Manipulation and control issues manifest differently in children with a traumatic past.

The curtain rises on a new scene. Andrey is sitting in my lap waiting for a blood draw. His veins are iffy, and a nurse and a doctor are collaborating to find a good one. The needle hasn’t touched him yet.

He starts to squirm and whimper, but I can tell from the position of his mouth that he is not afraid. He’s masking for attention. It’s an expression that we’ve learned to recognize – a cover that others take for gospel truth and adorable charm. This child wells up in crocodile tears because he sees two sympathetic, doting faces looking at him and crooning.

The crocodile tears are bait, though. He sells it, and they buy it – hook, line, and stinker. I mean, sinker.

I try to explain this to the professionals that are oohing and awwing and poor babying him. It’s awkward because he’s right there and I don’t want to sound like a mean mama to him or to them.

But I’m the one that is going to take him home, and they need to understand what’s happening.

So I tell them. This isn’t genuine. Please just – no, it’s not that – do you see this facial expression? He’s not –

Oh, it’s okay, they say. They brush me off and pat his arm. They are searching for a vein, this arm, that arm, rubbing his arm, holding his hand, back to the other arm, maybe that one’s better – and they continue smiling and sympathizing. He reads, You poor baby. Your mommy just doesn’t understand, does she?

But they’re playing the game…and it’s really not okay. When they were finally done and looking the other direction, I caught him smirking.

Fifteen minutes of overstimulation and poor boundaries led to more than a week of violent acting out, upheaval, and other misbehavior in our home.

But it’s okay. They weren’t there for that.

The blood draw finished, we go to the room where he gets to pick out a small treat from an overflowing box of made-in-China trinkets. I tell him to pick one out quickly; Dad and many siblings are in the tiny waiting room and we have things to do.

“Oh, it’s okay – I told him he could have two,” the doctor says.

Oh, perfect! Thank you so much for telling my son that the limits I set do not need to be enforced! Thank you so much for showing him that you are an authority over both of us. I’m sure you’ll be happy to pay for anything that gets broken over the next three weeks and also several therapy appointments? Those must be complimentary in your services, right? And you’ll be there when it’s not just his parents that set limits, but also when there are park rules, class expectations, and traffic laws…right? Right?

Hmm. Yeah…probably not.

And you know what he did? He took three (3) trinkets from the box. My husband found them as we were leaving.

He took more than he had permission from anyone to take, because limits didn’t matter.

So. It’s not okay. If we are at the grocery store and I tell him he can only have one treat and he steals more, it’s not okay. I’m grateful that we had the teaching opportunity over some cheap plastic toys and not over candy bars from the store, or worse.

I spoke to them about it. We love this office and their staff, and we know that we are really on the same side. However, the week we lived through after that appointment was not acceptable and had to be addressed. Our fence had been driven though, and needed some steel reinforcements.

It was around the same time I wrote about being on the same side, and the things God impressed on me then were still very fresh:

A gentle answer brings a gentle response.

We confront successfully when we move from the mindset of someone being in trouble to being corrected in love.

We’re not perfect; we’re all learning together. We’re on the same side.

And I really tried. I tried to explain what our family went through the following week and how the boundaries that Andrey needs are essential. I acknowledged that they were not treating him any differently than our other children, but explained that he must be treated differently because his needs are different.

You don’t treat a child with cancer the same way you treat a child with a cold.

image courtesy Nancy Thomas Parenting

We waited and researched. Made some phone calls and sent out some emails to people who know far more about attachment issues than we do, and they were not only a wealth of information but also full of sympathy and encouragement. Anticipating our next appointment, we took what we gleaned from our resources and wrote a letter.

It was professional. It was kind. It was…educational.

It was our line in the sand. The substance of it is below. Adoptive parents are welcome to modify and use it.

We are learning that both Andrey and Reagan respond best to a very business-like, calm manner from people in the community. As we discussed before, any “doting” that happens to them from adults other than their parents will backfire in their attachment, and our family will likely deal with outbursts of increasingly negative, disruptive behavior for days afterward. We are helping them learn to be authentic in their interactions with others instead of triangulating with other adults, and if they are able to manipulate adults with superficial, “cute,” or otherwise masking behavior, it reinforces that insincerity.

There are special challenges to dealing with attachment issues in a setting like a medical appointment. For example, we generally do not allow other adults to touch Andrey and Reagan because it is confusing for them in the bonding process, but they obviously must be touched by medical staff to have their vitals checked, blood drawn, etc. If this can be done in a very matter-of-fact, professional manner it does not usually lead to any behavioral fallout. The best case scenario is that conversation and eye contact with Andrey and Reagan be limited as much as possible (they both have often tried to seek out eye-contact with strangers while avoiding eye contact with Vince and me) and that verbal encouragement or comfort comes from their parents only.

Please let me know if you have any questions about any of this. I apologize again for not making this clear before; it has taken us many months to discover this much about them, and every week brings new challenges and experiences to learn from. We appreciate your care for our family and for working with us to help Andrey and Reagan heal in body, mind and spirit.

It was too much, apparently.

“We want to be a warm, welcoming place for Andrey so he feels safe and cared for,” they said.

Except…he needs to feel that from his family, not acquaintances and strangers. And he won’t feel that from his family when the boundaries are pushed by other adults who are picking his scabs off. This makes him anything but safe.

He would happily go home with any of their staff because they’re still playing and putting gas on the fire. Helping him attach to his own home and family is the issue we are concerned with.

“We can’t let our office feel like they have to walk on eggshells every time your family comes in for a visit,” they said. “Everyone would feel like, Oh no, they’re here, no one give him any eye contact!”

Seriously.

Our requests did not fit the bearings of their office and would make the staff uncomfortable.

“Maybe our office just isn’t the best fit for them,” they said. “I just really want what’s best for Andrey and Reagan; they really deserve that.”

I’m convinced that condescension is the ugliest form of pretense. It is a wounded ego oozing from an unteachable heart.

In our home, I said, sometimes we walk on eggshells all. day. long. Not a day goes by that we are not walking the line.

But our odd little family with our odd little needs would cramp their style. It was time for some…pruning.

So, adios. Curtains.

We walked the line right out of that pretty little office and straight into a new one, and our special needs don’t cramp their style at all.

It’s okay. We can still root for each other.

We can be on the same side without being on the same team. Some of us are clearly playing different sports.

Did you miss part 1? Find it here. Part 3 is here.