Back to Our Story...

Not so sure that I really want to do this. 
Not so sure that I really get anything out of writing this out.

Not so sure that anyone really reads this...

 

However, it is for me a form of therapy...that even though it is harder than hell to do....it tells what I don't often tell.  It is the story of "me"...this story...it has shaped who I am as a mom.

 

Over the last 2 months I've not really talked about our "story".  It has been more the "present".  I do know that living in the present is what ineed to do.  Yet, somehow...I need to get to a point with this that I'm okay with it.  I thought I was....guess not. 

 

So...I'm over the cancer scare.  I've healed from the minor breast surgery and now have a great looking 4 inch + scare on my breast and a nice indent.  Lovely, huh?  My kids thinks so.

 

So if anyone cares...

 

Back to our story...

--
We all have a little voice inside us that tells us if we're doing something decent or not,
something loving, something sharing, something giving,
but sometimes we have a lot of chatter in our lives.
That's why we need to learn to be quiet and listen.
(-Christopher Reeve)

14 Yrs Old

Happy Birthday To You my Sweet Cor....

In just 2 1/2 days you will be 14.

WOW....It was just 10 yrs ago this summer Cor came to live w/us.

Breaks my heart. Seriously...my heart is completely broken tonight as I think about not spending yet another year w/you. Celebrating your accomplishments, how tall and skinny you have become....

I really do miss you!!

Life Goes on I know...

But for today....I just don't want it to. 

Okay, so here is a ""I feel sorry for myself" post. There are days, even weeks, that pass and I feel "normal" again. If you know me, I have mentioned that my life will never be normal again. You don't choose to terminate your parental rights, live threw what we did w/our adopted child and feel normal. But you do discover that there is a "new normal". I am pretty sure I didn't coin this term myself. I am sure I read it or heard it somewhere, but is is true. You create a "new normal" for yourself.  It has been 2 month of 2 yrs since the TPR was final. It has been nearly 2 months over 2 yrs since I saw him last.  THere is not one single day that goes by that I don't think of, have regrets, feel guilt --extreme and thinnk "this is normal"

The past few days have been so incredibly difficult for me. I have been turning on God - why did He do this to us? Why did He choose for my C to have to go threw this? {lease don't think I have given up on God. I haven't. I know that we are never given more than we can handle. But I feel like I have been given more than I can handle sometimes. I don't sit around andd cry all the time. I am not in a depression hole and at risk of hurting myself. But I hurt. I cry. I miss my son.

I think about the things I am missing out on. I have 2 beautiful and happy children still living wiht me.  I should be happy.  I am not.  I have 2 children - one specifcally that I feel has some issues that were caused by the extreme amount of stress he was exposed  to as a developing fetus, not only because of that stress but medication that I took as an anti-depressant while pregnant.  I feel guilty on every aspect.  Yet, this doesn't stop me from...wanting to hold him in my arms, I wanting to kiss his boo boos. I wanted to watch him learn all about this world that we live in. I want to celebrate his 14th bd by going to Rhythmn and Booms this Saturday.  I want to celebrate "OUR" birthday's together.  But I will never get the chance to do that. I know that. I know that there is no bringing him back. I am not in denial. In fact, it is just the opposite. Every day it becomes more clear to me that C is not coming home. Yes, you may be thinking that I have lost my mind. It has been 2 yrs and I am just now realizing this? But this process takes time. I have been living my life like a dream, or a nightmare. I really thought I would wake up from this and everything would be okay. That C would get better.  That we would 'get a call' and...and....and...obviously, it isn't going to happen.

 

Life goes on....

 

My life must go on....

 

Everyone around me in my family, friends...their lives have went on.

 

Bry (5) thinks Cor is a "cousin".  Occasionally will askk "why can't we see all of our cousins?"

 

Ab (8) became extremely hyper-vigilant on Friday when she asked me "do you know where you are going...oh...WHAT....this is the way to where COR lives?  How do you know that?"  When I explained that "we are not going to the town and/or area where Cor lives.  However, this is the "way" to LaCrosse and that we will be turning a different direction ...she seemed a bit calmer.  However, one of the first things I heard come from her mouth was "Grandma, did you knwo that coming here to this campground to see you was on the way to the place that Cor lives?" 

 

There was no real "answer"...her life (my moms) has went on....as with everyone else HE is a distant memory.

 

 

 

 

A Bag of Rocks

Very powerfull!! 

This doesn't just go for children/adult's who have suffered with RAD - it goes for many other situations with in our lives. 

A Bag of Rocks:

When you carry a bag of rocks around, day in and day out, you will inevitably become tired. No matter how far you walk, how hard you work, how much you try, you are still tired. Even sleep is ineffective, because you are sleeping with your bag of rocks, and when you wake in the morning you continue throughout the day carrying the bag of rocks. 

Some people would ask, "Why not just let go of the bag of rocks? Stop carrying it around with you, just put them down. Can't you see that would make it easier?" But, you see, I am afraid that if I let go of the rocks there will be nothing left. The rocks are all that I have, all that I have carried with me throughout my life, all that I trust. Certainly, carrying these rocks around makes me tired. But being tired is familiar, and safe. Would you let go of all that you have in the world, if you were not certain that by doing so you would gain more?

And yet (the irony is) we cannot have the certainty of more, until we let go of what we have. As long as I am carrying this bag of rocks, my arms are much too full for me to accept anything else. Even when you offer me a bag of feathers I don't dare to take it, for how can I trust that the load you are offering me is truly a load of feathers without opening the bag? Others have offered feathers, but given lead. How can I know that the bag you offer is not heavier than my current burden unless I let go of my bag of rocks, freeing my hands to open your bag? And I cannot let go of my bag, for if I put it down it might be taken from me. Or, even worse, I may find that my arms ace far too much for me to pick up the bag again, and then I would have nothing.

Can you understand why I would despair? You ask me to give up all that I believe that I have, all that I believe that I am, and yet I cannot. The fear of having nothing–of being nothing–is far too great. You want me to give up my hatred, my anger, and my pain (but most of all my pain, for the hatred and anger are mere masks for the grief and fear I hold inside). It will make me better, you say. And yet, how can I trust you, without first giving up all that I am holding on to? And how can I give up all that I am holding, if I do not trust you? Can you not see the confusion I am living with, the overwhelming fear that controls my actions? Can you not see why I push you away? Why I cause harm to myself, and to you? Can you not see why I am afraid?

Please understand, I don't want it to be this way. I do want more, I really do. Perhaps you may have noticed how hard I try, before the despair seems too much to bear, before I give in. If only I could give up these rocks, I would have peace. I would be happy. I want to believe it, but I can't. So I continue walking, dragging my bag of rocks, and wishing for something I can never have.

I wrote this just over a year ago, as an attempt to explain to my therapist why I was holding on to so many of my destructive behaviors so stubbornly. I finally found the courage to let go of the bag and try something new–and yet at times I still go back to that bag of rocks, because it is so familiar and safe, and the new ways are still uncomfortable and scary.  I hope perhaps the piece can help parents of RADs (reactive attachement disorder) understand why it is so difficult for their children to trust, and why they may fight so hard against what you can clearly see is best for them. 

Our Kids Have It....

Why not the parents?

This afternoon it was suggested that my 'thoughts and reactions' and some different 'things' that have been going threw this pea-body brain of mine were ptsd.

This is the 2nd time I've been told this.

So now what?

Not like knowing this really makes a hells bells bit of difference in my brain today...

Just my thoughts for tonight

You Raise Me Up ~ I'm Not Feeling Very Strong......

I've had this blog post in my head for quite sometime.  I'm not sure that I can really express what I really have been/am thinking in a way that will do this "post in my head" justice.   ~grin~

 

It was 2 yrs ago last month (May) that I seen or spoke with C last.

It was 2 yrs ago this month (June) that my DH seen/spoke w/C last.

It was 2 yrs ago this month (June) that dh told C he would never return home....

 

It just sucks. 

No dad should ever have to have that conversation with their nearly 12 yr old son, EVER!!!

 

As distraught, upset, sad, depressed as I was during that time in our life.....I wish that I could say that I was 100% or even 50% better.  

 

Reality is there are days when I wake up and don't know how I'm ever going to make it through my day. 

Reality is there are days when the void in my heart is sooo extremely large that I can't even begin to think about and/or talk about him.

Reality is I miss him so much.

 

I wish that my family (including dh) would talk about C, that it wouldn't be such a taboo subject in my home.  Then maybe it wouldn't be soo dang hard. 

 

There are many days when I'm mad...very mad about this entire experience.  There are many days when I'm just plain irrational.  There are many days when I'm at peace.  There are many days when I reallly am not at peace... 

 

What I really wanted to post...I can't bring myself to. 

 

I will leave it at this.....

 

 

"When I am down and my soul is weary...when my troubles come  and my heart is burdened....I really don't feel like I am stronger than the mountains...I don't feel like I can walk on the stormy seas....I'm not really that strong...I don't really feel like I've am being raised up"

 

 

RAD vs PDD/Autism

I'm glad Beth posted a reply today in mentioning a child she was/is working with as an O.T.

I work in a children's OT clinic. We have many children who come threw the doors who have been given PDD, Aspergers, Austism spectrum disorder and other related dx. When in fact all they "really" have going on is some R.A.D. My child - was one of them.

He went threw so many different tests and evaluations I lost count. The thousands and thousands of dollars that were spent not only by my dh and I but our insurance and then the "medicaid" system....

When it comes down to it...

The DX was/is the same...

~~~Reactive Attachment Disorder~~~

Why is is so freakin' hard for psychologist and psychiatrists to "admit" that RAD is a TRUE disorder? RAD is listed in the DSM book as a "real" dx? So why is it sooo hard to acknowledge it?

It would make so much sense or would it?

It angers me to think back at the bull crap that was placed in my lap, the fingers pointed in my face, the excuse that "I did not love C enough".

Hmmm.....

The title of this blog is "When Love was Not Enough" for a reason.

My love was not enough for our son. Love can not fix the damage that was drilled into his brain and body. Love could not protect my 2 younger children.

There are days when I can honestly say and believe "Because I loved C enough....I let the system (as corrupt as it is) become his guardians... by doing this...he could receive the services that he so desperately needed and DESERVED".

We were told that C most likely had Fragile X. Then we were told he had "educational autism". Then it was ODD (which I do believe goes along with RAD). Then Bipolar (isn't that the "adult dx for RAD?)...

The list goes on and on.

C never received OT services. Sometimes I think that it might have been helpful. Then there are days that I think nope...it would have just been ONE MORE person...ONE MORE therapist...ONE MORE experience that he could manipulate.

Beth - if you are reading this...reply if you would like me to leave my email address and I will do so in a comment. (For a while we were contemplating adopting a little girl at COTP-because our religion doesn't 'mix' with them we weren't able to move fwd).