A Household Enraged
It took 6 1/2 months, and Segunda has rage. Lots and lots of rage. When we were at the Shriner's Hospital for Children in St. Louis, she showed me for the first time. She woke up from her nap and went straight into a massive, rage filled meltdown. She was kicking her legs and trying to slam her head into the side rails of the hospital bed. She pushed her face into the bed and screamed and screamed. She kept calling out "Mama" and shoving me away. I was not the mama she was calling for. I wanted to cry for her pain. Nurses would come in and ask if she was okay. And I would explain each time that she just needed to get it out of her system and that she didn't want me to touch her which was why I was not actively trying to comfort her. My job at that moment was to keep her from falling off of the hospital bed and stop her from slamming her head into the side rails. I did that job for 25 minutes. Then we walked and we walked and we walked. Finally she was able to return to the room for a snack. I thought it was a one off thing and that maybe she had a nightmare.
But this was not to be the end of the rage, and she wasn't the only one feeling it. Saturday was a long day for Prima. She got up way too early (after a very late night due to my delayed flight) and went downstairs to watch You Tube (what is it with young kids and You Tube?). My brother-in-law and niece were visiting, so there was no one-on-one mommy time the whole day. By the end of the day, she was spent. We watched a movie and then Prima found a reason to let herself go into the depths of her anger. And down she went. I took her upstairs and covered her with her heavy blanket and her weighted blanket and waited her out. When she was able to talk I learned that she was very angry with me for being gone for a week with Segunda. She was convinced we were having the time of our lives in St. Louis. So, I explained how the blood draws went for Segunda. I explained how the urine collection went for Segunda. I explained how the x-rays went for Segunda. I explained how the dental visit went for Segunda. Light dawned in Prima's eyes and as she thought about having all of that done in one week and not being able to come home at the end of each day. I sat in Prima's room and held her and told her how much I loved her. When she was completely calm, I walked her to my room and tucked her into bed. She had a much better Sunday.
But Segunda wasn't finished. She had 3 ... three ... THREE meltdowns full of rage this afternoon. Once again, she laid on the floor, kicking, screaming and attempting to bury her head into the carpet. Nobody could touch her. The first one was 20 minutes. The second one was 15. The third one was 30 minutes. The difficulty with Segunda's meltdowns is that we can't communicate. Prima's meltdowns didn't start until she was 3 and she was practically reciting Shakespeare by then, so we could talk our way through them. But Segunda can't talk to any helpful degree. Her meltdowns were pure, unadulterated rage.
... and why wouldn't she be angry? She has been removed from her foster family, removed from her country, removed from her culture. She has been taken from doctor to doctor to doctor and flown to a hospital to spend a week being poked, prodded and examined by strangers. She has a diet that severely limits calcium (in other words heavily rationed dairy), which is the one thing she loves the most. She can't talk to us about her worries, her likes, her concerns. She can't tell us how much she misses her foster family. She can't tell us how much she misses her country. She can't tell us that she wishes she were there instead of here. If only she knew that I already know those things.
I have a feeling that this is just the beginning. The key will be naps and food. If I can keep her well fed and well rested then she will be less volatile. But, as most parents know, food and rest is not necessarily the panacea we hope it will be. Sometimes, the rage just has to come out. And when it does, I will keep her safe, and when it's over, I will remind her that I love her.
But this was not to be the end of the rage, and she wasn't the only one feeling it. Saturday was a long day for Prima. She got up way too early (after a very late night due to my delayed flight) and went downstairs to watch You Tube (what is it with young kids and You Tube?). My brother-in-law and niece were visiting, so there was no one-on-one mommy time the whole day. By the end of the day, she was spent. We watched a movie and then Prima found a reason to let herself go into the depths of her anger. And down she went. I took her upstairs and covered her with her heavy blanket and her weighted blanket and waited her out. When she was able to talk I learned that she was very angry with me for being gone for a week with Segunda. She was convinced we were having the time of our lives in St. Louis. So, I explained how the blood draws went for Segunda. I explained how the urine collection went for Segunda. I explained how the x-rays went for Segunda. I explained how the dental visit went for Segunda. Light dawned in Prima's eyes and as she thought about having all of that done in one week and not being able to come home at the end of each day. I sat in Prima's room and held her and told her how much I loved her. When she was completely calm, I walked her to my room and tucked her into bed. She had a much better Sunday.
But Segunda wasn't finished. She had 3 ... three ... THREE meltdowns full of rage this afternoon. Once again, she laid on the floor, kicking, screaming and attempting to bury her head into the carpet. Nobody could touch her. The first one was 20 minutes. The second one was 15. The third one was 30 minutes. The difficulty with Segunda's meltdowns is that we can't communicate. Prima's meltdowns didn't start until she was 3 and she was practically reciting Shakespeare by then, so we could talk our way through them. But Segunda can't talk to any helpful degree. Her meltdowns were pure, unadulterated rage.
... and why wouldn't she be angry? She has been removed from her foster family, removed from her country, removed from her culture. She has been taken from doctor to doctor to doctor and flown to a hospital to spend a week being poked, prodded and examined by strangers. She has a diet that severely limits calcium (in other words heavily rationed dairy), which is the one thing she loves the most. She can't talk to us about her worries, her likes, her concerns. She can't tell us how much she misses her foster family. She can't tell us how much she misses her country. She can't tell us that she wishes she were there instead of here. If only she knew that I already know those things.
I have a feeling that this is just the beginning. The key will be naps and food. If I can keep her well fed and well rested then she will be less volatile. But, as most parents know, food and rest is not necessarily the panacea we hope it will be. Sometimes, the rage just has to come out. And when it does, I will keep her safe, and when it's over, I will remind her that I love her.
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