Loving My Misunderstood Child

My youngest son had a really rough day today.

As with many parents who receive fairly frequent communications from their child’s school, I always cringe when I see the name of my son’s school appear on my phone. There is always that moment before you pick up the phone where you pause, brace yourself, and take one last breath before answering. The voice on the other end of the phone is often different, but the message is usually the same. Your son was misbehaving, he was sent to the refocus room, and now he has completely escalated. Can you talk to him? [Insert the muffled sound of my son’s very agitated voice.] Okay, he is refusing to come to the phone. Can you just make sure you talk to him at home about showing respect, listening to his teachers, and following the rules?

Can you tell that I have been the recipient of just a few of these calls? I am convinced my son’s school has my number on speed dial.

The way my husband and I have addressed these issues with our son has varied quite a bit throughout the years. We are constantly learning, and just as our son has challenging days, we have pretty rough days that can affect the way we react to these types of situations as well.

As I was watching the clock tick by and waiting for my little guy to get home this afternoon, I vacillated between being very upset and annoyed by the situation, and feeling compassion for my son who lives in a world that doesn’t seem to understand him. When he got home, I heard the familiar slam of the porch door and the creak of the front door as he slowly made his way inside. The expression on his face was a heartbreaking mixture of anger, defeat, worry, and sadness. Without saying a word, I motioned for him to join me on the couch where he fell into my arms and I held him as he began to cry. It is a place where we cuddle most mornings and it is a place that feels safe for him. After he had calmed down a bit, we were able to talk about what had happened and he was able to share about the events of the day from his perspective. We were able to talk about how he could have made different choices and we came up with a plan of how he can work on reacting differently, but also how we can potentially incorporate some sensory tools to help him refocus and self-regulate when the situation at school gets to be too much. We talked about the different types of items we could try, how they are used, and came up with a plan for asking the school if they would be on board with trying this technique. By the end of our talk, he was calm, flashing his adorable and goofy smile, and was ready for dinner.

It hasn’t always been like this, and we still have days when all hell breaks loose and there is very little hope of getting the situation back under control, but my husband and I work hard to make it work. Learning how to parent our son in a way that is best for him has been like a rollercoaster ride that never seems to end. It isn’t easy, and we are constantly educating ourselves and adapting who we are as parents to help shape and guide who he is as a person. We gave up the notion long ago of trying to grow our tiny humans into the people we want them to be and have since focused on embracing who each of our sons are and helping them to become the best versions of themselves.

Our youngest son is a complete spitfire. He has his papa’s fiery Latin blood running through his veins and is an incredibly perceptive and sensitive little guy. He is very impulsive, he likes to challenge himself and others, and always seems to be pushing boundaries whenever possible. He is a very complex, witty, and goofy child with an amazing personality and a wonderful zest for life. He has the ability to have you cracking up one minute and wanting to tear your hair out the next. He dances when there is no music, and he hums and sings without ever having an impetus to do so. He has always had two speeds—running and sleeping—and he would much rather walk backwards in a world that is constantly moving forward.

As an adoptee, I know what it’s like to feel stuck and to feel like you are somewhere between and wondering if you will ever truly find a place to belong. My son and I both live in a world that doesn’t quite understand who we are, and it makes me want to work harder to be a safe haven for him and a constant in his life that truly gets him and embraces all of his wonderful and not-so-wonderful quirks and qualities.

My sons have always been my world, and I have always loved them with every fiber of my being. It has taken a lot of blood, sweat, and tears (both figuratively and literally) to get to a place where I can truly say that I understand my youngest son—that I understand what his needs are, the reasoning behind the choices he makes, and how he copes with the reactions of others who may not understand where he is coming from. It is very rarely easy, and there are as many good days as there are bad, but I am very thankful to finally be in a place where I can attempt to see the world through his eyes and parent my son with more compassion, kindness, and understanding. I have come to the realization that my days of having to explain to others who my son is and advocating for his needs are far from over. I will continue to walk this journey with him and do what I can to advocate for and support him in hopes that one day he will be able to live in a world that understands and embraces him as well.

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