Looking Back...

(Seth with his beloved 'Crocs')

January 25^th, 2009

I can’t believe it’s been four months since I posted. We had finish work (doors, trim and shelves) done in our basement several months ago. In between managing my Seth-a-roo I’ve been trying to get everything painted, and kids moved out and then back into their rooms and closets. Thus, blogging has come to a halt. I must confess I miss it. There’s something therapeutic about writing and sharing.

(This picture above is my favorite of my painting projects. This was a cracked, dented, beat-to-heck dresser that belonged to Derek when he was a kid. Becca needed a dresser and of course wanted pink. I think it turned out quite remarkable)

Many of you have asked how Seth is doing. Seth is making remarkable progress. Sometimes the day to day keeping him regulated and having him test me wears me down and I feel discouraged. The first part of January was particularly discouraging. There’s a rough estimate thrown out by who-knows-who that children coming from China need about 2 months per every year old they are to adjust and settle into their new life. This estimate proved accurate for Becca. Even though I still see progress as she feels more secure, at six months, she was pretty attached and regulated. Life began to return to some normalcy.

When we adopted Seth I estimated his time at around six months and figured by January 1, 2009 he would be adjusted, settled and we’d be back to normal life. So when January 1^st rolled around and I could see we were no where near ready to turn Seth over to a ‘normal’ three year old lifestyle I felt pretty discouraged. 2009 loomed large and long, knowing I would have at least another year of helping Seth heal his heart and brain. My 50 yard Sprint, had evolved into a marathon of undetermined length. I had a few days of a personal pity party, cried some tears, and then put my running shoes back on.

On one of my ‘pity party’ days my sister, Julie, shared with me a story my Dad had shared with her.

I grew up in Murray Utah. Across the valley and straight East of where we lived was Mount Olympu. I had looked at it with awe many times. One summer, when I was a boy around 13 or 14 yeasr old I thought, “It would sure be cool to hike to the top of that mountain.” So I, along with 2 or 3 of my friends, hopped on our bikes and headed East on 62^nd South. It took a long time to cross the valley and get to the base of the mountain. We were hot and sweaty before we even parked our bikes and began to hike. We hiked and hiked, making our way through the brush. After an hour I could see the top of the mountain. “Wow, we’re almost there!”. We picked up our pace and pushed to the top. My legs felt like rubber as I came up over the top of the ridge. But we had not reached the top. I could now see five or six more ridge. The whole mountain still lay ahead of us. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I had failed in my quest. Then one of the other guys said, “Look!” I turned around and there was the whole Salt Lake valley layed out before us. I hadn’t been able to see it before for all the brush. When I saw how far we had come my discouragement, and sense of failure and frustration were chased away by the realization of “We did something amazing!”

This story inspired me to shift my vision. Rather than seeing the whole mountain looming ahead, and feeling my legs rubbery and ready to collapse, I look back and see how far we have come together, my Seth and I. We have both worked hard. When I look at it from that perspective, with the valley below, the distance we’ve come is amazing.

Six months ago Seth couldn’t bear to be touched. “Ow, ow” he would say when I tried to stroke his cheek or snuggle him on my lap. Eye contact was too hard, and he couldn’t bear more than a fleeting glimpse into my eyes. We’ve moved from pushing away at any contact, to rocking together, and just this week we’ve moved to ‘baby snuggles’ in bed. Tonight I cradled him again in the crook of my shoulder, and held him snuggled against my chest. His entire body was pressed against mine, cradled, close, intimate. For twenty minutes he looked into my eyes while I sang him silly songs and lullabies. I stroked his cheek and his hair and he kissed my eyes and my nose. Then for the first time ever he fell asleep in my arms. It was so sweet that I couldn't bear to put him in his crib and I fell asleep too. His heart is healing. How brave of him to let go of fear, and embrace love.

Six months ago Seth couldn’t sit still and focus on any activity. This week I pulled out some 25 piece puzzles. He can put them together faster than I can. We still have half the mountain to climb, but when I watch him build legos, and play “people house’ with Becca, I’m amazed.

Six months ago, he didn’t trust anyone but himself to meet his needs. He’s gone from greedily eating whatever we gave him, to actually being picky and refusing food. He’s learned to trust that we will always have food. Being choosy about his food is now a luxury he feels he can afford.

At first he didn’t notice or care if Mom was even there. He’s learned over these six months that, “Mama always comes back” and he’s glad about that.

He’s learned what it means to belong to a family. Tonight we sang our ritual, “I love Daddy he loves me, We love Mommy yes siree, We all love Seth and so you see, We are a Happy Family.” We progress through each family member until we’ve covered his family. “Seth’s family” he loves to say over and over again. He’s learned the joy of being adored and spoiled by grandparents. He is becoming connected and it feels good to his heart.

A child cannot trust someone they can control. If a child believes he is stronger than the adult, then he cannot trust the adult to keep him safe. So children must test to see who is stronger. A normal child will test a limit 17 times, a stubborn child, maybe 47 times. But a wounded child like Seth must test the limit 147 times, often more. But he’s slowly learning that Mom and Dad are stronger and more powerful than he is. We are the boss, we are in control, and his limits are not going to change, no matter how he wears us down with his manipulation, or persistence. He is beginning to feel safe. He is beginning to let go a little bit of his control. We’ve made it to the first ridge. The rest of the mountain looks daunting, but we will press forward. His will and determination is strong, he is a survivor, but he is learning that we will always be stronger than him, therefore, we have the ability to keep him safe.

I think our biggest challenge with Seth right now is healing his brain. When a child lives in an impoverished environment such as an orphanage, and when their needs aren’t met, their brain kicks into survival mode. The base of the brain is where our most primal survival responses are executed. These are usually manifest into fight, flight or freeze mode. If we were to look at a scan of the activity in Seth’s brain when we first adopted him, the majority of the activity would be located in this primal, survival part of the brain. His brain spent so much time in this part, that most of his neuro-pathways have been wired in that primal part of the brain. A brain scan of an emotionally healthy child shows most of their brain activity occurring in the frontal lobes. Luckily, brains can be healed, neuro-pathways forged. Our goal is to shift more of Seth’s brain activity into the frontal, problem solving, higher reasoning areas of the brain. We are actually working to rewire his brain, creating new neuro-pathways into the frontal lobes.

With the therapeutic process we’re using he must first learn to self-regulate and stay in a designated, defined area. He has an area in my kitchen, marked by blue tape about 4x6 feet. He also has a blanket I put in the family room that he has to stay on. We’ve been working to help him stay and play in his ‘box’ for 20-30 minute segments of time.

After Christmas I was struggling to get him to stay in his area. He would get off, and I would walk him back on. If he repeated leaving the area then I’d hold him until he was ready to stay. Then we’d try again, and again and again. I became frustrated, unable to get anything done. One morning my sister Julie, seeing how Seth was testing, testing, testing came over ready to work. “Let’s go get some lumber and build Seth a box he can’t get out of.” She was so generous and wanting to help. But the point is not containment, he purpose is for him to learn to regulate himself. External limits and controls are only temporary. He has to move out of fight/flight mode and learn self-control and self-regulation. He’s learning. He’s doing much better at staying in his confined space.

The reason the confined space is important is because it cuts down on too much external stimulus. If his brain has too much stimulus he’s having to worry about controlling everything around him. He’s in that primal part of his brain and his brain can’t shift to the higher frontal lobes. On the blanket or in his box he can let go of that and focus on his activities. The activities we’re having him do are ones that will create new neuro-pathways in those logic and reasoning parts of the brains. And what therapeutic activities would those be? Building toys play a big part. He plays blocks, legso, Lincoln logs, tinker toys, K-nex & Gears. He also plays playdough, strings beads and does puzzles. All of these require higher brain function and problem solving. As he does these activities he is more calm, accepting of limits, and doesn’t need to control everything around him. His play is working new pathways into his brain. Six months ago he struggled to do peg puzzles. Now he can whip out a 25 piece puzzle like you can’t believe. New pathways are being created. Looking back it’s hard to believe how hard he’s worked and how much his brain is healing. Much of the therapeutic parenting I do for Seth is beneficial to building healthy brains in all children.

And, as I think I mentioned before, all these limits have to be maintained with loving eyes and voice. Anger, frustration drives the brain back into fight/flight mode. This is hard, because I can be a screamer Mom. I wish I had learned all this seven kids ago, it really is a great way to parent.

Here is a couple of pictures of Seth. Jumping on the tramp is a great activity to help get the brain moving out of the back part and into the frontal lobes. Another activity is what’s called, “Strong Sitting”. It’s a meditative pose used in various religions. It actually opens up the spine and stimulates the limbic (feel good) part of the brain. In this picture Seth was a bit resistant to ‘strong sitting’ so Becca was ‘teaching’ him how to do it.

So that is definitely the long version of how Seth is doing. We are both doing well. He is growing more and more attached. He is sweet and loving, and fun loving with a laugh that makes all the work worth it. I' m so grateful to my mentor and friend Melissa, who buoys me up and has taught me so much. And mostly I'm grateful to my Heavenly Father who has 'given me strength beyond my own." I know he knows me. I knows he knows Seth. He loves us both and is giving us the courage and strength to make this journey together. We know there is still a long hike ahead, but when we look back, we realize the view from up here is amazing!