Ten Days of Memories

It has been a year.  365 days. 52 weeks. You get the picture.  It's been that long since I flew to Arizona to be with my brother who had been taken to the hospital.  I didn't know what was wrong with him.  I only knew I had to be with him.

At age 34, my brother lived a complex life.  He made his own choices and his own way.  He lived life on his terms.  He was born Brock Reid-Barron Jacks.  He died Wolfgang Mason Chavez Nibori.  He wrote horror fiction. He was an artist.  He lived in Phoenix because he LOVED the palm trees and sunshine.  He made a living as a writer and also sold his art.  He was born with skeletal dysplasia and diagnosed with drarfism.  He was wheelchair bound.  He refused to live on the government dole and therefore lived a meager life; but he was happy.

When I arrived at the hospital, I was taken to the ICU where Brock (I will refer to him as Brock because he said I could.) was.  I started to enter the room but was held back.  They were about to do a procedure but also, in order to enter I would need to gown, glove and mask up.  I did not understand.  I told him I loved him from the doorway...told him I was there.  He was lying with his back to the door but raised his arms, so reminiscent of how he did when he was little and wanted me to pick him up, and rolled a little bit toward the door.  This was the first response he had given since being rushed to the hospital the night before.

I went to wait in the ICU waiting room with his fiance and soon a general surgeon and a plastic surgeon came in to talk with us.  They were angry.  It was obvious they were trying very hard to be professional.  I was at a loss.  They said they would be taking him to the OR to try to debride the wounds.  I listened as they began to explain his wounds.  I was horrified. HORRIFIED.

As I said earlier, my brother was confined to a wheelchair.  Because his fiance worked long hours, he was alone for 14 + hours at a time.  He had a dog to keep him company. He had fallen out of his wheelchair a few days before and laid on the floor until she arrived home from work.  He never got out of bed after that and was taken to the hospital on the following Monday evening. 

Due to the many hours spent in his wheelchair, Brock developed pressure wounds.  Since those develop from the inside out, it often has done a lot of damage before showing up on the skin surface.  I finally learned what the doctors were so angry about.  Brock's wounds were so extensive...so horrific.  He had necrotizing faciaitis that has destroyed the majority of his flanks, buttocks, hip bones and heels.  The physicians saw this as abuse.  The fiance said it had only been happening for a month or so and they had been putting medicine, etc. in the wound. I was stunned.  I was sick.  How could my little brother be in this dire situation?  How could I not know? How can a HUMAN be allowed to get to this point of deterioriation?

During the 10 days I was there in Phoenix, Brock had a total of 3 surgeries.  The surgeons who worked with him, as well as the hospitalist, infectious disease specialist, social workers, and so many others were wonderful.  When Brock woke up and could interract, they got to know him and allowed him the dignity of calling the shots.  He fought to the end.  He knew a third surgey was almost futile but asked the general surgeon, the plastic surgeon and the orthopedic surgeon to try one more time.  They did.  There was no way to save him.  There was simply not enough tissue, nor any place to get tissue to graft.  They could not debride enough to even get to healthy tissue.  But they went in there to the O.R., they played AC/DC's Highway to Hell as requested by Brock and they gave it their best shot.

I will share more in the next 10 days of those final 10 days last year.  We all know how the story ends.  My goal is to preserve some memories.  Unfortunately, not all the memories are happy or clear-cut.  Many are devistating...messy...uncomfortable.  But so is life, right? 

My "Once Upon A Time"...

Many months ago...hmm...perhaps over a year, I bought Beth Moore's Bible study workbook on Esther.  Technically, I bought 3 of them, thinking that maybe I would do an actual Bible study with other humans.  These books hung in their plastic bag from the store on my stair rail post for a l.o.n.g. time.  Finally, I put them in the hall closet. 

I have a desire to study God's word.  I really do.  I just don't like to quiet my mind and I have a hard time doing so.  Since my brother passed, I have been avoiding thinking too deeply about most things.  I accept what is and move on.  I know that God is in control so I just go along for the ride.  (Please, try not to be intimidated by my super spirituality).  I have listened to over 20 audio books.  I listen while I do housework.  I listen in the car.  I listen while I cook.  If my mind is occupied with the blather of the narrator, I don't have to think of anything else.

Come on!  It's not THAT bad.  I'm not drinking seceretly during the day or injecting drugs between my toes so that I don't have track marks to avoid reality. (I saw that on Intervention...)  I'm simply filling my mental time with fluff. 

I'm not here to say that audio book listening is bad.  It isn't and I have really enjoyed some of the stories I have listened to.  But I do acknowledge that I am sticking my head in the sand, one audio book at a time.

Then, this morning, out of the blue I decide to dig out that Bible study workbook and start on it.  I gather my bible and my workbook....along with my latte...and sit down to begin.  Then I have to go hunting for some cheater glasses because I simply cannot see any longer.  I begin and it is interesting.  I am looking forward to learning more about Esther. 

Because I am a very visual person, I enjoy the descriptions of the royal party that Xerxes threw.  Seems like a fun time in the Kingdom.  I learned that Xerxes' grandfather is Cyrus the Great, but I must refer to him as Cyrus the Virus.  Yes, all you fans of the movie Con Air will appreciate that.  I get the historical connection of Cyrus being used by God to deliver His message to send the exiles to return to Jerusalem.  It is all very interesting.

I continue along filling in my blanks when I come to the 'Personal Question' about what I am hoping for as I begin this Bible study.  Well...I don't know...to learn more about Esther and God and how he used her...to grow closer to God (that is a good all around spiritual answer, right??).  Then the next paragraph stopped me dead in my tracks:  Has a negative event or a near-eternal wait recently made you lose hope about something important to you?  Do you have any natural reasons to think that whatever your "one upon a time" might have been, it can never be now?

Um...well....yes, I supose so.  Just yesterday I wrote about how hard it is to parent RAD kids.  The main component of my feelings about doing that is failure.  Failure at the very thing I thought I would be good at.  I envisioned my life with lots of happy kids.  That is not my reality.  My "once upon a time" is not.

I guess there are larger reasons for me embarking on my study of Esther.  I am looking forward to see how God used Esther and how I can glean wisdom...or maybe just hope...from it.  One thing I am 100% positive of is that I need to rewind my thinking and begin again with the knowledge that I am not the one in control of how things turn out.  I learned last year that it is not ME who in control of the final product.  I am to do my part.  I am do look to Him for strength and guidance, but ultimately, it is HE who determines the final outcome. 

Yeah, yeah...of course we all know that.  We do!  But when you are strong-willed and bull-headed, you begin to think that everything is up to you.  Well, at least I do.  So, it is good to have my head thumped and to open my eyes and realize that sometimes I am way off course, stomping along, grumbling how hard things are and unfair they are and listing all the things I don't like about my situation.  Then I can stop, look around and see where I am and head back to the path I need to be on; the path where the going is not so tough because I am not forging it alone.  He is there.  He is walking with me.  He is providing the strength.

I'm finished with today's lesson but I am looking forward to tomorrow's.  Maybe my "once upon a time" won't be such a fairy tale after all. 

Enough is Enough

UNCLE!  I give in.  I need help!  Enough is enough!

It is no secret that parenting is no easy task.  There are ups and downs.  Kids are kids and pass through phases where they push boundaries.  It is a normal part of parenting.  I'm not saying that it isn't tough to parent through those phases, but when the child is passed through the phase, they have grown.  They have learned what the world and others expect of them. They have learned where the boundaries are and who is willing to enforce them.  They have learned something more about just who they are.  It is rewarding to see our children growing and maturing.

On the other hand, when parenting a child with Reactive Attachment Disorder, things don't go quite as planned.  Here is an excellent definition of RAD behavior:  Infants and young children who experience neglect and abuse learn quickly that the world is unsafe, they have no value, and adults cannot be relied upon to meet their needs. This belief paradigm forms a protective shell around the children that helps them survive in a hostile world. When such children enter an adoptive family, this shell prevents them from accepting parental kindness and direction. In fact, children with RAD feel most comfortable when they can recreate and control the chaos from their pasts.

A healthy parent and a child with RAD have a fundamental clash in belief systems. The more the parent tries to nurture and help the child, the more he will reject the closeness and fight to drive the parent away. Normal parenting, when applied to a child with RAD, can leave parents exhausted, stressed, isolated, and feeling like failures. As frustration rises, parents are more likely to reinforce the child´s negative beliefs, and be sucked into a downward spiral. To break the spiral, parents (often mothers, the most common target of adopted children´s rage) need to be supported by a tightly focused team composed of treatment professionals and educated family members and friends.

 

This probably doesn't seem like such a big deal if you are not up to your chin in it.  I was aware of RAD before we adopted.  I guess I just thought that we would be able to overcome.  Now, I have my doubts.   

 

That's not to say I don't love my kids...all of them.  Of course I do!  They are my kids!  There is nothing I would not do for them if they needed it and I was able.  The problem isn't loving them.  But also, the solution isn't loving them either.

 

No matter how much I love my RAD kids, it does not change their behavior.  It does not change their behavior because, as stated above, the more I love and nurture, the more they fight to drive me away.  It is really a gut-wrenching cycle.

 

We have done much therapy and seen some small degree of improvement, however, not enough to make life pleasant a lot of days.  I find that after 10, 12 and 15 years of this behavior, I absolutely do feel exhausted, stressed, isolated and like a failure.  The most unfortunate part is that I also feel myself pulling away.  I cannot continue to repeat the cycle of insanity that is RAD.  I am only human, after all. 

 

I find it hard to balance parenting of the typical kiddos with the RAD kiddos.  In order to not reinforce negative behavior and spiral into insanity, I have to not acknowledge the RAD behavior.  OK, so if a typical kid steals food; steals my camera; spills juice on the floor and vehemently denies it (even tho they have juice all over their shirt); lies about homework, their whereabouts and everything else ever questioned and destroys all the books and toys that belonged to their siblings when they were little, I would give a consequence.  However, because it is being done by a RAD kid, I have to minimize it and let it go.  Consequencing this behavior does not work.  It isn't fair to the typical kid to always get a consequence and the RAD kid to skate by. 

 

That is not to say we don't consequence the RAD kids.  We do.  We ground, take away privileges, etc.  It just doesn't matter.  It does not change their behavior.  It is exhausting and defeating.

 

Further reading in this article revealed some ideas I already knew.  Things I have done before but, honestly, are SO difficult to do in isolation.  If I had 'wrap around services' that this family had where the mother and the child were supported by a theraputic team, that would be amazing.  I will just do the best I can do.

 

I think employing the techniques that 'reframe core beliefs' can be likened to having to suddenly start walking backward everywhere you go.  Everyone in the world walks forward to get where they are going but suddenly now, in order to save your child's very life, you MUST walk backward.  It is hard because we were not really built to walk backward.  It is uncomfortable and feels awkward.  Because you have walked forward for your entire life up to this point, you often forget to walk backward.  You take off and are getting things done and then you realize your child is failing...all because you forgot to walk backward.  You bump into people and things and others look at you like you are crazy for walking backward.  It is just hard to do. 

 

But who amoung us would not do whatever it took to help our children?  So, even tho I wish there were other backward walkers to hold my hand some days and remind me that I am doing the right thing, I will walk backward. 

 

I am exceedingly thankful for the patience and understanding of my kids who do not need me to walk backward for them.  I know it can be frustrating; even irritating to have a mother who walks backward so much.  It take the focus off of their good behavior, and that isn't altogether fair.  I regret that and I hope that I can do for them enough that they know how loved and appreciated they are.

 

So, that is why I am not scraping the peeling paint from our front porch railing this morning.  I am making a plan to 'reframe core beliefs'.  I am making flash cards for myself to remind me of what is truth (because let me assure you, in the crazyness of RAD, truth gets lost). I am limbering up to walk backward. 

 

Ready...set....GO!

Author's Note:  Please forgive my unclear writing.  I was reading an article as I was writing this.  The article I refer to is located at:  http://www.nacac.org/adoptalk/intensiveinhome.html  If you read it, you will really understand our daily life and the struggle to walk backward.  --Jill

Do I Need A Bucket List?

The idea of the 'Bucket List' is pretty popular these days.  Everyone has a list of things they want to see/do before they die.  People are listing and checking off items like, 'visit Nepal' and 'bungee jump from the world's tallest building'.

I don't have a bucket list, but I'm wondering if maybe I need to get on the stick and write one out.  But what do I put on it?  What is it I simply MUST do?  There seems to be a lot of stress involved in simply coming up with the proper items.  Do I go with actually attainable items?  Do I shoot for the moon?

Ok, Ok....I'm gonna settle down and come up with some things I really would like to do.

After my recent 9 state road trip with 3 of my kids and my folks, I have decided that I really want to drive through the Appalachians.  I would love to meander through towns, stop and talk to local folks and take pictures.  Maybe I could turn it into a book?

Speaking of taking pictures, I would like to travel around...anywhere really...and take pictures.  Not sure what to do with them, but it would be fun to just photo-document my journey.

I'd like to rent a villa in Italy and stay for a month....walk to a little store for food to cook each day's meals and lounge in the sunshine.

I would like to have a home on the ocean or at least a lake.

I would like to write a book.

I would like to go over and work in an orphanage.

I would like to have my vehicle back from the body shop where it is getting repaired after a little meet up with a pole in a parking lot. Hopefully I will be able to check this one off next Tuesday.

So, it's looking like I don't have a very exciting, much less, extensive bucket list.  Oh well, I will keep thinking and maybe I will come up with some more interesting things to accomplish in life.

Rest assured that bungee jumping will never be on my list.  Never.

Today Could Be My Last

This blog post has special meaning. It may be the last. I am currently riding shotgun while my 16 year old son is driving us to Lincoln. Yes, he is 16 and technically should already have his license but he's the kind of guy who was happy to let his sister drive him to school, swim practice and where ever else because it was easier. Then when it got to be crunch time, he failed the permit test three times....but who doesn't, right? No? whatever. Add to that, every time he needed to take Driver's Ed, there was something going on to prevent it; golf practice, work, etc.

Wanting him to drive is surely a double-edged sword. I'm weary of carting his happy hiney all over creation but I'm terrified of riding with him. This is by kid who routinely says, "Wait, what?" in the middle of every conversation because he tuned out and then back in. This is not a good omen for driving.

But today I have to go to Lincoln and have something like 22,000 dental x-rays taken by my daughter who is almost finished with her Dental Assisting program. (This is where I wish she'd gone to beauty school instead of dental school) Since I have PTSD in regard to all things dental, I am not so much looking forward to this visit. At least it's only x-rays and not drilling, squirting, sucking, poking and prodding. Oh my! I'm experiencing heart palpatations now! Since I'm already near cardiac arrest with fear of the dentist, I thought now would be the perfect time to let the boy drive on the highway. This is sort of the same reasoning I used when I pierced M's ears on the same day she got her six month immunizations.

In chose to get out of town before handing over the wheel (read: my life) to the very excited boy. I pulled over to the side of the road and we were going to change places. Keep in mind that this boy doesn't hurry to do ANYTHING. He has two speeds: slow and sitting. But not today! Today before I can say, "Wait by the bumper until the semi goes by before you go open the door to get in." he is around the bumper and has the door open. As the semi swiftly approaches, threatening to either hit both boy and door, or at the very least, tear the door off with his backwash of air, I'm screaming for him to HURRY UP AND GET IN!! Given he has stiff legs, getting in is never quick. He finally gets the door slammed shut, the semi roars by. My throat tightened up and my left arm throbbed. I wonder; will I die of fright or a firey crash first?

We just took a cut off and rather than slowing to smoothly navigate the curve, we approached too quickly, almost stopped in the middle and then gunned it. I'm wishing I had spiked my latte this morning.

Most of the roads here in the heartland are flat and straight. The whole place is built around farm acres. This should be simple. I'm wishing I had remembered that nothing is ever simple.

I just asked him, "What are you going?" He responds, "Where am I going?" Why would I ask him where is he going? I'm wishing I had remembered that communication is not this guy's main strength. Wait, what?

I'm sweating profusely now. Is it fear? Is it the anticipation of my own death? Is it a hot flash?

I keep stealing glances at him. He appears to be almost asleep. I quearied and he assured me he was awake. I wonder what he is thinking about? Is he thinking about texting the girl he is dating? Is he calculating the distance from our bumper to the car in front? Is he thinking at all? He seriously appears two seconds from sleep.

And he is awake! We just turned from highway to another. He slowed appropriately and got into the turn lane. Two cars were coming so he stopped. He didn't HAVE to stop but he said he thought he did have to come to a complete stand still stop. In fact, rather than simply slowing down and easing to an almost stop (all that was necessary), he got to the perfect almost stop and then said, "Oh! I almost had it!" and then proceeded to stand on the brake until we almost got whiplash and our seatbelts locked. There is no eyeroll big enough for me at this point.

I have taught three other kids to drive. You think I would be a pro. But I'm not. Each kid has their own quirky things about driving. My daughter A was similar to C and no matter how many times I yelled SLOW DOWN, she would SAY she was slowing down without actually decreasing speed at all. She is a fine driver now, though, so I take comfort in that.

I am going to sign off now and spend a little time in prayer, preparing to meet my maker. Wait, what?

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It's a Blog, Blog, Blog, Blog World

Blogging is abounding in my house these days. My daughter, A, came home for the weekend and started a blog. Our visit has been punctuated by the click, click, clicking of laptop keys as she blogs away.

A is my kiddo who holds her cards pretty close to the vest. She isn't too fond of discussion of any personal nature and most assuredly not confrontation of any kind. When she was a little girl we found a way around that by using a notebook to write back and forth to one another. It was a way to keep the lines of communication open without the anxiety of face to face discussion. Now that she's 'all grown up'...or at least 'mostly grown up' we talk more often because we have built the trust necessary to say what one feels and know that it's ok. (She is a truly fabulous girl, my A!)

Through her newly minted blog I have come to realize that she's feeling a little adrift with the GIGANTIC changes that have occurred in her life in the last few months. What changes, you ask? Well she graduated high school in May, moved to a LARGE city...alone, started a new job with BIG responsibilities and went on a 10 day tour of Europe. Admittedly, that would knock anyone off kilter! Throw in a massacre of 12 innocent people who were enjoying a movie premiere and life feels a little shaky.

As a mom, it's hard to see your child struggle, be afraid, question her faith. Part of me wants to bring her home, shield her from the world and keep her safe. But I can't. My job now is to cheer from the sidelines; to call plays when she needs a suggestion for a game plan and pray.

These are the days when she is learning who she is. She is finding out just how strong she is. She is finding out she is as strong as I've always assured her she was. Sure, she is wobbly sometimes. She gets homesick so we text or talk on the phone. She gets frustrated at work so we talk about different ways to resolve employee conflicts or encourage good behavior. She signs up for her college classes and we celebrate!

Oddly, these are the days I have lived for. For me, this is the pay off. All the years spent teaching...well...everything you need to know when you fly from the nest, have paid off in spades! Watching her set up her home (an apartment her dad and I found downtown close to the Old Market area she loves); seeing her manage her time well and excel at her job; knowing she can manage her money well and loving that she wants to come home when she has the chance. It is affirming for me to see her do well.

But, I guess all these things that make me proud are making her crazy! She is lonely living alone and since school hasn't started yet, she hasn't had many chances to meet new people. She has to pay rent and utilities. She has to manage a sizable group of employees that are barely younger than she is. Bless her heart, I understand those things ARE hard. Maybe she would rather have stayed home all summer and lounged around. Perhaps she would rather be the lifeguard rather than the Manager at the pool.

Honestly, I don't think so. She is capable and intelligent and adventurous. She is a leader. She has her sister, M, who comes to have dinner with her from Lincoln. Her dad checks in with her between his service calls. Her siblings connect with her on Facebook and I try to pop in and see her as often as I can get to Omaha. She is surrounded by those who love and support her, though not as geographically close as before. She will find her rhythm and before we know it, she will be too busy to come home and visit!

As for questioning why a loving God would allow such pain and suffering, I don't have the answer for her. I share what I believe and encourage her to give thought to what she believes and knows to be true. Is God a big ole teddy bear who just does warm fuzzy things for us out of love? Is He a hard hearted deity who punishes even the innocent? This is her time to read, study, seek out those with wisdom and decide for herself what she knows to be true. I have faith that she will find the right road. I absolutely do NOT want her to believe what I believe simply because it is what she is supposed to believe. What kind of faith would that be? No, she needs to work it our for herself. Only then will it be HER faith.

I'm thankful for A's new blog. It's like a grown up version of our old notebook. I get a glimpse of what is kicking around in her heart and her head. I don't offer advice unless I'm asked. I love that she asks questions and wonders. She is growing and becoming herself.

I wonder who else in the family is going to start a blog? With a family the size of ours, we could get fined for using up too much of the Internet!

 

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The Light Dawns

For a lot of years now I have been a little off kilter. Yeah, yeah....I know what you are thinking; you already knew that. I freely admit to being a little quirky and occasionally downright backwards, but that isn't what I am talking about.

Let me back up. There was a time, many years in my life when I could do anything I put my mind to. I was strong and relatively intelligent. I got any job I applied for. I could work out and not perish. I had clothes that fit. I was good at my job. I had friends....lots of them! I knew myself; my strengths and weaknesses.

Things changed a bit when I got married and my family (parents and brother) moved to another state, I was a bit adrift in the sea if my new family. They all had each other and 'their' ways (which I was not to question) and I felt like an outsider and alone. Now don't get me wrong! Nothing was ever done by most of them to make me feel this way. They were just living the life they always had. They had no idea what it was like to stand in my shoes and it simply never occurred to them to find out. It is only now, some 25 years later that I finally understand some of the inner workings of this family. But I will get to that in a bit.

So, here I am, a newly married 20 year old and my greatest dream is to be a wife and mother. I know that I am nurturing and I have a really well developed sense of right and wrong. I love children. This I can do! And so, we begin our family. First a son; an amazing little man who has grown into an amazing big man. He was a delight and a challenge all rolled into one. Why not have more! Along came our first daughter...and 18 months of post-partum depression. Our daughter was the most beautiful baby ever and I was so happy to be her mom, but I just couldn't shake the baby blues.

As I had said before, my family had moved to another state and so I was on my own. It was actually my sister, who also lived in another state but was savvy enough to pick up on the symptoms, who urged me to seek help. In my own defense, I did reach out once. I was desperate and in a phone conversation with my mother-in-law said' "I don't understand. I really need help and you are taking (sister-in-law) on a vacation to talk her out of dating some guy.". Her reply, "well, I can see you are just jealous.". I'm not sure it was jealousy but I was a mess. I truly needed help but I learned that day not to ask. Not to depend. I was not at the top of the list. I needed to pull myself up by my bootstraps and move on. If only it were that easy.

Fast forward a few years and we have adopted four beautiful children. This is what we felt led to do. No regrets. However...this is where my whole being began to be chipped away daily. What did I always want to be? A mom. What did I think I was good at? Nurturing children and raising them to be good adults. Well, let me tell you, those notions were being put to the test.

After losing virtually all of our friends because we chose to adopt initially, we had very little support. That's ok. I am strong. I can do this. Child needs a Bilateral Craniotomy? No problem. Next child needs a prosthetic leg our insurance won't cover? No problem. I will make three or four trips to Minneapolis with all the kids by myself each year. The boys need counseling to overcome the trauma they experienced in the beginning of their lives? No problem. I will structure our days and our budget to accommodate that too.

Except it isn't that easy. It isn't that cut and dried. It isn't always 'no problem'. Sometimes it actually is PROBLEM! Especially if you add into this scenario being self employed and having a spouse who works 80 hours a week. It is draining. It is overwhelming.

The hardest part has now been addressed, thankfully. The boys are in counseling. Things are on the upswing. But prior to this year? Well, let's just say things were on a downswing.

Nothing I did parenting-wise was working. Everything that worked with the other four kiddos bounced off those boys like they were rubber. They were impervious to my love and nurturing. They lied. They snuck. They smiled and nodded when you gave instructions and then went and did exactly what they wanted to do. One of them has destroyed all of our books. He also has urinated on the floor when angry. He has spent every morning of the last three years doing everything he can do make me angry before school. He has succeeded.

I became an angry mom. I was angry because I was trying so hard, doing everything I knew how, reading all the parenting books I could and still, nothing was turning out right. I was failing at parenting. I was failing at the ONE thing I thought I would be good at! I was a failure at the thing I had always dreamed of being. A painful reality.

Then a light appeared at the end of my tunnel and this time it did not turn out to be an oncoming train. I found out about a place in Norfolk that does attachment counseling with internationally adopted children. I called. We went. We are still going. Everyone is learning about themselves and making progress. Let me tell you though, it ain't easy! To face abandonment and make peace with it...hard. To truly believe that you are worth being loved....hard. To learn not to react immediately in anger to a child who is reacting to intrinsic memory....hard.

But we are working through the hard stuff. We are becoming a closer family. Nobody urinates on the floor and the truth is told at a normal level. It is disappointing to realize that I could not just be the amazing parent I thought I could be but I am ever thankful to God for bringing the Counseling Enrichment Center into our lives. He has worked mightily through them to mold and repair our family. Are we 'there' yet? Nope. But we are making progress and that is better than before.

In addition to getting the attachment help we needed, I have come to realize that not being on the top of my mother-in-laws list is not my fault. It isn't due to some failing on my part as I believed for so many years. I know she loves me. No doubt about that. But her daughter is just that, her daughter. The baby she prayed for many years ago and was the answer to those prayers. I have never wanted to compete with the sister-in-law...ever. There is nothing to compete for. I simply needed a mom all those years ago and did not, at that time, understand her choice. Now I do. I also understand that things happen for a reason and I can be aware of how I treat my daughters and sons-in-law because of this.

So on a few levels, the light has dawned for me. Realizing that the boys needed more than I was qualified to give has released me from my constant anger at myself for not being a better parent. Realizing that finding our family the help we need was really a good parenting move....well maybe I am an OK parent after all! Besides, on the whole I do have some pretty amazing, respectful, smart, witty and all around fantabulous kids!

Now that the light has finally dawned, I believe I will bask in the sunlight.