Tangible results
Today, for the first time in... well... ever, R. fell asleep on my lap. Sound asleep. So sound asleep, she was twitching and it was difficult to wake her up. I realize that for the vast majority of you, this little event hardly seems worth mentioning. Let me explain why this is a great big huge deal around here.
I think I've made it pretty plain over the past three years that R. has experienced more than her fair share of trauma and change of caregivers. Trauma rewires the brain and not in good ways. Lots of trauma rewires the brain in lots of not good ways. When you couple the effects of trauma with a brain that is already structurally compromised and then throw in a brain resection, you get a mess. There are so many things that are difficult for R.... language, both receptive and expressive (compounded by switching languages), memory (both long term and working), large and small muscle control, proprioception and vestibular awareness, to name a few. Plus, on top of all that, the effects of trauma mean that all of the areas that can help a child through difficulties are also compromised, specifically attachment. Her life lesson so far is that people are not safe to get close to; they either hurt you or ignore you, and if they don't do that, then they still vanish. And if that isn't enough, extended trauma can create hypervigilance in a child, where their senses are continually heightened in preparation for whatever bad thing is going to come next. A hypervigilant child cannot relax... ever. Even deep, restful sleep is difficult to achieve. I have felt as though for the past three years we have been slowly digging R. out of a very deep hole just to get her to a point where we can begin to make forward progress.
Recently, through some very concerted effort on J.'s and my part, we have been really pouring on the connection with R. This is because she finally seems to be receptive to our advances. If she is going to not disassociate and hide every time she is spoken to, we're going to take advantage of it. One of those things is that I have been sitting with R. on my lap a couple of times each day and reading her stories, just as I would one of my toddlers. (Her willingness to cooperate with this is also kind of a big deal.) At first, I would have to chase her down and convince her that this was going to fun and pleasant, and we started by sitting next to each other on the couch. That has moved into her finding me and asking for a story, and a willingness to sit on my lap to listen. At first, I had to show her how to sit on my lap, because she was so stiff and awkward it was a little unbelievable. Now, she is beginning to relax and start to snuggle in.
This is where we found ourselves this afternoon. She had asked for a story, so I read one to her, and after we were finished, we just sat there for a bit, relaxing together. That in itself is new. Relaxing, especially next to me just didn't happen. After a while, I realized she was asleep. So I let her rest on my lap. For a half hour, I sat while she slept.
I came across this statement in a book I was reading recently. "...our brains are hardwired to respond positively to physical exertion by rewarding us with deep satisfaction when our labors produce tangible results." (from Craftfulness: mend yourself by making things by Rosemary Davidson and Arzu Tahsin). I had read this quote yesterday, so it was fresh in my mind as I was sitting with the sleeping child on my lap.
The most important thing I was doing this afternoon was just sitting in the chair, letting R. relax and have the physical closeness that she craves, but doesn't know how to satisfy. It was probably the most important thing I did all day, but I wasn't really doing anything while I was doing everything. This is why parenting is hard. This is why parenting hurt children is even harder. We feel best when we are doing things... real physical work... and that work produces a tangible result. Parenting is so often about not feeling as though you are doing anything and it taking a very long time to see any tangible result. In the midst of the daily small connections of parenthood it can feel as though we have accomplished nothing at all. The most important work we do is so often invisible at the time.
This is especially true when other things around the house... laundry, dishes, dusting... pile up as we do the invisible things which are so important. I don't know how many times I've come to the end of the day, looked around at the chaos trying to break free around me, and wondered what the heck I actually did that day.
We need to train our eyes to see the small, often inconsequential seeming things as being the most important. Because of R.'s history, her falling asleep on my lap was easy to see for the major event it was. Yet, even with emotionally healthy children, we should not write-off as insignificant all the little moments of care, connection, and love that are given out each day. They make an enormous change in the world, we just have to wait a while to see the tangible results they produce.
I think I've made it pretty plain over the past three years that R. has experienced more than her fair share of trauma and change of caregivers. Trauma rewires the brain and not in good ways. Lots of trauma rewires the brain in lots of not good ways. When you couple the effects of trauma with a brain that is already structurally compromised and then throw in a brain resection, you get a mess. There are so many things that are difficult for R.... language, both receptive and expressive (compounded by switching languages), memory (both long term and working), large and small muscle control, proprioception and vestibular awareness, to name a few. Plus, on top of all that, the effects of trauma mean that all of the areas that can help a child through difficulties are also compromised, specifically attachment. Her life lesson so far is that people are not safe to get close to; they either hurt you or ignore you, and if they don't do that, then they still vanish. And if that isn't enough, extended trauma can create hypervigilance in a child, where their senses are continually heightened in preparation for whatever bad thing is going to come next. A hypervigilant child cannot relax... ever. Even deep, restful sleep is difficult to achieve. I have felt as though for the past three years we have been slowly digging R. out of a very deep hole just to get her to a point where we can begin to make forward progress.
Recently, through some very concerted effort on J.'s and my part, we have been really pouring on the connection with R. This is because she finally seems to be receptive to our advances. If she is going to not disassociate and hide every time she is spoken to, we're going to take advantage of it. One of those things is that I have been sitting with R. on my lap a couple of times each day and reading her stories, just as I would one of my toddlers. (Her willingness to cooperate with this is also kind of a big deal.) At first, I would have to chase her down and convince her that this was going to fun and pleasant, and we started by sitting next to each other on the couch. That has moved into her finding me and asking for a story, and a willingness to sit on my lap to listen. At first, I had to show her how to sit on my lap, because she was so stiff and awkward it was a little unbelievable. Now, she is beginning to relax and start to snuggle in.
This is where we found ourselves this afternoon. She had asked for a story, so I read one to her, and after we were finished, we just sat there for a bit, relaxing together. That in itself is new. Relaxing, especially next to me just didn't happen. After a while, I realized she was asleep. So I let her rest on my lap. For a half hour, I sat while she slept.
I came across this statement in a book I was reading recently. "...our brains are hardwired to respond positively to physical exertion by rewarding us with deep satisfaction when our labors produce tangible results." (from Craftfulness: mend yourself by making things by Rosemary Davidson and Arzu Tahsin). I had read this quote yesterday, so it was fresh in my mind as I was sitting with the sleeping child on my lap.
The most important thing I was doing this afternoon was just sitting in the chair, letting R. relax and have the physical closeness that she craves, but doesn't know how to satisfy. It was probably the most important thing I did all day, but I wasn't really doing anything while I was doing everything. This is why parenting is hard. This is why parenting hurt children is even harder. We feel best when we are doing things... real physical work... and that work produces a tangible result. Parenting is so often about not feeling as though you are doing anything and it taking a very long time to see any tangible result. In the midst of the daily small connections of parenthood it can feel as though we have accomplished nothing at all. The most important work we do is so often invisible at the time.
This is especially true when other things around the house... laundry, dishes, dusting... pile up as we do the invisible things which are so important. I don't know how many times I've come to the end of the day, looked around at the chaos trying to break free around me, and wondered what the heck I actually did that day.
We need to train our eyes to see the small, often inconsequential seeming things as being the most important. Because of R.'s history, her falling asleep on my lap was easy to see for the major event it was. Yet, even with emotionally healthy children, we should not write-off as insignificant all the little moments of care, connection, and love that are given out each day. They make an enormous change in the world, we just have to wait a while to see the tangible results they produce.
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Britta