Some of them had said that today would be a day of many emotions and they were so right. I never had though about it until then.
The car ride up was full of anxiety and frustration for me. Anxiety because Tator has a lot of issues in the car, I don't think I have went into it a lot on here, but having her in the car has taken my PTSD to whole nother level. She was fine on the way up, talked and was in a good mood. But every time she was quiet and I would try to relax I could hear her moving around and It would make me nervous, wondering if she was getting out of her seat. Shawn had taken the afternoon off to go with us so I felt somewhat better, but I was still nervous.
I was also feeling very frustrated. Forgive me because this will sound very selfish, but I could think of a million other things I wanted and needed to be doing. I was frustrated with the fact that I had to inconvenience 2 other moms to keep my kids for the day so we could do this. I was also very upset with myself because I was feeling very pessimistic about the whole thing. I really feel like Tator will do very well in the treatment center and thrive on the structure there. I think she could adjust to the way of life there very easy and have no desire to come home. With that being said we also realize we are at a point where we have no other choice as to what to do with her. She is not safe in our home right now and she is not welcome here until she is. It is not fair to the other kids. Anyway she will be getting a lot of therapy there so i'm hoping that helps her and she does want to come back and be part of our family.
When we got there the first person we met with was the intake worker. She introduced herself and shook our hand looking right at Tator and saying "you are so adorable." There again more frustration. As we filled out the paperwork and answered questions they gave Tator a doll and blanket. I was glad. Tator doesn't have anything that is special to her at home and being a foster mom for many years i'm used to that being the first thing that happens when the kids comes into care. So I figured it was what they do with all the kids that are admitted.
As the process when on and we met with her teacher and nurse she started to regress and act like a baby. Taking the doll and blanket and cuddling them to her face. Looking with such sad eyes. I realize she was very unsure of what was going to happen, but I wanted to puke. Everyone kept looking at her and Ahhing over her. Come on, really???? Have you not seen this 100 times with these kids. If this was really her, would we be here??? Would you be doing the paperwork/vitals to have her admitted into a residential treatment center????? I wanted to run out of that place so bad. I was so angry.
Then we went over to what they told her would be her "cottage." Ok, now she is not totally deprived of the outside world, she knows what a cottage is supposed to look like and that was not it at all. The house had ugly colored walls and absolutely nothing on them. The table and chairs were bolted to the floor. And there was only a couple pieces of very large furniture. My
The smell of the house was just like Tator's bedroom at home and I knew I had to get out of there. I wanted to cry, it was horrible. This was not a cottage. Why would they tell her that? I knew it would be very different but it wasn't what I had expected and I had wished they would have know what these places were really like. But I had no way of knowing, I had never been to a place like that. No wonder Tators old attachment therapist used to tell us it was too bad we couldn't take her for a tour of one of those places.
The part of me that wanted to rip her out of that place and take her back home with us, knew this was where she belonged. For right now anyway. She had to stay, she needed the help they can give her.
When we came back downstairs she came out of the room she had been in and she just clung to us. We went and sat down at one of the tables and said to her again, "you understand why your here?" She said she did and we talked about what we were all going to do so she could come back home.
It was all I could do to get out of there without busting into tears as she walked to the door with us, not listening as we kept telling her she was staying. Until finally a staff worker moved over in front of her so we could move passed her to leave.
I cried all the way home. Not wanting to admit that she needed to be there. A child with her behaviors, no matter how old, needs to be in a place like that.
I hope she accepts help this time. I hope she wants to be part of our family enough that she works through her stuff so she can come home. But only she can do that and no one can make her. Her length of stay there will be up to her and only her. We have tried and after this I don't know what else we can do.