Day #8. I can’t believe that’s all its been is 8 days. 8 days of stress. 8 days of feer. 8 days of worry. But today, even so small, the tiniest glimmer of hope on the horizon. Donald didn’t melt down. He didn’t rage. He didn’t throw anything. He didn’t hit anyone. He didn’t swear. Sure, he was testy, he made a few rude comments, he hissed, he growled, but he was able to maintain at that level and not spike. Progress, my friends. I call that progress. And for right now, I will take that teeny tiny baby step in the right direction and I will HALE it as a miracle! Just maybe we WILL get through this.
Tomorrow we have 3 social workers coming. One to visit Donald in the morning for an intake review, one to visit with a bio kid (we chose Pluto because we feel he spends more time of the 3 with Donald so he could use the vent time) and one to visit with the “new” kids in the afternoon. We will likely all meet together to share the respite concept with the kids. I am really nervous about how Donald will react. One of his PTSD triggers is rejection and I am quite concerned he will see this as a rejection. The plan is to explain that this is just a normal part of foster care, but with as many times as they have been moved (and even this quickly or quicker after placement) and the number of families they have been with, I just dont think his mind will trust that at this point. I also really fear for the respite family. If he melts down this weekend, its unlikely they will take him back and we will be back to square one.
But again, I will remind myself that I am taking things one day at a time right now, so I can’t worry how he will react tomorrow or how he will behave this weekend. For right now, I need to look at today. And today wasnt horrible. And the kids are sleeping so, for the moment, all is right in the world.
[All names have (obviously) been changed to protect the privacy of our family.]