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