It was the morning of the great getaway weekend kick-off (aka Friday). Trauma Kid (TK) was really excited to go to our dear friend's house for her 2 day sleepover. She asked me at least 5 times when we could leave. About 30 minutes before we were scheduled to leave she went into meltdown mode because I ate the last ice cream bar. After engaging in the insanity for a few minutes, I remembered to breathe and think and asked her if she was being mean so it would be easier not to miss me. She said, "Yes. But I won't miss you, I'll only miss my cat." I told her I knew it was scary but she would have a lot of fun, we all calmed down and I dropped her off about 4:30. She went in the house, and as I was chatting with dear friend she said, "Go away. Bye." So far so good.....sort of.
Since it was raining and I honestly wasn't sure TK could handle two nights, I decided to head out early Sat and spend the night in my warm dry bed vice an uncomfortable camp cot. At 9 I got a text from dear friend saying TK was sobbing, wanted to come home, but she was working with her and thought it would settle down. It didn't. I told dear friend I had promised TK a long time ago if she was spending the night somewhere and needed me to come get her, I would if I possibly could, and I couldn't break that promise. (I made that promise because we know a dad who threw a fit and punished his kid for leaving a sleepover at our house). At 10 she was still a wreck, so I went and brought her home. I got her tucked in and she was begging me not to go. I just kept patting her and telling her I loved her and figured it would be better in the morning.
Wrong again. She came in my room at 5 AM, sobbing hysterically, begging me not to go. I told her no matter how much fun I had, I would ALWAYS want to come back to her, if she really couldn't hack it I would come home after the evening campfire and pick her up, I knew it was hard. She was nearly hysterical, saying, "I'm not ready. Please don't leave me. Please don't, Mommy, please please pleeeeease!" She was genuinely terrified, and I admit I wavered in my mind, but I remembered some key things.
1) This was the first time I was going somewhere and she was staying. She's had lots of sleepovers but I've always been home.
2) She was very much in the scarcity mentality - if you go there and have fun, you don't need me/love me/will reject me.
3) As the only child of a single mom, and a TK to boot, she is accustomed to being the center of the world and things going largely her way. I'm not saying that's good, but it's a fact.
4) Heather Forbes once told me something incredibly profound - "Sometimes the growth is in the struggle."
So I kept telling her how much I loved her, how I'd come get her that night if she needed me, I knew she'd be safe with dear friend. Then after about 2 hours of hysterics, I said, "Need anything else besides what's in the car? We're leaving in 10 minutes." She calmed right down, grabbed a few things from her room, got in the car, and off we went. When we got there she was totally calm, said, "I love you, Mom, bye. Go now." So I did.
I had a break about 2, so I called her to check in and she said, "Mommy, you should stay there tonight. I want you to keep having fun." !!!!!!!!!!!!
I attribute this to a few factors.
1) My dear friend told TK she would sit up with her all night if she needed that to feel safe.
2) Another girl came to dear friend's house so there were three girls being silly and having a blast and they were all sleeping over.
3) TK realized Mom could go do something and it didn't change how I felt about her.
When I picked her up Sunday afternoon she was full of stories about how fun it was. She said she wasn't ready for me to leave again anytime soon, but the next time would definitely be easier. I told her I was so proud of her, and she said she was proud of herself. I love that.
And as for me?? I sat up way too late with some great new friends, laughed until we cried at utterly inane things, pushed myself physically to the point of exhaustion, laughed some more, found "me" and not just "Mom". I had a blast and can't wait to do it again. I had honestly forgotten how fun it was to hang out with a bunch of folks without listening for TK, waiting for the interruption, waiting to have it cut short by her needs. It was lovely. Now I just have to figure out how to not wait 5 years to do it again.
I am grateful for the grace of a dear friend who took TK and made her feel safe, for the grace of new friends who made me laugh til my sides ached and made the swinging bridge our own personal trampoline, for God's grace evident in the beauty all around me as I hiked, climbed trees and ziplined. Mostly I am grateful for the grace I saw in TK's growth. I know how hard we work to give our TKs what they need so they can grow, and I know how hard it is to watch them struggle. Give yourself the grace to remember that, as Heather Forbes, says, sometimes that's where the growth is.
Be strong, Trauma Mamas. Plan your own getway if you can. You deserve that grace too.
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Friday, April 17, 2015
Well, I was utterly unprepared for that!
Friday bedtime - the words strike fear in my heart. After a week of school (which, while markedly better, is still a challenge) and gymnastics, and the looming early AM gymnastics Sat....well, things often go badly. Tonight's drama went more or less like this:
Me - "Honey, you need to get a shower before bed. You're all sticky and you stink." (So yeah, not my best opening gambit). To my shock she didn't take offense, but still rebelled.
TK - "I'll get one after gymnastics tomorrow. I'll just get stinkier."
Me - not picking that battle, "Fine."
Fast forward to bedtime.
TK - "Why is it so sticky in my bed? I can't sleep like this! Why didn't you make me get a shower?" She drags the mattress off the bed, throws it on the floor, and throws herself on top of it weeping.
Me - trying to breathe (well, okay, sighing deeply)......."You can grab a quick one now or you can sleep sticky - your call."
TK - "You're mean! Why are you so mean? What is your problem? You're supposed to help me! You put a note on my mirror that said you're sorry we had a bad night and you loved me. I don't believe you!"
Me - failing to breathe, and revving that bus to go off the cliff - "Good night. I love you."
TK - "Aren't you going to pat me?"
Me - "I'm not in the mood to listen to you be mean to me. I love you. Good night."
I quietly closed the door and sat in the den, listening to the sobs. I admit I didn't feel a lot of sympathy. Some days it just seems to be in short supply.
After a few minutes, TK comes out and sits down a few feet from me. "You really hurt me. Like I wanted to run away and find someone who liked me. I mean it, I really wanted to leave."
Me - annoyed, because it's almost 10 PM and I have no clue what egregious thing I said, still managed to choke that all down. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, and I'm really glad you didn't leave."
TK - spills a lot of frustrations about a new kid at school, a friend who was moody and mean to her, it being too hard to get up for early practice.
Wisely, I say nothing. She heads back to her room and says, "I'm sorry. Will you come pat me?"
Me- "Of course."
After I get the mattress back on the bed, the sheet back on the mattress, the pillows back on, etc, she settles in. Then she gets me - the one I didn't see coming and had to flounder to answer.
"Mom, why are some things so much harder for me than other kids? Why do I get so upset about stuff when other kids don't?"
I mentally say my most common prayer when things like this come up - "Lord, please help me not to screw this up too badly."
Me - "That's part of being a trauma kid."
TK - "Why am I a trauma kid again? Am I going to be one forever?"
I explain about not having someone to hold her when she was little, and how that made it hard for her brain to feel safe, and that sometimes things that are small still make her brain scared, so she feels like she needs to scream or run or break something. Then I tell her how far she's come, how she is so good at using her words and knowing when she feels overwhelmed, and how proud I am of her.
TK - "Yeah, but will I be one forever?"
Me - "Yes, but that's just one thing you'll be. You'll also be amazing, and strong, and funny, and brave, and smart, and whatever else you want to be. It's just part of who you are."
TK - "Okay."
She rolls over and goes to sleep.
I mentally mop my brow, breathe a sigh of relief and thank God for the grace to be in that moment with her and remind her that being a TK is not a disease or a life sentence, it's just a part of who she is.
I expect we'll have follow up conversations on this topic, and maybe I'll be more prepared. I doubt it, though, as they always pop up when I am frazzled and "done".
I am so thankful for the grace to not really be "done", even when I am. And I am extra grateful that we ended our day with cuddles and kind, loving words and not hurt feelings. I am so proud that she had the courage to come out of her room and deal with her feelings rather than just crying herself to sleep (and I admit, not proudly but honestly, at that moment I wish she had gone with choice B!).
You're going to get hit with the hard questions, Trauma Mamas. "Why didn't someone want me? Why am I different? Why are things hard? Why do I get so mad?" And you are sure you aren't ready for them....but you are. Your heart knows the answers to those questions. Trust your heart, trust your love for your TK, and trust that they can handle the truth. Give yourselves grace if you goof it up a little - you can always go back and revisit it.
The ultimate answer is the same - love. Only love conquers fear. I'm sending you some grace to conquer your own fear when those questions come up. You can do this, Trauma Mamas. Have faith, have courage, and jump in. I'm here if you need a life preserver.
Me - "Honey, you need to get a shower before bed. You're all sticky and you stink." (So yeah, not my best opening gambit). To my shock she didn't take offense, but still rebelled.
TK - "I'll get one after gymnastics tomorrow. I'll just get stinkier."
Me - not picking that battle, "Fine."
Fast forward to bedtime.
TK - "Why is it so sticky in my bed? I can't sleep like this! Why didn't you make me get a shower?" She drags the mattress off the bed, throws it on the floor, and throws herself on top of it weeping.
Me - trying to breathe (well, okay, sighing deeply)......."You can grab a quick one now or you can sleep sticky - your call."
TK - "You're mean! Why are you so mean? What is your problem? You're supposed to help me! You put a note on my mirror that said you're sorry we had a bad night and you loved me. I don't believe you!"
Me - failing to breathe, and revving that bus to go off the cliff - "Good night. I love you."
TK - "Aren't you going to pat me?"
Me - "I'm not in the mood to listen to you be mean to me. I love you. Good night."
I quietly closed the door and sat in the den, listening to the sobs. I admit I didn't feel a lot of sympathy. Some days it just seems to be in short supply.
After a few minutes, TK comes out and sits down a few feet from me. "You really hurt me. Like I wanted to run away and find someone who liked me. I mean it, I really wanted to leave."
Me - annoyed, because it's almost 10 PM and I have no clue what egregious thing I said, still managed to choke that all down. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, and I'm really glad you didn't leave."
TK - spills a lot of frustrations about a new kid at school, a friend who was moody and mean to her, it being too hard to get up for early practice.
Wisely, I say nothing. She heads back to her room and says, "I'm sorry. Will you come pat me?"
Me- "Of course."
After I get the mattress back on the bed, the sheet back on the mattress, the pillows back on, etc, she settles in. Then she gets me - the one I didn't see coming and had to flounder to answer.
"Mom, why are some things so much harder for me than other kids? Why do I get so upset about stuff when other kids don't?"
I mentally say my most common prayer when things like this come up - "Lord, please help me not to screw this up too badly."
Me - "That's part of being a trauma kid."
TK - "Why am I a trauma kid again? Am I going to be one forever?"
I explain about not having someone to hold her when she was little, and how that made it hard for her brain to feel safe, and that sometimes things that are small still make her brain scared, so she feels like she needs to scream or run or break something. Then I tell her how far she's come, how she is so good at using her words and knowing when she feels overwhelmed, and how proud I am of her.
TK - "Yeah, but will I be one forever?"
Me - "Yes, but that's just one thing you'll be. You'll also be amazing, and strong, and funny, and brave, and smart, and whatever else you want to be. It's just part of who you are."
TK - "Okay."
She rolls over and goes to sleep.
I mentally mop my brow, breathe a sigh of relief and thank God for the grace to be in that moment with her and remind her that being a TK is not a disease or a life sentence, it's just a part of who she is.
I expect we'll have follow up conversations on this topic, and maybe I'll be more prepared. I doubt it, though, as they always pop up when I am frazzled and "done".
I am so thankful for the grace to not really be "done", even when I am. And I am extra grateful that we ended our day with cuddles and kind, loving words and not hurt feelings. I am so proud that she had the courage to come out of her room and deal with her feelings rather than just crying herself to sleep (and I admit, not proudly but honestly, at that moment I wish she had gone with choice B!).
You're going to get hit with the hard questions, Trauma Mamas. "Why didn't someone want me? Why am I different? Why are things hard? Why do I get so mad?" And you are sure you aren't ready for them....but you are. Your heart knows the answers to those questions. Trust your heart, trust your love for your TK, and trust that they can handle the truth. Give yourselves grace if you goof it up a little - you can always go back and revisit it.
The ultimate answer is the same - love. Only love conquers fear. I'm sending you some grace to conquer your own fear when those questions come up. You can do this, Trauma Mamas. Have faith, have courage, and jump in. I'm here if you need a life preserver.
Saturday, April 4, 2015
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".
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".
Friday, April 3, 2015
Small (and not so small) victories
As usual, I will digress as I write. However, tonight I will digress up front. I've recently added some new blog readers from various sectors of our life. I admit this always gives me pause and has me considering editing parts of what I write. But then I take a deep breath and promise to hold true to my commitment to tell our story - good, bad, ugly, and everywhere in between. So hold me to it....if you sense me hedging, call me on it.
To my "new additions", this will work best if you go back and read from the beginning. This is a serial blog; digesting just an episode here and there loses the context and makes things seem better or worse than they are in the big picture.
On to the real stuff......
We had some small victories this week, and one at was, for TK, pretty big. She had a tough time the beginning of the week in the school transition. Tues AM she was in the hall crying and holding onto me, asking me not to leave or to take her with me. I blew it at first, saying, "I'll leave in 3 minutes. The longer I stay the harder it is." QUIZ TIME! What was wrong with that? It was a rational response to an emotional fear based need. Logic doesn't conquer fear; love conquers fear. So I gave myself a mental forehead slap, wrapped my arms around her and said, "I'm sorry this is hard. I love you so much." We stood there for about 4 more minutes, then she pulled away, dry eyed, and said, "Okay, Mom, you can go. I'll see you after school." I am always surprised when it works. I shouldn't be - we've been working on this for 5 years, but sometimes it still feels like magic.
TK's school is doing the Lion King musical, and the kids auditioned last week. TK really wanted to be Nala or Scar, but she got Rafiki. She didn't find out until we got to school in the morning, and I braced myself for massive meltdown. She was rather short with a few of her friends who got the "good roles", then asked me if I thought Rafiki was a good role. I told her he was the narrator, and without him folks wouldn't know what was happening. She thought about that for a few minutes, then decided she was very important to the play and settled into it. This whole transition from disappointed to mad to okay took about 10 minutes. That was AWESOME! I told her that afternoon how proud I was of her. My sarcastic, funny, amazing kid just looked at me and said, "As well you should be."
So all in all, it was a week where I was blessed to see the work paying off. And you all know I needed some of that after the last few weeks. There is such grace in seeing the growth amidst the struggle. It is challenging to keep the faith that our TKs will get there when you are in the trenches, struggling, crying, praying, exhausted. So grab the grace when it flies by and hold on tight to it. It is hard won and well earned. When you get it, take a moment to tell yourself, "well done, trauma mama."
Of course this is day 1 of a 3 day weekend, so there's a very good chance I will be posting some nuclear meltdown report in the next few days. The saving grace (literally) for me is coming the end of April when I go to an adult adventure camp for 2-1/2 days. TK will be hanging with the person who she trusts most in the world after me, who has known her since kindergarten, loves her, and gets her as much as someone who doesn't live with her can. When I told TK about it, she sighed, and said, "Cool, I get to get away from you." I think I get points for not jumping up and yelling, "Hallelujah!" Then TK added, "How long will you be gone? What if I need you while you're gone?" and the one that summed up all the "scarcity mentality" our TKs have, "Well, you better not brag about it when you get home, because I will be really mad that you had fun and I didn't." And yep, I had to take a deep breath and tell myself that TK wasn't being selfish, she was in the scarcity fear. "If you have fun, there's none left for me. If you go away and have a great time without me, it means you'd rather be there than with me." I reminded myself of that and still sighed and rolled my eyes. (As TK says, "I'm WORKING on it, okay?")
I was thinking tonight about why it has been 5 years since I have had any real time without TK. The truth is, as it so often is with our TKs, complicated and not pretty. One reason is that no one wanted to keep her. She is (far less now) challenging, and for those who knew her when the trauma was in high gear, the thought of having her for prolonged periods was overwhelming. Another reason is I was unwilling to let my friends keep her for fear of losing friendships. The reality is I have lost many "friendships" because of TK's trauma stuff, so I was unwilling to take that chance. It was easier to just deal with it myself, just suck it up an keep on going. But the main reason was TK just didn't feel safe when I wasn't around. We have finally hit a point (I think) where she does - with certain people, in certain circumstances. Sleepovers have always been fine, but prolonged no-mom periods have been untenable. I am delighted to test run my theory that we are past that. Stay tuned for how much fallout there will be after the fact. I'm sure there will be plenty.
If you don't have the grace to tell yourself that it's working, that you're doing a great job, take some from me.....Well done, Trauma Mamas (and Trauma Dads and Trauma Caregivers)......you ARE making a difference. You are exactly what your TK needs, even in your most broken, battered moments. Give yourselves some grace, be strong, and know you are not alone.
To my "new additions", this will work best if you go back and read from the beginning. This is a serial blog; digesting just an episode here and there loses the context and makes things seem better or worse than they are in the big picture.
On to the real stuff......
We had some small victories this week, and one at was, for TK, pretty big. She had a tough time the beginning of the week in the school transition. Tues AM she was in the hall crying and holding onto me, asking me not to leave or to take her with me. I blew it at first, saying, "I'll leave in 3 minutes. The longer I stay the harder it is." QUIZ TIME! What was wrong with that? It was a rational response to an emotional fear based need. Logic doesn't conquer fear; love conquers fear. So I gave myself a mental forehead slap, wrapped my arms around her and said, "I'm sorry this is hard. I love you so much." We stood there for about 4 more minutes, then she pulled away, dry eyed, and said, "Okay, Mom, you can go. I'll see you after school." I am always surprised when it works. I shouldn't be - we've been working on this for 5 years, but sometimes it still feels like magic.
TK's school is doing the Lion King musical, and the kids auditioned last week. TK really wanted to be Nala or Scar, but she got Rafiki. She didn't find out until we got to school in the morning, and I braced myself for massive meltdown. She was rather short with a few of her friends who got the "good roles", then asked me if I thought Rafiki was a good role. I told her he was the narrator, and without him folks wouldn't know what was happening. She thought about that for a few minutes, then decided she was very important to the play and settled into it. This whole transition from disappointed to mad to okay took about 10 minutes. That was AWESOME! I told her that afternoon how proud I was of her. My sarcastic, funny, amazing kid just looked at me and said, "As well you should be."
So all in all, it was a week where I was blessed to see the work paying off. And you all know I needed some of that after the last few weeks. There is such grace in seeing the growth amidst the struggle. It is challenging to keep the faith that our TKs will get there when you are in the trenches, struggling, crying, praying, exhausted. So grab the grace when it flies by and hold on tight to it. It is hard won and well earned. When you get it, take a moment to tell yourself, "well done, trauma mama."
Of course this is day 1 of a 3 day weekend, so there's a very good chance I will be posting some nuclear meltdown report in the next few days. The saving grace (literally) for me is coming the end of April when I go to an adult adventure camp for 2-1/2 days. TK will be hanging with the person who she trusts most in the world after me, who has known her since kindergarten, loves her, and gets her as much as someone who doesn't live with her can. When I told TK about it, she sighed, and said, "Cool, I get to get away from you." I think I get points for not jumping up and yelling, "Hallelujah!" Then TK added, "How long will you be gone? What if I need you while you're gone?" and the one that summed up all the "scarcity mentality" our TKs have, "Well, you better not brag about it when you get home, because I will be really mad that you had fun and I didn't." And yep, I had to take a deep breath and tell myself that TK wasn't being selfish, she was in the scarcity fear. "If you have fun, there's none left for me. If you go away and have a great time without me, it means you'd rather be there than with me." I reminded myself of that and still sighed and rolled my eyes. (As TK says, "I'm WORKING on it, okay?")
I was thinking tonight about why it has been 5 years since I have had any real time without TK. The truth is, as it so often is with our TKs, complicated and not pretty. One reason is that no one wanted to keep her. She is (far less now) challenging, and for those who knew her when the trauma was in high gear, the thought of having her for prolonged periods was overwhelming. Another reason is I was unwilling to let my friends keep her for fear of losing friendships. The reality is I have lost many "friendships" because of TK's trauma stuff, so I was unwilling to take that chance. It was easier to just deal with it myself, just suck it up an keep on going. But the main reason was TK just didn't feel safe when I wasn't around. We have finally hit a point (I think) where she does - with certain people, in certain circumstances. Sleepovers have always been fine, but prolonged no-mom periods have been untenable. I am delighted to test run my theory that we are past that. Stay tuned for how much fallout there will be after the fact. I'm sure there will be plenty.
If you don't have the grace to tell yourself that it's working, that you're doing a great job, take some from me.....Well done, Trauma Mamas (and Trauma Dads and Trauma Caregivers)......you ARE making a difference. You are exactly what your TK needs, even in your most broken, battered moments. Give yourselves some grace, be strong, and know you are not alone.
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