The Odds are NOT in my Favor

I have about 13 hours left before summer break starts. In preparation I was reading a blog written by an adoptive dad who understands the stress of summer for kids with trauma. (see Confessions of an Adoptive Parent) Unstructured time, new places, changing schedules & unpredictable disruptions makes for uneasy kids.  All kids need to adjust to summer, but our recently adopted kids will most likely struggle significantly.

Each of our three newest kids will be struggling to cope and express their needs due to the way their brains have adjusted due to trauma.  (There is a lot of science behind this which is important, but not the point today.)  I do agree with most of the points in this article & to be honest - like the author of said article - I am dreading summer break. I see all the difficult things in my future they described - feeling trapped, guilty, etc.

This summer will be difficult. Even the weeks with camp & summer school will be filled with triggers, opportunities for the kids to act out & show aggression. But I am truly dreading this summer because I know I am going to fail - A LOT.  With five kids needing unique parenting, some needing to see my feelings - others being triggered by my feeeling/facial expressions, knowing there will be a significant rise in meltdowns - it all seems like too much.

I'm sure you are thinking "not with that attitude..." and I know my attitude will play a HUGE role in how my summer goes, but so much of kids with trauma and what they are triggered by is so out of my control and often out of my awareness. I've had more than one of the kids' therapists suggest that my hairstyle, the way I pronounce a word or a scent could trigger a kid - we have NO CLUE (even they don't have a clue most of the time) what the keys are.  There are so many symptoms of their trauma, we can't and will never figure out all of them.

I had a hard time even writing this all down because I know that it may be perceived as over-dramatic or negative, but as I desire to share our story I want to be vulnerable to explain the whys behind our struggle.

We have some awesome kids.  If you need to be reminded of God's goodness, I dare you to take one of my kids to a park and not see His face. They love God. They want to know Him. He has given them joy that only comes from Him. They are smart, fun, silly and so unique. All five of our kids bring us joy everyday.

This is why the brokenness is so hard. It is horribly frustrating to be called names by your son who was just thanking you for the best day he can remember. It is heartbreaking to have your daughter burst into tears because she is afraid the police from the parade the other day are going to come take her away from us (because shes been moved by them before). It is so incredibly hard to stay calm and gentle when your kids are running around the Gap like its a playground (I am aware I set myself up for that disappointment). I know I will raise my voice and Bella will react in fear, Henry will be triggered to run - not to mention Charlie who likes to push every boundary & envelope (after that gorilla story this week I have no idea if I'll ever have the courage to take him to the zoo again!).

Children's playground stock photoMy kids are awesome, but life with kids with so much trauma (on top of the normal crazy things kids do) makes me want to lock myself in a room with them until summer is over.  Instead, we will be in public - playgrounds, camps, water parks, target - sometimes I will fail & I will definitely cry. I will also remember that they will only be this age once & we are not alone. We have people who love us & will help - hopefully including the camp counselors (PRAY FOR THEM, TOO!) I know we will make it through.

Just think - in about 10 weeks & 6 days (not that I'm counting) they will all be in school full time. This summer will (hopefully) fly by with good memories.  When I look back at the way our family has grown over the past year, I cannot question God's faithfulness to us which I know He will continue this summer.

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