To Sing Frogs Chapter 35b

Amy and I returned to books we read before the adoption, looking for answers. There were no quick fixes. Sarah’s developing brain had been taught that to attach meant unquenchable fiery pain when you were finally, ultimately, and inevitably abandoned. It was only logical; mental stability could not be maintained in the presence of such suffering. The safest solution was to keep from attaching.

Ironically, her adoption and removal from the orphanage worsened the situation. She had attached to her birth mother and had been rejected. She bonded with Luba and the workers at the Baby Hospital. Then she was removed. She accepted Yula and Marina as her new sisters and now they were gone too. With Amy and me, with her new brothers, it was only a matter of time. Her brain would only allow her to attach to a level she could stand to lose. If her emotional commitment to us began to approach that line she sabotaged the relationship. She would become intolerable until we were less demonstrative in our love for her, and inevitably, until we had to punish her.

My wife had taught the rest of us that physical contact needed to remain within the bounds the formerly abused person set. None of us—least of all Amy—had realized that Sarah would also construct emotional and attachment boundaries.

The books told us to be consistent in enforcement of rules. They taught us to be consistent in everything. Consistency was the only hope of eventually overcoming the symptoms of RAD. It was a fine line.

“Mama, wy yoo hurt me?”

“I don’t hurt you, Sarah.”

“Yeas. Yoo maek mee seet een chair long tyme. Seet een chair long tyme hurt me. Wy yoo hurt me?”

“You are not hurt, Sarah. You need to be in time-out because you hurt Celeste. You can’t hurt people, Sarah. You have to mind.”

“Sarah no seet een chair.” The defiant little girl stood and began to walk away. Amy grabbed her and placed her back into the chair, holding her in place while Sarah kicked and screamed in a violent attempt to escape. My wife forced her to stay until the allotted time had been completed.

My daughter viewed punishment as abuse, particularly when it came from her mother. Ironically, she constantly pushed limits until discipline was needed. Dealing with RAD is emotionally draining for any parent. With Amy, who wanted nothing more than Sarah’s complete security and happiness, it was devastating.

Still, there were more good days than bad days. And “three steps forward—two steps back” does equate to progress. Even so, reality and everyday life necessitated actions that antagonized our daughter’s disorder.

 

 

“Papa, Aye mees Yula. Weyn Aye weel see Yula agyen?”

The draft coming from the imperfect single-pane window in the hundred-year-old frame suddenly became more noticeable. The cold seemed to come all the way from Russia. I knew it was time for Sarah to face a little bit of reality. Prayers with a frequency that could put a nun to shame, requests to Santa Claus—it was going to have to end sometime. She needed to move on with her life.

I spoke calmly but firmly as I pulled off the scab. “That’s enough, Sarah. Someday you’re going to have to accept the fact that the world is a bad place. Bad things happen. I’m sorry but feelings don’t change reality.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and her voice shook. “But weyn Aye weel see her agyen?”

“Look, Sarah, you made a good choice when you decided to have a family. You understood when you left that you wouldn’t see your friends again. You knew that.”

“No, Papa. We make promees!”

 

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