Parenting Children with Trauma

Sometimes there are days like today. We all wake up and it seems like things are going just fine, kids are getting dressed and making their beds, and talking nicely. Then, it’s just not.

Two and a half hours of screaming because I asked you to pick something up off the ground. I sit near you, trying to help you calm. I sit through your screams, through your physical and verbal attacks, through your threats and name-calling. I sit calmly as you tear me down.  

I finally call for help, because I’m beginning to wonder if all the horrible things you are saying about me just might be true. I'm wearing down.  When they call and talk with you, you confirm you just don’t want to be with me.  

You calm down. But then the call ends.

Your calmness lasts for a few minutes, at least long enough for us to finally get some breakfast, but then it starts back up again. You slam the cupboards, throw the chairs, break the dishes, and threaten me some more. I’m giving you all my attention, all my calmness, all my love, and you just can’t give it back.

The problem is, I’m giving you all my attention, all my calmness, all my love, but we are not alone in the home. Your sister needs that too. So, she begins to yell, and slam things, and stomp her feet, and threaten me too. I have to wager, and I know her escalation and need has now become greater than yours. 

So here I sit, upstairs with your sister who is yelling, jumping on the bed, kicking holes in the walls, and throwing and breaking everything in sight. I can hear you too. I can hear your screams, I can hear you still slamming the cupboards, I can hear you calling me names and threatening me, I can hear that you need me too. I just can’t be in both places at once, and for everyone’s safety, we just can’t all be in the same part of the house.

So now, all my attention, all my calmness, all my love seems to be focused on your sister, but all my prayers are for you.  I know you feel alone, I know you feel abandoned, but you are in my heart and I still love you. I just can’t be near you at this very moment.

Another couple of hours pass. The storm is finally breaking. I am breaking. I pray for strength, but I just can’t move anymore. I just want to lay down and cry myself to sleep. Yes, I know. It’s just barely past noon. Yes, there was somewhere we were supposed to be a couple of hours ago.  Yes, I know I have to get up, I have to forgive, I have to be strong, I have to go about the rest of my day. I have to put on my smile, walk out the door, and when someone asks if I’m okay or if I need anything, I will nod my head, I will smile, and I will tell them I am just fine.

This is me. This is my life. And I am not alone. This is the quiet life of so many parents who, like me, can’t begin to even explain what we need or if we're okay. 

Your donation to Becoming You will provide relief to the parents who deal with struggles like this daily. The parents who have chosen to not give up on the children who have been hurt. Donate today to put a little breath and life back into the parent who forces themselves to get up off the floor several times per day and carry on.

Donate today to provide support to those who chose not to give up, who every day provide unconditional love, and who will rarely ask for what they really need. No matter how large or small, a donation today will help provide relief to a foster or adoptive family parenting children with trauma

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