Today I held my son. Not for a "good job" or just an affectionate squeeze. I held him to face his anger and his pain. For one hour and ten minutes I held my son to my breast while he spit, bit, pinched, screamed, kicked, cried and begged to be let go. Through his curses and hate filled words I held him so close to my heart.
I am the mother of a child with RAD. Eight months ago I didn't even know what RAD was. Today I am proficient in treatment. Eight months ago I committed my son to a psychiatric hospital, today I hold him so close to my heart. Eight months ago I thought we were not the right parents for him, today I know we were chosen. For eight years my family struggled through psychiatrists, counselors, social workers and clinicians. No one was able to help. Every day that passed caused our lives to be torn more apart.
My son does not love. Abused and neglected by his birth parents, he learned not to trust anyone. Without a conscience or a soul, he walks this earth. Manipulating and lying he claws his way through each day, using people like objects to get whatever he wants, discarding or abusing them after he is finished.
While searching for help via the Internet, I found other RAD mothers in thelittleprince.org Website. My new friends encouraged me, and gave me a path to get help. The education and information on this site helped me to understand what I was living with. Finding others that live through this same hell, somehow made me much stronger. Eight months ago I was afraid and alone, today I have friends and am determined to help other RAD mothers.
Through an angel we found Beth, an Attachment Therapist. She understands and can help. She listens and makes me laugh. Support, after eight years of being buried by suspicions and accusations. I grab hold of this lifeline and do not let go. Finally there is hope for my family. The work will be hard she warns, but somehow she convinces me that I am strong. She makes me believe that this therapy is fun, and for some strange reason it is. Parenting my RAD becomes easier within weeks.
During our hold, I see a window into his soul. The pain and humiliation he suffered is almost too hard for me to witness. Through his screams and his pain, reliving what he could not stop, helpless in the arms of someone so much stronger, I understand what I could not eight months ago. To survive, he had to build an armored wall around his heart, locking all pain and anger somewhere deep inside.
So to let him know that he's safe, that he can survive both the anger and pain, I hold him so close to my heart. While he screams out abuse, I continually tell him I love him, that he is safe, and will survive. Holding him close, I try to replace the pain with my love. The armor around his heart is melting. I see hope. Smiles from him not seen for eight years, shine out in spite of his efforts to keep them in. A hand reaches to my face for a quick caress rather than a fist to get me away.
We are just in the beginning of our healing journey. He still tries to fall back on his twisted behavior. For some reason understanding RAD and its source and treatment makes living with him easier.
My most beloved child, I will ride through this storm with you. I will never give up. I love you so much. If it takes eight more years, I'll wait. The most glorious day of my life will be the day you tell me you love me back and really mean it. Eight months ago I was reversing this adoption, today I look forward to our future.
