My Magic Baby

 

7 month old Daniel and new Daddy Brad in their first moments together. Ethiopia, February 2008

The people around me have said, “Maybe he is just fine. Maybe you’re so used to seeing trauma around you that you are giving him the mantle of ‘child of trauma’. This is Daniel, he’s the ‘magic baby’.”

So, I set it all aside for a long time. Wishing that this advice that was offered to me were true, knowing it was given from good hearts but knowing in my own heart that Daniel has his own trauma to work through and he will do it in his own way.

Daniel, just like Loreli, does, in fact, come from a trauma background. He is not our biological child as much as it feels that way.

We called him Magic Baby when he was tiny, he was so easy. He rarely cried. To people not in the trauma world that seems like a Godsend. In truth, he didn’t cry because it never got him anything. Instead he learned to self-soothe. Again, this sounds like a positive and it is because he got his needs met. The other side of the coin though, is that he didn’t get his needs met by a loving adult.

I knew this was coming for a long time but I’ve been feeling it strongly in my body for a few weeks now. Being empathic, I knew that I was feeling Daniel. I’ve been listening to my Inner Voice, which has been leading me to research more about introverts and highly sensitive children. I will be okay this time. I’m much more capable of helping him through his trauma than I was with Loreli in the early days. What a miracle to be going into this with knowledge and hope.

This evening:

Daniel, talking to me while in the shower: I told my teacher over and over that I had a headache and wanted to go see the nurse.

Me: Oh dear! What did she say?

Daniel: She said, “You’re fine sweetie, go sit back down.” (His teacher is wonderful, no worries.)

Me: What were you doing in class when your head started to hurt? (Daniel has been known to stretch the truth about his health when he doesn’t like a certain subjects like writing or arts/crafts.)

Daniel: We were making that paper bag puppet that I gave you in the car.

Me: Hmmm…so you were doing something you didn’t like too much.

Daniel: Yeah. My head still hurts.

Me: Really? It didn’t get better after awhile?

Daniel: Nope. I really want to spend time in bed, watching my iPad and eating pancakes.

Me, laughing a little: Pancakes?

Daniel, still very serious: Yes. You know how when you were sick in bed and Daddy babied you and brought you pancakes in bed? Like that.

Me: Do you think you might need some extra attention?

Daniel: No. I want to be sick.

Me: Okay, so you don’t want more attention. Do you know why you want to be sick?

Daniel: No.

Me: Hmmm…what part of you wants to be sick?

Daniel: My tummy and my head.

Me: And if your tummy had a voice, what would it say? “My tummy says, ‘I want to be sick because…’”

Silence.

Me: How about your head? If your head had a voice, what would it say? “My head says, ‘I want to be sick because…’”

Daniel: My head says it’s sad.

Me (dear God…): Does your head say why it’s sad? (I have to be careful with Daniel--if he thinks something he has said has caused me sadness, he will clam up. He's very protective of my feelings.)

Daniel: My head says it’s sad because it needs more care.

Me: Oh wow! GREAT job Daniel! Good listening to your body!

We talked a bit more about this whole idea and then a few minutes later Daniel said: I’m not going to, but if I ate toilet paper, would I get sick right away?

Me, internally thinking, holy smokes, this is big for him: Well, no, it probably would taste horrible though.

Daniel: What if I licked my hand, touched the bathroom doorknob and licked my hand again?

Me: No, if you got sick, it wouldn’t be right away. You know, you can have breakfast in bed without being sick. What if on Sunday, I make you and Loreli pancakes and you guys eat them in bed?

Daniel: I think I’ll be still be sick. Can I have my iPad too?

Me: I wonder what it would be like if you had breakfast in bed, with your iPad, and you felt great, and you had all of that just because I love you and sometimes it’s fun to be babied?

Daniel: I think my headache is getting a little bit better…

Me ;-) : Well, I’m glad! What number is it do you think? If a 0 means it doesn’t hurt at all and a 10 means it hurts so bad that you are crying and want to go to the hospital…

Daniel: What do you think a 7 is?

Me: It hurts a lot and you are thinking about crying.

Daniel: It’s a 7.

I think he’s thinking about crying but it’s not about his head, it's his heart.

This all went on for another 20 minutes as we talked back and forth about how much pain he was in (I say, not his physical body, but emotionally—or maybe his emotions were causing physical pain which is definitely a possibility too) and what kind of special “care” he wanted. Each time I would gently remind him that he was going to get that care even if he was healthy and each time he would perk up just a bit but then go back to that same groove in his brain—you only get extra attention, love, and care if you are sick.

Daniel was adopted first, as a 7 month old from Ethiopia. He and his twin sister were referred to us at 3 months old and his twin, who we named Maddie, passed away at 5 months old. Daniel was our only child for 19 months and it was a lovely, joyous time.

Daniel is a charming, polite, kind, loving, softhearted, easy-to-raise, highly sensitive, introverted child. When overwhelmed he withdraws. After 19 months of two easy-going, loving parents, Loreli arrived and Daniel’s world was turned upside down. Of course we continued to love him and shower him with attention but I know there were many, many times that he did not have his needs met because we were in the throes of one of Loreli’s wild rages. I know what those rages did to me as a highly sensitive, introverted adult and know it was worse for him. I look back on these past 5 years of Loreli being home and must practice using my kind voice on myself, “You did the best you could with what you had and when you knew better, you did better.” A parent’s mantra. If you are a parent, you know where I want to go, my inner critic screams at me and I continue to soothe it with my mantra. It's so so hard knowing that my own ineptness has caused both of my children more trauma than they already had.

I did the best I could with what I had and when I knew better, I did better. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I know better and do better now (for Loreli’s type) and I’m becoming clearer by the second with Daniel's reaction to his trauma. Nancy Verrier who wrote the Primal Wound says, “there are two diametrically opposed responses to having been abandoned”—the outwardly testing and, “the other being a tendency toward acquiescence, compliance and withdrawal”. One is Loreli’s way, outwardly testing and aggressive (and she’s highly extroverted to boot) and the other is Daniel’s way, quiet, withdrawn, melt-into-the-woodwork.

I can say from experience now, neither is easy but we will work through this just like we have with Loreli (who is doing wonderfully! More on that in another post). I’m sure that some of the tools we used with Loreli will work and I’m also certain that our toolbox will grow with new and useful ways to help a “withdrawn” child heal. Unlike in the early days of Loreli, I now KNOW that we will find healing for Daniel as well. What a blessing to have that certainty.