Tag Archives: post adoption

Regulation and Dysregulation

A few years ago I neither knew the word dysregulation nor did I use it frequently when answering my husband’s ‘how was today?’ question.

Yet as I began to learn about adoption, trauma and what drives behaviour, these words crept into my vocabularly, helping me to express my experiences as a mum.

But it turns out that I was not entirely correct in the words I was using to express the behaviours of my children. I believed that regulation and dysregulation were an either/or situation:

  • My child is/ I am regulated – calm, happy in control
  • My child is/ I am dysregulated – out of control, angry, fearful, responding with fight or flight, shouting

Yet as I read in Helen Oakwater’s book “Want to Adopt?”, I learnt that there is more to learn about trauma and emotions than a simple on/off, regulated/dysregulated emotional state.

What Is Regulation?

Regulation (when people are operating within their own unique ‘Window of Tolerance’) is a state where a person is sufficiently in control of their emotions that they can make conscious decisions.

Whilst frequently associated with calmness, we can be excited and regulated, shouting and regulated, running and regulated, sad and regulated.

Dysregulation is a state of emotional agitation, which may be uncomfortable, but the person is still in control, as in they act and respond from their thinking brain.

Hyperarousal

Hyperarousal is a state beyond dysregulation, when the thinking brain is shut down and people respond with from their autonomic nervous system (or ANS) with typically a fight or flight reaction.

There is a similar hypoarousal state, where a child is physical numb and shut down, which some parents might experience (but not me).

This helpful diagram lays out the relationships between regulation, dysregulation and hyper/hypo arousal that you might like to print out for reference.

Hyperarousal (that I have erroneously called dysregulation in this blog) is where our automatic reactions of flight, fight, freeze and flop come into play. In this state, we are unable to think and able only to react in a very basic survival-based way.

When children are in hyperarousal, we use Bruce Perry’s approach, focussing first on regulation. Because until the children (or adult) is calm and regulated, their thinking brain is turned off. So there is zero point to reasoning with them, as they are simply unable to listen or process what you are saying. It’s like trying to light a fire by putting a match to a log, the sequence is all wrong. (See Regulate/ Relate and Reason.)

Whilst I have been using dysregulated in my blog and tweets, what my children were experiencing was actually hyperarousal. Thank you Helen for adding much needed depth and nuance to my understanding.

I hope this blog and description will help you understand some of what goes on in the emotional state of yourself (when you leave your window of tolerance) and the stages to look out for.

You might also find this article on windows of tolerance helpful: https://www.attachment-and-trauma-treatment-centre-for-healing.com/blogs/understanding-and-working-with-the-window-of-tolerance

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Adoption Myths: They Won’t Remember

It is tempting to imagine that a child adopted at a young age will not remember the trauma or neglect they experienced. It’s something well-meaning friends and family might say to adopters when they are cradling a small child in their arms ‘They won’t remember’.

The idea is superficially true – young babies and toddlers will not consciously recall their experiences. They may never say “Mummy hit me” but that doesn’t mean to say that they are unaffected by their experiences.

A foetus will not remember the alcohol their mother drank, but that doesn’t mean that they won’t spend their whole lives trying to overcome the changes to their brain and body.

A Little Bit of Neglect

Is neglect worse than abuse? Is alcohol in the womb worse than violence once born? Are wounds that can be seen (treated, mended) worse than those that can’t?

Nearly all children adopted in the England are adopted from social care, having been removed from their birth family due to neglect and inadequate care.  We were told that during our preparation training by our adoption agency, so we knew that. But we also were painfully naive about the potential impact of that neglect on their brains, on their development, on their bodies, on their emotions.

Researchers have started to assess the impact of neglect using simple experiments. In this one, a parent deliberately ignores (neglects) their child for a short period. Note that:

  • The child is safe
  • The child has an adult in close proximity

This research, devised by Dr Edward Tronick powerfully demonstrates just how vital eye contact, engagement, play and responsiveness is to a baby as young as one.

The results are almost immediate and they are devastating. The baby looks to the dad and tries to get the dad back into those games… the baby starts to get frustrated… within three minutes the baby has really dissolved

The Impact on a Child

By being grounded with a parent, who provides a sense of safety and helps her keep an even (emotional) keel, the researcher Dr Richard Cohen goes on to say that the baby can:

  • explore the world
  • meet new people
  • try new things

All because the baby has that safebase to rely on. Dr Cohen goes on to say:

“We can only begin to imagine what it’s like for babies whose life is like … all of the time – and they don’t get that responsiveness, they don’t get any help getting back to an even keel”

The long term impact can be that the child:

  • has trouble trusting people
  • has trouble relating to people
  • has trouble being calm enough so that they can explore the world

Our Adopted Children DO Remember

Our children cannot tell us what they experienced in their lives with their birth family – and we don’t have all the information either.

Yet we have seen how they can struggle with trust, with relationships, with staying calm or on an even emotional keel (all the things the researcher quotes above). As they grow older, these first experiences seem to have an even greater ripple effect on their social interactions and school life.

Bubbles’ stress-response (amygdala) is super sensitive and often hijacks her brain with a fight or flight response to what is an apparently trivial event. Such that the festive season becomes a tightrope of stress, overwhelm and more (see Festive Fear For All The Family).

Babies Are…

As Dr Cohen says at the start of this video, babies are much more capable than imagined – capable of instigating play, of encouraging their carer to interact with them and respond to them.

But they’re also much more vulnerable.

The next time someone tells you that child adopted at a young age won’t remember, why not show them this video and blog?Facebooktwitter

The Trauma Mask

“She seems happy” says Hazel* (from school), as she sits on a table with our social worker Mo*.  We three are discussing how best school can support Bubbles to feel safe and secure.

I sigh deeply and remain silent, shaking my head a little.

Bubbles, like many traumatised children, lives her life behind a mask. A mask of control, of pretence, of keeping her feelings and emotions hidden. The mask only slips when she feels safe – when she feels secure enough to express the inner conflict of her world.

Is Bubbles happy at school?” Hazel asks, her tone a mix of bewilderment and concern.

What should I say? There isn’t an easy answer.

A High Functioning Traumatised Child

Bubbles achieves in school. She is meeting expectations in all areas, exceeding them in reading. She tries really hard to do what she is told and what is expected of her. She tries (so hard) to please and be recognised and rewarded in school.

To all intents and purposes she might seem like a model pupil. She is what I call a highly functioning traumatised child. Yet a deep dark secret lies beneath the surface. 

But in holding in together, the truth leaks out as clues

  • The way she can tip into anger or frustration with a single misplaced word
  • Her reaction to friendship issues, to rejection taking it beyond personal into a slight on her very soul
  • How any stress or frustration shown by an adult will stress her out ten fold (by taking perceived safety from her)
  • Her chewing (raw, powerful grinding)

At a recent assembly I watched her chewing (as my heart went out to my amazing girl). It wasn’t just a curl of hair that strayed near her mouth; Bubbles was stuffing great handfuls of hair into her mouth and gnawing it with gusto. When it wasn’t her hair, it was the shawl I had crocheted for her. Yet minutes later, when I gently asked her if she was anxious, she denied it and seemed surprised that the shawl was wet.

The touching sight of her anxiety led me to action: whilst school had been hesitant when I had previous suggested one, that day I bought her a chewigem pendant to bite in school and at home (Bubbles was delighted). Her chewing isn’t the issue; anxiety is the issue. Bubbles isn’t present during her anxiety.  She is stuck in flight or fight mode (when her amygdala – what we call Amy – is in charge). Sometimes she simply doesn’t even remember being anxious or angry, as if her brain has blanked it out.

And because she doesn’t know she is anxious, she won’t tell you she is either.

Her Mask is Safety

Bubbles problem is simple: she doesn’t feel safe. Her early years were sufficiently chaotic and disorganised that she learnt that the only way to be safe was to be in control.

  • To take charge of every situation
  • To do what she is told to avoid anger or violence or harsh words
  • To deny her own emotions for they were too painful

She Yearns For Love

To her teachers and the staff, she seems a happy, cheerful model pupil. Like a swan. All elegant gliding on the surface, but beneath the water, her insides are churning like crazy.

Her need for love, for praise, for acknowledgement, for recognition competes with her anxiety. Bubbles sits and practices her times tables, her handwriting, her reading because she wants someone to notice her and smile.

A little eye contact and a smile mean the world to her.

Yet shame is just beneath the surface. A harsh word and her world crumbles. She tries so hard, exhausting herself every day holding everything tight, holding her world together, taking control of every tiny aspect of her life, losing the carefree years of her childhood.

The Mask Falls Away

At home Bubbles feels safe.

She can express her raw, intense emotions without being shouted at, without incurring the attention of the class, without being shamed. The mask falls away and I see just how much keeping it all together during the day costs my little girl.

I am humbled that she trusts me enough to express her rage, her anger, her intensity – and writing this the guilt rises up at the times when I didn’t react with empathy. On a day when multiple things have gone wrong, her rage can last two hours.

Homework is hard. Not because she is lazy or doesn’t care. Sometimes she cares too much.

  • Sometimes (after a good day) she has energy and enthusiasm to spare and aces her homework, which builds her fragile self-esteem
  • After a hard day, when her anxiety left her running on vapours, then it triggers rage because it feels too hard (and rocks her self esteem)
  • If her anxiety is still sky high, then it triggers shame because she can’t remember her spellings or times tables.

Her battle is real, every school day. Yet somehow through all of this, she still manages to absorb information, to learn, to have moments of fun and friendship.

But when you ask me if Bubbles enjoys school, I don’t really know what to tell you.

* not their real names.

This blog is an excerpt from Emma’s forthcoming sequel to her book “And Then There Were Four” that charts the struggle to learn to parent her adoptive children therapeutically, to get support from school and the adoption agency and to educate herself and others in the needs of her adopted children. It will be published in 2019 and entitled “Hugging the Cactus”.

 

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What To Write In Letterbox Contact

Letterbox Contact is a regular (in our case annual) letter sent between adopters and birth parents, via the adoption agency.

It’s a letter than may never be read, or may be read and treasured and read until it’s as fragile as a butterfly’s wings.

The first letter I sent was an agonising battle between being too personal (leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to our front door) or being as bland and impersonal as a tabloid horoscope. I didn’t even know how to start (Hello.. Dear Birth Mum, To Whom It May Concern – an experienced recounted in squirming detail in my book).

Now on my Nth letter, I have settled into a bit of a pattern, which I am sharing with you.

Why Do I Write?

  1. We agreed to write as part of our adoption process. It’s part of my duty to my children and to their birth parents.
  2. Our children willingly engage and are involved in the writing, and whilst they want a response, the lack thereof does not create obvious additional trauma. If it did, the choice would not be as easy to make.
  3. It feels like both the most and the least we can do – I imagine how I might feel as a birth parent estranged from her children and how desperate I may be for information. Whilst we do not know if the birth parents receive these letters from the agency, I know they will be kept on file in case the birth parents get in touch later and at least I have done what I was asked to do.
  4. I was and still am a bit of a teacher’s pet when it comes to doing what I am told and doing my homework, so I write it and hand it in on time, like the goody-two-shoes that I am.

Whilst we do not receive responses to our letters from their birth parents, we continue to write every year.  I keep copies of both the letters and any drawings we send in a folder that Nibbles and Bubbles will get to read and keep when they are older.

What NOT To Write

All adoption agencies will provide clear guidance on what NOT to include, but generally it is information that might reveal a specific location, such as:

  • Place Names – I might write that we went to the seaside, but not name the resort, or that we visited a castle, but not which one (even if it is hundreds of miles from our home address)
  • School Information – I write what year they are in, but not the name of the school (nor do I include names of teachers, classes, colour of school uniform, out of school clubs, or anything that could help them track the children to a specific school)
  • Photos – in our agreement, photographs are NOT included in letterbox, for some they are

What To Include

There are five main elements to my annual letterbox that I feel gives a rounded view of the children, whilst accepting that as a few pages of A4 the letter will always fall short of what a birth parent might wish to receive:

  1. Facts and Firsts
  2. Favourites
  3. Experiences
  4. A Specific Story
  5. A Drawing or Handprint

Facts and Firsts

Here I might write about how tall the children are, their shoe size, the school year they are in (or if they are now attending nursery). When younger, it might be the size of their clothes (now in size 18-24 months!!) or other relevant information to give a sense of physical growth. Factual information about their life and their current routine that gives an overview of the child.

In addition, I add their developmental milestones or Firsts. So things like first words, tying a shoelace, learning to spell their own name or to ride a bike, reading a book aloud, baking a cake or similar. These are the notable changes between the years and bring to life the child’s development.

You might want to think beyond things they learn in school such as reading & maths, and include personal skills (brushing their teeth, getting dressed), home skills (baking, washing up, helping with DIY), physical skills (riding a scooter, handstands, running) and hobbies (sewing, painting, Lego, Meccano, making a den, or computer games for online Whizz Kids).

Favourites

I love to include information about the children and their favourite things each year, which change as often as the people they want to invite to next year’s birthday party!  I might talk about Nibbles’ favourite joke, or Bubbles’ favourite book, or their favourite pop music (such as the Spanish song they currently sing incessantly without really knowing the words so it is a weird Burrito-infused earworm), the Floss, TV programmes, movies, food and more. It gives an insight into what the children really love about life, and the birth parents might note their own favourites amongst these things.

Experiences

This is the bulk of the letter – a bit of a “what have we done this year” overview – where holidays, day trips (but never school trips), unusual experiences, birthdays or Christmas get summarised in a few paragraphs. I don’t boast, but aim for a mix of unusual events and regular routines, like going to the library, going for a swim, meeting friends, having sunday lunch with family. It gives them a flavour of what their children have been doing over the year, both ordinary and extraordinary.

A Story

I then go from the generic to the specific – adding a short story that uses direct quotes from the children, to add a level of intimacy to the letter. It’s likely to be a specific incident that has happened recently and I tend to focus on things that made me laugh.

I include quoted lines from the kids, using their words and sentence structure. So years ago, I might have told a story about Nibbles, as I was busy tidying up and he zoomed his toy car under the kitchen table. He turned to me and pointed. As I ignored him, he sidled behind me and gave me a gentle shove on the bottom, saying sternly to me:

Car Mummy. Get it. You get it Mummy

His tone had me doubled over in laughter, whilst I commented that I was too big and he had to get it. He responded by patting me again and repeating “You get it.”

I believe (or hope) that having a tiny glimpse into their children’s lives can help them feel connected, even at this physical distance.

A Drawing or Handprint

In our Letterbox agreement, there is no provision for photographs of the children. We sometimes therefore include a drawing that the children their own time drawing – without much guidance, although I tend to discourage them from drawing a picture of their family (as that might be rubbing things in rather). You might also like to include a handprint, footprint, or outline of a hand that is coloured in.

Final Words

As I am writing the letter, I let Nibbles and Bubbles know that it is Letterbox time.

(This year I asked if they knew what letterbox was. Bubbles responded “I know what A letterbox is”!! But quickly clued in when I mentioned writing to their birth parents.)

I ask them if there is anything in particular they would want me to tell their birth parents, and ensure that I include that (if not on the banned list).  Once the letter is written, I let Andy have a read through and see if there is anything he feels needs adding, removing, amending or other. When we both feel that it is a good reflection of the year, I read it out slowly to Nibbles and Bubbles gauging their response.

Finally I ask them “Is there anything else you would like to ask or tell them?” Sometimes they come up with a question or add something specific, sometimes not. We shall see what happens this year, but as they grow older, their involvement in the process, and their editorial influence will continue to develop.

The Good, The Bad and the Ugly

Whilst I strive for honesty in Letterbox, I do shy away from discussing some of the trauma-related behaviours that our children experience.  I haven’t mentioned therapeutic parenting or PACE as I don’t want to cause distress or hint at blame.

I am not even sure whether or not to mention some of the struggles they have had that are perhaps neurotypical – such as Bubbles’ experience of being bullied in school. So forgive me for a slight whitewash to my letterbox, but I feel conflicted about sharing the dark sides of our lives with their birth parents when they receive so little.

Maybe the content isn’t perfect, but I continue to write, to share stories and snapshots into the lives of these children with their birth parents. Because I believe that for now, it is the right thing to do.

 

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Is The Future of My Family Bleak?

Yesterday, Adoption UK and the BBC published a survey of over two thousand adoptive parents in the UK.  The results were sobering.

On The Bright Side

An overwhelming majority (percentages not supplied) of adopters said that they were glad that they had adopted.  A bright light after some more troubling statistics.

The Dark Side – Violence

Almost two-thirds of adopters had experienced aggressive behaviour. For some this is serious and sustained child-on-parent (CPV) violence.  I was shocked. How do parents cope with that? I struggle with being screamed at.

Then I remembered a friend whose young birth son was violent towards her over a decade go.  She struggled to get anyone to listen never mind believe that she felt abused by her child.  Has nothing changed?

Is CPV a taboo, a hidden problem in our society, ignited by traumas of all kinds?  Where it is the only outlet for some young people who find this busy, noisy, overwhelming world of contradictions too much to deal with?

And yet despite two-thirds experiencing aggression, only one quarter were in crisis, suggesting that many parents cope (somehow) and do not suffer breakdown. But a quarter is not a figure to celebrate, although it contrasts strongly to other research (over a 12 year period) stating that only 3.2 % of adoptions disrupt or breakdown.

And I wonder if I should have let Bubbles take kickboxing lessons this term.

The Teenage Threat

Being a teenager is no easy task. It is time where young people are trying to answer the question “who am I?” and find their own identity, one which is complicated by adoption, trauma, separation, neglect and more.

There are ten times more disruptions in the teenage years, which tells me that we are not doing enough to support adopted teenagers.

How do we equip all children, including adoptees to deal with the teenage years – what needs to be done before they get there, before the hormones and bodily changes complicate everything so that they have the tools to cope?  What do we need to give adoptive parents so that they can heal their broken children?

Forewarned is forearmed. But is it really that bleak?

A Pinch Of Salt

Clearly an online survey will only capture some adopters.  Not all might have seen the invitation to participate or felt they wanted to. With over five thousands adoptions a year, two thousand responses is a small fraction of those who have an adopted child in their household over the years.

Perhaps those most likely to respond are those parents who are struggling – who most need their voice to be heard, who most need the support systems to wake up to the reality they are experiencing, who most need things to change so that they can mend their problems and stitch their family back together, those who most feel unheard and unsupported in their time of crisis.

Regardless of how representative the survey is, around 1300 families have experienced aggression, and nearly 500 are in crisis, which is too many and means there are many more out there needing help.

Are we as a society content that adopters struggle to get support, to get therapy (one adopter on twitter said the waiting lists were too long for the therapy she needs to help her family – a tragic state of affairs), to get the advice, training, help that they as adoptive parents and their children need?

Shining a light on issues definitely helps – it sparks debate and further research, so that people know the truth of adoption.  But experts, therapies, support, groups, training, they all need funding.  Cold hard cash, if anything is going to change.

Do I Tornado-Proof My Family?

What does our future hold?

My family does not experience child-on-parent violence.  The nearest we come to a ‘crisis’ is when Bubbles can’t find her bunny at bedtime.

Andy and I are truly glad we adopted.

Yet this survey shook me up. Am I supremely naive as an adopter? Am I living in adoption fairy-land, hoping that we will buck the trend and live happily ever after? I want to believe that this will all work out, that our family will be just like other families out there, even if my children arrived through an unusual route.

As I walk the children to school in the morning, hand-in-hand, should I continue our chats about unicorns and the Haka, or start digging into therapeutic parenting to prepare for the coming storm?

Relax, Enjoy, Read

For now, all I can do is enjoy the time I have with my children.  My beautiful, fascinating, surprising, giggle-inducing, warm-hugging children.  Snuggled into the bliss of our family life peppered with the odd tantrum or meltdown over something and nothing.

And yet whilst I sit in the sunshine and read, it might just be a book by Dan Hughes (as recommended by @mumdrah) just in case.

What are your thoughts on the survey?Facebooktwitter