This Girl

It was almost 4 years ago now that we met our girls for the first time.  Amie was 2 ½ and had only a few words - “agua” (the girls had lived in a Spanish only speaking home for quite awhile), “no” and “Emy," which she called Annie, almost as if she had no identity and Annie was an extension of herself.  There was no laughter and there were no tears from this girl.  Just a pathetic little patting of the spot next to her in her bed wanting me to snuggle her.  That was all the communicating her needs that she could muster.  I wrote a post about this on her third birthday, sharing that she really had no concept of who she was, no identity, and how giving her a new name began a process of her coming into her own.  Now that I really know her, I see that she had learned really quickly that being quiet and sitting on someone’s lap had kept her safe - from her sister’s inability to control her own body, and probably from adults as well.  I remember our first walk to the park took two adults and 4 older children to keep the girls safe - Annie from running absolutely everywhere, including the street, and pulling Amie along, because she had never really walked anywhere before - I don’t think, anyway.

But this girl.  This little girl has become herself in so many ways.  She is a superhero loving, princess dress wearing, tree climbing, Taylor Swift dancing, coloring sweetheart of a girl.  In four years she has learned to talk, to walk, run, ride a bike, scooter, and skateboard.  She is a good friend.  She is a cuddler who loves to have her back scratched.  And she knows who she is.  For pajama day this week at school, she wore “boy” Spiderman jammies and owned them so much no one even questioned it, while all the other girls had pink.  She rocks her Star Wars vans, while wearing bows in her hair.  She can rival any boy her age in the tree climbing, soccer ball kicking, basketball shooting categories.  

She no longer allows Annie to take her sensory needs out on her - she defends herself AND uses her words.  She asks for what she needs.  She laughs and she cries, and throws temper tantrums on occasion.  And I’m okay with that, because she feels safe enough now to do the developmental things she should have felt safe to do when she was two.

Yesterday, she won third place in a coloring contest.  (Which, by the way, is huge for a FASD kid, they usually are a number of years behind in development, so for her to “be in step” with her fine motor skills to kids of all ages is incredible).  Today was Superhero day at school, so today was basically, for her, the BEST DAY EVER, because she gets to share her accomplishment by showing her class the stuffed spider she won yesterday in the contest AND wear a Wonder Woman costume.  She walked onto that playground this morning with the biggest smile on her face, and was still grinning like crazy when I left her back at her classroom.  

I stood and watched from afar for awhile, crying happy tears at that sweet, happy little face. Because this girl.  This girl with her athletic ability, tree climbing, superhero loving, princess dress wearing, sweet loving heart, has come into her own. Her superpower? Overcoming incredible obstacles and blooming into one amazing little person who has our hearts.

Are You Still My Mom?

Today was rough.  Not the worst we’ve ever had, and not entirely unusual, but worse than it’s been in awhile.

From school pick up at 2pm ‘til I put them to bed at 7:30, it was CHAOS.  This is an incomplete recap of our afternoon and evening.  Yes, yes, there was more.

2:30-5pm Temper tantrum, wailing and gnashing of teeth (literally), rending of bedding, “I’m getting a new family,”  “I want a new mom,” (one kid), while the other was talking incessantly about two new friends she made at school in between getting upset about the other one being upset and responding with verbal abuse to said other child.  Temper tantrum regarding the fact that I let sister play with old (not connected) iPhone while she played with BRAND NEW KINDLE FIRE she owns because she won it in a library raffle.   Said electronics were confiscated for the evening. It was a downward spiral from there.

5-7:30pm.  More crying, fighting, bickering.  “Can we go play with our new bouncy balls in the field behind the house?”  Yes, please.  Stay where you can see our house.  Husband walks in door from 12 hours at work at almond harvest, to eat dinner and leave again, and I turn around and they are out of sight.  I run out into the 30 ACRE  field.  Nowhere to be found.  I hear a blood curdling scream, still can’t see anyone.  After screaming their names myself, I see Annie running to me, “Amie’s stuck!”  I run down our row of houses backing up to the field, to what would be the OTHER END OF THE BLOCK and there is Amie, holding onto a fence crying and screaming like a banshee because HER SHOE IS IN SOMEONE’S BACKYARD.  I retrieve shoe.  I retrieve children and dog and dolls and bouncy balls.

Walk back.  Tell girls to play in back yard.  Feed husband.  Try to talk to husband. “I want water.”  “You can wait.  I’m trying to talk to Dad.”  Look out the window.  She is filling a cup of water from the pool.  I decide I don’t care.  Until she drops said cup and decides to stick her head UNDER THE POOL COVER to try to grab the cup.  Fails.  Decides WHAT THE HELL and throws 3 cups, a plate full of paint from painting earlier (I won’t say how many days earlier), a fairy house from painting unnamed days earlier, and a chair.  Literally all in one minute.  I head out and make her clean it all up.  Walk back in, husband has finished food and is gone.

I had actually been a trouper to this point.  Used my “don’t mess with mommy” voice, but didn’t yell, didn’t spank, held at appropriate times, and held firm at appropriate times.  But this time, I cry.

I tried to explain that their bad choices literally took the 5 minutes we had with Daddy today away from us, and that our tired Daddy came home for a little rest and food, and got CHAOS.  Annie, “I’m sorry, Mommy.”  Amie, “Are you still my mom?”

Sigh.

Are you still my mom.  She knew it was a rough day.  She knew she had crossed several lines, and her fear was if she was still mine.

In my tears, I got down on her level and looked straight in her eyes and with everything in me, said, “Yes, yes, yes.  I am and will always and forever be your mom.  No matter what you say to me, no matter what you do, I am your mom.  I chose you.  YOU ARE MINE.”  Annie wanted forgiveness, but Amie wanted to know her place in my heart was secure.

Wearily, I got them both to bed.  (Tee shirts and dirty faces and tangled hair and no brushing of teeth this night and I don’t care.)  I did threaten big trouble if there were any nighttime wanderings.  I don’t think I could be held accountable for what I may do if I were to have to parent any more.  I made myself a stiff drink (don’t judge) and sat by the pool in the cool of the evening.  Out came the stars, and right in front of me, the Big Dipper.

I have looked out at that constellation many an evening–particularly when we lived in Washington, I would go out on our balcony each night and look at it a few minutes while listening to the frogs sing in the creek nearby.  It always makes me ponder God’s greatness, His bigness, and His faithfulness.  It’s always there.  He’s always there.

As I looked this night at the Big Dipper so large, so close, framed by the perimeter of our fenced back yard, I thought of Chris Tomlin’s song, “You are Amazing, God.” He sings, “You placed the stars in the sky and you know them by name, you are amazing, God.”  I was reminded again of God’s great love, and God’s great faithfulness to me.  He is bigger than behavioral problems.  He is bigger than chairs in the pool and messes on the floor, and dinner thrown in the trash.  He loves me and has chosen me and I will always be His.  He is faithful to me in this calling he has placed on me to be these children's mommy.  He is faithful to them, to call them to a higher purpose, and to love them as they are.  He chose them, literally pulled them out of the muck and mire of their former homes and gave them a firm place to stand with Him and with us.

And maybe, as I parent them, in a day like to today, and with all my heart can say, “Yes, yes, yes, I am your mommy forever no matter what!”, I will be able to help them get a glimpse of God’s faithfulness, His everlasting love, and their eternal belonging to them.  His choosing of them.  That, my friends, will make it all worth it.  For now, I’ll be happy if they sleep all night.  I’m off to do laundry and bed, and love them more tomorrow.

Occupational Therapy Saved Our Lives!

Energetic.  Whirlwind.  Dynamo.  Energetic.  Vivacious.  Survivor.  Courageous.  Brave.  Did I mention energetic?  These are all words used to describe our daughter, Annie.  Annie came to live with us, along with her little sister Amie, nearly 12 months ago through a fost-to-adopt program.  Annie is 4 years old and counting our home, has lived with five different families.  She has experienced much neglect and much abuse, and obviously a lot of transition in her short little life.

When I met her, my first impression was “wild kitten.”  She was constantly on the move, scratched and bit anyone that seemed a threat, was nearly non-verbal, and could not be contained.  We knew parenting her would be a challenge, but we also knew that God was calling us to this and after one meeting, Annie had a big place in our hearts.

Annie was diagnosed with mild-mental retardation, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and Attachment Disorder, along with ADHD.  As a youth pastor to troubled youth for 15 years, foster parent, and also having worked as a substitute teacher for a number of years, I have worked with many kids, but I have never seen the energy level that Annie had.  Her attention span could be as short as 20 seconds.  In just a few minutes’ time, she could go up and down our stairs, through each room in the house, and pull things out of cupboards and closets.  When her body was constrained in her high chair or car seat, she would talk non-stop, repeating things over and over, as if her brain could just not rest or pause.  (Once she said "Mommy" 300 times in 5 minutes while driving in the car. Yes, I counted.) In addition to this, I noticed she seemed to always be “off-kilter”, leaning forward and to the side a bit as she walked (well, ran, really, Annie never did anything slowly).  She was constantly crashing into things and people, tripping over things, and falling down nearly every 5 steps she took, without registering pain.

A physical therapists’ assessment deemed her walking and muscle tone as “normal” and other assessments just placed her as “delayed” and “energetic.”  Much of her issues were attributed to the lack of stability in her life as well as her mental delays.   We began seeing a family therapist who specializes in traumatized kids to help us parent Annie and Amie.  She explained to us that much of the aggression and energy levels could also be a result of the PTSD.  Further reading confirmed this - kids like Annie who have lived in unsafe environments for an extended period of time experience chemical changes in their brains.  Too much adrenaline and cortisol coursing through her little body has kept her on the alert and “safe,” however, when placed in a stable and caring environment, her body and brain still wanted to be on the ready, causing the extreme level of activity.

Although Annie was beginning to attach to us, in May, around her fourth birthday a lot of the energy turned to aggression towards me and toward her sister and brother.  She was constantly arguing with me, pushing, hitting, and fighting any instruction.  After about two months of continual battles with her to do anything, to talk nicely, or to behave at all, we were nearly at our wits’ end.  Apparently, Annie was too, although we did not understand why.  It was our therapist who made the discovery, and suggested that Annie may have Sensory Integration Disorder.  As I did research on this subject, it was a resounding, “YES!!”  We were filled with hope that we could do something to help Annie thrive and settle into herself and her family.

My brother-in-law is an administrator of a physical therapy wing of a local convalescent hospital which employed a woman named Maria as an Occupational Therapist.  He discussed Annie with Maria one day and asked about Bal-A-Vis-X therapy.  Maria, being the giving soul she is, offered to work with Annie one on one in her home.  

We began the therapy, and after just one session I saw improvements in Annie’s behavior.  Annie lasted 12 minutes in her first session and had a “normal” level of energy for a kid her age the rest of the evening, even going to bed early that night.  We have been meeting with Maria two times a week for 30 minutes each, and we have seen an amazing improvement in all areas of Annie’s life!  

Since starting Bal-A-Vis-X, Annie has been walking more upright and has reduced her crashing significantly, only now doing so when she is really tired.  After just four sessions, Annie ran ½ mile non-stop on uneven ground without falling.  She has started potty-training, pretending, speaking in 3 and 4 word sentences, and will play for 15-20 minutes at a time now.  She has become much less combative verbally with me, and the aggression toward her siblings has been reduced to almost nothing.  I believe this therapy is helping Annie get a sense of herself, and herself in her world.  Because she is becoming more in control of her body, she is feeling better about herself and is behaving more positively in every aspect of her life.  

I had a little dream of having a Disney family movie night after the girls joined our family.  With Annie, I knew this would be a long way off, maybe even a year or two from now.  A few weeks ago, that dream was realized when Annie sat and cuddled me while we all watched Toy Story 3 in its entirety.  My little girl, who a few months ago couldn’t sit for more than a minute or two snuggled with me for an hour!

I thank God for leading us to Maria, and I am so grateful for Maria and her time with Annie as well as this therapy, which to our family, is nothing less than miraculous.

Energetic, dynamo, and all the other words still describe Annie, but I can add “happy” to the list now.  I can’t wait to see what else we can say about Annie in the future, thanks in large part to Maria and Bal-A-Vis-X.

Note: I wrote this for a Bal-A-Vis-X therapist newsletter in September after 2 months of the therapy. Annie has continued therapy and now Amie is doing 2 sessions a week as well. They both have come so far, they learned to ride bikes last week!

For more information about Bal-A-Vis-X, check out their website: www.bal-a-vis-x.com