I get asked the same question all the time, “I could never do what you do, how do you do it?”. I always answer the same “I don’t do it”. There is no way anyone can help a child of trauma heal alone. I am only human, I can’t offer everything my children need and so I have to find those that will add to my abilities as their mother. I learned from day one if you aren’t here to add to the healing of my children then you are not welcome in our camp. I had to circle the wagons. I put my children in the middle and then placed the right people around them as a circle of healing. The rest of the world was cut out. No one was safe from that cutting block, I didn’t care who they were, if they weren’t able to add to the safety and healing then they were placed on the outside of the circle. I had to put my own mother on the other side of that circle and it was a hard and lonely choice to make.
I started at the top, I am a woman of faith so of course I could not do this without prayer and trust that God would be there guiding me every step of the way. I strongly believe that He has done just that. I have been blessed to have a husband that trusts me and has been the support that I needed, and not because he has always agreed with me. There have been many times he has had to look at me and remind me of my place in the circle. I am a better person with him standing by my side. I have lost friendships but have gained so many more. The friends I have lost had not been bad friends, just friends who could no longer relate to my world nor could they handle my world. The friends I have gained I cherish, they see me in all my broken glory and hold my arms up when I need it and hold me when I can no longer hold back the emotions. I have had old friendships strengthened and at times my husband and friends have had to circle around me inside our camp, my children seeing that has had its own healing factors.
I had to teach my church family boundaries that are uncommon to the fabric of their being and it has created a safe place for other adoptive families to go to. I researched and found a therapist who would be a good fit for our family after being with one that only encouraged the behaviors of our children. I was open and honest with our caseworkers. There were days that I would answer the door in my PJ’s and just say “Today I do not like her and I am not going to hide that from you, how I look is how I feel and it is a direct result of her raging for the last three days straight!” I thank God that I had caseworkers who truly cared about me and were there to make sure my kids made it in our home. Not everyone on this journey has had that same support. Lastly, I have had to teach my children’s teachers how to be what they need, and those teachers hold a special place in my heart.
As summer is here and another school year has wrapped up I am brought back to just how big of a role those teachers have played in the healing of my little ones. I can remember feeling so nervous that first year our daughter was going to start school. We had been able to spend the whole summer working nonstop to help find healing. Her nor I left the house for most of it. She couldn’t handle the public eye, or the pressure that came with that eye. We had a routine down and the rages began to slow and became less intense, now we had to let the public schools have her. I was freaking out to say the least. Seriously, I can’t stress the control freak in me enough. I remember going into the first school meeting, with our case worker Ms. D, sick to my stomach. They weren’t going to understand, they were going to judge me, they were going to ignore me, and I just knew they were going to undo all the healing that had already taken place. I sat at a round table and looked at all the faces that I had known for the last five years. They all knew me as a mother to my son, a volunteer, and a room mom. Now they would all meet a new me. A mom that has a trauma child, a mom that has been beat on all summer, a mom that has already started the fight for healing, and a mom ready to fight even them. My case worker and I introduced my daughter through papers that day. We passed around the diagnosis as well as what would be the best atmosphere for that diagnosis. We gave examples of what they would come against in the year to come, how easy it would be for them to be manipulated by this beautiful little girl, and how hard it would be for them to understand what kind of boundaries she would need to succeed. We were met with the responses we knew we would get. They didn’t quite get it. I walked out of that meeting more nervous than when I went in. I can remember asking if I could please just home school her and Ms. D looked at me and reassured me it would be ok because she had my back and would support me when I had to remind them what our girl needed. It was only three weeks in when I got the first phone call from her teacher.
“I think I met the real Syd today.” she told me. I sat and listened to her story of my daughter standing up in the middle of the lunch room and throwing her lunch box across the room because she didn’t want what I had given her and the monitor wouldn’t let her up to throw it away. I asked how long it lasted and how loud it had gotten. She said they were able to calm her quickly and sat her in the office for a few minutes to make sure she was safe for everyone. She had been happy the rest of the day and was able to admit it was a bad choice. I gave a little giggle and replied “oh, that isn’t the REAL Syd, but you are getting a glimpse. She is testing the waters of how easy it will be to control those in charge.” That day was the day that the best teacher I have ever had the blessing of being teamed up with started to get it. She would spend the rest of the year being tested by my girl and she passed with flying colors! I can’t tell you the number of times I would have to be called to be asked if she could be physically moved out of the classroom, how many books were ripped to shreds by her, how many threats she made to kill someone or herself, or how many pink slips my son had to deliver to me on her behalf. What I can tell you is how many A’s my daughter got on her report card this year, how many times I was complimented on what a great girl I have, how many real friendships she has been able to make at her new school, and how many moments I have closed my eyes and thanked the woman who worked her butt off to make it happen. I can share with you the day my daughter walked out of her parent teacher meetings and cried because it was the first time in her life that her teachers all told her she was a joy to have in class. I can tell you about the car ride home and how she recognized the first teacher that cared enough to be able to make that meeting possible. 
The teacher that she told she would kill, that teacher that didn’t shrink to the challenge, that teacher that shed tears because she cared so much, that teacher that spent a day off to drive across the state to watch her adoption finalized, that teacher who fought for her to get the education she needed. I will forever be grateful to that teacher.
No, I don’t do this alone. I have a village helping me. The village has had members come and go, it has been a place of healing and strengthening. My mother is now there with us and we have all learned how to help these kids of ours heal together. We have had to create mini circles around our son at times. We have had to fight for others in their camps. The battle has stormed on outside our circle, and we have had breaches in the wagons. We have met many families that have not had the same results as we have, there have been many hurt mothers who weren’t protected in their circles. There are way too many people who still say they could never do what we do and there are still so many little ones out there who need the wagons circled around them, and so I write………..
We felt like a family. I knew the emotions were beginning to get overwhelming the closer we got to bedtime. She had mentioned many times that weekend that she was ready to just stay with us. I had told my husband privately how I was ready for her to just stay with us. I knew it was going to be hard to drive her back and leave her there for another week.
Her big brown eyes grab a hold of your heart and you will do anything she asks. Her tiny hands reach for you and you are filled with joy that she wants you to hold them. Oh how easy it is for her to find favor in any room she walks into. Oh how she takes that favor and twists it into a crazy ball of chaos. Lil Lil is the youngest of five, she was born to a woman who needed drugs during her pregnancies. Thus the real reason Lil Lil is so tiny, her birth person caused it. When she was a little over a year old she was rescued from her birth home and went into foster care. The couple whose home she and two siblings were placed into treated her like their own little china doll. She was held 24/7, allowed to act and do whatever she wished, “too cute to say no to”, and was treated like she was favored above the rest until she was three years old. Now, at 7, she cannot understand why she can’t stab the dog and not have us tell her how adorable it is. She refuses to admit she can read, acts like 1+1 still baffles her, she will walk up to a perfect stranger, hold her arms up, and say “up” in her best baby voice. Lil Lil wishes to be a baby still. 
Looking at her standing near her siblings you would think she was still a baby. You wouldn’t think that she is an extremely smart little girl about to go into the second grade. Looking at her little size 4T body you wouldn’t think that she is old enough to plan out her next diabolical attack on her big brother. Looking at her toothless smile you wouldn’t think she pulled three teeth out that weren’t loose because of the sticker she got for the loose one. No, you would think she is the cutest little thing you’ve ever seen, and you would be right she is adorable. Disney channel worthy. GAP model like. She is a cutie I cannot deny it. She is also a hurting little girl who uses her tiny to hide it.
Yet even he is not immune to her powers of cuteness. We all fall under her spell from time to time. As I watched her running around at the town concert last night I was brought out of the world of trauma for just a moment. I saw her laughing and playing with kids her age and they weren’t carrying her like a doll. Then it hit me, the day is coming that she will no longer need to feel like a baby to feel loved and important. The day is nearing that she will be comfortable with growing up. I can see the light at the end of this tunnel. I will win the battle with the fairy queen. My genius minion will figure out growing up isn’t the worst thing in the world, she is starting to let go and so I write……
is in your home you would move mountains to help in that healing, no questions asked. You have read the reports. You know you are in for a crazy ride. You’ve buckled up and surrounded yourself with all the safety measures you can prepare for. You know who you are and how perfect your home is for the healing of your children. You can see yourself as a complete family. The smiles on their little faces as you tuck them into bed, you can even see the tears streaming down their faces as you gently hand out the consequence that matches the behaviors they are struggling with at the moment. You have read the books, watched the DVD’s, and taken the classes. You’ve got this.
soshewritesweb 