I was so unprepared for what lie ahead with parenting LuLu. I knew nothing about post-institutionalized children. And there was no one telling me. Our adoption agency did nothing to prepare me (except supply me with a reading list). I clearly remember the only book that hinted at attachment problems,
Toddler Adoption: A Weaver's Craft by Mary Hopkins Best. I remember slamming the book shut, convinced that “that will never happen to us”. The issues she describes in that book are so tame compared to all we’ve been through.
The one advantage that Super Dad and I had were that we were veteran parents of healthy kids. So, even in our sleep-deprived state, we started noticing many of her odd behaviors. LuLu had numerous repetitive behaviors and could play for hours alone with a sunbeam coming through the window, or an object with textured fabric.
But she couldn’t/wouldn’t attempt to speak to us. In fact, the noises she made where grunts, whines and screams…never crying, cooing or babbling. And she was nearly two years old. We played Chinese children’s songs, hoping to trigger some recognition of the language…nothing. We took her to a favorite Chinese restaurant, where they spoke to her in Cantonese…still nothing.
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The Early Intervention professionals recognized that speech was an issue and assigned a speech therapist. But they didn’t see any sensory issues or motor issues, so no OT or PT was assigned. I was happy with this, because I took it as a sign that we only had one problem…a speech delay. I had no clue that they really had no clue what they were dealing with either.
Then, about eight months home, averaging about 3 hours total a day in sleep, LuLu began having tantrums the likes we’d never seen before.
Yes, we knew about the “terrible twos” (or threes). But this was different. We’re talking head banging, totally despondent rages that would last the minimum of an hour, sometimes longer than two. And she was completely inconsolable.
Sometimes the trigger was correcting her in some way…moving her away from something she was about to get hurt by or telling her “no”. Other times there appeared to be no trigger. One of the most violent rages happened at her big sister’s softball game, where for what appeared at the time to be no reason, she just started clawing me repeatedly. I finally put her on the ground, to keep from any further injury, where she curled up in a fetal position and clawed herself.
We needed help.
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