LuLu’s rages continued and became more frequent. In hindsight I believe she had dissociated for the first several months home. And all at once, like switching on a light, she had come out of that and into a full blown “fight” mode. Her main weapon was to scratch everyone in sight (herself included). Drawing blood produced an odd sense of relief in her.

Words can not describe the panic we felt. We began searching for help in what we felt were usual places…her pediatrician and then a local international adoption clinic. The pediatrician was quick to realize that we were dealing with something “out of their league” and passed us on. They did mention both attachment and sensory integration as possibilities.

So, as quickly was they could see us, we took an appointment (not covered by insurance) at the international adoption clinic. We had never had to do anything that insurance had flat out refused before. I remember thinking that the $750 we paid out of pocket was extremely expensive and burdensome. (That thought makes me chuckle now.)

LuLu could be, despite her inability to speech, incredibly charming in those days. She hopped into that doctor’s office with a big smile, eye contact to everyone and gravitating toward anything shiny…name badges, jewelry, stethoscopes. The doctors and nurses thought she was so cute (which she was).

The head of the clinic was an endocrinologist who specialized in orphanage growth issues. LuLu was physically growing fine, so his exam focused on how well she was doing, and giving me a completely scary lecture on the likelihood of precious puberty. She was 2 ˝, and now I had something more to worry about. The developmental pediatrician and speech therapist there thought her biggest problem was lack of speech and that she just needed more intense speech therapy.

When I asked about attachment or sensory issues, these doctors looked aghast. They quickly told me that I was those issues were rare…and that my child was making eye contact (with them, by the way) and seemed engaged and calm (at the moment.) I was told that I “worry too much”. (Must have been that chronic sleep deprivation.)

We knew as we walked out the door that we had wasted that $750. There were no real “answers” there. I was immediately offended at the “worried mom” comment, because even at this early stage in the game, I knew better. I have never been one prone to overreacting. If anything, I subscribed to the “wait and see” approach.

But we had been waiting. And what we were seeing wasn’t pretty.

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