2 PANS kids fighting lyme and coinfections, our journey to healing

More on neurodevelopment healing (Brain Balance)

He slapped me hard across the face, not once, not twice but 3 times, my optional child. Yes, I do mean optional, not oppositional which he also is of course and those reasons have been discussed here multiple times. I say optional because, as I am reminded by many people he is adopted. They then follow that logic with “would we still have adopted him if we knew?” to which we have to respond, A: A bio child can have problems would you give him back then? B: He was a baby no one had any idea he was going to be off the charts intellectually with limited social skills and C: would you dislike your child if they turned out to be different than your expectations? – anyway that’s a discussion for another day. The fact is we made a decision to adopt and by doing so we chose to complete multiple interviews, financial and psychological evaluations and various other scrutiny in order to earn the honor of calling him our son, and we did it knowing that no child is perfect, biological or not. We were more than prepared to have faith that what should be, would be. Yet in a cruel twist of fate it turns out he never wanted it, there are days he actually hates us for it. He makes if clear every single day that this is not his plan for his life, this is ours and he is being dragged along behind us. In some ways I suppose this is true, adults simply acting in the best interests of a child. Making decisions for the best. So it comes down to this, trying to make the best decisions I can, there I am standing in the front office at Brain Balance taking smack after smack. I want to cry, but I don’t, that inevitably will come later. I really want to just drop him flat on the floor and walk away, but I don’t. I want to walk out the door and just keep walking. As tired as he is – I am too, fed up, over it, done, but I stand there because as his parent and the grown up de jour, I am more than aware that it is my job to give him the time, the space and the reassurance he needs to move through one more challenge. It is my job to stay composed regardless of the fact that inside my heart breaks for him and me. I am painfully aware of all the eyes focused our way. I am embarrassed, broken. Adopted or not, we are more alike than anyone really...

Taking time-out

It’s already 2 weeks into summer vacation and I haven’t had a second to write anything. I have been finishing school myself (taking a vocational course so I can remain at home to work for the duration), for the forseeable future putting my son in after school care or camp is just not an option. Although, I always remain hopeful for the future, after all sleep-away camp is a right of passage for millions of pre-adolescent American boys and I don’t want him to miss out on something so fun at his age. Anyway, with the strategies we now have in place, specifically helping him to confront his trauma and talking openly about his Birth Mother, helps us to discuss and diffuse his intense anger over the situation.  Not to mention relieving the guilt he feels almost constantly. I think his brain still struggles with how to reconcile his feelings for me as his Mother, while also being able to love his Birth Mother as a mother too. It is a constant battle of “is this ok, and what does it mean if I let go of that, how would she (either me or his Birth Mum) feel”. There is no doubt, he deeply loves us both. Whatever is happening inside his head he is managing to reconcile his feelings better and we are now light years ahead of where we were just 12 short months ago, even if we have significant ground left to cover. It’s my opinion now, that last summer was the culmination of his little brain finally awakening to the full-extent of what and why he was feeling the way he was. August 2010 was positively the hardest time I have ever endured in my life, and there have been some tough times! Even though helping him navigate through his grief has so far been emotionally challenging, I would even say arduous, we are moving forwards. Last year was different, I was lost, totally lost, and he was more lost than I. The end of summer saw the pure unadulterated anger and aggression in him, that allowed him to rage for hours and hours and hours. It is a time we are all grateful to move beyond. Since we started helping and allowing him to both recognize and address the grief process, he hasn’t had a single tantrum that has lasted more than 15 minutes. He no longer hits me, there is no more spitting in my face, no random stomach punches. He is still more goofy and inapropriate than a boy his age, and he totally refuses to leave the house save for much begging and...

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