Show & Tell

This week so much happened. We put up two trees and decorated the entire house. The. Entire. House. All without Rose, which makes the entire event seem a little less happy. It just does.

In addition, I arranged an event for my new work team to demonstrate their success and progress to our leadership. I was also happy to demonstrate the work my prior team accomplished to advance marketing...and blah, blah, blah... I was excited to do so, and eagerly sent my family this picture, hopefully, happily entitled "CEO day."

This is what my ever-supportive mom wrote back ((thanks, Mom)):

I am a little superstitious and firmly believe Rose's slide into even more institutional living set the tone for today. I did NOT get to present automated marketing and lead scoring to the CEO.  I did get to present it four times to amazing leaders of my firm. Amazing people. They really seemed to like all of the work my former team delivered. (My former team is beyond words.)

As we concluded today's show and tell, I realized maybe life isn't what we build it to be but embracing the fun and chaos it becomes. Yea, I imagined having a child meant I'd have that kiddo living with me every Christmas until they were older than 15, and I had hoped I would meet the CEO today to show him how amazing my team was. 

None of those things have happened, but I'm still optimistic, happy and determined. So much so tomorrow the husband and depart for a few days in New York to do all cheesy New York Christmas things, celebrate living through this year, and (most importantly) to live in the moment.

I hope you have a good weekend.

I guess I am a mom..

Parenthood continues to confound and confuse me. 

Last week, with the help of a social worker, who I swear is our angel, we were finally able to get Rose the help she needs. It had grown painfully apparent that we couldn't keep her safe. And it broke our hearts, and it was inordinately stressful watching her self destruct without any way to help. 

Trust me, we tried everything to avoid this situation. So many things I would need a whole other blog post to describe each intervention. I will spare you this time.

Plus, as the last post described, no one in the professional community or even close family or friends could truly understand what we were going through, more or less Rose. Not that people didn't try, but how could they know? Our angel social worker did seem to get it. (I don't use the word angel lightly, and my eyes roll a tad as I read it in my writing a second time.) However, if she hadn't so passionately advocated for our family, I'm certain this post would be far more grim. So I'm continually grateful for her assistance.

So what does all this mean? We had to reluctantly put Rose into a therapeutic group home. It's a nice place, and she's actually showing the ability to function again. She's following rules, doing what's expected, and even earning chore money. We could never motivate her to do that here!! Of course, who wants to listen to your parents, right?

Plus, it's a real home with carpet, tvs, and a few other girls her age to bond with. They get to do fun things like concerts, movies, and art in their spare time. The program also includes bringing rose to high school, which is well suited to her amazing intellect. It's not institutional, which is perfect for rose right now,

On the flip side, we are alone, childless, again. I'm not going to lie, at our lowest moments, I honestly used to internally hope for this, her to move somewhere safe. To my surprose, the reality of it has been just as heart breaking as the previous trauma. The house feels empty and strange. I'm not sure what to do with myself, and I find myself missing her so much during the day when I see things that remind me of her.

She's missing living here, too, and that also crushes me every minute. While I couldnt have her running away all the time (among other things), I second guess and doubt what's the right and best thing for our traumatized child. This seems right but also so wrong. I doubt if the move was for her or for us, and I question if I'm being selfish. In my heart, I know I'm not. Keeping her here to only self destruct further is selfish.

The upside is that this is temporary. Once she shows two months of consistent ability to be regulated, she will ease back home. We will also be visiting her and calling her to keep the homesick feelings at bay.

We hope by January, which is our gotcha day anniversary, Rose will be back where she belongs, and we will be signifiantly less stressed. I also tell people I don't feel like a mom, but it turns out looking down a path where I'm not one makes me realize I am.

Patience and well intentioned advice

It's been a horrendous month, to say the least. Out of respect for Rose, I won't share too much detail but let's just say her running has become a nearly daily event. Even more sad is other behaviors we had seen disappear and/or improve years ago are back and stronger than ever.

In that time, we have had to engage folks everywhere for help: police (more times than I'd like to admit), crisis workers, hospitals, social workers, to name a few.

These folks get called in during our most stressed moments as a family. The moments where Rose isn't able to cooperate easily, and my patience is exhausted and my heart continues to break as none of the positive reinforcement that once pulled her out of this work any more. It truly seems she's pulling away emotionally.

Since everyone is trying so hard to help, in their own special ways, I had once vowed to never post any of the less helpful advice we have received. However, maybe if people read this, they might learn?

Lastly, what prompted this post was how a police officer did an about face, which I will conclude the post with because, no one intends to be harmful when at our house at 9 pm. They do want to help.

So here it is, things I hate hearing from people who clearly lack a true experience living with an adopted child:

1) "Let me explain to you how reactive attachment disorder is affecting your daughter."

Why this bugs me: We went through extensive training on this topic. No need for more education when we are literally chasing our daughter around the woods at 8:30 pm, please, just send help.

And frankly, unless you've lived it, you can't preach it. And living it doesn't include a few hour sessions in a therapeutic setting.

2) "Well, that's just normal teen behavior." 

Why: um, yes, however, the whole mental crisis of this teen puts her in tremendous risk. You should know that. More over, while you say that, I seriously doubt the intensity of what we are living with is comparable.

3) "she reminds me of my child, all you need to do is.."

Why: a home grown child is not in any way comparable to Rose. Period. 

4) "Even families with homegrown kids have issues like this."

Why: well, this is certainly true. I'm not minimizing those families' plights. I appreciate knowing others have navigated mental health issues with their kids. 

But at the same time, this doesn't help. Maybe I feel less isolated. However, I'm not sure how that pearl of wisdom will help me in my crisis moment.   Unless those families can magically appear.

5) "She's 14, she can sit down at this park alone all she wants."

Why: well I ignored my intuition and took this advice, giving her 20 minute of space at her park to cool down. She ran away for a serious length of time. 

Again, she isn't your typical 14-year-old. She's vulnerable, and that great advice could have resulted in her death.

Plus you just planted the idea in her head that it was acceptable for her to run from the house instead of going to her room/art room to cool down.

6) "Just hold her and physically bring her home."

Why: Clearly, this advice comes from someone with no understanding of PTSD. This is just stupid and will escalate an already deregulated kiddo into a worse state, causing her to possibly act out physically in ways she'll feel sadly about later.

7) "did you do x, y, z"

Why: some people have a great knack of putting destructive ideas into Rose's head. Won't go into all of them. I will say rose hasn't done most of them but regularly claims to for attention.

Ok, so vent over. Here is what I would love to hear from you if you're called to my house during a crisis. 

Plain and simple, I just want you to say you're sorry this is happening, that you can only offer verbal support, but you're happy to do so. Then ask us what we need. We know our daughter better than anyone, and we know what the best next step is. Trust us. Be our ally and firm but kind with her.  Thank you. 

And if you do say any of the  pieces of advice above and my husband or I snap at you, just know it's because we are in fight mode as we are trying to save our daughter's life. We aren't at our best, but I promise, if you met us in normal situations, you'd love us.

So I'll conclude by saying a police officer who responded to our calls for help last night spent a lot of time yelling at my husband for many of the reasons above. Again, my husband tried to rationally respond and explain, but the officer wasn't understanding our situation. 

He finally calmed down, and he did what we asked, transporting rose back home. After conversing with her on that short ride, he walked out of the car and apologized. It was the only good thing of the night. So thanks for extending that humanity, sir. We appreciate it.

Good, bad, and ugly

After my last post, I have had several eventful weeks. Yet, I anchor each week in the kitchen. I've rediscovered how soothing baking can be. 

As I've made brownies, cookies, chicken, and everything else imaginable, my mind has wandered free.

This week, for example, as we returned form what was a really fun day at The State Fair, I found myself chasing after Rose down our suburban street. I was running bare foot, in pearls and a sun dress. Literally, a movie could not have planned this better.

Cars of concerned people implored what they could do to help, assuming I was running from an abusive husband. I just sighed. They couldn't help us or understand what was happening. I ran on, and I eventually caught up to her, finally bribing her home with fake nails (for her, not me).

After that, I spent my emotional energy baking a heavenly chicken that later became lunch for us as soup.  

Tonight I mellowed making a salted caramel apple pie. Rose hugged me ecstatically as she smelled it cooking. For a few, fleeting, seconds I almost felt like the best mom.

Later that night, though, we experienced the great missing turkey fiasco. Needless to say, all the peace I had gained earlier was kind of shot even as I fed Rose the pie she so longed for and prepared all of us for the first day of 9th grade (complete with meals made by Mom, of course).

As I reflect on all of this, I realize the only images the real world sees are the happy ones while blog readers have to dwell on the sadder ones. So, I think it's time to admit that life isn't always perfect. It doesn't always end up as we expect, but there is humanity even in those imperfect moments. Plus, there is humanity in all the good moments.

After all, what's more human than a mom running barefoot after her daughter while neighbors watch on?

Just a few pics of the good.

State Fair fun

Freshman orientation 

Baked and cooked goods

How I really feel

Written to our local paper..Sorry to be a bummer.

Dear Editor,

Nearly eight years ago my husband and I idealistically walked into our adoption agency. After 10 years of marriage, rounds of unexplained infertility treatments, and another couple years spent mourning the loss of children we always imagined but never met, we agreed we wanted to adopt an older child.

We sat, starry eyed, though an entire summer of state-mandated adoption training. We listened to panels of parents weep as they explained what it was like to adopt their kiddo. I was only 31 then so I wrote those "old people" off as pessimistic control freaks. They were the establishment (I was raised by a hippy✌). They didn't understand, these were just vulnerable children acting out, I reasoned. Me, the responsible first born, could handle this, I rationalized as seemingly educated and intelligent adults melted in front of me relating their lives post-adoption.

Despite our youthful age and ridiculous, idealistic attitude, we impressed every social worker we met. Dying to have a child complete us, we waited nearly two torturous years after training for "Gotcha Day" to come, leaving our daughter securely in our care.

In the four years since, I've watched this singular child, who was then 10, nearly rip us apart. Her baggage and struggles are far greater then my younger self could ever comprehend. Her spells of acting out have included kicking me across rooms, into dresser knobs that have left very real scars in my back and psyche.  

I saw my husband's loving and patient nature fade and disappear as her continual arguing and desire to control everything pushed him over the edge. 

Yet, we have soldiered on, buying a newer home in a nicer neighborhood so she could enjoy being outside like we did as kids. Of course, she hasn't ever voluntarily taken advantage of this freedom.

Instead, she rages against her adoptive parents as her mind starts to realize how much she resents her bio family giving her up. Her anger is palpable, her depression is real, and she poisons us daily. The State did not prepare us for this and has not given us sufficient support to succeed. The respite they promised doesn't exist. The family who used to provide it doesn't feel comfortable doing so after hearing about her issues in greAter depth.

Despite our many pleas to the system who placed our beautiful girl in our hands, there is no county or adoptive help for us. So we eek out as much joy as we can..once idealistic and hopeful parents, we now wish we heeded the wisdom of those adults on those panels years ago.

Today, we're obviously not as optimistic as we were. The State of Minnesota has decided our daughter's life is worth more than the two healthy, successful adult lives they unfairly burdened. We are not parents. We are underpaid workers of the state providing a group home to a poor kiddo who really deserves the world.

The question is, will her success mitigate the state's potential loss of two sane, stable, long married, tax paying adults who aren't psychiatrists? Or is there a better way?