–by Carl Young Manager’s note: You can read more about Carl’s journey with his son at http://fightingforanswers.com/blog It’s a heart-breaking journey and an absolute must-read. Unfinished quilt tops. Loose fabric, pieced together. seams re-sewn to strengthen the final product. adjustments, another persons eye to style and color. A work in progress. I have been told, I have broad shoulders to carry the burden of David’s care. To these people I say: I am just a dad.
–by Julie Beem There’s a phrase my daughter spits out in anger and rage. One that does not contain obscenities or obvious threats, but still strikes fear in my heart. The phrase is, “It’s Just Like Mother’s Day!” She usually says this through gritted teeth in almost a growl-like tone with her face contorted. Even those who have no frame of reference can tell that she does not have a sweet, positive memory of Mother’s Day.
–by Lorraine Fuller Raising kids who have experienced early trauma is hard. It’s scary, defeating, isolating, messy, stressful, overwhelming… It’s dark and depressing, sometimes so dark you feel like you can’t breathe or take another step. Your friends, family, and neighbors don’t understand. You feel like a failure. You hear criticism from everyone from your own mother-in-law to total strangers in the grocery store. You dread phone calls from the school. Did I mention
–by Laura Dennis “You’re safe now,” my friend said, stroking my hair as I sipped a glass of water. Some time later, my daughter said nearly the same. Both times, I curled softly into sleep. Not much of a story, is it? Woman gets scared, woman finds safety, woman sleeps. For me, though, this story is remarkable. I’d been fighting an epic migraine, one that had started clawing up the side of my face during a five-hour drive. That
Manager’s Note: Back in February, we published a guest post by “Emerging Mama” Monica. It was so popular that we decided to try another. Please visit Monica and see all the good things she has to say at http://emergingmama.com/, where you will find, among other things, the original version of the post that follows, which was written back in January, but will ring just as true today as it did then. —– PARENTING TRAUMA REQUIRES A MAJOR
–by Julie Beem I read about some interesting research on praise in an educator’s blog that cited a study done by Dr. Carol Dweck of Stanford on praising 5th graders. (These were neurotypical 5th graders, BTW.) The experiment went like this. They gave 400 5th graders a simple puzzle in which everyone did well and was praised. Half the group was praised with “you’re so smart,” and the other half with “you must have worked
Blog manager’s note: Due to the sensitive nature of this post, ATN has decided, as an exception to our usual practice, to allow the contributing blogger to publish this post anonymously and without images. We trust that our readers will understand. Most parents hear about a school shooting and cry because they realize their kids could have been the victims. I cry because my kid could be a shooter. Don’t worry: he’s not. We take
–Craig Peterson Manager’s note: you can read the original post, along with many others, on Craig’s own blog at https://adoptingfaithafathersunconditionallove.org/ Craig also has a forthcoming memoir, Adopting Faith: A Father’s Unconditional Love, and you can follow his son Andrew’s story by clicking “Like” on his special Facebook page, Andrew Peterson Goes for the Gold Jan was a gem, a dedicated child welfare case manager. With knowledge of maternal alcohol use during pregnancy, she drove four young foster children 85
-by Julie Beem The title probably doesn’t surprise you, but now there is scientific evidence…right down to the cellular level. A study coming out of the University of California-San Francisco compared biological mothers of chronically ill children to those of healthy children. The finding was that those who had chronically ill children had a higher level of chronic stress that had significant impact on three biological factors – the length of telomeres, the activity of
-by Laura Dennis I was enjoying my coffee when a panicked voice rose from the back yard. “Help!” My spit cup is in a tree!” I never imagined these words in the same breath: help, spit, cup, tree. Well, not until I became a parent, and not just any parent, but a parent with special powers, for I am raising a child with attachment disorder. I acquired these powers thanks to a series of so-called