Forever rooted in uncertainty

It's a rather depressive post, proceed at your own risk!

7 months into placement I came to realise a few things - in all honesty, my conscious mind knew and expected all along, I even fooled myself and others that I was properly prepared for it. Not happy to accept it all 'sold as is', but was willing to work with it, while deep down hoping beyond hope that our new story together as a family of four will be different than other adopters' nightmares. What was fuelling that feeling in me?

1.) Our Christian faith (here you can insert whatever you want from cheesy Bible verses taken out of context through a loving and understanding church and christian community to the idea of you doing something good and self sacrificial, which God will surely bless and somehow make it work)
2.) The fact that we did NOT want to do it for our own need of 'wanting to be parents' but to help children to get out of the system and find a forever home
3.) Without a doubt our own beliefs that we are very capable people, confident in our relationship, confident in our skills and gifts (and the level of patience)
4.) It seemed we had a good support network around us
5.) Good working relationships with LAs, SWs and other professionals

+ the bonus one: We thought we knew where/what our buttons were!

Surely there are many more reasons, but these were the biggest ones.

We attended a 10 weeks long very intensive training on Attachment, Behaviour and Trauma with the PACE model and other very interesting, eye opening and extremely useful topics so we had a fairly good idea of what we are getting ourselves into. Of course they try to prepare you for the worst and after talking to fellow adopters and hearing their never ending nightmares of adoption I can even say our 2 boys are by far not even the worst! They are happy to attend and perform well in school; we can take them shoe shopping; they manage well in crowds (asda or xmas market), once the tantrums and meltdowns are over both boys are capable of coming back to apologise, although sometimes it takes days to calm down; we have been receiving play therapy and filial therapy for many months now and they do make a difference; everybody can see the improvements in both boys...etc. So, you would think it's going well.

I suppose it's a matter of perspective, but it is very hard to change your perspective. Especially if you feel like your own life is slowly fading away in front of your very eyes!

For the last 2 weeks it feels like the boys with their never ending needs, constant button pushing, several unreasonable meltdowns* EVERY SINGLE DAY, with no time for self-care, with no time or space for quality time with husband also with constant lack of sleep they just suck the life out of me like the Dementors** and what's worse, they even suck the will to fight out of me! I have been sick for the last 5 weeks now with flu and I truly believe this is just my body saying you can't go on like this any more! I have zero willpower in me left to even try to be therapeutic / understanding / patient... you get the picture. All my energy and emotions were channelled into supporting their needs 25/7 and all my tanks are dry now. Just before Christmas, when I will need it the most! :(

Goofs (6) has always been real with us! He really struggled with the new placement and adjustments, he was in full on CPV mode attacking us on a daily basis, running away, screaming 'you are not my real mother' or 'I hate you, I want to leave this house'... the usual stuff. It was bloody hard work, but because we knew this we somehow managed to navigate those very hard and challenging months through with him. Today he is much more lovable and he is turning into a sweet little boy. Don't get me wrong, he still has meltdowns, but I think he was able to form attachments to us and it helps him to bounce back much faster after a wobbly moment. He is building up resilience that will help him stand firm when a meltdown is brewing.

Snoops (7) is much more complex. We still feel that we do not know him at all! Just before he came to us a clinical psychologist had the first accurate assessment on him that said his difficulties come from attachment disorder instead of autism. But now, as we see him every day I think I concur with school who says he is definitely on the autistic spectrum, the question is only where exactly. At the moment I am leaning towards 80-20. It is very strange; from his recent behaviour it seems he is 7 months late and he is only catching up now in terms of starting to push boundaries. What's even more unusual is that he is emotionally well versed (thanks to the therapy he received when he was younger) and is able to say things like 'I am only pushing you now and testing you with my behaviour'. The other day after he screamed at my face that I am not his real mother I said very calmly 'well, tell me news, not history' he had the presence to say 'Why are you not upset now? You should be angry now and cry and say hurtful things back at me'. A fair assessment of him would be to say he might present as a securely attached child, however, even the lightest feather can push him back to the deepest pit and even the most patient saint would not be able to put up with that shit he pushes me through and remain sane, let alone muster up enough will to continue to therapeutically approach him.

I spoke to quite a few older and adult adoptees and while I can't say it was a representative research one common theme emerged: no matter how securely attached they were, how much therapy and support they received over the years whenever they faced a problem their initial response was always to regress back to the old hurts, old feelings of 'nobody likes me / no good things will ever happen to me /  everybody is out to hurt me / you can't trust anybody'...etc. I know we are still in the early stages of this placement, but it greatly distresses me that no matter how much we do for them, it seems very likely they will never be free from this! We can work our socks off, sacrifice e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g (your life, friendships, marriage, health, future, money) and still, it will never be enough. Very depressing thought, I know...

So to reflect on the points above:

1.) yeah, right, in your dreams perhaps... :(
2.) it surely helps, but everybody breaks at one point. Mine just took a little longer...
3.) you don't know how rubbish you are until you faced with this. And then there is only down from there...
4.) ummm, hello, is anybody out there? Can anybody hear me or just see the smiling children and think 'she is just complaining too much and too negative' but in reality they don't bother to ask me a direct question or run away before I start to answer
5.) oddly this is the only one that's actually remained the same and continues to go well with most parties involved.

+ 1.) FFS, I didn't use to swear! I never had the inclination to hurt anybody (verbally or physically) until now. Husband was the epitome of patience and I used to like him...

Happy Advent, Everybody!



*yes, yes, yes, we know it is not unreasonable, that it makes perfect sense in their heads, that it is triggered by something that happened in the past

** for explanation click here

3 months into Placement...

I have not been blogging for a while and I am sure most of you can relate to me when I say it wasn't because nothing post-worthy happened or I had nothing to say; just the opposite! So many things happened on so many different fronts that my head is still spinning so this post might be a bit of rambling. Blogging sometimes helps me to organise my thoughts and feelings and I am hopeful it will do the trick again...

So, today we passed the 3 months mark - exactly twice the time the boys have spent with their previous adopters before they have given up on them. Is it a success? The SW seems to think so. Most of our friends agree. The boys are still too young to appreciate what a 3 months time period really means (for them a 5 minutes time-in is already 'fooooooreeever'). For us? Well... we are still alive. The boys are still alive. They still live here. Success?

It is impossible to capture what we have been through in the past weeks so I will not even attempt to do that. I was debating with myself while in the bathroom (yes, that is the only place I can get a few minutes of peace, though they still shout 'muuuuuuuuuum' through the door every 15 sec) what structure should I use for this post and for starters I thought stats with comments will do.

Number of times 'Muuuuuuum' was shouted in the house: 135*24*30*3.

The plus side is that both boys refer to us as Mummy/Mum and Daddy. Just the other day we were looking at some of their old photos, all 24 of them! Let's just pause for a second and imagine your 6/7 year old child and the number of photos you have taken of them over the years. Now throw away everything from the first 3 years, select one standard photo with a birthday cake for each year (never mind the different people who stand around them each time), pick a picture with each school uniform and classmates, pick 1-2 blurry shots where their other siblings are there too and a few happy moments from 2016 and THAT IS ALL YOUR MEMORIES. (for those in the know, their Life Story Books are still not done so here is hoping we will have some more pictures later)

But I digress; back to us looking at their pictures. There was one blurry picture of their birth father. Goofs was telling me the misadventures of that one photo and the fights he was in to keep it. So, that was 'dad'. Snoops was confused and asked 'which is daddy? This one (pointing at my husband) or that one (pointing at the photo)?' Umm, yeah, about that, kid... We agreed to refer to the man on the picture by his first name and hubby remained 'daddy'. This is convenient for us, it will make everybody's life easier in the future, but it also stripped away another piece of their past.

Number of pictures taken of them - mostly by me: ca. 1000.

I know it does not make up for the missed past, but maybe with time they will appreciate my good intentions. Out of these we used 24 to fill 2 big picture frames and put them on the wall next to our pictures - apparently nobody has ever done that for them before!

Number of meltdowns in the house (because that is the place both boys feel safe to have one! When others are around or we are out and about they are terrified and 'save it' till it's safe): 23*30*3

This also means some of our friends probably think we are liars or constantly exaggerating about how difficult our daily life is, because they only see 2 little angels...

Number of night terrors: 3*30*3.

Yes, that means we have them almost every night, often 2-3 times a night. Poor little boys developed a sad rhythm; Snoops would wake up screaming around 9 pm; by the time we get to him he is sitting up on his bed, face and pillow wet from a flood of tears, but he himself is not awake. We put him to bed, stroke his face till he settles down. Around 11 Goofs would cry in his sleep, which wakes Snoops up who comes to our room to complain about his brother and demand that we 'make him stop'. Again, I go back to help both boys to settle by stroking 2 faces with my 2 hands simultaneously. Usually around 3-4 am we get a loud knocking on our door; it's always a gamble which boy is there. Either Snoops wet his bed (and here I mean soaked it through completely as they both wet themselves every night but the magic DryNights pullups usually keep it all in) and he can't sleep until we change him and the bedding or it's Snoops again sleep-walking while crying.

Number of useful help/comments we received from professionals regarding the point above: ZERO

Number of fist fights and bruises on bodies (combined score of all 4 of us): 100+

Goofs is a very aggressive little boy with massive control issues and according to the play therapist he wants to punish every adult for his parents' mistreating him. CPV (child to parent violence) suddenly became a daily reality for us. I remember when a friend of mine was talking about it I seriously struggled to believe him, not what he said per se, but the helplessness he felt every time. Now I fully understand it and imagine MY friends going through the disbelieving bits. When Goofs attacks my husband (usually for something simple as 'brush your teeth') we all feel powerless. Me watching this little piece of xxx hitting my husband, his brother as he is just stands there being confused, Goofs as he doesn't do it because he is evil and wants to hurt somebody, but because he feels his control is taken away and his natural flight/fight mode kicks in and also mu poor hubby, who could stop the kicking/punching/biting with one swift hand movement... That would probably diffuse the situation, confirm in Goofs' mind that 'all adults are evil' and it would cause this adoption to break down as well. Naturally, we don't do it. But we can't do either what the play therapist suggested 'why don't you just keep your cool and in a calm and controlled manner tell him you love him and reflect back to him that he is sad and afraid now that is the reason why he behaves this way.' Riiiiiiight! :(

Goofs is also jealous of his brother who seems to have a slightly easier way of settling into his new family and again, his way of dealing with the situation is to punch his brother whenever he has a chance. His latest proof included slamming the car door onto his brother's hand - it's only by God's grace that Snoops' hand is not broken!

Number of play therapy sessions: 1.

20 min with each boy. Nothing to say at this stage except we are sure we will be seeing her face for the next many many years...

Number of times the 'A' word was mentioned: 200+

I am not referring to the general ones, rather to the 2 most common themes: 'Are you ready to put in the adoption order request?' and 'Mummy, when can I have my passport with my new name?' Naturally the first one is from the LA and SWs who keep reminding us that the placement is 'past the 10 weeks mark and is progressing so well that this is the next obvious step'. The second one is much much harder to dodge! The truth is, we don't know when; we don't know if ever (and yes, I appreciate what I am saying here and all the implications). We also don't know what should change that would make us say 'Now we are ready!'  

Number of times we were told 'we are doing sooo well': 3-4*30*3.

Depending on our mood and on the number of fights we already had that day our response varies between 'thanks', 'if only you saw the other 95%, which is usually ugly' or just a quick eye-roll then smile and exit left.

Number of arguments between hubby and me: uhumm.... loads!

They usually start from having slightly differing views on how to raise children, which I suppose is a daily struggle in any birth family, too. But agreeing on how much therapeutic tolerance is too much when he is stealing your money, when he is knocking down your favourite flower pots on purpose, when he threatens to call the police with an allegation because you told him no bedtime story tonight for bad behaviour... Let's just say we disagree a lot and add to this mix a healthy portion of lack of sleep and work related stress and you can understand our predicament...

I have so many more numbers to share with you and hopefully in time you'll get to hear about the number of happy moments that lasted at least 1 hour - I promise as soon as this happens I will write about it!

Whose life is it, anyway?

A month was enough and we are exhausted, depressed and broken (physically, emotionally and financially). I keep asking 'Who is in control here?' We foolishly thought that we would be. The reality is that we have two emotionally disabled children with horrible pasts who keep dragging us back into their terrible early life, they project their bad experiences of grown ups onto us and keep pushing the correct buttons to turn us inside out.

Hubby and I keep looking at each other. The pain and silent cries are visible in both our eyes: 'We can't do this anymore! This is not what we've signed up for...'

I have to drag myself out of the house; make a conscious effort to pick some nicer clothes and get onto the metro that will take me to the city. At 9 am most cafes are not open yet and before I know it my feet take me back to the well known Uni cafe. It's a familiar place with people from familiar walks of life. I recognise the surroundings, the students, the books, the smells... I vaguely remember my life as a student; the carefree lifestyle, the freedom, exam time stress (and believing that passing the next exam is the greatest challenge in life ever). If I had known it back then...

Students thinking about their bright future; graduating - job hunt - interviews - job - salary - freedom - meetups with friends after work - counting the minutes till Friday 6 pm when the fun can finally start... Yes, I vaguely recall that my life used to have fun...

On my way to the cafe I saw well dressed people pass me by; getting on with their lives and daily jobs and I try really hard to recall the last time I had my high hill shoes on (not very practical when you have to run after a misbehaving child). My business clothes are packed away in a box; they sit next to the box that contains fragile or precious objects dear to my heart (hard to keep your cool when they fall victim to the outbursts of  disregulated and angry children).

My gran used to tell me 'when I was your age I already had 2 children' and I would respond 'yes, and I have 2 Masters Degrees'. Now, in this cafe I turn my eyes towards heaven and think: guess what, gran, I caught up with you! You were way too young and inexperienced to know how to parent your children. Me on the other hand...?

The boys managed to reduce me and hubby into depressed zombies who function on leaking batteries and without any will power left to think clearly or to choose life. Joy, my long lost friend, I said goodbye to you, too! I hear you say Post Natal/Adoption Depression. Perhaps you are correct, I wouldn't know...

What I do know is that 5 weeks into this placement I still have to keep reminding people that in many ways what we are going through is the same as having 1 month old twins! They can't understand/accept/imagine of course; what they see is a 6 year old and a 7 year old boy running around the house nonstop...

I don't want to do parent today. I want to do adult only today. But I can't! I have to go and pick them up from school...  

When the Honeymoon is over...

Technically it's only been 2 weeks since Snoops and Goofs moved in with us permanently, but I am fairly certain the Honeymoon period is long but gone forever!

We were told this 'will definitely happen soon' (professionals), 'might not happen for a long time' (fellow adopters) and 'it might never happen' (naive, but well meaning friends and birth parents). Well, it's safe to say the Pros won this round!

On one hand the Pros (Social Workers, School, Play Therapist, Clinical Psychologist) keep saying it is a good thing, because it means they are settling in well and feel comfortable enough to drop the façade and be themselves not to mention they feel safe to express their feelings...etc. And we are expected to rejoice over this!

What they conveniently forget is that they see the boys for an hour every week, but I have to spend the other 23 hours with them every day! I have to pick up the pieces of a challenging day in the new school, I have to stand between them when they are having a full on fist fight or when they are still not asleep at 10pm.

As they settle in more we gradually get to know them better and we are now seeing some patterns and occasionally we recognise a trigger BUT recognising a brewing meltdown and actually being able to prevent it are 2 very different things as you can imagine.

Yesterday started off on a bad note; one kid attacking the other for seemingly no reason. After the cries and shouting stopped we tried to have a civilised breakfast. Snoops wanted to go to Breakfast Club while Goofs didn't. Together we reached the compromise that we will go for the last 10 minutes so both boys can have their wishes at least partially granted. I was walking them to school and from the moment we closed the door Goofs was running away. Snoops was playing well his coping mechanism of  'I am good today so you will have to love me and hopefully you will not send me away' by holding my hand and chatting happily about everything and anything. On the surface it looked like an idyllic picture of a well behaving child, but his over compliance comes from feeling insecure and terrified about his future with us. It breaks my heart every time he does this! He keeps painting things I LIKE and present them as HIS favourites only to see me smile then he asks if I am pleased with him and no amount of reassurance is enough to let him know we will love him even if he hates the things I like...

But back to yesterday morning. Goofs is presenting a 'naughty boy' behaviour by running away from me and doing the opposite of anything I suggest or ask. The school is on the same side as our house so there is no reason to cross the road, but yesterday it did not matter to him and before I could blink he crossed the road without even looking. Naturally my heart stopped and did what every parent would do in this situation: lost my cool and shouted after him to come back. By this point Snoops was getting agitated saying 'it's not fair he can run freely and I can't' and wanted to jerk his hand out of mine to run after his brother. In the meantime Goofs was looking at me with a dare in his eyes and ran across the road a few more times and because he was looking at me he ran in front of a car!

Me (while fighting back a heart attack and an unhappy boy) tried to get closer to him but each time he ran away even further. Thank God in that very moment Hubby appeared from nowhere with a car. He jumped out and went after Goofs while I walked Snoops safely to school. On my way back from school I saw Daddy and Goofs walking hand in hand towards the school. As soon as we got closer Goofs was hiding behind Daddy and refused to even see me or hear what I wanted to say. The shame/embarrassment was so visible in his behaviour that all my anger flew away and all I wanted was to hug him and kiss everything better. But naturally he didn't want to have any of it! I even offered the option of going home with me instead of going to school, but he chose the school and went in. We both kept our cool and in a warm and quiet tone we explained that we have been worried about him, that we love him and that we are not angry with him. He even managed to look at me for a second or 2 and was able to accept a hug from 'his evil new mother', but you could see in his head he was so confused about our reaction. He genuinely expected shouting and physical punishment and if I am honest he wasn't far from receiving the formal from his terrified mother...

Hubbs and I walked back to the car while he filled me in. Goofs ran off into a side street and was hiding there. We already knew that he doesn't like me or accepts my authority (or care for that matter), mainly because in his head it would make him unfaithful and disloyal toward his beloved Foster Carer, while he adores his new Daddy since he never really had one. But we know the Honeymoon is definitely over when he is rejecting Daddy as well and runs away even from him! It took hubby a good 10 minutes to reassure Goofs that he is not angry and will not hit him or shout at him if he stops running. In his little head he figured 'I didn't want to go to school so I disobeyed her so there is no point stopping now and wait for the punishment so I just keep running.' It's actually very logical and makes perfect sense if you think about it... Except that is not a safe solution for anybody, but of course when he is in that stage you can't reason with him!

Fast forward to 3.15 pm he was so happy to see me when I went to pick him up from school. I grabbed his hand and said that from now on this is how we will walk on the street. He just looked at me and asked 'is it because of what happened in the morning, right?' Damn right kiddo! In the house we tried to have a conversation with him about the morning but he would not have any of it. Following the instructions of our SW we made sure he can't leave the room and we tried a non threatening way. We knew it failed when he was using all his force to hurt us as he tried to escape so Daddy had to restrain him, which resulted in him shouting how much he hates us and this house. When hubbs let go of him he ran and hid under the table, but he kept on peeking to see how we react. We stayed on the floor and eventually he calmed himself down and came back to sit in Daddy's lap so we could have a chat. After much nudging he told us he didn't want to go to Breakfast Club because the day before a boy had been nasty to him. THERE! Finally we knew what the real issue was! It only took a whole day of freaking out on both his and my side, an hour on the phone with the SW and lots of tears and punches!

We agreed that 'tomorrow we will not go to Breakfast Club but have a nice family breakfast in the house'. Guess what was the first thing he said to us this morning...

Yup! Daddy walked two very happy kids to Breakfast Club!