It Has Been a Week…

It has been a week since our AT Intensive. It seems like it has been years. Hope is the worst she has ever been, in the length, frequency, and physicality of her rages.

And yet…

Small glimmers of hope, so small, if you blink you miss them

Her head resting briefly on my shoulder, when no one is looking. Fingers “accidentally” brushing me face as she walk by. Sharing the little corn cobs from her dinner because she knows I like them. Smiling, looking straight at my eyes as she gets on the bus.

Little things that are gone like the mist, leaving Hope trying to claw my eyes out.

I saw it. Something is working inside her. So I wait.

9 thoughts on “It Has Been a Week…

  1. I just read your blog from beginning to where I started reading a few months ago. I know it has been a few years of what feels to you like the same thing without end but as I read I could read a change in Hope. Maybe you don't report the same things these days, but Hope used to think only black babies were adopted, that you were going to give her up too, and rubbed herself raw and infected.

    I think GB sounds much more confident now too. It might be age, or that she has gotten more accustomed to Hope, but I think your strategy of self-esteem boosting is really paying off.

    A while ago you did a 14 day positive speech challenge, and while I thought there was no reason to keep starting over, you kept plugging away at it. You said that even though you weren't successful the exercise improved the overall atmosphere in the house.

    I think you are doing an amazing job, not just on the day to day holding things together but also at improving Hope's behavior and capabilities.

  2. You've visited my blog and offered support during the tough times with our son…so I really think it's time for me to tell you that I read your blog daily and draw strength from your example. I'm awed by your sheer grit and ability to hang in there. I'm sending you strength, praying for more glimmers of hope.

  3. I cried after I read this. I have been “hoping” so hard for you and your little girl. How scary it must be for her to chance to reach out – even for a split second – in a world that seems so frightening and untrustworthy. She is seeing that you are there beside her to help her fight her monsters – those outside her (defending her from her “mom” in therapy) and inside her (keeping her safe when she rages.) Slowly, with lots of testing, she may be seeing the possibilities of another world. Sending all the energy I can for you to keep hanging in there. Sending hope.

  4. I've been gone for a long while (moving to residency) but just getting caught up. These small glimmers of hope, they are so precious.



  5. I've been gone for a long while (moving to residency) but just getting caught up. These small glimmers of hope, they are so precious.



  6. I love that you can find the glimmers of hope to hold onto amidst the craziness. That's where healing starts. I remember so very well the day I knew I'd been claimed by my boys. My older son claimed me in Ukraine just before he left his orphanage, the younger several months after we came home. Both were little instances that if you blinked you'd miss them. Most everyone else did miss them…but I didn't. They were precious, fleeting moments that were the very first little seedlings of attachment starting to grow.

    5 years later, they still have RAD, but they're also light years from where they were back then. They're attached, but they still react and they forget how attached they really are when they're stressed. But, we just keep at it. It's all we can do and it eventually does make a difference. Hang in there, Mama! This is HARD STUFF!

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