I have a child that I gave up for adoption who has RAD (reactive attachment disorder). It was very hard for me to make the decision to do this alone, no one knew at the time that he had this. It can be caused from many different things, though I know why he has it now, and I accept that I am the one to blame. Its a hard pill to swallow, because it is such a destructive mental disorder. After the first adoption to a family that I chose, they decided after 3 1/2 months that they couldn't handle this. It was not known that this had happened in the past, b/c nothing was ever mentioned. Shocked and not even having my own life in order by then, my aunt and uncle offered to adopt him. They were unable to have children of their own, and were in there 50s. They were emotionally and financially secure, and because they were devout christians, he would also have a good moral upbringing. They start realizing something is wrong. They take him to the drs and different therapists. They have all sorts of test ran, and he is diagnosed with RAD. What was once an open adoption, has become something closed. Im no longer allowed to visit him or talk to him on the phone. I can send gifts, but if I send cards or pictures, he wont receive them. They may be kept and given to him when he is older, but Im not for certain.
Its been 3.5 years since this whole thing took place. Its been 2 years since I've seen him, and a year since I've talked to him on the phone. I get a call from my aunt telling me she's fed up. She cant handle all this pain. My child isn't bonding with her and acts out all the time against her. She tells me she is thinking of putting him in a mental institution or giving him up for adoption, and then asked if I wanted to take him back. I was absolutely shocked at what I was hearing. Ive kept in contact with her, even though Im not allowed to talk to him, and I had been told about the disorder and steps that were being taken to try and help him. But, she was giving up. My whole world had just been tossed upside down and all I could see was blackness from the confusion that was setting in. I told her I'd take him back if thats what she was thinking. In the short of it, I left that conversation with thoughts and emotions flying everywhere.
The thought of putting him in a mental institution killed me inside. The thought of giving him to another family tore me apart. Was I going to have another chance? My whole life would change, and this time I would be ready. Ready for the long road and the same hell that my aunt endured. But I was ready. Ready to take him back and make the changes necessary for it to work.
My aunt calls me today, and tell me she has spoke with her husband, my uncle. She told me that he wasn't ready to give up and there was no way I was ever going to get him back. He also told her that he was willing to do what it takes, however long, but he wasn't going to send him to a mental institution, or another family. She said she shouldn't of called me until she had talked to him first.
I wasn't an awful parent. I was a single parent, who struggled with bi-polar disorder and was on the wrong medication. I was neither emotionally or financially stable, and there was no consistency in his life. So I made one of the hardest decisions there was. I decided to give him up the spring before his 3rd birthday. I was disowned by my mother, and grandmother. I hardly talk to anyone on my moms side of the family anymore. My mother and I never got along really anyway, so it wasn't a bridge I worried about burning. Her and my grandmother are still in his life and are allowed to see him, and that makes me happy. At least someone is able to see him.
I am so emotionally drained right now, and know that I will lose many hours of sleep thinking about all the situations that could have happened, and replaying the past. Hell, I already have. I just felt, for once to put how I feel on paper. So there it is.
Its been 3.5 years since this whole thing took place. Its been 2 years since I've seen him, and a year since I've talked to him on the phone. I get a call from my aunt telling me she's fed up. She cant handle all this pain. My child isn't bonding with her and acts out all the time against her. She tells me she is thinking of putting him in a mental institution or giving him up for adoption, and then asked if I wanted to take him back. I was absolutely shocked at what I was hearing. Ive kept in contact with her, even though Im not allowed to talk to him, and I had been told about the disorder and steps that were being taken to try and help him. But, she was giving up. My whole world had just been tossed upside down and all I could see was blackness from the confusion that was setting in. I told her I'd take him back if thats what she was thinking. In the short of it, I left that conversation with thoughts and emotions flying everywhere.
The thought of putting him in a mental institution killed me inside. The thought of giving him to another family tore me apart. Was I going to have another chance? My whole life would change, and this time I would be ready. Ready for the long road and the same hell that my aunt endured. But I was ready. Ready to take him back and make the changes necessary for it to work.
My aunt calls me today, and tell me she has spoke with her husband, my uncle. She told me that he wasn't ready to give up and there was no way I was ever going to get him back. He also told her that he was willing to do what it takes, however long, but he wasn't going to send him to a mental institution, or another family. She said she shouldn't of called me until she had talked to him first.
I wasn't an awful parent. I was a single parent, who struggled with bi-polar disorder and was on the wrong medication. I was neither emotionally or financially stable, and there was no consistency in his life. So I made one of the hardest decisions there was. I decided to give him up the spring before his 3rd birthday. I was disowned by my mother, and grandmother. I hardly talk to anyone on my moms side of the family anymore. My mother and I never got along really anyway, so it wasn't a bridge I worried about burning. Her and my grandmother are still in his life and are allowed to see him, and that makes me happy. At least someone is able to see him.
I am so emotionally drained right now, and know that I will lose many hours of sleep thinking about all the situations that could have happened, and replaying the past. Hell, I already have. I just felt, for once to put how I feel on paper. So there it is.
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catdad:
That's really tough. I totally understand your accepting some of the blame, but you could just as easily blame your genetics (ie., parents) for putting you in the position of having a chemical imbalance that wasn't being managed well by medication. That was the impetus for turning towards adoption as the solution. And adoption programs are designed for circumstances like yours. You did what should have been best, with the hope of providing him with a better life than you could provide. If the results in your case were common, they would institute laws against adoptions during certain ages or provide more resources to help parents who are struggling with parenthood. That's not the case, at least not yet. It's really just very unfortunate luck that your child developed this. And the most stable home life never guarantees there won't be problems. So, in the end, don't blame yourself or weigh yourself down with guilt. Don't blame anyone else. The past isn't going to change. Stay positive about who you are now and what you can be in the future. Be open to circumstance or possibility that may come your way. Put yourself in the position to be ready for it.
violentpatriot:
Thanks for sharing. It is an incredible and sad story. From an outside perspective as someone detached from the entire situation it sounds like you made the right decision, did and are doing the best you can and that you are incredibly strong.