Friday, September 29, 2017

A picture is worth a thousand words

I've had a few people still wonder how in the world L could have anything wrong with her.  They only see a very obedient, shy, seemingly sweet natured girl.

People still wonder if I am making this all up.

We were able to take some family photos last night, and while I had a dear friend of mine take the family shots, I took the individual ones of each of my children.

In doing so, I was able to take a picture, without L realizing it (as I didn't prepare her first) that shows truly how she looks at me nearly even minute of every day.

I have had people ask me to show them her rages, her violent side, but I struggle to do so, as I don't want to vilify her.  If you saw what we saw, you may not accept her when she heals, you may not want your children to play with her, or invite her to your child's birthday party.  I want the past to be the past with our L.

She is making improvements still.  She is moving forward and trying to overcome this harrowing disorder with the right help from our therapist and her amazing school.

She is healing.

However, that doesn't mean she loves me.  She simply doesn't want me in her life and we are working to help her see that being loved is not life threatening.

Children with RAD literally feel that love will kill them.

So they fight.

They fight hard.

And only those closest to them will ever feel their wrath.

I want to share these two photos, just to give you an idea of what I, her nurturing enemy or mother, sees every day.  I want you to see how quickly she can go from one child to another.  I want you to hopefully see that we are not making this up, we are not seeking attention, we are not in any way, harming our child.

We love our L with a deep love, one that goes beyond this life.  We love her, even though she does not love us.  We care for her, even when she throws that care in our face.  We hope for her, even when some days it feels there is no hope left.

Here is what I see every day, every morning when I greet her, every afternoon when I pick her up, every time I reach out to her, this is her face, this is her reality:

Here is what she did not two seconds later when I told her to smile for the camera. This is what EVERYONE else gets, this is the greeting friends and family get, this is what she shows the world:

This beautiful girl truly has a mental disorder, and even though you may not see is there.  Her world is dark and lonely and we are gently chipping at the cracks to let out her light.  We have to chip slowly and carefully as not to crack her further...but I promise every decision, every step forward or back is for her.

With love,

Friday, September 1, 2017

I Choose Hope

As I begin this blog post, I am overwhelmed with the notion that I am truly blessed with an abundant and beautiful life.

I am grateful for my blessings.

And, I am grateful for my trials.

I remember a talk given by a man who I truly love and look up to, Elder Henry B. Eyring, a leader in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints called, Mountains to Climb.

In this talk he literally tells us that we can and should be thankful for our trials.

When I first heard this, I was taken-a-back as he opened with this statement:

"I heard President Spencer W. Kimball, in a session of conference, ask that God would give him mountains to climb. He said: “There are great challenges ahead of us, giant opportunities to be met. I welcome that exciting prospect and feel to say to the Lord, humbly, ‘Give me this mountain,’ give me these challenges.”
My heart was stirred, knowing, as I did, some of the challenges and adversity he had already faced. I felt a desire to be more like him, a valiant servant of God. So one night I prayed for a test to prove my courage. I can remember it vividly. In the evening I knelt in my bedroom with a faith that seemed almost to fill my heart to bursting."
I honestly thought, "How crazy! Why would anyone pray for more trials?"

As I journey through this trial of having a child with Reactive Attachment Disorder, and as many do not understand or still do not believe our truly heart-wrenching and emotionally and spiritually depleting life, I will honestly say that I am still not able to ask for any more mountains to climb. ;)

The mountain I am on is enough, thank you.

However, on this mountain, I have learned that I can either fall into a deep darkness of hurt and fear, which I have many times...


...I can look to my Savior and choose hope.

L's school is called, New Hope Academy for this very reason.  They teach us and help us on our journey, guiding us up the steepest of hills, coaxing us to CHOOSE HOPE over fear.

And I can tell you right now, it's working.

These past few months have been an awaking for me.  While the trial of RAD is just as hard and painful to navigate through as L gets older and is trying knew and sometimes difficult ways to hurt me or my family...we have also seen some significant improvements.

Imagine a child you love throwing themselves around her room, hitting her head on walls and doors, kicking the door until she takes it off it's hinges, kicking and hitting you, spitting on you, saying horrific things about you, throwing food at you, ripping apart her clothes or bedding, pulling down curtains and any decor in her room, taking toys or other items in her room and throwing them at you or making weapons to hurt you, and screaming at the top of her lungs how much she hates you.

Now imagine your child doing this almost daily, sometimes multiple times a day and nothing you say or do can calm her down for hours.

This is what our L did for nearly seven years.

And now she doesn't.  

We have gone three entire months without a full-blown rage.

Three months!

She is truly making progress in her healing!

Seven years of climbing this mountain and I can finally see the top!

It has been seven years of some of the darkest, most painful days of my life.  Lower than our infertility journey, lower than our failed adoptions, lower than our failed IVF trials, lower than losing a loved one (not including a child, parent, spouse, or sibling), and even lower than my experience of being sexually abused.  

I have never experienced more pain, more loss, more fear, more loneliness, more desire to give up, or more struggle in my faith than I have these past seven years.

But as Elder Eyring stated, that as I have climbed this mountain, I have changed, I have gained courage and empathy in return, I have gained the unshaken faith that my Savior knows me, He loves me, and that there is nothing in this life that I can go through, that He does not understand.  


I have gained a relationship with my Father in Heaven and my Savior that I never want to lose. I have leaned on my Savior more and begged of the Father through Him, I have fallen on my knees over and over again and can now see, clearly, that They were with me all the while.

This is a blessing far greater than I could have imagined.

Now, while I may not be to the point where I ask for more mountains to climb just yet... ;)

...I can truly say that I am grateful for the ones I have been given thus far. 

We still have YEARS of therapy to go with our L, she still is no where near ready to join her peers, but I have truly seen the hand of God in my daughter.  

I have seen what seemed impossible become possible.

Her healing is my greatest hope.  And I choose hope for her.

Lots of love,

Elder Henry B. Erying's talk:

Monday, May 8, 2017

This Is Not Who You Are

I am sure most of you have seen one of the newest Disney movies, Moana.

If you haven't, you need to.

I may be biased in saying this, as I spent two glorious years living in Hawaii and hanging around many of the beautiful Polynesian cultures.  I have friends from all over the South Pacific and to say that I love them and their very differing cultures would be an understatement.

With that being said, I also loved Moana for a very different reason.

This picture shows a scene where Moana has come to heal or return the heart of the goddess, Te Fiti.

Te Fiti has literally lost her heart, or her ability to love and thus has become something that she truly is not.  And because of her trauma, her pain, her suffering, she is left completely broken and unrecognizable.

As Moana walks toward Te Fiti she says this:

"They have stolen the heart from inside you, 
but this does not define you, 
this is not who you are, 
you know who you are."

Immediately, I was struck with how comparable Te Fiti was to my L.  I was bawling in the knowledge that my L's heart had been taken from her and she was left without the ability to love.

There are many reasons a child's heart can be stolen from them, some may be from cruel abuse and neglect, some may be from a trauma in early childhood, and some may be from circumstances beyond anyone's control.  No matter how a child's heart is broken, the child will then turn into something they truly are not.  

They become full of fear and anger.

Their light is gone and darkness appears.  

And they feel constant threat and violence. 

When I saw Moana walk toward Te Fiti's state of rage and anger, I knew at that moment that I do the same thing every day with my L.

I walk toward her rage and her cruel words, her hateful threats, and her physical attacks, telling her with all my heart that, 

"This is not who you are. 
They have stolen the heart from inside you. 
This does not define you...."

Children with Reactive Attachment Disorder and other attachment issues, literally are unable to understand and properly feel is as if their heart is gone.  But with consistent work and therapy, with showing them love at their level, and constant prayer and hope, their hearts too can be returned!

We love our L so much that we walk toward her as she runs toward us in her rage. 

We tell her over and over again, that she is a daughter of God and that she is defined by that truth. 

One day, I hope that her heart will be returned and that we will be able to see her grow in love and beauty.  

One day she will know who she truly is.

Lots of love,

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

What Does it Look Like?

I want you all to know that I do count myself a blessed person.

I have more at my finger tips in terms of luxury than so many people of the world, I have a warm, safe home, a country that allows me freedom and comfort, I have a loving, honest husband, who truly would walk through fire for me, I have four beautiful children who I count as an amazing gift, and I have the knowledge and testimony of my Savior and Redeemer, and that I have a loving Father in Heaven who knows me by name and truly cares for me.

So when I talk about what is hard in my life, I am not trying to discount any of my precious blessings. In fact, with time, I undoubtably see these hard times as some of my most beautiful blessings and my greatest opportunities to grow.

As I sat talking with E's therapist today, we talked about my ability to deal with some of the extreme emotions and stress both E and L feel on a daily basis.

This made me think.  The first thing I thought was, is this is hard.  I can barely work through my own feelings, let alone be in tune with theirs on a daily basis.

But then I remembered how far I have come in working with L and even E, and I was immediately grateful.

How does our Father in Heaven work with us?  Does He treat us selfishly?  Does He try to make us something we are not?


He meets us at our level and works from there.  He never has and never will make us do anything or be something we are not ready for.

This is what I am learning with my own children.

L's school taught me recently something that seems really simple in principle, but I will be honest, it is hard to do in reality.  It is that when I am working with L at home, I need to be in tune with her love comfort and not enforce my own love comfort on her.  When working with a child who has attachment issues, especially the reactive kind, finding the ability to show her love on her level is harder than I ever imagined.

When I picture any of my children, I picture myself holding them tight, kissing their cheek, rocking their fears away, singing my favorite lullaby in their ears (which happens to be, "Baby Mine") and cuddling in our favorite lazy-boy chair.  I picture us talking of their dreams, their fears, their heartache, and triumphs.

However, L's idea of love looks like this:

This is where her comfort level stands with me.  Every time I would enter her space to just say hi, or to try and hug her, she would freeze up, get agitated and stressed.  This could set her off into rages or nights without sleep. I wasn't sure what to do, how could I show my daughter I love her without hurting her?

This is what L's school asked me to try...let L be in her room (her safe and favorite place to be), with her door open, while I sit all the way across in the living room, about 40 feet away.  

What?!  How would that work?  How could she feel anything from that distance?

Well, let me tell you, she did.

I went into her room and told her, "I will be over here on the couch, while you can stay in your room."  I then told her, "I want to spend time with you," and left it at that.

I walked over to the couch, sat down, and looked at her and what I saw was the most relaxed L I have ever seen with me.  She was actually smiling a sincere smile at me.  I could only spend about five minutes before I could feel her starting to go to anxiety, so I got up, smiled at her and shut her door.  She calmed down immediately.

This is her level.

This is her working to feel love.

This is what Reactive Attachment Disorder looks like.

It is finding the right balance of love within her comfort zone.  It is letting her know that I still love her without causing her stress or anxiety.

It is hard.  

It goes against every mothering feeling that I have.  But this isn't about me, it is about her.

Helping my E and my L with their emotions takes so much out of me daily to stay calm, to stay in tune, and to stay with love.  It can literally drain me dry.

But I know that I am learning.  I am learning how to see even the hardest of children as my Heavenly Father sees her.  I am learning how to seek the Holy Spirit for guidance during every melt down or hateful word.  I am learning how to see past my own needs and put my children's needs first.

It is hard.  But it is also a blessing.

Lots of love,

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

The Definition of Grief and my E

I read today, on my friend's FB post, an amazing definition of grief.  It talked about how at first the waves come crashing in on you rapidly and they feel as though they are 100 feet tall, hitting you over and over again without mercy.  It talked about how the waves eventually become smaller and less frequent, that you eventually are able to see the waves coming at you and can prepare a little more for them as they crash against your soul.

The loss of a loved one is hard and cruel, especially if that loss was too soon or too tragic.

While I have lost a dear grandfather, two wonderful uncles, and some peers from school, the pain of death hasn't stung me like it has others.  I have never lost a parent, a sibling, or my greatest fear, a child or spouse.  I have been spared this strangling pain so far and thank my Heavenly Father daily for their life and protection.  While I truly do miss those I have lost, they weren't mine to claim. Their children, spouses, and parents are the ones who have had their lives changed forever.

So while I have never felt the true pain of death, why do I still feel like I have 100 foot waves crashing down on me?

Why am I grieving?  Why do I feel the pain that seems to only define the loss of a loved one?

When I looked up the definition of grief, this is what is says:

keen mental suffering or distress over affliction or loss; sharp sorrow; painful regret.

I will say that I was grateful to see that grief doesn't just cover loss or death.

I remember the first time I felt the deep cut of grief.  I had just been through the difficult and rigorous journey of In-Vitro Fertilization.  We had traveled to California and spent two weeks there, I had met with one of the top doctors for IVF, and then after two weeks of waiting and feeling completely sure that I had one or two babies growing inside me, I got a call from the nurse saying I wasn't pregnant.

I felt as if I had been punched in the stomach.  Punched so hard my breath flew right out of me.

I didn't know this then, but I know now, that I was in the middle of complete and total grief.  Wave after wave poured upon me.  I felt cold and dark and hopeless.

Since then, I have had my share of grief riddled trials. I have come to see them as what they are and I am learning to own them and accept them.  I realize I don't need to be strong at first, I just need to wade slowly through until I can catch my breath again.

I saw this quote the other day and it sums up completely how I feel about grief:

Reactive Attachment Disorder has brought to our family a lot of sadness.  Sadness that doesn't go away.  Sadness that fills me up to the top and spills out in tears several times a week.  I feel loss of hope and a loss of self, often, like I am only able to catch my breath once in a while.

And now we have had another big blow.  When I got pregnant with our E, I was ecstatic. She was our final try of IVF and it worked!  Our L was only 18 months and we were so excited to bring another child into our home.  Little did I know that L's RAD would start to show it's full colors a few short weeks after we found out our amazing news of E.

We were knew to the area, here in Saratoga Springs, and we didn't know a soul.  I will admit, no one opened their arms to us and I started to become a recluse.  And I started to spiral fast downhill from L's trauma raging fits.

I felt so utterly alone; I wanted the earth to just swallow me up.  Looking back, I believe that is when depression had set in.

Needless to say, my pregnancy with E wasn't as joyful as I would have wanted.  Stress, anger, and complete total loneliness wrapped me up daily.  No one believed me about my L and said I was being too sensitive.  They all told me it would pass and that some kids are just hard.

I was barely able to breath at this point through the crashing waves and felt honestly as if I were drowning.

Deep down I have always known that this heartache would indeed affect my precious E.  She has always been my fire and ice child, difficult in many ways, but I held on to hope that she didn't feel the constant hurt I felt each day while pregnant with her.

I was wrong.  She felt it all.

While her anxiety will never be as severe as our L's, she none-the-less has been expressing her own disorder very clearly these past few weeks and we finally had to take her in to see what was happening.

E has been diagnosed with Hoarder's Disorder.  That is right, hoarding.

She flies into raging fits of anger and panic when we ask her to throw away garbage.  She hides it in her room and lies about how she threw it away.  She holds onto string cheese wrappers, fruit snack wrappers, juice bottles, paper towels, broken toys, etc. like they are precious treasures to her.

Once again, those 100 foot waves have crept up on me and I feel like my strength is waning, as I wade through knowing another child of mine will have to go through the difficulty of dealing with a rather complex anxiety disorder. I am trying to look this trial in the face, see it for what it is, and spend the time we need to with it.

I am owning my grief and I know that time will lessen the frequency and height of the waves.

But just know that if I seem down again, if I don't show up, it is because I am barely able to catch my breath right now.

Lots of love,

Saturday, March 18, 2017

Finding the Darkness in the Light

Some people have hinted that my blog is a fairly sad and negative space.  I don't mean to be the kind of person who only talks about the doom and gloom in my life, as that is not my intention.

My intention is education in some maybe not so common issues.

I have so many beautiful blessings in my life, such is my title, "Pictures of my gifts".

I talk to people all the time who go through seemingly life breaking trials, trials that would knock almost anyone to their knees.  I see what they share and don't share, I see how much they are consumed by what their life has become and then I see many loose the bands of their hell and fly in the faith of their Savior.

I know women who have lost a child or multiple children to a sickness or a tragic accident.  I have known women who have never been able to have a child of their own and those they adopt are riddled with trauma and anger and these women are left with the struggle of raising a child who only wants to hurt them.

I've known men and women who have dealt with abusive husbands/wives who have hurt them over and over again, and these women and men trying their best to keep their family together, while the spouse lies and manipulates others for their personal gain.

I have known women who have been raped, beaten, and hurt by complete strangers.

I know women who have lost their spouse to death and mental illness.  Leaving them alone and lonely.

I have known men and women who struggle with infertility, with the illness of a child, their own daily struggle of health and illness.

And I've known women who have lost their entire family in a tragic accident.  Their whole family. Their heartbreak is beyond what I can ever imagine...and yet, they go on.

Most, if not all, of these women have used the faith and strength they have needed in their Savior to bear them up, to hold on and not let go, even if they are only holding on by a thread.  And to be honest, I have learned from each and every one of them.  Their dark times and light times have taught me how to fight and how to move on in my own life.

In their story of struggle, I was made stronger.

I hope that as I share what I am going through that I will only be helping those who feel they can't cope or they can't move on.  I hope that while I may not be going through what they are going through, I will be able to be a strength of hope and faith.

Sometimes when we see that others suffer, that we are not alone in our hurt, we can then hopefully gain the strength to get up, to move forward, to see the light again in our own anguish.

I know for years I suffered alone.  I suffered deeply and it affected every part of my life.  And now I am paying for it with my health.  Getting those unhealthy cells out of my body takes a lot of effort and growth.  Moving the pain out of my body rather than further inside me has taken such hard, painful, and gut-wrenching work.  And I, as all of us, will continue to be a work in progress.

God did not send us down here to wallow in our grief.

But He did send us down here to struggle, to struggle with pain, faith, work, and life.

Struggle is key.

Without struggle we can never understand joy.  Without struggle, we will stay stagnate in our growth.

Without struggle we cannot become like God.

And while we will all struggle, God also does not intend for us to do it alone.

We first and foremost, have a Savior, Jesus Christ, who has literally felt everything we have felt.

His suffering is not symbolic, it is literal.

The Savior's ability to succor us is unlike anything else in this world, but first we must let Him.  He can be the difference between night and day between utter darkness and brilliant light.

Second, God gave us each other.  WE HAVE EACH OTHER!  I don't think we understand how great of a gift this is.

So in the end, why do I write what I write, first to educate my circle of people in some of my rare, yet very difficult struggles, and second to hopefully be the beacon of light to at least one person who may need me.

I hope all of us can reach out in whatever capacity we feel we can and be the light to those who need us.

So much love to you all!


Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Speaking Out

I get it.  Some people are horrified by social media and how our lives are put out there for judgement. I get that when someone is too personal, it can make others feel uncomfortable or upset or feel it is too close to home.

I don't know about you, but I am a huge Brene Brown fan.  I have read a few of her books and each time I do I worry less about what others think and worry more about who I can help with my story, my truth.

Some still don't like how open I am.

I am totally fine with this.

I know who I've been able to help and I know there will be others.

Our stories shouldn't be hidden or lost, it is through others we find our strength.

I have, however, come to find that life isn't about getting everyone to love you or understand you.  In fact, when you speak your truth it is easy to make enemies.  But in that process I have found life is about finding those true people in your circle who care, those who love you for your truth, who love you within your brokenness and pain.

In my church on Sunday we discussed the topic of helping each other.  While taking dinners, helping with cleaning, or child care are all AMAZING parts of this service, I have also found that allowing others to see that they are not alone in some of live's most difficult times, has been not only a blessing for them but for me as well.  And while I share my story, I have also found strength and help as they share with me their story and how they are working through it.

I do not, in any way, share my truths for you to cry over me or to feel like I am weak or self-absorbed, I share because honestly, I have felt I needed to share.

SO as I talk about this next subject, please know, that while I am truly putting it all out there, it is only to empower, to help, to show that hiding our pain isn't what God intends us to do.  Even our Savior asked for his friends, the apostles, to please stay awake while He went into the Garden of Gethsemane, he wanted his friends to be there for him and to protect him while he suffered for their very sins.

And yet, they slept and had NO idea what their friend, their Savior, their Redeemer had done.

He needed his friends and they were not there for him.

We are all in this journey together, hopefully doing our best to be the best moms, dads, brothers, sisters, daughters, sons, and children of God that we can.

But sometimes we get hurt.  Sometimes others hurt us and we need more support, we need to speak up and get help from family/friends and professionals.

I want to share something very personal; in light of all those who are now speaking up about how common it is to be sexually assaulted or humiliated, I know their pain.  I have held it in for years.  I only told my husband this past month and he was the first person I spoke to about it.  I felt weak, I felt stupid, I felt humiliated, and so I never said a word.

I want to share this as I hope to give a voice to what is too common in our world.  I want to share my story to show that it isn't those moments of hurt in our lives that define us, but they can make us grow and stand up for what is right and true!

Sometimes saying something out loud makes all the difference in the world!

When we were going through our infertility journey, we met with a doctor, who knew how broken I was, who knew how desperate I was to be a mom, and yet he used that to hurt me.  At the time I knew what he was doing was wrong, even though he said it was part of the process of IVF.  He hurt me over and over again, and I never said a word.  I trusted him.  I wanted a baby so badly, I didn't know how to speak up and so he kept hurting others, until finally other women finally spoke up...and yet, I still stayed silent.  Maybe if I would have spoke up others wouldn't have been hurt!

I could have stopped him from sexually abusing others.

But I can't dwell on that now.

In the end, he lost his license.  I tried to tell myself, he didn't hurt me, even when my husband questioned me, I lied.  I couldn't be one of those women who allowed that to happen.  I wasn't weak, I wasn't stupid.

I was wrong.  I was wrong about a lot of things, as I realized it has nothing to do with weakness or stupidity.  It has to do with self worth.  I didn't feel worthy to share my story, I didn't feel worthy to NOT be taken advantage of. I didn't feel worthy of my truth and that somehow it was all my fault for letting it happen.  There was a dark cloud that hung over me for years.

But now that I am talking about it, I can see more clearly that it had nothing to do with was not, in any way my fault.  I trusted him and he took advantage of my pain.

I hope that this story will only help others see that their worth in God's eyes is still pure and beautiful after something like this happens and that it is NEVER their fault.

Again, I hope that this is all taken in a place of love and understanding.  I don't share my truths for your tears, I share them to educate, to help, to show that we, none of us, are alone on this journey.

I love this quote:

"Speak the TRUTH, even if your voice shakes."

*Update: I found out that only after 1 year in jail and 2 years of probation this doctor still practices in Provo, helping people through IVF.  He is under very strict rules to help his clients be safe under his care.  If you have any questions you can ask me in the comment section and I will be happy to help you.

Lots of love to all of you.