Adoption = Stinky, Part 1
So, the girl and I are sitting in a hospital room for the 24 hour EEG. We (docs and ‘rents) are fairly certain we’re not dealing with seizures, but all parties concur “better safe than sorry” applies.
Her head is wrapped up in electrodes and gauze. Let me tell you, the glue they use to apply those things is NAS-TEEEEEE.
The odor reminds me of a dentist’s office, actually. Have you ever needed a tooth cavity filled? Did they paint your tooth with that solvent first? The one that tastes simultaneously sour and, well, disgusting, at the same time? Imagine that taste as a smell. Permeating everything.
Since my sneakers stick to the floor (ick), I’m leery of bacteria levels in the bath, or I’d grab a shower. By tomorrow, Eaų de Ádhəsïve will have combined with Flęűr de Ospìtæl Cøt for a groundbreaking new fragrance. When we get home, Hubby won’t be able to keep his mitts off, thanks to the hotness of this sexy new summer scent.
I’m pretty sure the tech thinks I’m the most horrible parent ever, because he started calling her “princess” and brought her ice cream after he heard me tell her he had a job to do and she can’t keep calling him back in (after the second call-back to loosen her head wrap because it was too tight). Yep, mother of the year, right here.
What he doesn’t know: she is having the most glorious time.
Complete strangers are pouring all their attention into her. She is the center of the universe.
We’re only here because she would not shut her eyes for a few minutes in outpatient testing. And no, it’s not because of any sensory issue. When I explained that she needed to close her eyes so they could get the data, she refused. Why? Because the test happened to fall in a several-week period during which she did the exact opposite of whatever I asked.
Thanks, Reactive Attachment Disorder.
In general, I try to be objective and fair. To be understanding, patient and supportive. To be the best mother possible, knowing all the kids have endured.
Today, I am still striving for that goal, whether outsiders understand or not. She knows (thanks to the neurologist) that our time here is a direct result of her behavior. Real-world application of this information for my RAD kid: “I can find ways to send myself to the hospital, where strangers will treat me like royalty and I have 100% of mom’s attention.”
My job today, like it or not (and I don’t) is to make sure she decides the hospital is not a vacation. So we’re sitting in a quiet hospital room, TV off, and she’s doing math. I’m giving her attention only when she correctly works a problem on her own.
I also feel a little guilty, because even though I’m definitely doing it for her good (and to keep us out of self-inflicted hospital visits in the future), I’m also pretty annoyed.
I know it’s ridiculous to expect her to have any cognitive ability to grasp the amount of work that goes into having kids. It’s even sillier to think she might understand how exhausting it is to deal with the constant power struggles of RAD. Sometimes, though, I get a little selfish and I just want her to give me a break.
Today, I’m fighting not to be annoyed, or even mad. If she’d closed her eyes for just a FEW minutes in that outpatient EEG, we’d be heading to my aunt’s house for the weekend. And let me tell you, that’s a don’t-miss. She and my uncle are awesome.
Fine, you caught me. I’ll admit it. I’m angry to be stuck in this smelly, sticky room when I could be hanging in the kitchen with my aunt, whipping up a fabulous gourmet dinner. (Okay, let’s be real: hanging in the kitchen watching my incredible aunt whip up a fabulous gourmet meal while I pinch samples.) All because this child just REFUSES to obey me. And then she acts like an angel for strangers, so they think I’m bonkers.
I try not to rant, because I want this blog to help people, but maybe you’re out there hanging onto sanity by a thread, and you just want to know you’re not alone. Here you go.
There will be days you don’t like your kids. I’d like to encourage you that it will pass.
At least, I’m pretty sure it will.
Carry on; stay strong. We’re in this together. For their good and for the future.
In the meantime, please excuse me. I just got a call to come to the EEG Tech desk.
I bet they’ve awarded me Mother of the Year.
Posted on May 29, 2015, in Adoption, parenting and tagged adopt, adopted, adopting, adoption, blogging101, EEG, fragrance, hospital, Mother of the year, seizures, writing101. Bookmark the permalink. 13 Comments.