Sometimes She Really Surprises Me

Just when I thought that any compassion toward me had left Caroline, she proved me wrong by an extraordinary showing of concern.  I fell down the stairs this morning, carrying a load of laundry, and hit my tailbone so hard I thought for sure I had broken something.  She came flying around the corner to help me up, got ice without being asked, escorted me upstairs to my bed, brought me her phone so I could call her if I needed anything, then proceeded to go downstairs, clean the whole kitchen (with my apron on!) and made up a check list of what she could do for me.  She even brought me ibuprofen and water all on her own.  When I made it back downstairs hours later, the kitchen was spotless.  She can be so sweet sometimes, and industrious, if it is a mission she takes on that she really wants to do.  I just wish she was like this all the time.

Reflections at the Beach

Yesterday while I sat in the beach chair on a picture perfect day, I was close enough to a group of younger moms to hear their conversation.  I was trying to breathe deeply and relax and think about nothing, but their voices kept pulling my attention toward them.   They had in tow several toddlers and babies, happily playing at the water's edge, laughing and screaming when the waves would fill in the holes they had just dug.  The women were all beautiful, blonde, fit looking moms just enjoying the play date, having girl time.  The scene brought me back to a mere nine or ten years ago when I was that mom with my close friends, toddlers and babies playing under umbrellas on the beach, talking just like them about the best baby fashions, picky eaters, babysitters, non-existent sex, whether to have that third child, which preschool waiting list to get your child on now, etc.  That was a happy time, full of fresh experiences to take in with these new little people every day.

I listened with envy and sadness.  Life was so much simpler then.  We didn't think it was.  We looked at the moms with older kids and thought, wow, how great that you can actually read a book at the beach or pool instead of having to race after your child every second to keep them from drowning or eating too much sand.  I am so glad I didn't know then what was coming. Now, for perspective, my life is considerably more challenging than most mom's lives.  I am not discounting that just being a mom even to just one can be nerve-wracking. There is no more difficult job than raising children, of that I am convinced.  My husband tells me my job is much harder than his.  It takes everything you have and more.  And if you are trying to parent well, then just double the work.  

But add in a special-needs child, and your life is really not your own in any way shape or form.  You have a ball and chain around your ankle that sometimes feels like it weighs two hundred pounds, but is always there and will be for a very long time, into their adulthood.  You passionately love them, would spend whatever money you have to give them to best treatment and education possible (and often money you don't have), but at times you resent them and just want a week or a month to yourself.  

I am already planning some trips while she is gone.  One for Bill and I for our anniversary weekend, one for me to visit my old college friends, another with my rising middle schooler, Jane, before she becomes too cool for mom, and one for my oldest daughter and a couple of her friends to celebrate her sixteenth birthday.  That is a lot to cram in three months, but I feel the urgency of making up for what we haven't been able to do with Caroline in our midst.  And we will take her on a special trip when she gets back.

I have a new neighbor across the street who has quickly become a good friend of mine.  She has a baby and a toddler, and I often go over there to hold and love on her kids because it just feels so good to be close to that soft baby skin and those toddler ringlets you can't resist tugging at.  I am vicariously remembering the sweetness of those brief years.  That's why I love  that my nine and eleven-year old daughters still have huge imaginations, creating giant jungle scenes in their rooms with their myriad of plastic animals.  Or it may be barn week, where they pull out their solid wood barns and all of the fencing, creating amazing pasture scenes that go from one end of their large room to the other.  And somehow they know each of these hundreds of animals by name.  We take great delight in their girlhood, and we want to encourage their naivete as much as possible.  Jane will be in the sixth grade next year but we can't even picture it.  There is nothing middle-schoolish about her and we love that.  Our oldest grew up too fast much as a result of the chaos brought into our home by Caroline, so to see this lengthier transition with our youngest two makes my mommy heart happy.

It's Settled

Caroline will be leaving Sunday morning for Meridell, we found out today. Bill will fly out with her early and she will be admitted on Monday.  This news is a big relief to all of us--it's always the not knowing that is the hardest.  Hopefully she'll do better on the two planes this time. 

She is wanting to do many things right now that she will be missing this summer, like going to Busch Gardens, and the beach.  So we have been trying to accommodate her desires as much as we can, which for me feels very inconvenient, but I remind myself what it must be like for her.  

I am weary of dealing with her, so it's been difficult for me to be excited about doing anything with her.  She is no less grumpy and rude to me, which makes me impatient back.

When I took her to the beach today, I sat there in the beach chair, while she sort of wandered up and down the beach.  There were no waves to speak of, and  I could tell she was bored, but I never got up and walked with her, I realized as we left.  Why didn't I walk with her and talk about what she must be feeling, her fears?  A good mom would have extended that compassion, but I didn't, I thought to myself.  I should have.  My struggle with contempt of her kept me in my chair.  I love her, but I am so tired of interacting with her.  I hope my desire to spend time with her will return before she does.

My Struggle with Shame and Grace

Several things took place today in my life to cause that ugly struggle with shame to pop up its head and shake a pointed finger at me.  The thing about shame is that it usually has some validity to its accusation, containing some truth.  That truth looms too large, wrapped up with lies, unless you look at it from the more complete, bigger picture.  I am learning to rely on the the bigger picture for my security, rather than the little instances that bring despair and embarrasment to my already over-the-top stressful life.  The bigger picture is who I am in Christ, "For in him there is forgiveness..." and his declaration of me, his ransomed, chosen, adopted child,  perfect in his sight forever because of what He accomplished on the cross.  

The first painful event happened at church. My youngest child Mae has a good friend whom she enjoys playing with after church when she can.  Recently Mae has had an enormous amount of catch-up work to do for school after being sick, not to mention she is severely impaired by her  ADHD.  Well, this little friend wanted to play with Mae today, but last night Mae didn't get enough homework done that she would be able to finish it all on Sunday evening.  So I had to call last night and say it wouldn't work out for a play date today.  Well, that was a pretty unpopular decision, leaving this little girl in tears because of the lost play date opportunity.  The tears part came at the end of church, when her mother, as graciously as she could, expressed to me that she didn't want her daughter to be used as a carrot for my daughter to get her work done.  I was taken aback by the sad scene, but I knew immediately that she was of course right and that this wasn't fair to her child to wait week after week for time with Mae, dependent upon Mae's industriousness on Saturday.  I felt awful of course, standing there seeing the tears and pain, especially because these are dear friends.  As my friend expressed her anger over my actions, hot shame crept up my neck to my cheeks.   

Then the quiet voice of grace said, you didn't mean to hurt her, you didn't know it would have this effect, you have learned from this, move on.  You can't dwell on your failures to love.  That will do you no good. Plus, you don't have the time to wallow in guilt, nor do I want you to.

After church, we had a family cookout to attend.  Well, Caroline has been in a bad way since last night.  She has become very anxious and depressed over the thought of spending so many months away, and the fact that her older sister continues to express verbally and in action her hatred of her.  Taking her to the picnic was a risk.  She really wanted to go, but once she got there, the rejection by her older sister (and her two friends) as well as her inability to relate to the other kids there, put her in a deeper funk.  She angrily stomped around, yelling, when approached, to be left alone, in spite of these kind people trying to reach out to her.  Ugly was definitely the word.  Finally, Bill left the cookout early with her before she did more damage. 

Meanwhile, that ghost of shame was breathing heavily down my neck.  I couldn't control her attitude or behavior, but I still felt responsible for her interactions with other people.  When someone tried to reprimand her for being short-tempered, I felt even more embarrassment when they were offended by her negative response.  I could see that they didn't understand that her ability to show self-control today was greatly compromised.  They meant well, but didn't know how to handle a an angry bipolar child.  They are brain-damaged essentially, which people often don't see.

While I struggled with hot shame over her state, the voice of grace and truth said, let go of your false guilt, you can't control every situation, and even if they are shocked by Caroline's behavior, it's not my place to convince them that she isn't just a spoiled brat but mentally ill.

After Bill and Caroline left,  my oldest, Elizabeth, 15, became another source of embarrassment to me.  She has been increasingly mouthy and rude to me these last few weeks.  I don't know exactly why this is, but I think she is angrily vying for attention in competition with Caroline and also she has reached the teen "I know it all" phase.  She complains all the time that I never listen to her, never pay attention to her important stuff, which is, unfortunately, partly true. Again, more guilt.  

So she proceeds to be loudly demanding and petulant, whining in front of all of these friends of mine about the heat, wanting to leave, talking too loud, basically showing no respect for me at all.  Once more, I felt my neck get hot as I tried to handle her immaturity while everyone stared rather shocked at her audaciousness.  They even called her on the carpet in support of me.  The sad thing is that when she is not with me, she is mature, respectful,  delightful.  I hear this all the time from her youth leaders, teachers, the parents of her friends, the people she babysits for, all astonished by her maturity, respectfulness, leadership and competence. Thus I wanted to justify her (and myself) right there on the patio by stating, "She's really not always like this!  There is a completely different side to her that you guys never see.  She is just like this with me and her dysfunctional family." 

Instead, I silently resolved to get her in line starting that minute, she would understand that in no way would she be able to speak to me like that again.  Shame filled my heart as I left the cookout and I took it out on her verbally all the way home.  Later that day she apologized sincerely for her rudeness and said she knows she really needs to work on her attitude toward me.  

The heavy weight of guilt drags on me daily, accusing me of letting  my other three fall through the cracks discipline-wise all these years while we have spent so much time and energy managing Caroline.  I so wish our life as a family could have been so different, so much more controlled and peaceful.  God did not give us that, as much as we want it. Instead, we are visited daily by the torments of an angry, depressed soul who needs more medications than most elderly people.

But the soft voice of God's grace said to me, give yourself a break.  You did what you could.  You are not a bad or lazy mommy.  You are being given time this summer to spend with your other children, and you can work on whatever needs working on then.  They are my kids anyway, not just yours. I have to listen to that voice. 

I wasn't listening tonight when I was so harsh with my youngest, who struggles greatly with staying on task.  Homework takes her FOREVER, driving me and Bill crazy.  I am at a loss as to what to do except to stop the ineffective pleading, threatening, and enticing her to get her work done, and just let her experience the consequences of not taking homework seriously.  Her new ADHD med doesn't seem to last long enough after school to get her through the homework hours.  I struggle with feeling embarrassment about her failures, like I am the one being graded, not her.

Presently, Caroline is downstairs screaming and raging, kicking things, throwing things, why I don't know.  We've never called the police to our home, maybe we should tonight because she sounds like a wild banshee.  I wish she could go to the RTC tomorrow.  

Now I need to read a bedtime story to two anxious little girls.  They said just now that Caroline is scaring them and they want a safe home to grow up in.  Wow.  What a dart that is to my heart.  Isn't that the last thing you want your child to struggle with?  I am looking forward to a summer with of relative peace.

We've Made a Decision

After talking on the phone to the admissions people at both Meridell in TX, and Inner Harbour in GA, we decided that Meridell is the better fit (we hope).  If we can get all of the paperwork done by Monday, she should be going mid-week.  She has all of her bags packed and ready by the door.  This will be a good change for everyone.  And I will finally be able to get ready to put our house on the market so we can hopefully be in a better school system for Caroline by the time she gets back in the fall or whenever.

Last night I went out with some girlfriends to dinner and had a blast.  We didn't talk about Caroline and the whole RTC thing at all.  Just laughed and ate amazing Thai food.  That was a refreshing time to just relax and have fun.  I needed that.

RTC Approved

We heard from the insurance company today and they approved our request for RTC for Caroline.  Now we just need to choose between the two programs, and find out who has the first available spots.  I am very relieved.  

One Step Closer?

We got everything faxed to the insurance company and our case manager said we would probably hear something by tomorrow.  Caroline was in tears today over the wait--she is sad about all she will be missing, and the longer the wait, the harder it is.  I hope that all of this can happen by the weekend.