I'm rapidly learning to never discuss Slugger's issues or needs with non-adoptive parents. In fact, I'm even learning that people who haven't adopted older kids just don't get it. Other than a few rare exceptions (as in my bestest, bestest friend who always manages to "get it") the people I lean on and confide in is becoming smaller. I am incredibly lucky, however, in that I have a large and diverse group of friends that have adopted older children (or have hosted older children and went on to adopt babies or toddlers).

The reason I'm remaining close-mouthed is that many behaviors that are typical for kids like Slugger sound, well, typical. It's part of the reason I've had trouble posting. For example, writing about how Slugger constantly asks me and everyone else to buy/give him things doesn't truly describe the situation. Almost all kids go through a gimme-gimme stage at some point. For some kids it never really goes away. But Slugger's behavior isn't typical. There's a desperation and a test for affection behind every request -- you can see it in his eyes. Maybe the action is typical, but the intent is far, far from typical.

As many of you probably do, I frequent many adoption and post-adoption parenting blogs. I often read posts describing (or venting about) PI behaviors and other issues that most likely are the result of a child's background. More often than not there are a handful of well-intentioned people who leave comments that, I'm sure, are meant to be reassuring. Comments along the lines of "that's typical" or "that's normal" or "all kids do that." For me, those kind reassurances fall flat. They are nails on a chalkboard to me. My son's behaviors are incredibly atypical, abnormal, and very-unlike-other-kids. The problem is these atypical behaviors mask themselves as typical ones.

A while back I left a comment on someone else's blog. She had posted about some difficult issues and almost all of the comments people left were of the sweet, but misguided, "Don't worry... my two-year-old does that, too" variety. I left a comment that went something like this:

"Let's say you have two seven-year-old boys. One is running down the street for the sheer joy of it -- letting the wind run through his hair and having fun. The other is running down the street is sheer terror because a bad man is chasing him. The boys are both running; they're exhibiting exactly the same behavior. The reasons for the behavior, however, are vastly different. Also the emotion and intensity of the behavior is drastically different."

What I was trying to describe is what professionals call "communicative intent." The phrase is often used to describe behaviors in children or adolescents with autism spectrum disorders, global development delays, even ADHD. It is also very appropriate for some children who have suffered prolonged neglect, abuse, multiple moves, prenatal exposure, or orphanage life.

Children are often unable to verbalize their feelings. That level of self-analysis is too hard for young kids. So, their feelings are often displayed through behavior or acting out. It is up to parents to determine the communicative intent of the behavior -- what emotion or issue is causing the child to behave that way? What are they trying to express? While many behaviors that post-foster or post-institutionalized kids display may seem typical in some ways, the communicative intent is (often) entirely different. These kids have a different range of experiences than children who spent their first years in a loving, consistent environment.

For a child like Slugger, who spent TEN years without a loving, consistent environment, the issues are exacerbated to the nth degree.

It is a constant struggle trying to figure out the root cause of behaviors. Especially when you have a child like Slugger, who has lived with eight different families before me, has experienced severe deprivation and neglect, has endured horrendous abuse that would bring adults quivering to their knees, was prenatally exposed to alcohol and possibly drugs, has multiple confirmed diagnoses (and several possible diagnoses), and has been removed from his birth family and later abandoned by an adoptive family. Analyzing his behaviors is like trying to put together a 1000-piece puzzle that's all one color. His behaviors could be the result of any one or combination of his issues, but to really help him, I've got to find just the right puzzle piece. I also have to be careful not to over-analyze his behaviors, to take him out from under the parenting microscope, and to just let him be a kid a times. Finding the balance is very hard, indeed.

With Slugger, it's also hard to anticipate his reactions. Slugger is 10, but he generally functions on a 7- or 8-year-old level emotionally. However, he sometimes processes emotions on a 3-year-old level. In other ways, Slugger is far advanced in years. He has some behaviors that are more like a 16-year-old; he certainly has knowledge far beyond his years. He runs the gamut emotionally, and it's very difficult for me to predict his reactions when his emotional barometer is so volatile. Cognitively, Slugger is at or just below grade level. But emotionally, he is undoubtedly delayed.

I understand all of these issues. I signed up for this job and even though it is much more tiring that I anticipated, I'm not surprised in the tiniest bit. There are times when it's not fun, there are times I wish I could just escape for a few minutes... but I asked for this. I want this. I know that the frustrating behaviors do not make my child. Some of them are organic -- caused by prenatal exposure. These will never go away. My role is to accept who he is, understand his limitations, and help him learn to manage those areas of difficulty. Other behaviors are due to neglect, mistreatment, or instability. These can be modified, if not fully corrected, in time. It is my job to figure out the roots of his behaviors, help break through them, and teach him to understand and trust again. But he is not his behaviors. Slugger is a bright and happy child with a killer sense of humor and an indefatigable spirit. He's clever and determined and sometimes sweet. He's skilled at building and puzzles and has a memory that never quits. He's incredibly athletic and coordinated. He's bold and inquisitive. Above all, he wants to be loved and to love in return. But he's so riddled with defenses, insecurities, issues, behaviors, and problems, his wonderful traits are virtually buried. It's like panning for gold -- through the mud and the grit and the mucky water I get an occasional glimpse of something that sparkles and shines.

Slugger's behaviors may sound like any other kids, but they are more frequent, more intense, more concentrated, and more complex. Slugger is not typical. He's not like other kids...

... he's spectacular.

Labels: Speed Bumps