I have been so bad about blogging. I'll try to get through this update.
Izaiah was in the hospital twice in December for several weeks. He was completely out of control and it was very dangerous in our home. Izaiah was being so violent and we could not control him. He was breaking things constantly, including several doors, and we were living in a heightened state of fear. He was hurting us daily. I don't have the energy right now to try to explain what that looked like or how serious things actually were, but trust me when I say that we were fearing for his and our lives. We made the hard decision to have Ezra live with my mom and brothers in Arkansas for a while because it was just not safe for her to be here. The police kept having to come, and at one point the seargant made some ignorant comments to me about how their job is not to come help us parent our 8 year old. In the same conversation he also told me it was too much of a liability for them to keep coming out to our house because he was afraid his officers would have to hurt Izaiah because of the severity of his behaviors. He told me the police would no longer come to our home unless it was to escort Izaiah in an ambulance to the hospital. I lost count of how many times we did that, having him taken by EMS to the hospital. When we would do that, we would sit in the ER for an average of 9 hours only to be stuck in a tiny room with an enraged and unstable child, only to be told what we already know: he needs to be hospitalized. That, or they would just totally not get it and we would feel further defeated and victimized by the system that is supposed to help us.
I asserted myself - appropriately, I guarantee you - with the police seargant about my understanding that their job was to ensure safety and respond during dangerous situations, and before you know it, the city had filed a nuissance against us. We were scheduled for a hearing, and our cop friend told us they were likely trying to evict us (aparantly they can do that, even if you own your home???) and needed to hire an attorney immediately. Fast forward to a lot of prayers and conversations with the city's prosecuting attorney (who was an angel, truly), and they finally dropped the charges.
In December, we finally began to come to terms that we may need to look at longer term options for Izaiah and his brain disorder. There are only two intensive residential treatment facilities in the country that specialize in treating what we believe is the largest issue, his Reactive Attachment Disorder. Those two facilities are in New Mexico and Montana. After spending a lot of time researching and we made the hard decision to pursue residential treatment. Mark and I drove to New Mexico to meet with the staff of the treatment facility there. We were impressed and believed that was what Izaiah needed and our only option. Problem was, it would be a two year treatment and a quarter of a million dollars. Mark and I looked for housing, jobs, you name it, down there and just could not figure out how to make it work with the magnitude of expenses. The state of Missouri refused to pay for it, even though they are obligated by law, by the way, so we started an uphill battle of fighting to get the treatment funded. Another adoptive family in St. Louis is fighting the same battle and brought a lawsuit against the state for the same reasons, and even they are not getting anywhere for a while, so we decided to stop fighting. Truth be told, we were both out of energy or any extra emotional anything to fight this AND deal with our sick child. I was going from work straight to the hospital, straight home and to bed, only to start the process again the next day. I don't know how we were getting through it physically, let alone emotionally. Mark was spending his days trying to either work part time, or on the phone with the hospitals, therapists, OT's, doctors, pharmacy, insurance company, state adoption worker, supervisor, case managers, respite providers, etc. etc. etc.
Izaiah was in the hospital over Christmas, and I really don't even want to revisit that recollection, even for purposes of updating this blog. I'll just say it was the most miserable time of our lives. We got to be with him for an hour and a half on Chrismas Eve and an hour and a half on Christmas. They weren't going to let us bring him gifts, but finally relented as long as our visit was supervised by staff. Did they think he was going to be opening pocket knives and bb guns?! Seriously people.
In the midst of all the chaos, Dre was moved from the residential treatment facility he was ordered to (as a consequence for defying the judge and also to obtain substance abuse treatment) and into a foster home in North County. He was refusing to come home, but was doing well there and they did not see the need for keeping him in a facility. In a nutshell, Dre has decided to push us out and distance himself from us and his family so he does not get hurt. He has been abandoned by literally every single person in his life until he came to our home. His coping mechanism is to leave people before they can leave him. We felt like we made so much progress with Dre in teaching him to just be a kid, to trust, and to be loved unconditionally. When my dad died, he got scared and jumped ship. I guess to have another person who said they would never leave him all of a sudden be gone reminded him that it hurts less when he shuts off his heart. So he shut it off.
Dre's foster parent kept giving us the runaround and not bringing Dre to our house when he said we would. As a result, we have not seen Dre since October and did not see him on our around Christmas. That coupled with being our first Christmas without Dad, and I literally thought my heart might just stop beating. I have never felt so lost and devastated. I don't even want to talk about Christmas. I can't talk about Dre without feeling sick to my stomach. It's hard enough to grieve one person, let alone three of my deepest loves (4, if you count Ezra :) ), plus a mix of complicated factors.
Izaiah got out of the hospital just before New Year's and I'm happy to report he has been home since. We have - once again - drastically changed our parenting approach with him. We have started seeing a new therapist that specializes in RAD, put him on a gluten free diet, changed his medications, and he will be starting at a therapeautic school in the next week or two. Things have been going much better. God has been so good to us in this, even if it is just another calm before the storm. We are always waiting for the other foot to drop. Izaiah has been letting me hug him and play with him and cuddle him, and I have been giddy over it! We'll take the small victories, however long they last.
I miss my dad. I miss Dre. I miss Ezra. I am deeply grieving the loss of them in my life. I do know that God is good, even when it does not feel like He is. I know that God will restore all things, and he is the God of reconciliation. I have to keep telling myself that over and over sometimes to get through the days.
Our house is still caving in. Who even cares at this point? No excess energy to put toward that.
We have amazing - AMAZING - friends who I can't say enough wonderful things about. God has spoiled us with our church family, our friends, supports, and family who we adore. Mark's parents have been phenomenal to help take Izaiah on weekends when we desperately need a break. It has been such a joy to see the restoration in that and how much Izaiah adores them. My family, particularly my mom and siblings, are the most wonderful, supportive and lovable people. Izaiah has been grieving my dad a lot, but he is also so sensitive to us and our grief. He especially has grown closer to my mom and is constantly trying to comfort her. That's so cool to watch.
On Sunday, our friends, David and Daniella, came up to us after worship. David said that God had told him he wants me to be reminded that he has a heart for me and grieves with me when I grieve. When I am sad, He is hurting as well. Such a simple reminder and yet such a powerful reminder that God is not watching from afar, but He is here, in the thick of it with us. His love is a verb and He carries us even when we cannot feel it. Words escape me, but He is such a faithful God.
Thanks for reading. My next post will not be depressing, promise! It will also include pictures!
