RAD-ically Changed Part 4: Thank You Sir May I Please Have Another?

After receiving K’s diagnosis, we went through a range of emotions.  Shock that our son was not functioning as well as we had thought.  Denial that he was a special needs kiddo.  Worry that we were not the right parents or family for K.  Guilt that we were not doing a good enough job to meet all of his needs.  Fear that K would grow up and not become successful or happy. Anger that he was never going to be the child that he could have been because of someone’s selfish decisions.  Depression that all of our immediate hopes and dreams for Keegan would most likely not come true.  Sadness that K may never really learn how to love or be loved.

The emotion that has been one of the hardest has been acceptance.  Acceptance at K’s diagnosis, treatment and life long struggle.  Acceptance at what our family now looks like and feels like.  Acceptance of K at his best and at his worst.  And, for me, acceptance that K may never be able to show me the love I so desperately need for him to give me.  The love from a son to his mother. 

This idea of acceptance is a tough one.  For any parent to accept their child’s limitations is so hard.  Knowing that our child’s limitations include the inability to bond, attach and truly love others is one of the hardest things I have ever had to face.  In many instances during the past 4 years I have replayed the scene in my head from Animal House.  One of the frat boys was being initiated and being hit with a paddle.  As he was being hit with a paddle, he had to say, “Thank You Sir, May I Please Have Another?”  On my down days this scene keeps me smiling. 

We have had to accept that transitions are super hard for K… almost impossible.  One way this has affected us is that we have to slow down all of our holiday plans.  We literally rethink the way we celebrate as a family.  Holidays are a big deal to us and celebrating them always meant big activities, parties, get togethers etc.  This is a recipe for disaster for K.  He needs consistency, security and a calm environment.  This means we have to cancel activities and while other families are traveling and making extravagant plans, we are at home in our pajamas.  Our holidays have went from being exciting parties to simple celebrations.  Thank you sir, may we have another?

Christmas with the Family

We have had to tone down his birthday parties… really, all of our birthday parties.  The anxiety parties caused him created so much chaos and trouble, we would spend his birthday being disappointed and disciplining.  This was such a sad realization.  When he opens his present, we have to accept that he will never have that HUGE reaction parents live for.  He will appear to act rude to his guests and will not be able to act with grace or gratitude.  No one really gets why he acts like that and as parents, we get the awesome judgement from non-related party goers.  Thank you sir, may we have another?

Birthday Scavenger Hunt- Holding On For Dear Life

Over summer break, we have to make plans to keep everyone safe in our home.  This means creating a rigid daytime schedule.  This means waking everyone up early and having my teenage kiddos babysit their brother and keep him within eyesight at all times.  We have to be careful when planning vacations… K has the hardest times on vacations.  We have to accept that this will not be easy and work hard to understand that.  We must take into account his meltdowns and how we can manage these in public.  We have to plan to spend parts of the vacation separate.  Leaving one parent to deal with the meltdowns and the other parent to deal with the other kids who deserve to have fun.  Thank you sir, may we have another?

K Enjoying The Beach Life

Our Family Getting Ready to Make S'mores

K is an amazing baseball player.  He has a natural ability to throw a ball accurately and far.  He can hit a ball, like no other.  But, he hates being on display.  He hates being watched and looked at {extremely weird, considering his behavior appears to be attention seeking}.  We realized last fall that the amount of pressure that was being put on him, was not good.  What we thought was building him up was actually making him anxious and he was acting out as a result.  Accepting that K could not be on a super competitive baseball team was a tough one.  We just wanted him to find something to shine at.  To be the best at.  To set him apart in a positive way from his siblings.  Baseball was not it.  That was a hard thing to walk away from.  Thank you sir, may we have another.

My Little Baller

RAD creates an impulsivity that comes out in lying and stealing.  These are basic rules for childhood.  Don’t steal and don’t lie.  Simple.  Not for K.  Everyday after school we have to check his pants pockets, shoes and backpack for any items that he might have “found”.  In the past, we have found candy, money, a pocket watch, an IPAD, house keys, stolen books from the book fair… the list goes on and on.  Once we found a stolen item, we would then be stuck in a never ending battle while we tried to figure out the truth.  Accepting that frisking our son is our new normal was so hard.  It made me mad everytime I had to do it.  Thank you sir, may I have another?

At this point, we have to be very careful of keeping K safe and keeping people around K safe.  After some of the concerning actions he did to his brother, we had to initiate a “within eye/ear sight” plan.  At all times, K must be in eye or ear sight of an adult or older child.  

This means he spends a lot of time inside or by a trusted adult. He is not trusted to go to friends houses or birthday parties.  We even have a hard time letting him stay with family.  People don’t understand this and, I know, judge us harshly.  I am absolutely sure that some people think we treat him differently because he is adopted.  We are “harder” on him, we are forgetting “boys will be boys”.  But, we have to follow our instincts.  Thank you sir, may we have another?

Accepting that K, at this time, does not have any close friendships is really hard.  Accepting that, for now, this is a choice we have to make to keep K and everyone else safe sucks.  The guilt I feel as a mom is something you can not imagine.  Watching his class be invited to parties and knowing I have to say no, breaks my heart.  Literally, breaks me.  For now, we have no other choice. This is RAD.  Thank you sir, may I have another?

These examples don’t touch the very worst thing about RAD that I am still working hard on accepting….

RAD is an awful thing but RAD is absolutely devastating for a mother.  The lost relationship between a mother and a child is a hell I would not wish on my worst enemy.  Nothing could have ever prepared me for the way K has treated me.  In my heart I know that if he could change it, he would.  If he could break down those walls and learn how to trust, he could truly embrace me and authentically love me.  Most likely, this will not happen to the level I would love to experience.  Accepting that has been the hardest thing of all.  Thank you sir, may I please have another?

What I Wouldn't Give To Heal This Sweet Face

It seems grossly unfair that this disorder attacks the mother.  The mother is usually the one who does the hour to hour work that comes with raising a child.  We are no different.  I have always done most of the parenting and the best part is, I get to reap most of the rewards.  The smiles, the hugs and cuddles, the special relationships I have with each of my children.  I always feel that if you work hard for your children, they know it and they, in turn, love you deeply.  If you do a really awesome job they honor you and look up to you.  There is no child in our family who I have worked harder for than K.

I work tirelessly everyday to read every article or book I can find about RAD.  I put in hours doing research and finding tools and resources to help him.  I have found him his therapist and psychiatrist.  I have robbed peter to pay paul to make sure he gets everything he needs.  I do the daily battles with my little RAD-ical beast.  Calmly sitting through hours of fits, brushing off the most brutal things a child can say.  I am the calm and patient anchor that holds us steady in rocky waters.  I am his biggest advocate, loudest cheerleader and…I saved him.  I found him and brought him home to heal.  I asked Shawn if K could be a part of our family.  When people spoke concerns, I told them not to worry.  I fought for him… hard…. And I never let up.  I constantly battled as K’s biggest advocate to help him find a forever family and help bring some calmness to the chaos that he was living in. 

Accepting, that even with all of this work and heartache, K may never be capable of truly loving me, this makes me so very sad.  This is such a horrible disorder.  It cruelly plops in the middle of your relationship with your child and just sits there defiantly.  It is like a big boulder that will never be pushed away.  While I laugh and reenact that Animal House scene, I still find myself asking, when is enough, enough?  The answer is, never.  You have to keep asking for another.  And, most importantly, never give up or give in to despair.

I have to fight everyday to not give up or give in to the pessimistic thoughts that things will never change.  I have to look hard everyday to take notice of changes that we are making.  I have to pay attention, even at his worst, when he asks me to love him.  And, he does ask.   I have to listen closely to discern what kind of love he is asking for… a kind word, a pat on the back, a big, long cuddle or just a smile.  K is a jumbled puzzle and everyday I work to find one piece that fits and will help put him back together.   

I am learning to accept that this will take time.   I am also learning the meaning of what love really is.  It is an action, not a word.  It is selfless and it takes time.  It is tiny pebbles that will help restore some of the cracks in his foundation.  They will never all be filled in, but my greatest hope is that, with time, the biggest ones are patched.  I am truly working everyday to accept K where he is today… and learning to be grateful.  When he is giving me his worst, I pray to God help me see his best.  Eventually this defiant determination I have as a parent will help my child learn to love and trust.  Until then I will continue smiling and saying, “thank you sir, may I please have another.”

Making Strides Everyday

RAD-ically Changed Part 3: Becoming Gumby

***This blog post will be a series of posts about what RAD is and how it has changed our family.

Do you remember that TV show from when we were younger called Gumby?  It was about a weird looking, super flexible green guy and his sidekick {who I think was a horse???}.  Well, I absolutely hated this show.  Like, really hated the show.  But after raising a RAD-ical child, I now have learned to love Gumby.  He was such a flexible dude.  Very laid back and go with the flow.  Very much like our family.

During the last 4 years we have really worked on being flexible.  This is much more difficult to accomplish than it sounds.  First of all, we are a very large family.  You can’t really be super flexible in a family with so many people.  You have tight schedules that have to be followed and places that you have to constantly run to.  You usually arrive at events in the nick of time or late and you always arrive forgetting something.  We load up a van full of cranky and uncooperative kids as we juggle bags, car seats, purse, phone and, hopefully, a set of car keys. 

Second, I am not really known to be flexible.  I come from a very long line of inflexible descendants.  I believe my earliest blood relative was probably Lot’s wife who just had to turn around and maintain control.  Right before she turned into a pillar of salt, she most likely yelled at Lot for not giving her advance notice of impending doom.  I have to know every detail down to the nitty gritty.  When I check into a hotel, the very first thing I do is grab the hotel information book and read it, cover to cover.  If my routine is messed with, I turn into a very cranky lady and usually can not turn my mood around. 

Lastly, I absolutely must have control over my environment.  I like to drive and hate being the passenger.  I schedule out my week and make sure I have things laid out in the morning.  If I get up late or miss an alarm I would rather burn a vacation day than start off running around like a chicken with my head cut off.  Control of my environment and every little detail is essential to giving me security as a person.

And, then came K...

                           This lil Feisty Dude!              Sleeping with his Dad          

Reading to his Little Brother

We learned very early on that K was going to test our flexibility.  It started during the very first week.  When we decided to adopt K, we literally had no bed, dresser, clothes or earthly possessions.  We live paycheck to paycheck.  My work family gifted us with a donation for bunk beds.  My husband had went ahead and purchased a set of bunk beds for the little boys without us knowing. 

The first night that K came to our house we decided to surprise him with his new room.  The beds were made up with Toy Story gear and we had set the room up with toys and all the love we could muster.  The whole family was excited to surprise K.  I ran to the room first with my camera to record the moment he saw all of our hardwork.  In my head I had already planned the celebration.  The big smile, the cheering from our beautiful, blended family, happy tears would be shed…all while I recorded this monumentous event to share with our families.  It was going to be absolutely stunning.  It would bring everyone to tears with the beauty of this amazing room detailed with love.  Little did I know that for a RAD-ical child… surprises are the worst thing they can be given.

To say this turned into a cluster would be a major understatement.  To begin with K would not even walk into the room.  He literally stood at the doorway, tears in his eyes and, seemingly, defiantly refusing to put even a toe into the room.  All of the kids were excited and smiling as K just stood there at the door.  We kept encouraging him to come in and that pressure caused him to cry.  Huge, angry tears.  My beautifully planned, down to the last detail. reveal was spoiled.  It was one of our very first failures as K’s parents and one of the first telling moments of what our future would be.

Every birthday, holiday, special event or celebration is sabotaged by K.  Mind you, this is not because he wants to.  He just is not able to function in big events that keep him off his normal schedule.  He either acts out, purposefully creates chaos or refuses to participate.  The pressure and the build up creates so much anxiety that he just can’t handle it.  When he can’t handle it, he makes sure to create massive chaos which ensures that no one has a fun time.

For years, we did not understand this.  We mistook his anxiety for defiance.  His acting out was given punishments.  His fit throwing resulted in removal from family activities.  His refusal to participate resulted in isolation as we continued on without him.  All typical consequences for a “normal” kid.  We never took the time to see our son as anything other than a “Normal” kid.  It took us 3 years, multiple therapists and psychiatrists to finally learn that WE, not he, had to be flexible.  We had to accept the fact that our son had special needs and much like a child who has Downs Syndrome, you learn to make concessions. 

You learn how to make these moments count for every child in your family. 

Last Christmas our family experienced a huge shift in thinking.  We learned how to be flexible.  We started this process by simply making no big plans.  I had made a list of crafts, snacks, games, movies, places to go … same thing I had done for the last 16 years.  The night before the kids Christmas break, I ripped the list in half.  My calendar that I had painstakingly planned daily activities was put up in a corner of my room.  I made a conscience decision to not make plans, travel or do big activities.  I knew I wanted our family to do our Reynolds Christmas sleepover and our big New Years Eve party.  But, that was it.  After careful discernment, we decided these 2 events would be the only planned activities out of the ordinary. 

Everyday I reminded K of those two events and what they would look and feel like.  Everyday I worked very hard to find ways to praise and encourage Keegan.  I kept our daily schedule loose and flexible.  I gave myself a morning pep talk to be flexible {while I drank a hefty cup of highly caffeinated coffee}.   For the first time in forever, I gave K some rope.  He had room for mistakes and this allowed me to see more clearly if his behavior was typical 8 year old behavior or if this was a RAD thing.  If it was typical behavior I bit my tongue and did not correct it.  I was successful about 75% of the time.  And, you know what?  Our sleepover was magical and our New Years Eve party was a huge hit… for everyone.

One Big Happy, Flexible Family!

Playing Bean Boozled as a Family!

It has taken me WAY too long to embrace my son’s differences.  To really accept and love him where he is at.  I am really embarrassed and ashamed to admit that.  But, I also know that by admitting that, I can now fully embrace who K is today.  Instead of worrying about what his future holds, I work everyday to make sure his daily life is successful and positive.  I am striving to become like Gumby and move through our moments of celebration with flexibility. 

This has been a positive change all around.  All of us are benefitting from losing that control that was the rhythm of all our days.  K has shown me the value of not being in control.  Sometimes you focus so much on the to-do list that you lose sight of the big picture.  The big picture is and has always been to raise a happy, healthy family.  By learning to be flexible we are moving closer to achieving that for all of our children, most importantly, K.

For anyone that has ever had any questions, please visit this website:

http://www.attachmenttraumanetwork.org/

If you would like to watch a great video on how to better understand parents of RAD kids this is a must see:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ypmGTGGN7A&feature=youtu.be&app=desktop

If you think your child may be suffering from RAD, use this link to see the questionnaire that begins the process of diagnosis:

http://www.housecallscounseling.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/RADQ-PDF-20100623.pdf

Rad-ically Changed Pt. 2: Patience is a Virtue

So, now you know… RAD sucks.  It sucks bad.  But I hope I am also shedding some light on how we are learning, through RAD, to become better people.  RAD has deeply transformed my understanding of what patience really is.

Raising 4 kids was a tough job.  I found myself on a daily basis struggling with curbing my temper.  My temper presents itself in “Freak Outs”.  I am sure more than one mom out there will understand what this looks and feels like.  At best, it is a screaming psycho and at worst, it’s a heart pounding, breath losing, shaking rage that you can feel in the tips of your fingers.  It is NEVER good to parent while losing your temper.  And, proudly {there is that pesky deadly sin of pride} I had rarely experienced that crazy rage level.  I could be a screaming psycho at times, but shortly after, I would be able to apologize for my “freak out” and start again.  I always used the following mantra to help me calm down in my moments of parenting weakness:

“Patience is a virtue, virtue is its own reward.”

Until, K came along I thought I had this patience thing nailed down.  In fact, I always thought Job had nothing on me.  People around me have always taken note of my patience.  When you have a large family with little kids, you have to have a large amount of patience.  Going to the grocery store to pick up a weeks worth of food with a baby in a sling, a 6 year old in the cart and 2 older siblings holding on to the sides is really comical to see.  Checking out in an aisle that is full of candy and small little toys is a cramped hell for any parent.  However, a grocery trip and checkout with a RAD-ical kid... let me try to give you a picture. 

After making it through the shopping list, you end up in checkout aisle of doom. Your sweet RAD kid is so impulsive he touches everything… I mean EVERYTHING.  Every candy bar, sucker, toy, magazine and all with the demand that he “wants that”.  Not only is he impulsive he loves to maintain control of everything.  I am sure you are saying to yourself... "all kids do that.  This is typical behavior of a 7 year old."  However, this is a RAD kid. 

When you say no, he demands to know why and will not stop asking the question until everyone in the aisle is listening to his mean mom.  He is intentional about catching everyone's eyes and has perfected the look of the "injured child".  His need for control forces him to amp up the chaos ensuring that more people will come to his show. 

Picture this scenario happening 10 times over 10 different items all while checking out with his demands getting louder and more aggressive.  He is now grabbing items, throwing them in the cart, as you are trying to retrieve them and put them back.  You know the only way to stop this cluster is to get the RAD child in the cart.  While this struggle bus is happening, the judgment of every parent can be felt in every pore of your body.  You know this because you used to be that judging parent.  The same parent who is now behind you, mumbling, “kids today” while sighing very loudly as you struggle to move the RAD child to inside the cart.  He begins screaming, "you're hurting me!  Why do you hate me!  You always hurt me!".  You have to calmly say, and loudly for all the gawkers, "I am keeping you safe and everyone else safe."

Your other kids are mortified and are of absolutely no use because they are so embarrassed they want to disappear.  The checkout lady is asking you if you paid for the candy bar the RAD kid has now somehow managed to unwrap during the chaos.  He is smiling because for him, this is a victory.  You pay for the groceries and the candy bar.   While walking out of the store you know you have to take the candy bar from him because he clearly stole it.  You don’t want to.  You know the fresh hell that will result when you do so, but you have to.  You are the parent.  You take a deep, slow breathe and prepare for another battle to begin again.

This is a typical errand that all RAD parents experience.  This is just one little example and we are super, #blessed, that we get to have many more to come on a typical day.   The amount of patience that you have to have and maintain throughout the day is truly your super power.  By the end of the night you are too drained to even read a chapter from a book.  But, if you have succeeded in truly being patient, you can rest a little more easy knowing that, for today you showed your child what true love looks like.  It is never giving up.  It is being the calm in a raging storm.  It is being strong even when you feel like you can’t take one second more.

For a RAD child, they love creating and living in chaos.  The more chaos they create, the more control they are able to keep.  Control is the only security they have.  This makes a lot of sense considering most children with RAD come from a background that was unstable and did not give them a consistent, loving, engaged caregiver.  They learn to protect themselves by creating this tornado of negative energy.  This makes them feel normal. 

When I finally understood this, it helped make sense of why Keegan seemingly is comfortable when things are going badly.  Keegan is not a bad child, incapable of making good choices.  He is a traumatized child who never properly learned what stability looks and feels like.

In comparison, the polar opposite non-RAD child hates chaos.  Chaos makes them feel insecure, unsafe and vulnerable.  They feel this way because when they were babies, they had mothers and fathers who were capable of hugging and holding them while maintaining eye contact.  This child knew that every night they would be laid in their own crib, with an established bedtime routine and all their needs met.  Their bellies would be full and they would know with certainty that when they woke up they would have their mom or dad there.  They knew they would have a meal and they would be returning to that same crib at night.  This created nurturing and attachment.  A RAD child did not have this experience during the first 3 years of their life.

That makes me sad.  So very sad.

But, it also makes me feel hopeful.  It gives me purpose.  It makes me understand that everyday I wake up, I have to attack the idea that chaos is safe.  I have to do this lovingly and patiently.  If I can dig deep and see my child as a hurt child, I can ignore the inner voice that tells me he is a bad child.  I can correct him with love rather than anger.  Understanding why he is acting this way instead of how could he act this way, has revolutionized the way we have parented K.

For a RAD parent, patience is counting to 3 calmly and slowly.  And doing that a hundred times during the day.  Patience is keeping a straight face when your child screams how much they hate you... everyday.  Patience is walking a mile down a mountain while he screams that you are "hurting him" right after he has attempted to push his brother off a steep cliff.  All while being followed by Judgy McJudgerson who is clearly considering calling the police on you.  Patience is listening to the "experts" tell you he just needs consistency- ha!  Patience is calmly listening to well intentioned family members tell you how they would raise him if they had the chance.  Patience is calmly dodging an object that is chucked out of anger.  Patience is calmly telling your other 4 children to go to the basement as a fit escalates into the second full hour.  Patience is feeling like you want to run away screaming but standing still and taking it.  Patience is waiting to receive a happy phone call from school.  Patience is waiting for the day when you get to see a small, glimmer of hope.  Patience is loving a child who can not love you back and believing one day he will.  Patience for a RAD parent means soaking up every good moment and savoring that victory knowing tomorrow you start all over.

During this journey, I have had the reward of really understanding what a gift patience is.  I have learned the importance of refining yourself as a human being.  The idea that you come out stronger in the end, is really true.  Every bad day, ends in a moment of strength with the knowledge that you survived.  K has taught me that love is a absolutely a verb.  A verb that is selfless and does not need to be reciprocated to be true.  Love needs to be nurtured and that takes time.  It takes so much time especially if you never knew it from birth.  Love is trusted only after you destroy the comfort of chaos. 

It is vital to take the time to notice the small changes.  The tiny steps forward in a very long journey.   We are making strides.  Our love and patience is creating lasting change.  We do see the light. 

K is doing awesome in school… patience is a virtue, virtue is its own reward.  K has not stolen in 3 months… patience is a virtue, virtue is its own reward.  K no longer throws hours long fits everyday, these are fewer and shorter... patience is a virtue, virtue is its own reward.  K showed true gratitude at his last birthday and genuinely thanked every guest there… patience is a virtue, virtue is its own reward.  K loves his baby sister and her biggest smiles are reserved for him… patience is a virtue, virtue is its own reward.   K brushed my hair and laid his head on my lap for no other reason than being open to receiving love... patience is a virtue, virtue is its own reward.  

The last 4 years have not been easy and noticing positive changes has definitely been challenging for us.  We have intentionally surrounded ourselves with supportive family and friends.  They take the time to remind us of how far we have come when we have forgotten where we started.  I am now convinced with patience will come reward and I am very confident that K will continue showing us these magical moments of awesome.  It is only with the grace of God that I take note of these moments and breathe them in deeply.  These moments are what makes every bad day worth it. 

For anyone that has ever had any questions, please visit this website:

http://www.attachmenttraumanetwork.org/

If you would like to watch a great video on how to better understand parents of RAD kids this is a must see:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ypmGTGGN7A&feature=youtu.be&app=desktop

If you think your child may be suffering from RAD, use this link to see the questionnaire that begins the process of diagnosis:

http://www.housecallscounseling.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/RADQ-PDF-20100623.pdf

The Ingredients of A "Real" Mom

One of the hardest and most shocking phrases I have ever heard in the last four years is “where is K’s real mom?”  That question has always cut me to the quick.  In that moment of ignorance, I am reminded that this child, by society’s standards, will never be mine.  He will always be known as a child placed by his mother with a forever family. While we have come along way as a society accepting and embracing adoption, this question always reminds me that we have a long way to go. 

Of course, I am not an idiot.  K has a “Real” mom or what we refer to as his Bio mom.  We have always honored her and respected her for K.  No matter the choices she has made, the level of honor and respect we always give her is untouchable.  She had the privilege of carrying him for 9 months and raising him for 3 years.  She is responsible for the first 3 years of his life… the successes and the failures.  His “Real” mom was the only reason I got to be his mama.  She had true courage and made the most selfless decision placing K with us.  

But, even saying all of that, I believe firmly, now after 4 years, mom is not a title that should be shared.  This is a title that belongs to only one woman in his life.  It is a title that is earned and it is most definitely a privilege, not a right.

How do you earn this distinction?  What makes a “real” mom?

I believe it is earned by the endless supply of hugs and kisses.  You earn this by the sleepless nights when you are rocking a sick child and changing soiled sheets.  It is earned in the sideline cheers when they make their first goal or shoot their first basket.  It is earned in the tears that fall from your eyes when they experience their first bully.  It is earned by the many meals prepared by a woman so tired her bones ache.  For every pickup and drop off that makes a taxi cab driver cringe, the title of “Real” mom is earned.  A “Real” mom chooses you, no matter what.  She will gladly lay her life down for you anytime, day or night.  All of her greatest desires comes only after you have received all you have ever wanted.  She does this with no regrets.

A “Real” mom helps you achieve all of your hopes and dreams.  No matter how far away those dreams are, she is the cheerleader pushing you along.  She works endlessly to make sure you have every opportunity to learn, grow and succeed.  A “Real” mom holds your hand when you are scared and hugs you tight when you are sad.  A “Real” mom knows the words to say to build you up and knows how to check you when you need a little kick in the keester.  She is the one who teaches you to pray and have faith in things unseen.  Her belief in you makes you feel like you can do anything.  A “Real” mom never gives up on you… no matter how many times you fall.  She is right there grabbing your hand and pulling you up.

For a RAD mom it is earned by the thousands of prayers that she says because her fear about what your future may look like, keeps her up most nights.  She earns this title for every book she has read on attachment, every conference she spend her days attending, every “expert” that tells her what she is doing wrong.  For the countless visits of therapy she has made sure to get for you.  She is the one who has found the perfect therapist that knows about RAD and can help you succeed.  She is the one who has made phone calls for hours to insurance companies who have never heard of RAD and tells her that services are not covered.  Even after all of that, she continues to earn the title after years of fits, manipulation, triangulation and name calling.  For every time the child she fights for, with every breath in her body, says they hate her.  For every time she has kept you safe and kept others around you safe… the title of Mom is surely hers.  A “Real RAD” mom knows all of these things… deeply.

So, while logic and reasoning clearly tells me I am not K’s “Real’ mom… I know the truth.  While society will still ask the question, “where is K’s Real Mom?”  I will silently, defiantly answer, “right here”.  I am his mother… his real mother.  While we will never share blood, we share a connection that is much more tangible and real.  It is in the everyday moments of connection that we create our definition of mother and son.

Even though I know a time will come when he searches out his “real” mom, I am hopeful that I can celebrate this moment knowing that my son knows who his mom is.  That this answer will be enough.  That I will be enough.  I can’t say that this day will not break my heart and make me feel like a stand-in mom.  All I can do is soak up every moment of being K’s mom and be truly thankful.  Thankful for the gift that is my son. 

Recipe for a “Real” Mom

Endless, overflowing cups of unconditional love even when the batter is stiff and rigid.  Take the time to knead out the lumps and spread the love all day.

Fruits- Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Generosity, Gentleness, Faithfulness, Modesty, Self Control, Chastity

Chop all these Fruits of the Spirit into bite size pieces; introduce and fold gently into the batter

10 Heaping Cups of empathy and compassion- add where and when needed

3 Extra Large Spoonfuls of Determination.  Add this in every time the batter calls for a little more effort.

Pinch of humor and sarcasm.  This step is not to be forgotten.   

Sprinkle of Discipline coated in Kindness

Turn the flame on low.  Be sure to stand watch and stir it up as it cooks, making sure to scrape the bottom for any unwanted residue.  Make sure to turn the flame down when it bubbles over and threatens to ruin the batch.  Skim and remove the icky stuff when it rises and settles on the top.  Cook with care and pray daily over the batter.  Then, after 18 years of gentle cooking, enjoy the fruits of your labor.  Be sure to savor every bite, knowing you will not be able to save any for later.  Take the time to be thankful for the plentiful ingredients the Holy Spirit has given you. 

Rad-ically Changed: The Gift of Humility

***This blog post will be a series of posts about what RAD is and how it has changed our family. 

Definition of Reactive Attachment Disorder:

“Reactive attachment disorder is a rare but serious condition in which an infant or young child doesn't establish healthy attachments with parents or caregivers. Reactive attachment disorder may develop if the child's basic needs for comfort, affection and nurturing aren't met and loving, caring, stable attachments with others are not established.

With treatment, children with reactive attachment disorder may develop more stable and healthy relationships with caregivers and others. Treatments for reactive attachment disorder include positive child and caregiver interactions, a stable, nurturing environment, psychological counseling, and parent or caregiver education.”

I have decided to do a series about how this diagnosis has affected our family.  I do this because I want to help educate people about what RAD is and how you can better help children or families who are struggling with this.  I want to share the highs and lows of RAD to either inspire, educate or give hope to others.  We are not experts in RAD but we are walking this journey and learning along the way.  What we learn, I will do my best to share.

Upon receiving this diagnosis for our son, we went through a variety of emotions.  We are still going through ups and downs with accepting the diagnosis.  Just today I spent 2 hours searching the internet for other matching diagnosis.  Hoping against all hope that this is not the diagnosis that will be ours.  Unfortunately, as much as I try to convince myself otherwise, this is the beast our family has been dealt.  RAD is not all bad.  RAD is not completely hopeless.  But, RAD is a diagnosis that forces you to change your thinking, behavior and parenting drastically.

RAD means you have to have an endless storage of patience, flexibility, acceptance and compassion.   You must maintain a strong support system that can build you up and encourage you.  They must be observers of change and they must be sure to share the little triumphs that you may miss without someone pointing it out.  Our little RAD-ical child has changed us dramatically… and I am learning that I am being changed for the better

Part One: The Gift of Humility

RAD will bring you to your knees.  To say we have been humbled is a true understatement.  There is nothing more humbling than seemingly, failing publically in raising your child.  Especially if you are a Buckley and pride has been your middle name. 

For me, having one of my children “lose it” in public is akin to literally giving a speech to a packed house in the nude.  Having one of my children “lose it” while screaming that “I am hurting them, hate them and why do you treat me so bad?” with the sole intent of manipulation… is actually what my nightmares used to consist of.  Having a child that lies about the sky being blue and will literally throw a fit for hours until you agree, is my literal hell.  Having a child that steals the neighbors IPAD or the teachers money was literally unfathomable to me.  Watching my child hurt animals or weaker people with little to no empathy or emotion is something I never thought I would have to deal with.  These were all things other people, less knowledgable, less faithful, dealt with.  Not me.  That is, until I had a child who does all of these things and has for the last 4 years.

For most of my 18+ years working in Early Childhood Education, I have been known as the behavior guru.  Any and all bad behaviors that has come across my desk, I have easily solved.  Rarely, if ever, has a child’s behavior resulted in removal of the child from our centers.  I was the teacher who would say, in all sincerity, “give me that kid for a week and he will be a changed person”.  Not only did I believe that, I always achieved that.  I was the mother of 4 perfect, little angels.  They did no wrong in this mama’s eyes.  I walked through life with the knowledge that I was the great and powerful Oz of parenting.  This prideful, arrogant, superhero complex is one of the sole reasons I never thought twice about adopting a 3 year old child from a rough background. 

Prior to adopting K, it was super clear that he had behavior issues.  Most of the behaviors was blamed on high amounts of sugar or an “allergy” to dyes.  I knew this was not the case.  Sure, he acted hyper when he ate a twinkie but after spending some time with me, I would nip that right in the bud.  I was so confident and sure that with some consistent and loving discipline he would be magically fixed.  With a consistent schedule and a happy, forever family his behavior problems would vanish.  Ha!  K quickly showed me that was not the case. 

It was clear one month in that I was over my head.  I was totally taken aback by some of his behaviors and was shocked about how constant and demanding his behavior was. We received numerous “sad” notes on behavior and even had to have a conversation with the director about removing our child from the center I was managing.  I spent most of my time picking up and dropping off K to daycare with my head hanging low.  I quickly became the parent who tried to pick him up without having any eye contact or conversations with his teachers.  I wanted to get in and get out just so I wouldn’t have to hear about all the ways we were failing.

Church was a nightmare.  I remember one Sunday I took all the kids to church solo.  At the beginning of mass, K threw a huge fit in our pew about something very small.  Because RAD is a disorder that relies on manipulating others to maintain or get control, this fit was loud, powerful and EVERYONE was staring.  I took K in the back of the church {there was no cry room} and sat with him as he screamed and threw himself on the ground.  There was no where to hide and I knew that I could not back down.   I held onto his hand while he screamed and then I literally wept.  I refused to give in and we stayed in the back while my other 4 children sat abandoned in the pew.  I envisioned our church dousing our family in holy water as we ran from the church right after the consecration.  It was an absolute fiasco.  In the car, K acted as if nothing had happened.  He was not apologetic or fazed by the circus he had just caused.  My older children were mortified and silent.  The younger children were just freaked out.  I could not imagine how a little 4 year old could create such a tornado and seemingly be completely detached.    

At home, Shawn was constantly questioning my “amazing” parenting techniques and for the first time in my life, I became the parent I had always judged… I was reading parenting books!  I read books cover to cover.  I watched Nanny 911 like my life depended on it.  I was spending hours on pinterest and the internet looking for any magical cure-all to help create change in behavior.  All the while every single thing I tried brought zero results.

Shawn and I were at odds and being pitted against each other with the manipulative magic a RAD kid owns like a boss.  K was the master of triangulation.  He would work the 2 of us against each other.  K would throw hour long fits for me and when Shawn would come home, he would act like I was treating him so badly.  He was so good at his act that Shawn was actually starting to second guess me.  He had never did this in all of our 16 years of marriage. 

Worst of all, I was becoming the worst version of myself.  I was yelling all the time, I was snapping and turning into the world’s worst mom.  Our lives had become a lifetime movie on crack.  I was exhausted, defeated but not yet humbled.

About 2 years in someone shared a meme with me that made my eyes open a little wider… “have you prayed about it as much as you have talked about it”.   There wasn’t even a question.  Of course I asked for prayers.  I begged for prayers.  I wanted everyone in my close circle of family and friends to know my struggle and pray for me. I loved “talking” about it to anyone who would listen. But until I saw that meme, I really had not done the work myself.  I vowed that day to fall on my knees and Trust in God to answer my prayers. 

I slowly began to realize that my requested prayers came from a place of pride and fear.  Pride, because I wanted people to see that although it may seem like we were failing at parenting, it wasn’t really “our” fault.  We were the very best parents.  His biological family clearly held all the blame. We were merely trying to “fix” him.  More than that, we were absolutely “amazing” people who adopted a child in need thus, we deserved to have the “perfect” family. 

I knew that my request for prayers came from a deep fear and insecurity that I was not good enough to have an audience with God.  Fear that He would not answer my prayers.  Mostly, fear that I would fail and our child would never heal.  I was scared that I had pushed my family into this decision and that we were not strong enough to succeed in the blessing God gave us. 

My gift of humility began the year that I really began to pray.  Asking God to guide me and trust in Him.  During this year, God called us to another church and gave me the gift of CHRP.  He put it on my heart to go for a weekend women’s retreat.  While there, I had some amazing moments of grace.  I felt scripture talking to my soul and I left that weekend knowing that this was spiritual revival in my life.  I found a spiritual advisor, who told me what I was already hearing the Holy Spirit say… “Humility is the door to all other virtues”.  During the next year my CHRP sisters prayed for me and listened to me whine and moan about K.  But, they also witnessed my moment of humility and I don’t think they even knew it. 

It happened during a meeting.  We had recently gotten a dog.  In all of my ignorance, I truly felt like getting a dog would help K learn empathy.  What I didn’t know then, but know now, is kids with RAD have a desire to hurt animals and people… especially those weaker and more vulnerable than them.  During that week, we had caught K doing very unsafe things to our dog and others.  We had called his therapist who quickly and rashly suggested that K may need to be removed and placed in a treatment facility to keep himself and others safe.  This literally broke me.

There was no more hiding these issues.  It had become frighteningly clear that we were in way over our heads.  We needed way more help than we had.  I felt like we were drowning and there was no one to help us or guide us.    

I brought this pain to my sisters and started to cry hard.  I asked for prayers.  I don’t remember who, but someone decided to pray over me.  All of my sisters laid their hands on me and prayed for healing.  By this time, I was sobbing.  But, in that moment I also knew, I was not in control. I never was.  I am a vessel for God’s love and mercy.  That is all that I am.  I am not a healer, a miracle worker, the world’s best behavior changer… I am only a vessel.  My yes to adopting K was my yes to being the person who is charged with the responsibility to teaching God’s endless love to him.  In his best times, but most importantly, his worst times. 

During this year of change, I was slowly becoming a more humble servant.  Understanding my place and my role.  Understanding that Shawn and I were not adoptive superheroes.  My grandma had a saying, “no cross, no crown”.  We were given a gift by God and even though, at times it is a gift I want to return {lol}, it is my responsibility to love and cherish it.  No matter how hard or impossible it may seem. 

Learning this lesson was a gift that helped take me off of my self-made pedestal of awesome.  It also freed me from the burden of pride. I didn’t have to be the strong one all the time.  I didn’t have to have all the answers.  I didn’t have to fear the ridicule or judgement from strangers.  The only thing I have to do is love K and trust in God. 

For the first time since receiving his diagnosis, I felt free.  Literally, free to be me.  With that sense of freedom, I am slowly realizing that God loves us all in our imperfections.  Much like the fact, that in our own lives, we love most the people who open their hearts to us.  The people who “know it all” or have “all the answers” are not the people we crave being around.  We crave the most humble hearts to share our lives with.  I am not 100% there {just take a peek at my social media rantings on abortion and politics and you will realize I have a long way to go} but the important thing is, I am working on it.

When we first adopted K I felt like we were saving him.  It took the tiny beginnings of humility to show me that he is truly saving us.   RAD may not be easy but as we make tiny steps forward with this beautiful boy, I am also noting a RAD-ical change in my own heart.  It is making me a stronger, kinder and gentler mother.  It is making me see God in the ordinary moments of an extraordinary story.

To anyone that has ever had any questions, please visit this website:

http://www.attachmenttraumanetwork.org/

If you would like to watch a great video on how to better understand parents of RAD kids this is a must see:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ypmGTGGN7A&feature=youtu.be&app=desktop

If you think your child may be suffering from RAD, use this link to see the questionnaire that begins the process of diagnosis:

http://www.housecallscounseling.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/RADQ-PDF-20100623.pdf