Our Daughter
by Jodi
I once knew this little girl. She was just a baby, 18 months old. I met her for the first time in a visitation room at the Department of Social Services. It was hard to believe, by looking at her, that she had gone through anything more than a "normal" childhood. She had the cutest round cheeks and bright blue eyes. She smiled at everyone and would climb into your lap if you offered. She loved to be pulled around in a little red wagon in the room and frequently pulled it over to anyone who would pull her some more.
No one in the room would guess that this little girl was born just months before severely addicted to a horrific drug, meth. No one would guess she went through withdrawals and cried alone in a crib in a foster home. The foster parents either unwilling or unable to take care of her passed her back to Child Protection Services just months after they got her. And thus began a pattern in her short little life. No one could console this little baby who was suffering so because of her mother's inability to choose right from wrong and good from bad. And so she was passed from foster home to foster home with brief stints in her mother's abusive home in between.
And then a little light turned on for this little baby. A light at the end of the dark tunnel she had been living in. A mother and a father who wanted her. Wanted her no matter what. They believed their love could cure it all. Nothing this little baby was hurting from would be immune to their hugs and kisses. And so they said the "A" word. Adoption. They wanted her to be a part of their family forever. To be their daughter.
It wasn't an easy process. In addition to the months of classes, piles of paperwork, and endless court hearings, the parents had to wait. Hurry up and wait. It seemed like endless days stretched out before them. Until finally near the end of November, just months shy of the little girl's birthday, the judge terminated the mother's rights to the girl. The father's rights had been terminated months before. The waiting game was over. Relief washed over the new mother as she heard those words, "She is yours."
The mother and father drove 8 hours away to pick up the little girl who would soon become their daughter. They hugged her and kissed her and she climbed in their laps and laughed and giggled. She was introduced to her soon-to-be new sisters, all three of them. The three girls were excited to have a new sister joining the family.
Before the adoption could be finalized that little girl had to live with the family for a full 6 months. It didn't take long for those first 6 months to go by. The little girl had adjusted beautifully and seemed like she had always been a part of the family. And then slowly something changed. The happy, fun-loving girl suddenly turned angry and seemed to hate the mother and father who brought her into their family. She would scream, cry, and move away from anyone who tried to console her. She started destroying her toys, books, and bedding.
By now the little girl was 2 1/2 years old. She had been officially adopted and had been living with the new mother and father for a little over a year. The mother, perplexed by this sudden change, sought help. The mother called the social worker who suggested a therapist. The mother called immediately. She explained the anger, destructiveness, the detached feeling the little girl gave. Over the phone the therapist diagnosed this beautiful blond haired, blue-eyed girl with RAD, reactive attachment disorder. The mother hit the internet and tried to learn all she could. What did this diagnosis mean for her little girl? What did it mean for her family? What could they do to help? How long would she suffer?
The parents took the little girl in for a psyc evaluation. The RAD diagnosis was confirmed. The doctor added a few more acronyms, PTSD and ADHD. For awhile the mother kept in contact with the therapist by phone until it became apparent that the little girl needed more than what the mother and father could give her. So they began therapy. Play therapy was the prescribed help. The mother took the little girl, now 4 years old, once a week for an entire year. Was it making a difference? No one could really tell. The therapist thought so and declared the child "attached".
But still the little girl had problems. She wasn't comfortable. She didn't seem relaxed or happy anymore. She babbled incessantly and couldn't even watch 5 minutes of television. She had started preschool and was getting sent to her cubby 25-30 times a day for misbehavior. Desperate to find some help the mother again sought out the therapist. She suggested medicine. The mother was upset. Drugging a 4 year old was not the way to fix the problems this beautiful little girl was experiencing. But the therapist assured her. "Just try it," she said. If it didn't work or the side effects were too profound the medicine could be stopped immediately with no lasting effects. So the mother and father agreed.
The very first day they gave the little girl a pill. She swallowed it in a mouthful of applesauce. Skeptical the parents kept their eye on the little girl all day. It wasn't long after she had taken the pill that the little girl sat and put together a 25 piece puzzle. And then she continued to sit and watch television show after television show. The parents marveled at this new found quiet. The little girl wasn't talking a mile a minute and she was sitting perfectly still and focusing on the cartoon in front of her. Amazing!
The parents reported back to the therapist their astonishment. It was agreed to continue to use the medicine. At the end of the little girl's first week of school while taking the medicine, the teacher called. "What happened?" she wanted to know. This little girl who used to cause such a commotion in the classroom sat down and listened all week. Amazing! At the end of the year the preschool teacher recommended the girl go on to kindergarten only so long as she remains on her medicine.
And so she did. She finished kindergarten with a better attention span but still plagued by many of the symptoms RAD leaves with a child. She seemed to lack some of the skills that she needed to move on to first grade. After a conference with the teacher it was decided, in the best interest of the girl, that she would repeat kindergarten. Fearful for her delicate self-esteem, the parents agreed.
Life at home was still rough for the parents and the little girl. She pushed the limits constantly, she destroyed things in her room until finally her parents had to remove everything except her bed, she was constantly in a fight to control everything around her. The parents remained firm and tried to show compassion without a fear of retribution.
The parents watched as the little girl grew and changed into a beautiful child. She started doing really well in school and was very meticulous to make sure she was pleasing everyone including her parents. And finally at the age of 8 she began to seek out love and attention from her parents. For a RAD child love and attention are the enemy. The child fears love as a heart fears a bullet. They feel love from another human being will be the death of them. And so they fight love with every ounce of energy they have. So it was no small thing that this little girl suddenly started seeking the very thing she had been so afraid of.
The girl is now 9 years old and living a very happy adjusted life with her mom and dad and 6 siblings. She came home from third grade today with her first report card of the year. She proudly walked in and showed it to her mom, who congratulated her and hugged her. For the first time she has earned all A's on her report card. And neither of them could have been more happy for her.
