Friday, I went to a training. This training was about people with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome and raising "Children From Hard Places." Initially, I spoke with the person giving the training, she recommended that I read the book The Connected Child. It is a book for parents that have welcomed children through adoption from another culture, from troubled backgrounds or with special needs. To humor her, I read the book.
Initially, I did it thinking, "This book has nothing to do with me and my problems... not even a little bit." This book as all about kids that were in the "system." These kids were traumatized. Kids that were tossed around. Biscuit was NEVER tossed. He kind of fell and landed softly into the arms of a woman that wanted him more than she wanted her next breath. Well, I was wrong. I am beginning to learn that in life, most of the time, I am wrong. I was so smart when I was a teenager. What happened???
I learned that kids with Fetal Alcohol Spectrum disorders are ADORABLE. With their sweet little precious moments eyes, who couldn't love them??? I think God did that on purpose. Because if they weren't so darn cute, with all the screaming, explosive tantrums, OCD, ADD, ADHD, learning difficulties, sensory processing disorders and trouble living life that these kids face- all the while frustrating the parents that love them more than life itself. Any parent would absolutely want to KILL them- if they didn't have those sweet precious moments eyes. Even as adults, you will look into their eyes and remember the sweet baby that you waited for. The one you loved before you even knew. The one that took your breath away the first time he was laid in your arms and you won't want to take. him. out. Who said that evolution didn't exist??
With that said, I learned a lot of parenting Biscuit is recognizing that life is all about prospective. His prospective is much different than mine. His prospective is that of a person that has Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He came to me at 6 weeks old but, I wasn't able to protect him for the first year of his life. The one where he was the most venerable. When he was traumatized. The one where he was forced to use alcohol and drugs. He has brain damage. His fight, flight or freeze response is very heightened. It is my job as his mother to make sure that even though I KNOW he isn't in any danger, he knows he isn't in any danger. It is my job to make sure that he has an outlet to ensure that the sensory stimulation that he craves is received, safely. Since, he enjoys sitting in my oven, this is NO easy task. I promise. Please don't think I haven't tried to lock said oven.
It isn't about him learning to be normal. What ever normal means anyway. It is about my husband and I learning to help him be the best him that he can be.
So here we are, at the beginning of another wild ride. One that I am scared to death of...really I am. But, I wouldn't get off of it for anything in the world. One day, I will look into those precious moments eyes- now belonging to a grown man (who hopefully doesn't still sit in the oven) and know it was a wild ride, but we had some fun along the way. Didn't we??
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