Challenges

Living with a child who is diagnosed with an emotional disorder, such as reactive attachment disorder, challenges your perceptions of parenting, family, friends, support, and therapy.

Hannah, adopted at age six, was diagnosed with reactive attachment disorder (RAD) two years after she became my daughter. The diagnosis related to her early years in Russia. RAD can be triggered during the first three years of a child's life when they are learning to trust and love. If babies and toddlers are subjected to poor caregving, neglectful parenting, separation from parents, inattentive parenting, abuse, or multiple homes, they are at risk for reactive attachment disorder. Hannah lived through a combination of these traumas.

When I got Hannah's diagnosis, I was glad to finally have an explanation for her behaviors, and a plan to help her heal. At the same time, I was overwhelmed and scared. Before I adopted Hannah, RAD was the one diagnosis I knew I didn't want to deal with. Now, it was kicking me in the shins.

Kicking me in the shins

Unfortunately, kicking me was one of Hannah's many rage-filled behaviors that I was quite familiar with. Hannah's violence toward me was the underlying challenge that I dealt with on a daily basis before we found the right therapist. Additionally, Hannah was oppositional, controlling, lacking in trust, hyper-vigilant, and unable to understand cause and effect in certain situations.

Finding the right therapist

Finding a therapist brings multiple challenges when your child has an emotional disorder. Often, you find yourself in a position of being more knowledgeable about your child's disorder than the service providers you speak with. When discussing RAD, people might say to me, "Reactive attachment disorder is only a theory." Not! It's listed in the DSM-IV right along with ADD, Autism, Bipolar, etc.

As you search for a therapist, ask lots of questions. Get references. And if it isn't the right fit, find another therapist. Hannah and I finally hit it right with our third therapist. The first two provided some assistance, but neither of them were attachment therapists and were unable to provide the correct diagnosis and treatment.

Our current therapist is not only an attachment therapist, specifically trained to help families suffering with a child who has RAD, but she's extremely knowledgeable about similar and related diagnoses such as bipolar, ADHD, autism, and more. The therapist provides Hannah with effective tools to deal with her grief, fears, and behaviors, and helps me to implement therapeutic parenting approaches at home.

Trying to explain Hannah's diagnosis and treatment needs was especially difficult since few people ever saw her issues. The Hannah that my family saw at Christmas, and that friends saw when Hannah came to visit, was a compliant, polite, smart, funny, athletic, curious, well-mannered child. With me, however, she was violent, defiant, controlling, and manipulative.

Shortly after finding our super wonderful therapist and getting Hannah's diagnosis, I wrote a letter to my family and friends explaining the situation of our lives. Sharing your child's emotional disorder, however, has a discordant public and private perspective. On one hand, you as a parent are begging for support, guidance, and assistance. Yet, even knowing that your child's disorder is not of your own doing, it's embarrassing to share information about horrible and unusual behaviors.

Family and friends

Hannah's and my life was changing in an effort to bring healing into her life, and through my letter, I desperately wanted friends and family to understand and support our efforts. I spent days writing and re-writing my letter. I explained RAD. I provided insights into its cause. I outlined the treatment Hannah needed in all aspects of her life. I shared a list of what I did NOT need from friends and family. I concluded with a list of what Hannah and I DID need. The format was questions and answers based on all the questions and comments (both supportive and irritating) I heard as I had searched for causes and explanations for Hannah's behaviors.

The letter was honest and heartfelt. It went to the core of what Hannah and I were dealing with. Many people read it, called, and offered help by way of the suggestions at the end of my letter. Some didn't respond for weeks or months. One got angry. One has never responded.

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Hannah's and my world is changing. In the 10 months since Hannah's diagnosis, I've sifted and sorted through friends and discovered who was a forever friend and strong enough to stand with Hannah and me in our time of need. I've made new friends as my search for help brought me to a local support group of families whose children have emotional and behavioral issues. I've become proud of my ability to implement tough parenting approaches to help Hannah heal. Most importantly, our world is changing because Hannah is healing. She's learned to "spend," as the therapist calls it, her emotions appropriately. She's given up (most of) her defiant behaviors. She's learning to let go of her need to control her world. She's learning what a true, loving connection with a mom feels like. Hannah is proud of her new behaviors and emotions. And I am, too.