That's stupid

It seems odd where conversations come from and how they end up in unusual places.  I can't quite recall at what point this one started as we were driving home from some outing with Flossy, Lotty and Peanut.

Flossy and Lotty were somewhat perplexed/indignant at the legal technicality's of the adoption process. The kind of perplexed/indignant that adolescents do with such flair and verve it seems a shame that it's wasted on them. Fortunately, there ire wasn't aimed at me.

Peanut was listening but was also admiring the 'precious' stones that she'd acquired in a car park, I'd negotiated her down from two 'precious' half bricks and a couple of lumps of 'precious' railway ballast. We don't need any more 'precious' things hidden in her room.

Flossy and Lotty set about me.

So, you're saying that our mam* is not our mam when she clearly is my mam. 

Me: Only legally,  of course she is biologically your mam. 

But you're saying she's not our mam.

Me: No, I'm saying she is your mam but when the adoption order was made the birth certificate was changed and me and your mam were put on as your parents. 

But you're not our mam and dad.

Me: Well I am but I'm not...... 

Ok, what about Kasey** is she our sister?

Me: Well.......... yes of course she's your sister but from a legal position................(I trail off realising that I don't know)............Legally, you don't have the same mother.

But she is our mother and Kasey is our sister

Me: Yes, but not legally............. 

So, you're saying that she's not our mother?

This goes on for a while and blissfully is ended when we arrive home. After a brief negotiation Peanut agrees that the 'precious' stone can live with the other 'precious' stones on the drive.

Flossy and Lotty slink into the house and with a parting shot aimed with the brilliance of teenage girls they declared:

That's stupid


I agreed.
Increasingly, I'm at a loss as to how to hold all the needs of all the people in tension. Sometimes none of this makes sense.






* Birth mam
**Older biological sister

Trauma Denial Trope

So you're having a chat with a friend or a family member and you get round to talking about some incident at home or school. The usual stuff a challenge that  your little one has with crowds or anxiety in different environments and the subsequent unraveling or slip from the 'norm' of accepted behaviour. Then the person who you're talking to stops and drops in some trauma denial trope or other.

'Do you not think they should be over it yet?' or 'children need to be in that environment, that's how they learn'.

The conversation goes on and it's clear regardless of how thorough or scientific your description of the impacts of early trauma, loss and separation are they are not going to have it.

They really are not willing to accept my rational, detailed and factual explanation of my child's inner world.

Stop there, I'm stuck at that point. As I walk away from that conversation I can't help feeling more than a little frustrated that this person can't understand the inner world of my children. I feel hurt, of course you do you insult my child you hurt me.

I can totally understand people not knowing the impacts of trauma but refusing to change their position or accept facts seems genuinely shocking. More than that it feels like there's sometimes an accusation hidden in there.

That I'm weak and being soft on 'bad behaviour', a permissive parent, liberal do gooder or a bleeding heart. Do they think I'm afraid of calling out poor behaviour and instigating consequences and firm boundaries. It's hurtful that someone who, we hope, cares for us and would have our best interests at heart believes that we're misguided and are condoning, as they see it, unacceptable behaviour.

I wonder if it strikes to a deeper issue that in their minds my children remain 'others', cuckoos, part of our family but  not of our family. Do they consider my child to be a 'wrong un'.
I hope that's not the case, I really hope that's not the case.

I'm still surprised that 19 years after setting out on this journey there are still people close to us who are choosing dogma over science and judgement over compassion.

A Guest Post: FASD & CPV

A guest post by an Anonymous Mum

Last night I came home from work and my 4 year old son wouldn’t let me in the kitchen. He was with my partner and he slammed the door in my face and screamed that I couldn’t come in. Later that evening, I tried to ask him not to splash water from the bath all over the bathroom floor. He’s not learnt to swear yet but his response was raw piercing screams of ‘go away’ and ‘I don’t like you.’ That morning he had arrived at school and promptly hit his friend in the face, making him cry.

Physical and verbal outbursts are a daily occurrence with my son and they are by far the most difficult thing about parenting him. Both at school and home he can hit, kick, push, bite, scream, slam, knock and throw things and the force behind these explosions can make them feel ferocious, and shocking.

There is a reason for the outbursts -  they are symptoms of his brain being injured by alcohol when it was growing in the womb. He has something that is rarely acknowledged or spoken about, foetal alcohol spectrum disorders - FASD. A damagingly hidden and stigmatised condition, FASD is a spectrum that is thought to be more common than autism and to affect up to 75% of 0-4 aged adopted children. Not all children with FASD will be violent to this extent but some aggression is very common.

One of the most maddening characteristics of this injury is its unpredictability. It is uncertain, spiky, and volatile. A good brain day, hour or minute can pass with very little incident. My son can be charming, funny, loving, eager and sweet.

But on a bad brain day his mood can switch to red rage in an instant. Then there seems to be an urge that must be followed through. He needs to get to you, to hit you in the face, to kick, to throw things at you. Faced with this, I find the biggest challenge is not to join him in the rage. When a random attack fit for the marines is upon you it is very difficult not to respond.

The anger I feel is based in fear. Fear for the future when my already incredibly physically strong 4 year old gets bigger and stronger. And the threats and insults become more and more offensive.

And I rail against this. Because I would never dream of associating with someone violent as a friend or partner.  And I have moments of outrage at the idea of putting up with attacks or abuse. If that came from a partner you could be protected. People would rush to condemn them and to get you to safety. But how are we going to be safe? Who is going to protect us? Who is going to help us? And what are we going to do?

When I’m in a more regulated place however, I know what ‘works’ better than anything. And that is the beauty of knowing about FASD. Once you truly understand that this violent behaviour is symptoms, you can try and change your response. You would not tell a wheelchair user to get up and walk. And while behaviours shouldn’t just be tolerated, in the moment of overwhelm, it is the symptoms of a physical and medical condition that are at work.

There are lots of ideas out there on how to respond, and I recently came across some great advice on youtube here  Staying calm, not talking, disengaging and not reacting are some of the hardest but best things to do. Re-directing to a calm space, is also something to try so that in the end the person with FASD can understand what they need to do for themselves to regulate and come down.

But such positive self-help is unlikely for the huge number of kids with FASD who are being misunderstood. Stigma and lack of awareness means they are being mis-labelled as naughty or as having attachment disorder and misdiagnosed with conditions like ADHD and autism. It’s often said that FASD co-occurs with these. It doesn’t. It mimics and is similar to them but it is not the same. We must have more proper research, recognition and diagnosis of FASD so that we can better understand and manage this surprisingly common condition and its sometimes violent symptoms.

Clichés & Hope

Some days it feels like I’m living a collection of clichés that are straight from the section at the back of the Big Book of Adoption. The section called 'At the end of a great day we have a bad night'.

Oh boy, what a bad night. I mean how many blog posts, book chapters, support group discussions, social work hours have been consumed with that topic.

'We had such a lovely day at the beach and it came as such a shock when they bit the wing mirror off the car when we got home and ate the cat'

I'm almost embarrassed to say how surprised I was that after a lovely day out with laughing, smiling, conversation and fun we ended in a full on ding dong with all that means. Not nice, but not a unique experience in any way. Once again, my head drops and I'm cast into the shadows.

You'd have thought that by now I'd be wary, guarded and wise to such shenanigans. It seems like so much of my life is a well worn path, with patterns that return and return, the stories that I read in blog posts and twitter threads all ring true and resonate. Perhaps that's why the fellowship we get from twitter is such a tonic. A cohort that gets it, truly gets it, and understands the metaphoric and very real slap that some of our daily experiences represent to our bodies and soul.

I chatted to a very wise friend and as we considered the future. All we could have hope for was the days ahead. I believe that I can do the days ahead.
Sometime my hope stretches to months and years ahead, sometimes it constricts to minutes and hours ahead. Funny thing hope, like mist, hard to grasp but certainly there.

I'm not sure how I ended on hope, so a little blog from clichés to hope.