation.  “Crazy” is what feels “normal” to them.  Triangulating all individuals – especially the adults – is a favored way to create chaos.  (For example a child trying to triangulate adults may tell his teacher, “My mom said I didn’t need to do my homework at all.” Or “My mom wouldn’t let me study for the test; she was too busy making me clean the bathroom/give her a backrub/cook her dinner/pick up dog poop in the yard.”)  CHECK WITH the child’s parents, other educators, youth ministers, coaches, etc. before believing what a traumatized child says.  Maintain a respectful and professional relationship with the child.  Remember you are not their primary caregiver.  Parents are to be where the child receives hugs, cuddles, food, and treats.  Don’t buy into the “poor me” or “poor orphan” mentality.

3.  Traditional methods of discipline do not work for traumatized children.  Avoid the use of punishment as a negative motivator for the behavior you’d like to see.  It produces resentment, retaliation, or retreat into sneakiness.  A week of missed recess or a missed activity is meaningless in terms of changing behavior.  It will escalate.  Make consequences natural results of choices.  STAY CALM.  Do not raise your voice.  Say, “Oh, how sad for you that you’ve not done your work on time.  You’re lucky to have an awesome teacher who will give you the chance to practice these skills while the rest of the class is doing computer time.”

4.      Avoid those behavior management plans that everyone at NEA tells you to use.  They’re based on consistency, and that makes them easy targets for manipulation for kids with C-PTSD and RADish behaviors.  These plans also let students know just how much you value certain behaviors.  My hurt kids love to “question” (a.k.a. ARGUE) and get into useless discussions about valued behaviors and rules.  It’s not that they don’t need to know the rules.  They do!  It’s just that children with RAD have difficulty figuring out cause and effect.  Remember, they need to feel in control in order to feel safe.  The “rewards” of behavior management plans (candy, prizes, etc.) mean little to attachment disordered kids.  In fact, little gifts and prizes that are often part of behavior management plans can set them off into really crazy triggers their parents wind up having to deal with at home later.  You may never see it, but your actions caused it.  So don’t go with this old standard when it comes to hurt kids.  It’s harmful, not helpful.

5.      Provide natural consequences the first time.  Do not give the child a second chance.  Keep consequences as logical outcomes to the behavior, but ensure the child “makes things right” the first time.  Otherwise, you give the message that the behavior is “okay.”  (Also, never say, “It’s okay” when it’s not.)  Attachment disordered children are black and white thinkers.  Second chances and warnings are perceived as threats and will force hurt kids into that fight or flight mode of thinking.

6.      Establish eye contact.  Attachment disordered kids – especially those who display inhibited attachment disorder – dissociate from others and from situations when they feel threatened.  Keep them in the here and now – in the moment.  Remind them they are safe.  Say it out loud to them!  “You are safe.  You are not going to be hurt.  You are in Mrs. Smith’s classroom and we work together here.”  Remember to stay calm.  Be matter-of-fact even as you are firm.

7.      Ask “what” questions such as “What are you feeling?”  or “What happened?”  Avoid “why” questions.  Our hurt children mean it when they say, “I don’t know” in answer to a why question.  Why questions are fruitless.  Ignore obvious lies in the heat of the moment.  Remember the child is in survival mode and confronting the lie will only escalate the situation.  If the child is unable to tell you what happened, give yourself and the child a “time in” where the child stays nearby until he is ready to talk.  Do not shame the child with a “time out.”  This will send him further into withdrawal and reinforce the feelings of neglect and worthlessness so ingrained in him due to early neglect and abuse.

8.      Use actions.  Not so much words.  If a child continually tips his chair, remove it.  Let him sit on the floor.  If a child refuses to wear a jacket, don’t force the issue.  Let them experience the natural consequence of being cold.

9.      Use one-liners when you do need to use words.  They make kids think, instead of tuning you out.  They place responsibility on the child.  They let the child know you will not be provoked and are effective tools for you to use to avoid power struggles and additional trauma triggers.  The fewer the words, the better.  Remember to use a CALM, matter-of-fact voice.  Sarcasm and anger counteract the good one-liner.  Some of my favorites:

a.       “Sucks for you.”  (Probably not appropriate in the classroom, but you can modify it.  Besides, I was going for the laugh.  Did you laugh?)
b.       “Bummer, Dude.”
c.      “What do you think about that?”
d.      “What are you going to do about that?”
e.      “How are you going to handle that?”
f.       “How would you handle that next time?”
g.      “Hmm, and how did that work for you?”
h.      “Thanks for your honesty.”
i.       “I respect you and myself too much to argue with you.”
j.       If he/she whines, “Why?”  Say, “If you don’t figure it out by [time], I’ll explain it to you.”
k.      “I listen to one person at a time. . . Thanks.”
l.       “I’ll be glad to listen when your voice is as soft and as calm as mine.”
m.    When a child tells you that “you never do” or that “you don’t do” like another teacher say, “That’s right!”
n.      When the child tries to argue say, “I know.”  (Student:  Math rots!  Teacher:  I know.)
o.     When a student degrades himself and says, “I can’t do this.” Or “I’m too stupid,” you say, “Aren’t you glad I don’t believe that.”  Then walk away.

For more information about post-institutionalized children, RAD, and C-PTSD visit websites such as www.ATTACh.org, www.bgcenter.com, and www.beyondconsequences.com.

Please feel free to contact me with any questions you may have about older child adoption, international adoption, post-institutionalized children, post traumatic stress disorder or attachment disorder.  I look forward to partnering with you this year so that my child learns all he can in your classroom.

Sincerely,
Your Student’s Parent

Friday, October 28, 2011

New Chapter or New Book?

There’s an old saying.  You know the one  -- something about changes -- about closing one chapter and beginning another.  For me, I think it’s more like beginning an entirely new book.  As I write this first blog post in this new, semi-anonymous blog, I’m ready for a truly new book in my life.  I cannot rewrite the past – not for myself, and certainly not for the hurt kids I’m raising.  Their beginning was too hard.  Too raw.  Too painful.  While my past with them as their adoptive mom is painful as well, there are too many changes from what once was – even from just yesterday.  There are too many things that are no longer true for us.  There are too many dreams I’ve had to let go, but there are also too many things I want in what’s yet to be -- too much life to simply begin a new chapter.  There must be an entirely new book.  Granted, it won’t be a stand-alone edition.  It cannot be.  This new book can only be written because it builds upon what is already published in permanent ink, on stained pages, bound by a hard cover.  The past is past.  My kids’ past is not pretty.  The work we do to help them navigate that past and write the book that is their future is also ugly most of the time.  This is true.  Our future as a family living with the aftermath of our children’s past trauma, abuse, neglect, and post-institutionalization is forever tied to that past. 

So, who am I?  What is the synopsis of this book? 

I am a wife and a mom.  I have six children.  Some are young adults, beginning life on their own.  Some are still in college and still dependent upon us.  Some are young teens, living at home, attending public school, and working through a past and toward a future they only dreamed about until four years ago.  My youngest two children are biological siblings, but have only been our children for four years.  They are amazing kids.  They’ve come so far from the frightened orphans who landed at JFK airport in the summer of 2007.  Yet, they will always deal with their past.  Their lives deserve a new book, but that book will forever be written based upon the past.  Their psychological diagnoses look like alphabet soup to those not familiar with the terms.  There is PTSD, RAD tendencies, ADD/ADHD.*  We also deal with anxiety (sometimes quite high for both kids), and major depressive disorder in my son. 

My kids were not born in America.  They were born and lived the first decade of their lives half way around the world.  Not all kids will have suffered the kinds of things my kids have suffered.  Some will have suffered more.  Some less.  I do NOT believe all adopted kids are attachment disordered.  However, I do believe all adopted kids have experienced trauma.  Just going through the process of getting adopted is traumatic.  A child leaves all they know, even if it is hard, and is placed with a family they do not know.  In the case of international adoption, they’re also placed into a culture and a language they do not know.  (Imagine being plopped in a country whose culture you have little to no experience with and with a bunch of people you cannot understand who cannot understand you!)

I’ve seen people deny the fact that their kids have a traumatic background.  They can deny it all they want, but then adolescence hits, and they’re not prepared for the trauma that exhibits itself all wrapped in all the "normally" crazy teenager crap, because they pretended their kid was normal and had no traumatic past.  They want their kids to be “normal” so badly that they ignore the fact that being adopted isn't "normal!"  It's not commonplace.  It's not common practice.  If it were, everyone who had biological kids would also have adopted kids.  If it were, adoption would be as commonplace as pregnancy.  For some of those people in denial, dealing with past trauma without much knowledge about its effects on a kid isn’t so bad; for others, it’s pure hell.  Still, even for those for whom it is not so bad, they might handle it better if they’d taken the time to get to know others who’ve been through it – or worse.  It just breaks my heart to see these folks struggle, when they could have been open and learning all along – and maybe even making a friend or two along the way-- someone who would “get it” in way others can’t when they meet these kinds of challenges with their kids.

My kids have seen some really horrible things.  They’ve watched people they love do things many cannot begin to imagine.  They’ve experienced things no one should.  They’ve been told terrifying lies by people they trusted.  They have felt things no child should ever have to feel, and they have the scars to prove it.  Yet, here they are.  They function amazingly well.  My son can fix just about anything mechanical and my daughter is a straight-A student.  They have survived.  They truly fight to be “normal.”  So badly, they just want to “be normal.”  While our family is probably far from “normal,” at least they have a chance – a chance they did not have four years ago.  Still, that chance does not come without a price.

I am also recently retired from a career position I have deeply loved.  I made decisions that helped people.  I developed programs and administered services that changed people’s lives for the better.  I worked to keep families whole and kids healthy.  I engaged volunteers in collaborative efforts and I raised awareness by working with media outlets to bring people the news.  I was recognized in the community as a leader, even if that leadership sometimes ruffled feathers because I didn’t go with the status quo.  My job was an extension for me of who I am – what I am – where my heart rests beyond my family – and how I “make it” in this world.   I got to help people.  I got to make a difference.  I got to be me. 

Oh, when I say “recently retired,” I mean “yesterday.”  --  Literally.

I am also fairly well-educated in a traditional sense, as well as self-educated out of necessity.  I’ve read more essays about child trauma, abuse and neglect, and more journal articles about mental health diagnoses, and even more web sites about adoption and the issues of internationally-adopted kids coming out of orphanages, than I ever imagined I would.  I’ve talked with more moms of kids with issues that are far more severe than those of my kids, and have held more moms in my arms who are tired and just don’t know what else to do, than I can begin to count.  Thankfully, there are those that have done the same for me.  I’ve learned a lot these last several years.  I’m writing this blog because I think I have a lot I can offer – things for which even teachers and therapists have come to me for an opinion.

I can sometimes be awfully lazy, but I cannot be still – not in my spirit – not in my heart.  I cannot “just rest and take some time” in my retirement, not even to regroup as I adjust to not working outside the home.  I’m not old.  Okay, so I’m older, but I’m not old.  I’m not ready to retire.  Sharing myself, trying to help others, seeking help for my own struggles, NEEDING help in the form of support by other trauma mamas who “get it” – all these things are things I value.  They are all part of who I am.  They are as breathing is to me.  So, I’ll write.  So, I’ll begin this new blog.  I may be more anonymous than I’ve been in the past.  I think this may actually be more helpful to those reading the blog, because I can be even more open about our family’s struggles with a shield of anonymity.  So, if you happen to know me, please do not name me here.  For now, just call me “Trauma Mama T,” or “Mama T,” or even just “T.”

My plan is to write about my life as a mom, as I work to help my kids with their past trauma while they develop skills to navigate a world that doesn’t usually understand the fact that some things just do not heal, no matter how much time and love you invest.  Love does not heal all wounds.  Time doe not heal all wounds.  But love – and time – sometimes, LOTS of time – allows us to teach our kids skills that can help them make it through, and maybe even to thrive in ways they, and we, can only learn as we go along. 

This is a different kind of parenting.  This is a different kind of life.  This is my life.  If it is also your life, or even if you’re just curious, perhaps you’ll join me here.  Thanks for reading this far.

And so the blog – and this new book in my life – begin.

  RAD:         Reactive Attachment Disorder