I took Kate to the doctor's office today for our fake, made-up, bureaucracy-sucks appt (see previous post). She adores outings 1:1 with me, even to the dr office.
We walk in and she's chatty and smiley with the receptionist. In the waiting room a cute little A-A boy sat beside her and she joyfully crowed to me, "Mama, look, it's my friend!" (she'd never met him before). We get called back and she's so friendly and expressive to the nurse that the nurse keeps cracking up and at one point whispered to me, "She's adorable!"
So Kate is having a good old time until a student doctor walks in. She FROZE. Like a baby bunny before the jaws of the fox. Absolutely could not move a muscle, eyes wide and locked on him, totally unresponsive. I think she almost stopped breathing. I looked at him and saw what she saw--he looked a lot like her biological father. Same hair; same long face; maybe even a similar voice though I'd only heard him speak once or twice.
I tried to distract her by having her look at me. He was trying to ask her questions to warm her up, like, "what did you have for lunch today?" So, I try to be chipper and distracting and said, "Kate, look at me! What was your favorite thing about lunch today?"
She could not move. Totally shut down. I don't think she even heard me. She never looked at me; never responded to a word either of us said. I have never once ever seen her react like this to any person, in any situation whatsoever. It was like she went to a place of total terror that I could not reach.
Then, of course, he had to examine her. So I pick her up and she clutches my shirt with both fists and wraps her legs around me. I could've swam a mile and she wouldn't have dislodged with that kind of grip. (Also, maybe they could teach male docs how to examine a kid's belly without inadvertently also giving the mom a breast massage, though, admittedly it's hard to wedge your hand between a kid glued to her mother. It got really weird there for a moment mainly because he had no idea what he was doing. Poor student docs. So much to learn.)
Finally he leaves and I wrap her up in my sweatshirt and cuddle her in my arms and start rocking her back and forth. Slowly she starts to thaw. Then she begins to talk. First she does her familiar refrain about how I'll never leave or if I leave I always come back. She has a whole script she runs through almost daily at some transition point in the day when she's feeling anxious about being separated from me.
Next, she says something that makes my blood run cold. She points to the trashcan and says, "Don't let him put me in there. It will hurt and he will leave me all alone."
I can't believe I heard her correctly so I ask her to repeat it. She says the exact same phrase again. "Don't let him put me in there. It will hurt and he will leave me all alone."
Where in god's name did that thought come from?
I immediately assured her that I would never let someone put her inside a trash can. This opens up the floodgates and she starts babbling too fast for me to follow. I caught words like, "sharp" "hurt me" "alone" "him" "push me inside" "I won't fit".
I just wanted to cry. When she wound down I told her that this doctor's office was a safe place where nobody would hurt her and that I am always with her and I will never let anyone hurt her. Then, I said, "did that happen to you before?" She said yes. I asked, "Did Mama Leah do that to you?" She said yes.
I should've asked her if it was Steve since she said 'him' and the memory was clearly triggered by the student doc. I think there's a part of me that doesn't even want to say his name and referring to her bio mother is my way of referring to any part of her old life.
All I know is that she has a clear memory of being put inside someplace small and being hurt and left alone. And that memory is connected to her bio father and her previous life. And memories like this are going to come up out of nowhere when I least expect it, when she is unprepared, and they are going to grip her and terrorize her. And I have to be ready to switch from parenting adorable smiley girl charming everyone to frozen-in-terror girl in the blink of an eye.
In the midst of dealing with horrible social workers I must deal with this--the real work. I wish I could slap every one of them upside the head and show them a video of what I am really doing on a daily basis and exactly why I have no patience when their stupidity piles on yet another stressor.
UPDATE: At bedtime, during rock-a-bye, I gently brought up the event to see if she needed to talk about her fears before bedtime. I've learned that if I don't give them a safe outlet at the end of the day they can't go to sleep and there will be nightmares. So, all I said was, "you got really scared at the doctor's office today". She immediately, emphatically said, "Yes! Dat mans hairs! Him hairs all scary!" She motioned towards her head. I pointed to the regions on myself while asking, "do you mean eyebrows or hair on top of his head?" She pointed to my eyebrows as I had done and said, "Eyebrows!"
I hadn't even noticed his eyebrows. Must be something about that guy's shape and color was also like Steve's. She kept going on, repeating, "him scary hairs!" So, I said, "did he have scary eyebrows like someone else?" She said yes. I asked, "Like Steve?" She looked at me sharply, like she didn't know till then that I even knew Steve and said, "Yes! Him scary hairs like Steve has!"
Then we talked all about me making a rule that Steve can never see her or touch her or even be in the same room that she is in. That I will keep her safe and never let him near her. She kinda sorta believed me but, honestly, was still deep in her memories and their fear.
I switched the topic to something new so she had a calm thought before bed. When I laid her in her bed ten minutes later I thought she was okay and, as I laid her down and said "I love you" she called back, "I love you" which she almost never says aloud. I was touched and feeling positive about the bonding moment we'd shared.
I'm ready to leave her room when she says something straight out of a horror movie. As I'm tucking her blankets around her she clutches my sleeve and asks, "Is him behind me?"
It was all I could do not to cry as I made myself keep a calm face and assure her authoritatively that no, he was nowhere in our house and I'd never let him near her again. She was safe here, in her bed, in our house, with daddy and I.
Dear God what happened to this poor baby girl. What kinds of horror can still grip her more than a full year later? I pray that these memories may be safely exhumed and then discarded. I pray for the wisdom to guide them through. And the strength.
We walk in and she's chatty and smiley with the receptionist. In the waiting room a cute little A-A boy sat beside her and she joyfully crowed to me, "Mama, look, it's my friend!" (she'd never met him before). We get called back and she's so friendly and expressive to the nurse that the nurse keeps cracking up and at one point whispered to me, "She's adorable!"
So Kate is having a good old time until a student doctor walks in. She FROZE. Like a baby bunny before the jaws of the fox. Absolutely could not move a muscle, eyes wide and locked on him, totally unresponsive. I think she almost stopped breathing. I looked at him and saw what she saw--he looked a lot like her biological father. Same hair; same long face; maybe even a similar voice though I'd only heard him speak once or twice.
I tried to distract her by having her look at me. He was trying to ask her questions to warm her up, like, "what did you have for lunch today?" So, I try to be chipper and distracting and said, "Kate, look at me! What was your favorite thing about lunch today?"
She could not move. Totally shut down. I don't think she even heard me. She never looked at me; never responded to a word either of us said. I have never once ever seen her react like this to any person, in any situation whatsoever. It was like she went to a place of total terror that I could not reach.
Then, of course, he had to examine her. So I pick her up and she clutches my shirt with both fists and wraps her legs around me. I could've swam a mile and she wouldn't have dislodged with that kind of grip. (Also, maybe they could teach male docs how to examine a kid's belly without inadvertently also giving the mom a breast massage, though, admittedly it's hard to wedge your hand between a kid glued to her mother. It got really weird there for a moment mainly because he had no idea what he was doing. Poor student docs. So much to learn.)
Finally he leaves and I wrap her up in my sweatshirt and cuddle her in my arms and start rocking her back and forth. Slowly she starts to thaw. Then she begins to talk. First she does her familiar refrain about how I'll never leave or if I leave I always come back. She has a whole script she runs through almost daily at some transition point in the day when she's feeling anxious about being separated from me.
Next, she says something that makes my blood run cold. She points to the trashcan and says, "Don't let him put me in there. It will hurt and he will leave me all alone."
I can't believe I heard her correctly so I ask her to repeat it. She says the exact same phrase again. "Don't let him put me in there. It will hurt and he will leave me all alone."
Where in god's name did that thought come from?
I immediately assured her that I would never let someone put her inside a trash can. This opens up the floodgates and she starts babbling too fast for me to follow. I caught words like, "sharp" "hurt me" "alone" "him" "push me inside" "I won't fit".
I just wanted to cry. When she wound down I told her that this doctor's office was a safe place where nobody would hurt her and that I am always with her and I will never let anyone hurt her. Then, I said, "did that happen to you before?" She said yes. I asked, "Did Mama Leah do that to you?" She said yes.
I should've asked her if it was Steve since she said 'him' and the memory was clearly triggered by the student doc. I think there's a part of me that doesn't even want to say his name and referring to her bio mother is my way of referring to any part of her old life.
All I know is that she has a clear memory of being put inside someplace small and being hurt and left alone. And that memory is connected to her bio father and her previous life. And memories like this are going to come up out of nowhere when I least expect it, when she is unprepared, and they are going to grip her and terrorize her. And I have to be ready to switch from parenting adorable smiley girl charming everyone to frozen-in-terror girl in the blink of an eye.
In the midst of dealing with horrible social workers I must deal with this--the real work. I wish I could slap every one of them upside the head and show them a video of what I am really doing on a daily basis and exactly why I have no patience when their stupidity piles on yet another stressor.
UPDATE: At bedtime, during rock-a-bye, I gently brought up the event to see if she needed to talk about her fears before bedtime. I've learned that if I don't give them a safe outlet at the end of the day they can't go to sleep and there will be nightmares. So, all I said was, "you got really scared at the doctor's office today". She immediately, emphatically said, "Yes! Dat mans hairs! Him hairs all scary!" She motioned towards her head. I pointed to the regions on myself while asking, "do you mean eyebrows or hair on top of his head?" She pointed to my eyebrows as I had done and said, "Eyebrows!"
I hadn't even noticed his eyebrows. Must be something about that guy's shape and color was also like Steve's. She kept going on, repeating, "him scary hairs!" So, I said, "did he have scary eyebrows like someone else?" She said yes. I asked, "Like Steve?" She looked at me sharply, like she didn't know till then that I even knew Steve and said, "Yes! Him scary hairs like Steve has!"
Then we talked all about me making a rule that Steve can never see her or touch her or even be in the same room that she is in. That I will keep her safe and never let him near her. She kinda sorta believed me but, honestly, was still deep in her memories and their fear.
I switched the topic to something new so she had a calm thought before bed. When I laid her in her bed ten minutes later I thought she was okay and, as I laid her down and said "I love you" she called back, "I love you" which she almost never says aloud. I was touched and feeling positive about the bonding moment we'd shared.
I'm ready to leave her room when she says something straight out of a horror movie. As I'm tucking her blankets around her she clutches my sleeve and asks, "Is him behind me?"
It was all I could do not to cry as I made myself keep a calm face and assure her authoritatively that no, he was nowhere in our house and I'd never let him near her again. She was safe here, in her bed, in our house, with daddy and I.
Dear God what happened to this poor baby girl. What kinds of horror can still grip her more than a full year later? I pray that these memories may be safely exhumed and then discarded. I pray for the wisdom to guide them through. And the strength.
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