I was reminded as I read an apology letter that a friend’s son had sent to her that my daughter no longer has Reactive Attachment Disorder. This young man basically told his parents that he was sorry that he got so upset when they treated him shabbily. That he loved them when they gave him what he wanted and didn’t ask him to take on any responsibility, and that he felt like others in the family had it much better than he did. In other words it was a “no apology” apology letter. And it just underscored this young man’s lack of attachment to his parents.

What it pointed out to me is that despite all the many, many challenges LuLu faces every day, she does (more often than not) show true remorse for her actions and true concern for our feelings (not in the heat of the meltdown, mind you).

How do I know she’s attached?

1. The Mom Shopping is long over. When LuLu was younger she was constantly looking for the attention of every adult in the room (Ok she still does that some). But it used to be an obvious “mom shop”. She would have gone home with a stranger; any stranger, at any time. Anyone else was preferable to me. She was so blasted cute, and although she had very little language, she could charm nearly anyone by reaching for them and smiling.
2. She has stopped pushing me away. When we first got LuLu she didn’t “hang on” like other babies/toddlers do when being carried. I didn’t understand the ramifications of this. She insisted on holding her own bottle. She pushed me away if I tried to really hug her or sooth her if she was upset.
3. She looks at me. We had an awesome attachment therapist who put the whole “eye contact” thing in perspective. Those trying to heal RAD often become obsessed with eye contact. Insisting that a child make eye contact with you doesn’t “heal” them. But when they do make eye contact with you is a sign they ARE healing. So there’s a delicate balance between requesting eye contact, i.e., Look at me, and forcing it. I still find myself telling LuLu to “Look at me” when I’m about to impart an important piece of information or when she’s starting to get emotional. Today she’s healthy enough that just that eye contact can make a heart-to-heart connection and sometimes calm her down.
4. She shows true remorse. I was ecstatic a few years ago when she began actually expressing sorrow for things she’d done. I realize, all too clearly now, that the battle is internal for LuLu and she does many things she wishes she could stop. While I rejoice that she’s remorseful and cares enough about us to express that she’s sorry, I am sad that always having to apologize instead of being able to stop yourself is such a hit on how you feel about yourself.

My heart aches for my friend whose son is still very much unattached. I know she’s tried so very hard to provide the parenting, therapies, medications and care that he needed to heal. And I know that she loves him…even as she comes to terms with the obvious fact that he is not able to return this and it is likely safer for all for him to be outside their home. I wish I knew why some children are able to heal and attach; and some are not. I wish, as Nancy has opined many times, that I understood the distinction between “can’t” and “won’t” when it comes to attachment and bonding.

I can remember when our path looked like it was heading right to where my friend is today. And I still see the ugly residual that my daughter’s attachment disorder has left. She’s still much more likely to want to play the victim (it’s not fair, you treat me like dirt, you never give me all the things you give the other kids). She’s also quick to push our buttons and hit our old wounds with the intent to injure.

Life with LuLu continues to be difficult. But she’s truly a part of the family…connected…attached. She wants to be here and she loves us. And it is because of this that we hang on to the hope that even more good things can come!

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