Battling The Food Issues

Battling The Food Issues…

It was 1:40PM on a Tuesday afternoon when I got a phone call telling me that my daughter was missing.  I had dropped her off at school that morning and apparently she had asked to go to the restroom and wandered off.  The entire school was on lock down and the faculty was searching everywhere for my daughter.  I remember my heart was pounding as I got into my vehicle to drive to the school and help with the search.  As I entered, the counselor asked me if my daughter had a tendency of running off, and I quickly told her to check behind every trash can, the cafeteria, and wherever there was food.  She had been displaying many bizarre food issues since I adopted her.

They found my daughter in the kindergarten room.  The lights were out because the morning kindergarten class had already left.  I looked up at the wall where my child was standing and saw all this artwork with dried glue dots on them.  Then I looked closer at the colorful construction paper and realized there were colorful crumbs stuck with glue on the paper.  I looked even closer to realize it was FROOT LOOPS!  Then I looked at my daughter and was horrified, she had glue and crumbs of cereal all over her.  She had just eaten all the kindergarteners’ artwork!  She literally picked off all the cereal pieces and ate them.  I guess the kindergarten teacher used cereal as some kind of counting activity, and my daughter couldn't resist the temptation. I was speechless.  I couldn't even muster up the words to apologize to the teacher. 

The counselor started telling me that my daughter continues to steal from the other kids’ lunches, and she started asking me what my portions of food looked like, as if maybe I wasn't feeding her enough. I remember trying to frantically tell the counselor that I do feed her, but she continues to steal whatever food she can, but the counselor just looked at me like I was a complete and utter failure of a mother. I was so hurt that she didn't believe me. 

I remember walking what I call the "walk of shame." All the mothers in their fancy SUVs were lined up outside to pick up their children.  I had to walk by them all with my five kids who clearly wanted to trade me in.  One of my foster kids had decided that she wanted a different back pack instead of her TJ Maxx clearance that I had bought her., so she started screaming as we all left the school building.  I was juggling my baby in one arm, and three other kids, plus my screaming foster child.  I was mortified.  I remember listening to my foster child screaming at me because I wouldn't let her have the Dora The Explorer back pack, screaming that I wasn't her mother.  I will never forget the glares I got as I juggled children that clearly didn't look like me.   My African American/ Indian daughter did not want to hold my hand.  My Asian baby kept losing his lovey blanket that he carried everywhere.  My two other children were trying to tell me about their day and the birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese that they had just been invited too.  And then there was my brand new precious foster child, still screaming about the Dora The Explorer back pack she wanted.  I remember getting to my vehicle, and after strapping all my kids into their car seat, wanting to fall on the cement ground and cry a river.  I was stressed to the max, beyond worn out, and felt every emotion about to burst forth from me.

I remember going home, turning on cartoons, and sticking snacks in front of the kids to give me a moment of peace.  I looked at the laundry room, piled high with dirty clothes, and I remember climbing on top of that clothes pile and having a meltdown.  

This was hard.   What have I done? I felt like no one understood the struggle I was having.  I didn't understand why my daughter kept stealing.  And I had tried everything, to no avail.

I was beside myself.  I would sit at our therapist office every Thursday and beg for more ideas. She would sneak down the stairs in the middle of the night stealing whatever she could get her hands on. I would find melted ice cream under her bed.   She would come home with her panties filled up with all kinds of empty wrappers.  I would get phone calls from the school stating that my daughter had stolen other children’s lunches. She would claim to have to go to the restroom and then would somehow get into all the lunches that were in other kids’ cubbies.  She would hide the food in her pants and then quickly run to the bathroom and stuff her face in the bathroom stall.

Now, I was taught to not ever use the three basic needs of a child (food, shelter, and clothing) as punishment. I know that food should never be used as a weapon, and I preach this!!!! I have never denied my children food! I would never deny them food!  I was so hurt that I was constantly being criticized for not feeding her enough. I would intentionally take pictures of all my meals just to show my adoption caseworker that they were in fact, being fed, and fed well.  I would save all my receipts just to prove that I spent a small fortune on groceries.  At the time no one taught me that this was normal with newly adopted children.  At the time I had never heard of Reactive Attachment Disorder, and this was before the whole social media thing.  As a result, I had little or no support.  Nowadays there are groups of mothers who get together on social media to support each other, but at that time I felt very much alone. 

The food issues continued.  What was I doing wrong? I found myself constantly criticized by church members who never saw the meals I prepared for my children, nor were they with her 24/7 like I was.  They would just see how hungry she was in Sunday school class and were convinced it was my fault.  She would show up to family events acting like a child that just got out of a concentration camp, following folks with her eyes if she saw they had food.  I remember watching her stuff her face as fast as she could around our family, and then stare at everyone knowing that she would be offered seconds and thirds.  I saw her personality change when it came to anything to do with food.  I felt like a failure of a mom, living some secret private hell that no one understood.  I tried letting her sleep with food, posted a menu on her door of meals, let her have her special basket of snacks, and let her go grocery shopping and pick out her own special foods.  I tried to remind her she was hungry for love not food, and tried so many different parenting techniques that were recommended to me. 

 I remember the day when I pulled into a QuikTrip in Tulsa, Oklahoma to gas up.  My daughter stated she needed to use the restroom and couldn’t hold it.  I pulled up close to the door after I had gotten fuel, and had her and an older sibling run inside to go to the bathroom as I juggled my younger children.  I remember my son was throwing a fit about being in his car seat, as he was tired and hadn’t had much of a nap that day. I was weary and exhausted as well. I had just picked up the kids from daycare and their schools.  All of a sudden my oldest daughter came running out screaming that my daughter had stolen something. I was horrified.  I asked my oldest to keep an eye out on the younger children as I darted inside the gas station.  I was greeted by the store manager who told me that my daughter had stolen the hot dogs and taquitos that were on a stand heating up, then locked herself into the restroom.  I remember sweating bullets as I knocked on the door, pleading with my daughter to unlock it.  I remember just apologizing to the store manager profusely as he began to retrieve his extra set of keys for the restrooms.  As he opened the door, I was in horror as I saw my child stuffing her face with food she had just stolen. I walked the "walk of shame" again that day as I left that gas station. I tried to pay for the items stolen, but I think the manager sensed my desperation as he refused to take any money from me.  I felt all eyes on me as I began to walk back to our vehicle. There was an older lady standing by my car on the phone screaming at me and stated she was going to call CPS on me for leaving my kids in the car.  I couldn't catch a break!!!!! I was trying to get my daughter to gently hold my hand, but she was being defiant so it looked like I was dragging her out of QuikTrip. My daughter of course wouldn’t let me braid her beautiful African American locks that morning, so her hair was going in all different directions.  I looked like the white momma who didn’t care about learning how to care for her child’s ethnic hair.  By the time I got back into my vehicle and got the kids settled, I wanted to just fall apart.  I drove to our house moving the mirror up so the kids couldn’t see the tears that were flowing so freely down my face. I turned up the music and tried to just get lost inside the lyrics, hoping that today was just a bad dream.  Unfortunately, the realization came……this was my daily reality.  

I felt trapped.   

I took her to every available doctor trying to see if I could get her some help.  Someone diagnosed her as PICA, so I then made sure she was getting enough minerals and nutrients. But then someone else told me she didn't have PICA, but something totally different.  

I was so confused. 

It seemed like no one understood.  I had never seen a child so obsessed with food.  She literally showed no emotions and the only way to get her to have any emotional reaction at all was to stick food in front of her.  I started the 12 touch program with her and also did some Reactive Attachment therapy sessions to help her heal. 

If you are an adoptive parent or someone who is dealing with a Child with Reactive Attachment Disorder, I just want you to know I understand.  I have been there and back and watching the re-runs currently. You are not alone.  

I wish I could tell you that all my RADS stories ended with a huge stamp of success, but I am going to be honest with you…my first six years of parenting children with RADS was spent in a fetal position crying in the middle of our hallway once the kids were all finally asleep.

I do however want to share with you something I was taught on that day when my daughter stole the Froot Loops off the kindergarten artwork.  This was when I was sitting on the huge pile of laundry just having a breakdown.  

I realized that I had become an accidental parent.  I wasn’t parenting with a purpose, simply because I was so stressed out all the time and dealing with so much. I wasn't taking care of myself or making sure I was mentally and emotionally prepared.  Teachers have to prepare lesson plans for their students.  Here I was their mother that was just handed the great responsibility of molding and shaping these young lives, and I wasn’t even trying or preparing or thinking things through.  I was a parent who crawled out of bed exhausted in the morning, made sure my kids had their lunches, brushed their teeth, made it to school on time, school projects turned in, and showed up for all the school performances.  I wasn’t parenting with a purpose. I wasn’t thriving as a mother or an individual.  I was just surviving each day, hanging on to this imaginary thread, and wishing for the day to end.  I was just surviving not thriving, and traumatized from dealing with all my kids’ bizarre behaviors.  

Yes, this job of motherhood was hard.  Yes, adopting so many children with special needs was difficult. 

It took me years to finally get to the point of parenting with a purpose. 

So how do you begin the journey of healing? Here are a few things to remember. 

• When others call you crazy, shake it off.

• When others criticize you for not feeding your child, shake it off. 

• On the days you don't want to get out of bed, crawl out of bed.

• On the days you want to crawl in the closet and hide from your messy house and children, force yourself to function. 

• On the days you want to roll up in a fetal position and just scream, tell your spirit to rise up!

• Tell your soul that this too shall pass. 

• Find something inside of your child that gives you hope, and hang on to that hope for dear life. 

These trials are temporary, and the struggles are but for the moment. Staying the course and remaining faithful to the call, even when the call looks uncertain…that is the only way to reach the goals that are set before you. 

Children do not come with instruction manuals, and the problems are almost always going to be unique, something out of your frame of reference.  Remember that God set you apart for this purpose, and that He will make the way where there seems to be no way.

Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord. - Ephesians 6:4