Learning to Cope

Ok, since I have found blogging therapeutic, you may be seeing many more posts from me. Sorry.

A lot of things have been running through my head lately and because of that, I have been able to be distracted from the one major thing that is greatly worrying me. My sweet, big round eyed, soft wavy haired little Oliver. He comes with a smile that is so contagious and his eyes light up a room when he's happy. Beau refers to Ollie as our future "gentle giant". Ollie is full of tenderness and compassion.....but it is often masked behind his quick, hot temper.

Oliver was brought to us on August 7, 2008. He was just a little over 6 months and was adorable cute. He was our first foster son. I was so scared and so excited. I knew without a doubt that God had called Beau and I to this place of fostering. But I was still nervous about the "unknown". After all, this child was not my own. He was in the system because obviously something was wrong with his biological family, otherwise, he would not have been seperated from them. He already had a troubled history, even at such a young age. His previous home was that of a foster parent and even there he was not properly being cared for. Oliver was never abused, but he was born to a mother with severe mental problems. Oliver's previous foster mother withheld bottles from him because he was "too fat". So, she began feeding him only baby jarred food with an occasional bottle. A baby needs the nutrients from their formula to develop properly. Oliver was left all day long to lay in a bouncy seat. He wasn't sitting up (not even close to having the back strength). He was not even close to crawling. But, Beau and I fell in love with him instantly. I, however, especially found a bond with Oliver. He became glued to me instantly.

Over the next few weeks, I made it my mission to work a lot with Oliver. Will was great during this time. Only being 13 months old himself, Will had an instant buddy. He sat along side me while I worked with Oliver building up his strength and coordination. I helped Oliver do sit ups, stretches, flexing exercises, and tummy time. I saw immediate improvements and knew that my labor was really making a difference. I was thrilled and just felt more confirmed everyday that he was supposed to be in our home.

Don't get me wrong. Managing a busy 9 year old, an inquisitive and active 13 month old, and now a "high maintenance" 6+ month old was definitely very difficult and demanding. I immediately began going far fewer places, had less time on the phone with friends, and was tired all the time. However, this was all ok because I knew I was ministering to this little boy. At this time, Beau and I didn't know how long this little guy would live with us because he had family members trying to adopt him. We were ok with that. We understood. We were trained for that. But, we would love him for as long as he was in our home. And we were totally content with that.

However, as months passed, we became very attached to Oliver. The bond between Oliver and William was that of a genuine brotherly connection. They loved each other. For the most part, Oliver was easy going. Really, the only time he pitched an uncontrollable fit was when his bottle was empty. I attributed that bahavior to his previous experiences of not having a bottle when he needed them. So, that behavior got written off. As Oliver got older, he was easy. Will was always under my feet wanting attention and that required a lot of my time. Oliver, on the other hand, was completely content to go off into the play room and play alone. Especially when Ollie learned to walk, he would wander around all the time by himself. But because he was "being good, not breaking anything, and playing contently and quietly", I allowed it. I often thought, wow, what a great kid. During this time, we had another foster daughter in the house and she had serious behaviors that required ALOT of my focus. So, I was happy that Ollie was "easy".

Oliver would frequently watch events around him from afar. He never truly engaged. He studied them. He mimicked them. But, he was ok with being removed from them. Because Oliver was so quiet and spoke so few words, I often wondered what was going on in his mind. Will was the kid that had an amazing vocabulary and I NEVER had to guess what HE was thinking. I thought Oliver just wasn't learning. I was worried but as sweet friends kept reminding me, Oliver was 6 months younger than Will. The gap between Will and Ollie seemed normal and justifiable. In the back of my mind, I still had concerns. But, I blew them off. Maybe fear. Maybe sadness.

Just after Oliver turned 2 and just before we adopted him, I had him evaluated by a clinician. I just wanted someone else to tell me he was ok. I NEEDED someone else to tell me he was ok. And I got that. Little did I understand at that time, he was simply too young to be truly diagnosed. But, the "seal of good mental health" satisfied me for a time.

Other behaviors began to develop with Ollie. His temper became sometimes uncontrollable. Often at times that didn't even make sense to me. People kept telling me it was that "hispanic hot-tempered blood". Again, I was ok with that. Also, Ollie became very obsessed with details. Like directions. He would have complete meltdowns if I went a different way home. I wrote this off as Ollie just being very direction oriented. Finally, Ollie started spitting out all the things I had been teaching him over the last months. All at ONCE. He started counting and saying lots of words. He started saying the alphabet. He started recognizing random numbers and letters. I saw this as an improvement and became very delighted with Ollie's progress. Oliver also began giving affection which was a very huge step in the right direction. Previously, his affection was forced and uncomfortable. It wasn't natural for him.

Beau and I often times used special expressions to describe Oliver to other people when behaviors seemed abnormal. We said things like, "He marches to the beat of his own drum", or "He's just very passionate", or "That's just Ollie". We would take Oliver to the playground. Instantly, Will had lots of friends and was the "popular kid". Ollie would always play and talk. But he played NEAR kids and he talked AT kids. But never played WITH kids and never talked TO kids. Beau and I just thought he was shy.

Then Beau left for New Hampshire. His absense very apparently affected Will and Carter. But Ollie seemed to be ok. Afterall, he was mostly attached to me so I thought everything was going to be easiest for Oliver during our temporary separation. So, once again, my focus was mostly on consoling Will and Carter. But as the weeks turned into months, I began to see additional "bad behaviors" from Ollie. I punished him frequently with time out. I am not a big supporter of spanking and we only use that method of punishment for the more serious offenses. I was finding myself spanking Ollie more and more frequently, but I was not seeing an improvement in his behavior. If anything, things were worse. Between daddy and brother being gone, my lack of structure, and my fatigue, Ollie just could no longer hold it together. He more he acted out, the more frustrated and ill-equipped I felt to handle it. Everytime his temper escalated, mine did too. Now, I am the grown up and should have handled it better. But I didn't. The harder I tried to push Oliver into "normal" behaviors, the more he shut down. It was like trying to force a round peg into a square hold....just not gonna happen.

Well, here we are. Oliver is 3 1/2 and is still my sweet little boy. But now, I am at a place where I can openly admit that I think Ollie needs some help. I am not a clinician. I am not a therapist. I have not had intense child pyschology classes. But, I am a mother. Moms just know. I know that Oliver has some kind of connection that is lost or broken. The next big step is to accept that, embrace that, and learn to cope. I know that Ollie is special. Not in the "mentally challenged" way but in the "gift from God" way. I know that Oliver is supposed to be in our family and I am truly thankful for him. Nothing will ever change my feelings and love for him. He is my son. He is a Bennett. And I am proud.

What Now?

I did it. I survived 8+ months of being a single parent with 3 small children while Beau and Zander were in NH surviving bachelorhood. Everything that I prayed for, cried about, became angry over, laid awake at night and thought about, and dreamt about has finally become a reality. I am sitting here in New Hampshire, the proud mother of FOUR Bennett boys, and a husband that I get to sleep next to every night. A state that has real seasons, snow, beautiful colors in the Fall, and mild Summers. There are rolling hills, huge shady trees, wildlife in my own back yard, no traffic, sounds of nature....everything that this girl has been anticipating and looking forward to for months. So if this is everything I could want, then why am I so unhappy. I mean, don't get me wrong. Of course there was the initial excitment of knowing that this is actually home and now that includes 6 family members. It was awesome walking into the house the other evening and having a huge weight lifted. No more social workers, no more being under the microscope, no more sleeping alone at night, no more wiping away tears from my boys' faces as they cried for their daddy, no more juggling everybody just so I could go to the grocery store, no more fear that someone is going to just show up at the door and see the "real situation". That situation would be kids running around, sometimes fully dressed and sometimes not. Dishes in the sink. Laundry everywhere...and usually not folded and ready to be put away. Food crumbs from breakfast still on the floor. Allowing the tv to babysit my kids just so I could have a few minutes to get re-energized.

I had very dear and loyal friends keep me going during the last 8 months. Food was brought to me, encouraging conversations over the phone keep me pepped, maid services was hired on my behalf, and friends often times babysat so I could attend court hearings and doctor's appointments. A group of ladies came over about once a month to my house at the kids' bedtimes and just hung out with me. Those times were so precious to me and were sometimes my only means of survival for the next week. My friends are the absolute best that anyone could ever ask for and I so did not deserve them, but I certainly did appreciate them. They were all great at pumping me up and telling me what a wonderful mom I was. It did make me feel good for a while. But now, now that everything is becoming real to me, I am beginning to see things much more clearly. I see that I allowed bad behaviors to develop because they went unpunished. I see that bad habits went unchecked. Our mealtimes were no longer the "sacred family time" that it once was. We ate every single dinner at the table as a family. This is when we prayed as a family while holding hands. And believe me, when we prayed, we were all truly thankful for that day. I got to tell Beau about the day's events and the funny "boy" stories. Zander shared about his day at school. The boys even chimed in. Often times, Beau would lead everyone in silly songs (after we were done eating of course). This is the one time of the day where we were all united and whole. But all that went away when Beau left. It didn't have to because as the mom, it was my responsibility to carry on those traditions for my kids. But I didn't. I was too self-absorbed in my own self pity.

Schedules and routines were a thing of the past. There no longer was any rhyme or reason to how I did things. Children thrive on routines and that is just one more thing that I failed my kids. I knew what I was doing was wrong. I even knew what things I needed to do to correct them. But I didn't. I had every excuse in the book, but the ugly truth was that I had stopped caring.

Now, here I am. As I see it, there really are only a couple of choices I have to make now. Beau and I have made commitments to each other about deleting the bad habits we started while apart and replacing with the good parenting skills that we used to have. It is going to be hard to re-train the boys, but I have faith in God and faith in my husband that we can do this. The alternative is simply not a choice for us. We love each other and our children too much to not make the appropriate changes.

So now, Beau and I have to learn how to be a married couple again. We have to buckle down with the finances again. We have to parent firmly but lovingly again (with consistency). We have to re-insert routines again. We have to learn how to communicate again. We have to live together again. All of these things are wonderful things. The "have to's" will soon become "get to's".

I learned things about myself during the last months. I totally rely on Beau for far more than I ever thought. I do believe that a man and a woman should parent a child together (if possible). I am much weaker than I thought. I am much more stubborn that I thought. I am fully capable of becoming an emotional wreck and irrational at a drop of a hat. Organization is absoltely vital for MY life. I pray that God does not separate Beau and I again. I do think that 4 is enough. I don't like paying bills. I hate killing bugs, pulling weeds, and taking out the trash. Every noise that I hear at night just means that the "boogie man" IS real and he IS out to get me. I watched over 140 episodes of Scrubs and never grew tired of the show. I like sleeping in the middle of the bed with ALL the pillows. But most importantly, I adore my husband and appreciate all that he does.

In the meantime, thank you so much Cami Franklin, Patty Fogarty, Lauren Palombo, Tina Jamieson, Betsi Torres. You guys loved me when I found it hard to love myself.

I do look forward the the next chapter in my life. I do embrace a new state, new family member, all new experiences, new everything. In fact, I am excited. Just writing this blog was completely therapeutic.

Until next time.......