Older Child Adoption - Becoming a Family Part 4

Wild Child (Or Was I Just An Inept Mama?)

Our flights back from Russia took us 24 hours. I did not have reservations (long story, small airline) from Atlanta to Nashville. I turned on the tears when I got to Atlanta. Not hard with all the emotion of recent weeks. Except that I kept talking to the wrong person. It took me three people and three sets of tears to get us on a flight...with no change fee. And he threw in a coupon for a free dinner anywhere in the airport!

Hannah was perfect until we arrived in Nashville. She had fallen asleep and did not want to be awakened. She yelled, hit, and kicked. People exiting the plane murmured things like, "Oh dear, mmmmm, my goodness, oh my. . . . " Somehow I picked up Hannah, our coats, hats, gloves, scarves, and two knapsacks, and got us off the plane. No one met us. My choice. An effort to reduce sensory overload. We drove home and went to bed.

The first day was like being inside a helium balloon. Everything felt soft and happy. I'll never forget how she climbed to the top of the jungle gym at the playground, let go with her hands, spread out her arms, raised her chin, and exuberantly sang a Russian folk song!

Day two, our 'troubles' began. Running into the street repeatedly. Hitting me as I told her "nyet!" It went downhill from there. Hannah's meltdowns occurred from 2-6 times per week and were from 1-6 hours long. They were not tantrums. They were a state of complete out-of-control. They were not triggered by consistent things. One day it could be tiredness. The next it could be not wanting to go to the grocery store. The day after, it could be because I told her to brush her teeth. Often, it related to bedtime.

Her actions included hitting, kicking, biting, screaming, and spitting. She would head butt me and try to poke out my eyes. She would put her mouth next to my ear and scream at the top of her lungs. She threw things at me, hitting me in my face. In addition to my bruises, bites, and cuts, the walls were scratched, doors were scraped, and the banister was broken.

At times, I would lock myself in the bathroom and cry and try to gather myself together. While I was in the bathroom, she would scream, kick, and pound on the door.

One day, I stopped the car because she had undone her seatbelt. I clearly explained the issue, and then we both sat perfectly still. After a few minutes, she began to play quietly in her car seat. After 23 minutes, I decided to 'chill' her into submission. (It was March.) Without saying a word, I turned on the air-conditioner and cracked open the windows of the car. She put her mouth up to the window and yelled, "Call 911. Help me!" (Excellent English for three months here, wouldn't you say?!)

An added stress was that I had to travel for business. Yes, I know that wasn't great during her first few months, but that's what I do to make us a living. Every time I left town, I was in a panic as to how Hannah would treat the babysitter. Often, they would not come back. So much for trying to establish consistency in regards to using the same babysitter . . . .

Next: Part 5: Learning to Control Emotion

[Susan Ward, founder of Heritage Communications, maintains Older Child Adoption Online Magazine. This regularly updated website includes articles, personal insights, links, books and more. There are special sections on single parenting, reactive attachment disorder, and "Adopted Just Like Me for Kids." Susan is also mama to Hannah, age 9, adopted at age 6 from Russia.]

Credits: Susan Ward