The view from up here...

Rough morning.  Monday mornings are always hard for Princess.  And then there was this:

She had a friend sleep over Saturday night (Shy Friend.)  Her mom was supposed to pick her up at 9 a.m.  At 3 p.m. we hadn't heard from her and calls to her (as well as her aunt) just went to voice mail.  I drove her to her house and her mom was there.  I just dropped her off because I was too upset to deal with her mom without seeming totally mental (I'm such a crier when my emotions are strong.)

So guess what?  That totally jacked up my kid.  Her friend's mom didn't pick her up.   Didn't even call.  This is her biggest fear.  She was emotional and clingy the whole rest of the night.

And it carried over into this morning.  That combined with clasic Monday-itus and not feeling well because the school is infested with cockroaches, which has triggered a big allergic reaction, and it was a rough morning.

BFF's mom came to get her anyway and in trying to help, made things way worse.  She told Princess to get ready because she was running BFF and the other girl she takes in the mornings to school and coming back to get her.

This triggered Princess's PTSD in a major way.  As soon as BFF's mom was out of the door, she panicked. She was absolutely terrified.   "HURRY, MOMMA!!! HURRY!!!!  WE HAVE TO GO BEFORE SHE GETS BACK!!!!"

Something switched in her.   It wasn't BFF's mom anymore.  It wasn't about getting her to school.  She truly thought someone was on their way to take her away from me.

It was heart breaking.

For those of you who think I'm not not firm enough with her and that I baby her too much on this school thing, I say screw that this morning. I will continue doing my best to get her to school these next 11 days and will regroup over the summer and try to figure out some new tools for helping her cope, but her emotional needs always come first.  Yes, she needs to learn to power through her anxiety.  She's not going to learn that when she's in fight-or-flight mode, though.  Impossible.

She was convinced someone was coming to rip her out of my arms and was screaming that we needed to leave, to run.  So we got in the car and drove around the block.  I called BFF's mom and told her what was happening.  She came back so she could explain to Princess that she was only trying to help and would never keep her way from me and didn't mean to scare her.

Princess and I went inside for a big snuggle.  We both calmed down.  I drove her to school.

11 more days.

She has an IEP and the school is very aware of her insomnia and anxiety, as well as her struggles getting to school.  They are working with her on staying on top of her work.  I'm not worried about school. I'm not worried about academics.

My focus is on her emotional health.

But for now, I'm going to focus on the view from up here instead because it makes me giggle and giggling is good for the soul:

Skipping school

Last week was hard for Princess.  She was feeling the anniversary of us becoming a family three years ago hard.  Her whole world changed when she came to live with us. She met us the first time on a Monday and was ours forever that Friday.  This meant leaving her siblings and everything she knew behind.  She stayed in a hotel for the first time and took her first plane ride when she moved from Texas to Florida to join our family.  Scary stuff.

Separating from me to go to school has been hard for her the entire three years she's been with us.  She started middle school this year and the chaos and drama that experience brings "typical" kids is compounded about a zillion times for Princess. It's been a rough year.

She couldn't do school Monday or Tuesday of last week.  Just melted down.  Totally.  I tried to get her there using a variety of tactics (some - the ones that caused more guilt and shame - I'm not proud of), but she just couldn't do it.  She made it for two hours Wednesday and called crying.  She was physically ill from the stress.

I decided I was fine with her skipping school if she wasn't emotionally able to handle it. Her emotional needs outweighed her academic needs - besides what would she really be able to absorb at school in such a stressed out state?   It took me a while to get to that point and I had to repeat the process of getting there each day she stayed home, but I kept coming back to, "She's telling me she can't handle it and I need to meet that need."  

So we slept.  We snuggled.  She played Sims near me while I worked.

We cooked breakfast.  Egg cups one morning.

And Princess learned to make omelets the next.  

We created a little garden.

We did crafts.

We loved on the animals.

She was so proud when she made it for a full day on Thursday.  And then held it together for a field trip two hours away on Friday.

Hopefully tomorrow will go smoothly.

But if it doesn't, we'll get through it together.

Like we do with everything.

Mother's Day

We had a really wonderful Mother's Day.  It took me by surprise.  I wasn't expecting it.

Princess became mine on more than just paper the week after Mother's Day three years ago.  Our first Mother's Day weekend (two years ago) included a trip to the hospital for a psych evaluation with police escort (against our wishes) after a massive meltdown.  Last year didn't involve police or hospitals, but did still involve big meltdowns and lots of wonky behavior.

I decided we'd just skip it this year.  I know Princess loves me and is attached.  I don't need a commercialized day that triggers her and makes her think of all the other "mother" figures who screwed her over to make me feel good about myself.

I told her we were skipping it and she didn't need to give it another thought.

We invented "Moghter's Day" instead (Mother-Daughter day) and went to lunch at Ruby Tuesday's after her soccer game Saturday to celebrate.

Then she got invited to spend the afternoon with BFF and sleep over at her house.  I reminded her before she left that we weren't doing Mother's Day, so not to worry about it if BFF and her mom were talking about it.  She'd already come home stressed from being with them Wednesday after hearing them discuss it.

I picked her up at 9 a.m. Sunday morning and she came to the door wearing one of my nightgowns.  She likes to pack my clothes when she's away.  She gave me a huge hug when we got in the car and said, "Happy Mother's Day!!!!"

I thanked her and reminded her we didn't have to do that.

She was a little weepy and sensitive at home with her Dad.  She admitted she didn't want to skip Mother's Day and swore she could handle it.  She said she wanted me to have a special day.

We decided to go to brunch at a place we love on the beach.  We ate lots of yummy food, had great conversation, checked out the resort's pool, looked at the ocean and walked around the grounds.

After discussing how much we wished we had a pool, we stopped and bought a cheap kiddie pool on the way home.  We went home and plopped our butts down in it with Ellie, who didn't appreciate soaking in the cool hose water as much as us.

I let my hillbilly roots show and brought out body wash, shampoo and conditioner and let her bathe in it, using the hose to rinse off.  She thought that was so cool.

She wrote me the most beautiful letter and presented it like a scroll, tied up with pink ribbon.

The three of us watched a movie together as a family.  We both went to sleep feeling happy and loved.

It was a beautiful day - the type so many trauma moms dream of, but don't get because Mother's Day is freaking HARD for our kids!  I took the pressure off it by declaring we were skipping it.  I wasn't trying to do a reverse psychology type thing, but that's what happened.

I just wanted a day without my kid going crazy because the day stirred up so many big feelings.  Actually, have a good day?   AMAZING.

I had a coffee and gab session with several professionals yesterday.  One of them shared that 20 kids took sedatives and nearly as many were hospitalized from the foster care group facility in our town over Mother's Day weekend. The clinical director had no clue that it was a trigger and they were totally unprepared.  So sad.  Their job is to know these things.

Foster kids are in so much pain and very often so misunderstood.  I wish they all had moms of their own to help them through it - even though many can't celebrate Mother's Day without melt down.

Why we didn't celebrate "gotcha day" today on the third anniversary of becoming a family

We met Princess three years ago today!   What a difference three years makes!

I first saw her face on an adoption.com photo listing in October of 2009.   I distinctly remember reaching out to stroke her cheek on the screen and saying, "I could be your Mommy."

She's the only child I remember doing that with.

She was eight at the time and her skin looked very dark in the photo.  It's sad, but I knew her age and skin color worked against her getting adopted, which gave us an advantage.

In November, our case worker called to say we were being considered for a little girl, but she lost the contact info to call in for the  match meeting.  She remembered the child's name and because I had kept a spreadsheet of our inquiries, I was able to find the info.

This turned out to be Princess, of course.

The photo listing description described her emotional needs as mild. Our case worker paused the match meeting to call us to say, "That description is so wrong!  Not mild!  She's in a PSYCH HOSPITAL RIGHT NOW.  Do you want me to continue with the meeting?"

She gave us a bit of information.  It all sounded so situational    She sounded like a little girl in pain who was slipping through the cracks without the right help.  We said, "We're still in."

Then we heard NOTHING.

Until December - nearly a full month later.

Her side forgot to tell our case worker that we were chosen.  The match meeting was the afternoon before the office shut down for a long Thanksgiving weekend.

We were stunned when we finally got the news and quickly confirmed that we wanted to move forward.

But...we weren't allowed to give her official "yes" until we read her foster care file.

It took six weeks to arrive.  That put us as the end of January.

Obviously, we said yes.  ICPC started about a week later.  Texas said to expect four weeks.  It took twelve.  Almost all of the hold-ups were on Florida's side.

Then the school year was so close to finishing that we all agreed pulling her would be cruel.  So we waited a few more weeks.

We finally got to meet her seven months after we inquired about her and six months after we were chosen to be her parents.  She'd been in foster care for five years and desperately wanted a family, but didn't even know we existed until days before we arrived.

We thought we'd be meeting alone with her case worker first and were shocked to see a little girl with big, terrified brown eyes and greasy hair meet us at the office door.  She was our girl.

She had turned 9 by then, but was so much tinier than I expected.  Her hair was slathered in grease as her caregiver's solution to an ongoing lice problem she had in foster care.  I knelt down, looked her in her eyes and whispered, "We're scared, too.  It's okay.  We'll get through it together."

It didn't take long for it to come out that her case worker calmed her down enough to get her over to the office to meet us by promising her we'd take her to Walmart to buy her whatever she wanted and that if she was a good girl in Florida we'd also adopt her baby brother.  You can imagine the devastation when she found out neither was reality.

We went to lunch with her case worker and CASA at a pizza buffet.  The case worker said in front of her that her tantrums kept her from getting adopted in the past.  Then we were left alone with her for the rest of the day.  She had just met as an hour earlier.

My girl is smart.  She wailed all the way to the hotel.  She wailed through the lobby.  She wailed all the way up the elevator.  She wailed her way into our room.  And kept wailing.

I'd done my research.  Plus, my background is in at risk children.  I knew exactly what was going on.

Her subconscious was saying, "If people can't handle my tantrums, why should I go all the way to Florida only to be sent back again?  Let's get this out of the way right here and now to save us all some time."

We stayed right with her and didn't call her case worker to come retrieve her.  We brought her back to the group home as instructed and picked her up after school the next day.  We met her on a Monday and she was ours forever that Friday.   She stayed at our hotel with us for the weekend (and was so thrilled when I helped her wash all the grease out of her hair - and leave it out).  Then the three of us flew to Florida together on Sunday.  Her case worker flew in the next day to make the placement official in our home.

The adoption was official to us as soon as we found out we were chosen to be her parents and decided to go forward.  We were committed to her.  There was no turning back.  She had to live with us for six months before the adoption was legal, but that was just more paper work to us.

Someone asked me today what we're going to do to celebrate.  We've talked about it, of course.   The letter I posted yesterday is one I actually gave to Princess - handwritten in my horrible writing.  I mentioned it this morning and we both said, "Happy family-versary!"

But it wasn't a happy day for her.  She's glad she's with us now, but becoming part of our family was terrifying and stressful for her.   Big "gotcha day" fanfare just doesn't seem right.  We didn't acquire a new couch.  We added a traumatized child who had been through the ringer to our family.  A child.  With big feelings about what happened to her, most of which were not happy at the time.

So while I've been nostalgic today, there aren't streamers and cupcakes.    We'll do that a bit of that in a week or two when the emotions have settled down.  Today mostly went on just like a normal 'ol day.

Princess went on a field trip and called me on the bus ride home to excitedly tell me about it.  We ate dinner together and tucked her in.

It was a typical day in our family and that is more than enough to bring a celebratory smile to my face.

Letter to my daughter in honor of the third anniversary of becoming a forever family

Dear Princess,

You are my baby.  The center of my heart.  Nothing will ever change that.

I am yours. You are mine.  That is that.

Final.

Forever.

Always.

For keeps.

I will keep telling you this for as long as you need to hear it.

And I will NEVER give up on you or my love for you.

I might give up on the fight to save our relationship from stress, but that is not giving up on you.

Three years ago you must have been soooooo very scared.  My poor little baby.  You found out you were getting adopted and moving all the way to Florida  with people you'd never met.  Your whole world was changing...AGAIN...and you had no one you could lean on to help you through it yet.

Dad and I were also getting ready for our lives to change.  We were finally getting to bring our baby home!  YOU!  We were all scared, nervous and overwhelmed - especially you, Sweet Girl.  You had already been through so much and had no reason to trust or believe that we were different.

But you are SO, so, so very BRAVE and generous that you decided to give us a chance. I'm so glad!

Little by little, you saw that we were committed to you, that we loved you, that we would keep you save and take care of you, that we were a real family and we meant it when we said we were your LAST parents!

You started to open up about your past, your feelings and your fears.  You let us comfort you and help you put words to all of the big feelings swirling around inside of you:  anger, confusion, guilt, fear, shame, sadness, loneliness, grief.  So much pain.   We all  began working hard to heal those hurt parts and to make up for all you missed out on.  We even redid all of your birthdays with cupcakes, pictures, decorations, games and presents!

You work so hard to over come what happened to you before us.  You've come so far, Monkey.  You amaze me every single day.  I'm a very proud and happy mommy!

What a journey these three years have been.  I wouldn't trade a single minute with you - not even the hard ones.  There are things I wish I would have done differently, but I've always done the best I could at the time.

And I know you do the best you can, too.

I am your mamma bear. I may be a cry baby, but I will fiercely protect you with all my might and show my claws and teeth any time I need to.  So will Dad.  We will move mountains to do what is best for you.  No matter what.

You are my baby kangaroo and my pouch is always open to you - even though you're working on growing your independence these days and I'm working on letting you (it's hard!).

Three years, Bugga-Boo.

I wish it was 12. You deserved to have parents like us your whole life and I'm sorry that didn't happen.

We're here now and we aren't going ANYWHERE.  You're stuck with us your whole life.

I know coming to live with us was scary and hard.  Becoming part of a forever family was also hard.  You weren't sure what it meant to be a family girl, but you were willing to figure it out with us.

I know you still struggle with some of those same big feelings and you don't always know how to handle the shame and fear you have inside.  That's okay.

I know you get so tired of working so hard on your hurt parts and feel you'll never sort through it all.  That's okay, too.

Dad and I will always be here to help you.  Even we get tired and feel like we aren't doing enough sometimes.  We always bounce back and so do you.  Together.

So if those big feelings are swirling around this week as we hit the anniversary of becoming a forever family, it's okay.  It's normal to have those big feelings.  This is a traumaversary for you, filled with triggers.  Your whole life changed when you came to live with us.  You lost your siblings, home for the last six months, which was filled with girls you cared about and houseparents you liked and even your state.  How terrifying!

So it's okay to feel shaken up right now as your body, heart and brain remember that fear and grief.  It was a scary time.

One of the first things I said to you when I FINALLY got to see your beautiful face in person (after seven months of waiting) was, "It's okay to be scared.  We'll get through it together."

And we have.  So many times.

And we ALWAYS will.

Happy (sad, scary, complicated, overwhelming) three years, baby girl!  I love you to the moon and beyond, forever and always.

Mommy

Calming glitter bottles

A reader named Rakuzen posted the link to directions for calm down jars last month.  The little girl in the photo on that website has a glass jar.  I was thinking, "Your kid must not need very much calming if a glass jar is safe!"

The feeling was reinforced when I posted photos of our finished product on Facebook and one of my trauma mom friends confessed to having strong urges to smash them.

So, yeah, we didn't do glass.  We used plastic bottles.

Princess's is the purple one.   It's in a Voss plastic water bottle.  All I could find for mine was a diet coke bottle.  SOOOOO not as cool as hers!

I gave mine to BFF.  I wrote on it, "Stop, take a deep breath, watch the glitter and relax.  We love you."   Hopefully, it will be a good tool in calming the anger she's been throwing at her mom... and hopefully she won't use the bottle as a tool to literally throw at her mom.

They were fun to make and watching the glitter swirl around really is mesmerizing.

Voices of the Year

BlogHer is accepting nominations for Voices of the Year until tomorrow.

If you have a favorite post - from this blog or any others - click on over to submit it!  It only takes a minute.  You do have to have a BlogHer account to nominate, but it is also quick and free.

http://www.blogher.com/annoucing-voices-year-13-submissions-are-open