The Trauma Paradox

You're probably thinking, "That was fast. Last night things were good."  It wasn't a massive meltdown today, just an aspect of trauma kids that is one of the most challenging for me.

We were upstairs playing, "Oh no you can't!"  We have lots of made up games that involve lots of  silliness and lots of physical movement. This one consists of one person sitting on the swing (what, you don't have a swing in your bonus room?) and the other person twisting, shaking, moving it in an attempt to make the swing dweller get off.  Unfortunately, TK fell off tonight.  Even more unfortunately, it's a wooden swing, so when it whapped her on the back of the head, it hurt like the dickens.  (I've been nailed by that swing, and it brings tears to your eyes).  Then things went into what I consider the trauma paradox.  My baby is hurt, but she utterly and completely rejects any comfort.  Beyond that, she utterly and completely rejects me. "Why did you do that, Mom?  What kind of Mom does that?  Don't touch me!  Don't look at me!  Don't ever talk to me for the rest of my life!"  This was followed by running downstairs into her room and slamming the door, sobbing loudly the entire way.  

I knew what to do, and I did it.  I went downstairs, got the ice pack, opened her door and handed it to her without saying a word, and closed the door.  Then I plopped myself down in the hall and waited for her to come out.  The message in that is, "No matter how much you reject me, I am here waiting because I love you."  She opened the door a few times, saw me there and slammed it shut.  It took about 20 minutes (usually the bigger the hurt, the longer it takes) before she opened the door and came out. She walked past me saying, "Why do you look so sad?  You didn't get hurt.  I know it was an accident." (I am thankful for the grace in that last statement.)

Oh, but I did get hurt.  Not only did I have the mom pain of my kid being hurt, I had the pain of not being allowed to comfort her.  For me this is one of the greatest challenges of being a trauma mama.  Every instinct in my mom heart wants to hold her, dry her tears, soothe her.  But I cannot.  

I need to review my "trauma bible" (Beyond Consequences, Logic and Control, by Heather Forbes) to explore the whys of this rejection. My instinct tells me it's "I have been physically hurt, but I will ensure I don't get emotionally hurt by rejecting you so you can't reject me."

Of course this happened right before bed, so it took a long time to get settled into the bedtime routine.  TK tried to rally by asking me to play Old Maid with her before we started reading, but I know her head hurt.  I love her for trying, though.

I'm thankful for the grace that allowed me to go against my instincts and do what TK needed, even if it wasn't what I needed. Give yourself grace and kudos, Trauma Mamas, when you step up and do what your TK needs, even when it hurts your heart. It's a tough thing to do, and you're not going to hear a thank you, but I offer you a heartfelt "well done".