My husband and I adopted Devon out of foster care when he was 3. Devon has complex developmental trauma disorder (DTD, commonly diagnosed as reactive attachment disorder). This often occurs when a child experiences chronic abuse or neglect early on and results in disrupted brain development. Adoptive parents like myself aren’t given a how-to manual for raising kids with a history of trauma. I very quickly found myself drowning with no life boat in sight.
This is why I’ve been working on telling my story through a memoir. I hope to educate others about the challenges parents like myself face and to raise awareness about the lack of treatment. Throughout the writing process, I relived painful memories. I grappled with guilt and many regrets. As they say, hindsight is 20/20 and I’ve learned a great deal through reflecting on my own story.
Here are 5 lessons I wish I learned earlier in the journey of raising Devon:
1. I should have given up and gotten help earlier.
For years, I tried to parent Devon on my own. But no matter how hard I tried, nothing worked. Unfortunately, those failures and missteps weren’t merely wasted time. They exacerbated my son’s condition, derailed our relationship and led to a decline in my own mental health. Meanwhile, my other children were living in a home that was highly volatile and unhealthy, causing them secondary trauma.
I often wonder how things might be different if I’d gotten help in the years before Devon was 10-years-old. Don’t get me wrong, writing my memoir also solidified my belief that most professionals aren’t versed in developmental trauma and few treatments are available. However, perhaps with support, my family could have avoided some of our darkest moments. Maybe Devon would have better coping skills and a brighter future. Unfortunately, I didn’t know the warning signs and had no idea where to find help.
2. I was worse off than I knew.
I stopped taking phone calls and opening my mail. My hair was falling out. I knew I was overwhelmed, frustrated, and depressed but didn’t realize I was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder from the ongoing stress (see How Parents of Children with Reactive Attachment Disorder Develop Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder). I was hanging onto the very edge of sanity by my chipped fingernails. Raising a child with a trauma background took its toll emotionally, physically, and spirituality. It irreparably damaged my marriage and relationships with family and friends.
When writing my memoir, I was shocked to realize just how difficult things were. I saw that there was a gradual shift from manageable to completely out of control. For example, at the time, I didn’t recognize when my son’s tantrums shifted to rages. My mental health was declining more than I realized and did not begin to improve until I started seeing a therapist and went on antidepressants. In retrospect, I realize I should have started taking care of myself far earlier than I did.
3. I could only change myself.
At the time, I was so sure I could “fix” Devon – but I was wrong. Early trauma can tamper brain development and requires specialized treatment. It’s like having a child with leukemia – you can feed them organic chicken soup, tuck them in with warm blankets and curl up beside them to read stories – but, you can’t treat the disease. For that, children need professional treatment. “Many people mistake children with DTD as typical kids going through a tough time or phase. They think love and structure will make all the difference. Unfortunately, it’s often not that simple,” said Institute for Attachment and Child Development Executive Director Forrest Lien. “DTD is a disorder of the brain, not a developmental stage that they outgrow with time or ‘good parenting’. Parents can’t heal them through love alone. They need effective professional help.”
I very nearly had a nervous breakdown before acknowledging what was beyond my control and identifying what I could change. The parenting challenges I was facing were difficult enough without having marital issues, an air conditioner on the fritz and the stress of a difficult boss. What I could do was improve my ability to cope and my capacity as a caretaker by addressing these things. To survive, I had to find ways to raise my own resilience by decreasing or eliminating other stressors in my life.
4. Burning bridges with clinicians is a bad idea.
Some mental health professionals say the hallmark of a kid with RAD is a “pissed off mom”. That was me. As a result, my son’s therapists pinned me as unreasonable, uncaring and angry. I thought they’d give me the benefit of the doubt and assume the best about me. I was wrong. I spent two years torching bridges before I realized the value of building partnerships, even with professionals with whom I disagreed.
I started making progress in getting my son better treatment when I began to hold my cards close to the vest. I forced myself to listen then respond calmly and reasonably. Why is this important? Some of those professionals became my best allies when I needed referrals for treatment, favors called in to get Devon into new placements and back-up documentation when he made false allegations.
5. My family really didn’t get it.
When my father read a draft of my memoir, he found it so painful he had to take breaks from reading. My mother, after reading it, apologized for not understanding and being more supportive. It took my parents walking in my shoes, through the pages of my memoir, to truly grasp how difficult my life was. For some reason, I’d always felt their minimization of my challenges raising Devon was in part willful – as if they just didn’t want to believe it.
I now realize, they truly didn’t “get” it. That makes sense. If my life were a movie, I’d be the first to say the script was over the top and totally unrealistic. Before I adopted, I never imagined a child could have behaviors as extreme and unrelenting as my son does. It’s easy to become defensive with family and friends, but, in retrospect, I wish I’d done more to help educate them about developmental trauma disorder and reactive attachment disorder with movies like The Boarder and through other online resources.
Learning from our stories
It’s hard – impossible – to see the big picture when you’re just trying to stay afloat while parenting a child with developmental trauma. We’re often so caught up in our day-to-day moments, we don’t have time to reflect. We then fail to take a strategic approach to parenting. I wish I’d had the opportunity to benefit from the stories of others instead of learning the hard way.
I encourage parents of children with a trauma background to join online communities like Attach Families Support Group and The Underground World of RAD. We can all learn from each other’s experiences and support one another along the way.
First published by IACD.
I totally think it is grand and good that you write your experience. I have only read this post by randomly finding it in my path. As decades of lived experiences myself as a caretaker and concerns for children starting in 1967 and to the present as grandmother, aunt of many sibling’s children, etc., my view of your life, however imperfect, includes the mass production of social changes that have occurred with children over 5 decades – and more in research. There’s a point. Bear with me. The lessons you have learned I think apply to all parents with children who are not able to obey or live to please and for approval – which happens in all children to some degree. There’s got to be a balance. Parenting in the generations before me, say like 1930’s – 1960’s, leaned heavily on obedience. At least where I lived and could see. Obedience was enforced by threats of punishments the punishments led to trauma creating trauma. No concern for later healthy adult functioning back then. A child’s feelings were not a concern at all unlike today. Taking a step back even farther we come to a time when child’s forced labor was a political issue. When the civil war ended, slavery was actually for black adult men only. Women and Children still are not covered under the 14th amendment although we are confused with the infusion of definitions of our lives in terms of medical, psychology and psychiatry points of view. So consider that a child is not yet politically free and obedience of parents, especially mothers, is also still present.
I hate to see any child in this society have to grow up in a world that is in such turmoil, massive unsettled issues and conflicts, and under any social pressure to ‘be’ something along a graph or chart and marked as deficient. So the last words I want to leave with is that developmental trauma, given the context of centuries of children’s treatment, is not something new. The new term while helpful in counting a child’s experience and a step towards interrupting mass models of functioning ignoring children’s needs to now meeting a child’s needs, is a psychological term. However, The world is more than psychological. This is hard for young mother’s to see or it was for me. Your child is more than psychological and more than some kind of defined trauma. A few professionals have pointed out that mammals are designed to handle trauma but in a world that demands social conformity and seeks to expand social freedom, trauma can be a path. As a writer, our stories of trauma, while real and accurate, do not have a social context and environment outside and beyond trauma. That world isn’t in existence yet. Those on the path of addressing trauma are pioneers in a frontier for life that can be lived in a new and different way. The hell you have lived is simply from a world that was not working on the old models for the goals you have for your child. You are brave. You are farther ahead in what you are pioneering and knowing than you realize. See yourself and your child for who you are beyond the trauma. Use it only as a path. I know you didn’t ask for this and you must find your own way. Take what works, leave the rest for later or for never. Trauma is at once a very useful term but can also be a trap. After all, accepting we are fully human, and being okay in our full humanness is our comfort, no matter what words we couch ourselves in and what circumstances we must live through. For what it’s worth. I wish you well. I may visit again sometime! Keep on keeping on!