Bubbly has some issues with sleep. She absolutely CANNOT be in the dark. We remedied that when she came home by adding her “little light” (aka night light) to her room. She still had trouble. Bubbly was shut in dark places quite a bit when she lived in her former home. If it wasn’t dark, it was still enclosed, so she has trouble with any space where the door is shut. We leave the door open, but she still can’t be still. She’s a total sensory seeker. She pretty much goes until she drops of exhaustion. I can imagine that this sensory seeking behavior comes mostly from being deprived of sensory input while she was shut away for so long. We were told this occurred while she was with her birth father or maybe when her birth mother was still around. That was a lie. A lie that cast shame on the one person who tried to do the right thing for her while she was in Ghana. The older kids in our home have told us the story of what happened to Bubbly. We immediately put her in therapy. It’s too bad we didn’t know sooner. We could have helped her sooner. I would have done so many things differently. Lack of food, from being starved as a punishment, plus being hot are also triggers to desperate behaviors. Bubbly’s room gets warm in the summer. We turn on the air, but it’s still hot. We moved her bed near the window to try to help even further with this trigger.
This spot in the room used to be Bubbly’s. Now she sleeps on the other side of the room and the Diva sleeps by the window.
Why would we do this? Well, let me tell you the story. When Bubbly first came home she had mini blinds covering the windows in her room. In her first 14 days home those were bent into a tangled metal mess. I tried roman shades next. She nearly strangled herself with the cord that she ripped out of them while supposedly napping one day. Scary. Those went into the trash the same day and good old fashioned curtains went up. Yesterday I caught Bubbly, again while “napping”, climbing her bookshelf and hanging on the curtain rod. I caught her when the whole darn thing nearly came down on top of her. She can’t stop herself. She had beautiful butterflies above her bed like the Diva does. Those were ripped down within 48 hours of me putting them up. So, while the Diva has cute decor like this…
Bubbly has bare walls. There is seriously NOTHING surrounding her bed except a hole in the drywall. A hole she picked.
I hate these behaviors. They infuriate the type A in me that loves a beautifully decorated kid’s room. And, it hurts my heart that she looks at her sister’s side of the room that has these beautiful decorations and then is forced to acknowledge the wreckage she created. Then, I get angry. Anger leads to hate.
I hate the person who did the the things to her that lead to these behaviors. I hate the person who stood idly by and didn’t tell me it was happening to her even though they were warned that it was a possibility. I hate that they let me flounder with her for MONTHS thinking this was just “adjustment” when it was so much more. I hate them all. I’m filled with hate. Until…
I see her again and I’m reminded about what matters. Healing her sad little heart. I’m off to yet another seminar next week on children with institutionalized behaviors and trauma in their past. A conference for parents with children with special needs.
I have a daughter with special needs.
Just typing it out makes the cycle of anger, hatred and then sadness start all over again. I have a daughter who needs “services”. I have a daughter that now has a diagnosis. I’m one of those parents, the kind who spends her days worrying about her daughter’s every reaction to things. Will this be a trigger? Why is she doing that? Is she improving? Is she regressing again? I’m one of those parents who reads all the books, desperately seeking a method that might reach her. I’m one of those parents. The kind who refuses to give up.
This week has been a rough week. As Bubbly flounders, other people move on. Time marches on for some of the people who had a hand in this. All while my daughter continues to suffer. With four other children in my home at the time, this is not something I would have chosen to take on. Adding two more would not have been in the plan had I known that this wasn’t just “adjustment”, that this might be permanent. Then, I remember the phrase that is now written in the front of Bubbly’s baby book.
You are where you are meant to be.
I’m going to cling to this again as we navigate another bumpy road. We are all here, we are all together, nothing is more important than that.
who hates having to type it out.