Well, back to the drawing board.
Most of my blogs are funny....this one is not one of those. So, if you’re looking for a laugh....you might want to skip this one. If you’re looking for bare emotion.....this is the blog for you.
Why is it that as soon as you feel like you’re making progress with a RAD kid, you slide backward without warning? For whatever reason, that’s what has happened with Ben.
I think there must be something that triggered all of this. If we could figure out the trigger, I think we’d be able to get past it. Who knows how long that will take?
It’s so easy to get mad and just blame the kid when things like this happens. I mean, come on....what 7 year old pees in his closet? I know that Ben makes choices. However, I don’t think that Ben is in control of those choices. I don’t believe he chooses to live this way. Why would anyone choose to do that?
I can’t imagine how terrible he must feel inside his little head. What is it in his past that makes him want to pull out his hair, pee everywhere, and steal constantly? What is it that makes him hate himself so much? Why is it that he feels so unworthy of love that he can’t allow the little boy inside to be comforted?
So, we’re going back to square one. Ben told me last week that he wanted to be a baby again. Silly me....I should’ve listened to him right then and there. But I didn’t. Bad Mommy. So, what did he do? He showed me he wants to be a baby again by peeing in his room. That’s okay. I can handle a little bit of pee!
So, today, we went shopping.
We bought an octagonal shaped play yard to be Ben’s playpen. He loved it! When we were in the baby section looking for that, he saw baby toys and went wild! He wanted teething rings, rattles, little stuffed animals with chewable hands, and musical toys that toddlers usually love. He wanted baby wipes and diapers. He wanted baby cereal and toddler biter biscuits. And he wanted a little seahorse that lights up and plays lullabies.
What monsters haunt his dreams? What terrors reside in the recesses of his little mind? What memories make him feel so insecure that he feels like he must rely on himself alone? I can’t even imagine. But I do know one thing: if a little seahorse that lights up and plays soothing lullabies makes my baby boy feel calmer, safer, and comforted....well, it’s worth it to me. If holding my 7 year old baby in my lap and cuddling with him and talking baby talk to him makes him feel protected, then why wouldn’t I do that? If he needs a baby bottle to feel like his tummy will finally be filled, how can I not provide that for him?
I know this is unconventional. Those of you who read this who aren’t familiar with Reactive Attachment Disorder are probably thinking that I’m nuts. Maybe I am. But right now, I’m fighting for my baby boy’s life. I’m fighting for his future. I’m fighting for his self-worth. I’m fighting for HIM.
Some battles are waged with guns and bombs. Some are waged with fists. Some are waged with shouts and angry words. And some battles are waged with hugs, kisses, baby bottles, teething rings, and stuffed seahorses.
So, I’ll pick up my chosen weapons of war and ride into battle on a little blue seahorse that glows and softly plays a Pacobel tune.
After all, my Benjamin is worth fighting for.
Most of my blogs are funny....this one is not one of those. So, if you’re looking for a laugh....you might want to skip this one. If you’re looking for bare emotion.....this is the blog for you.
Why is it that as soon as you feel like you’re making progress with a RAD kid, you slide backward without warning? For whatever reason, that’s what has happened with Ben.
I think there must be something that triggered all of this. If we could figure out the trigger, I think we’d be able to get past it. Who knows how long that will take?
It’s so easy to get mad and just blame the kid when things like this happens. I mean, come on....what 7 year old pees in his closet? I know that Ben makes choices. However, I don’t think that Ben is in control of those choices. I don’t believe he chooses to live this way. Why would anyone choose to do that?
I can’t imagine how terrible he must feel inside his little head. What is it in his past that makes him want to pull out his hair, pee everywhere, and steal constantly? What is it that makes him hate himself so much? Why is it that he feels so unworthy of love that he can’t allow the little boy inside to be comforted?
So, we’re going back to square one. Ben told me last week that he wanted to be a baby again. Silly me....I should’ve listened to him right then and there. But I didn’t. Bad Mommy. So, what did he do? He showed me he wants to be a baby again by peeing in his room. That’s okay. I can handle a little bit of pee!
So, today, we went shopping.
We bought an octagonal shaped play yard to be Ben’s playpen. He loved it! When we were in the baby section looking for that, he saw baby toys and went wild! He wanted teething rings, rattles, little stuffed animals with chewable hands, and musical toys that toddlers usually love. He wanted baby wipes and diapers. He wanted baby cereal and toddler biter biscuits. And he wanted a little seahorse that lights up and plays lullabies.
What monsters haunt his dreams? What terrors reside in the recesses of his little mind? What memories make him feel so insecure that he feels like he must rely on himself alone? I can’t even imagine. But I do know one thing: if a little seahorse that lights up and plays soothing lullabies makes my baby boy feel calmer, safer, and comforted....well, it’s worth it to me. If holding my 7 year old baby in my lap and cuddling with him and talking baby talk to him makes him feel protected, then why wouldn’t I do that? If he needs a baby bottle to feel like his tummy will finally be filled, how can I not provide that for him?
I know this is unconventional. Those of you who read this who aren’t familiar with Reactive Attachment Disorder are probably thinking that I’m nuts. Maybe I am. But right now, I’m fighting for my baby boy’s life. I’m fighting for his future. I’m fighting for his self-worth. I’m fighting for HIM.
Some battles are waged with guns and bombs. Some are waged with fists. Some are waged with shouts and angry words. And some battles are waged with hugs, kisses, baby bottles, teething rings, and stuffed seahorses.
So, I’ll pick up my chosen weapons of war and ride into battle on a little blue seahorse that glows and softly plays a Pacobel tune.
After all, my Benjamin is worth fighting for.
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