The Lens We Are Accustomed to Using The Lens We Are Accustomed to Using
Days of excitement followed the introduction of Allan into the family. He seemed to fit in! We were competent parents. We “got” parenting. Our birth children were responsible and fairly compliant. We treated Allan just like the other children. He had a few chores and was given consequences when he did not obey. The children had freedom to roam our twenty acres of trees and woods. The front ten acres were filled with long rows of sheared pines, firs and spruce waiting for holiday tree customers. The rear property was more adventurous, with steep terrain, large pines and a slow, shallow stream. Allan enjoyed the outdoors, running through the fields, exploring the woods and playing in the stream. He and his younger sister shared toys, games and activities.
The family referred to Allan as “the Energizer Bunny,” because his batteries never ran down. He shared a bedroom with his new older brother and he was homeschooled along with his sisters. I felt that he could learn how to be in this family if he spent more time with its members. I was pleased that I was allowed to homeschool Allan. Typically, foster children had to attend school. I challenged the caseworkers to make this decision in Allan’s best interest. His previous school experiences were problematic. All seemed well.
Until it wasn’t.
David and I assigned daily chores. The girls and Allan were asked to clean their rooms, help with kitchen clean-up and complete their schoolwork. I stayed close to Allan to supervise him cleaning his room. I broke the tasks into small chunks, just like I learned in my education classes. Allan was to pick up his clothes and put them in the laundry, put away his toys and make his bed. He would not pick up his clothes. He played instead. The longer he played, the madder I became. I was wasting my time. “Why don’t you get your work done?” I asked. He answered with sincerity that he just wanted to play. I pointed out that he was getting behind in his schoolwork, hoping that he would hurry. This never helped.
As I watched Allan, I began to compare his play with my other children’s—something was different. He moved from toy to toy, pulling more out but not really playing with them—just scattering them around the room. I felt powerless to make him comply. No reward was good enough and no consequence severe enough to make him obey.
These long days of supervising him left little time to be with the girls or to complete my work. Every day I felt we were getting further and further behind in life. Giving directives and trying to make Allan comply consumed my time. The girls suffered because Mom was so focused on Allan’s lack of compliance that she had little time for them. My patience was replaced by fear—fear of getting behind, fear of failing, fear of not being competent enough to parent Allan.
—Faye Hall
In the traditional foster and adoptive process, parents must attend classes, be assessed for suitability as parents and be found competent to parent a foster or adoptive child. They ask friends to provide references and their homes are inspected. Parents then anxiously await the new child. Everyone is convinced that lots of love and structure will enable the child to grow and flourish. They are taught that when a child understands the rules, he or she will behave. Parents envision that this new child will proudly identify with and represent the new family. Parents are primed to make sure the child eats healthy meals, is obedient, is successful at home and school and has a bright future. In this family, he or she will always have his or her needs (and many, if not all, “wants”) met! Good behavior will be rewarded and poor behavior will be given “consequences.”
LOOKING THROUGH A TRAUMATIZED CHILD’S LENS
Imagine having your first, most important relationship with your mom disrupted while an infant or toddler. There may not have been a loving caregiver to tuck you in at night, to smile at your first steps or to send you off to school. The most important person, your mom, may have been emotionally unavailable. Even worse, she may have been the source of (or tolerated) your neglect or abuse. Through your lens, you began to see yourself as worthless, your mom as untrustworthy and the world as unsafe.
Now imagine confident foster or adoptive parents who vow, “I’ve got this!” when beginning the foster or adoptive process. They attended all the parenting classes, completed the interviewing process and finished the home study. These parents are positive their skills are adequate for any child entering their home. They will use their ideal model in parenting: good structure, lots of love and many opportunities for success.
Then imagine the first few days or weeks as being uneventful. Sometimes, the child does not want to complete chores. Then hygiene problems begin—refusing to shower or brush teeth. During a quick search of the child’s bedroom, the parents find food packages and stolen items. Sometimes the child roams through the house at night, destroying property, eating strange items and going to the bathroom in odd places. The following morning the parents find remains of the night roaming and begin the day with an elevated stress level. The child, sensing Mom’s stress and “knowing” from early on how best to survive with a stressed caregiver, becomes oppositional to Mom’s directives; he may even become aggressive toward her and battle for control. The child goes to school and describes Mom’s “mean and controlling” attitude. Now “triangulation” between adults begins when caregivers outside the home intervene on the child’s behalf. The child may lie about not having breakfast or not being provided a lunch. Feeling sorry for the child, school staff may offer the child a snack, school supplies or a hot lunch. They may even notify Child Protective Services if fearful the child’s needs are not being met. If this spiral continues downward, the child may be removed from the home and placed with another family!
Imagine the impact on the mother. She anticipated the adoption of a child who would respond reciprocally to her love, not react to her in fear and anger. She feels the pain of the child’s past but has no usable tools to help the child to heal. Her absolute best efforts at “normal parenting” are failing. She may lie about her child’s academic and sports successes to fit in with “normal” families. One by one, everyone begins to view her as the problem. If she would only be more loving, be more kind, be more firm, say “yes” more often, say “no” more often or just relax. This mother may lose her sense of self, as she does not have time for activities she once enjoyed. Her ability to relax diminishes. To relieve her distress, her partner may offer to take the child to the park or out to eat. Since the child is happy to go to the park with Dad, it looks and feels to Mom like he’s rewarding the child for misbehavior. Misinterpreting Dad’s motives, she may feel that her partner has become aligned with the child against her. Losing her partner may be the end of the family.
Imagine the impact on this family if mental health services begin and the therapist lacks training in early trauma, child development and attachment. Interventions may be purely behavioral, based on rewards and consequences. The therapist is confident in a behavioral approach. Everyone knows that you want to reward positive behaviors and “consequence” (punish) negative behaviors. The child is given a chart for the parents to monitor. “Catch your child being good and reward with a great amount of praise” is the directive. During the next therapy session, the child blames Mom for the lack of praise. He proclaims, “She did not notice all the good things I did this week!” Mom is admonished to be more observant next time. Mom feels that something is wrong but cannot identify the problem. She knows she does not feel good about the session. Throughout the treatment process the child vacillates between compliance to the therapist and refusal to comply with parental directives. The therapist is further convinced the parents are inadequate, overly critical and unloving.