#childrenservices

August 28th 2020

Introduction Pt.2  

Baby girl and the Challenges that came with her birth.  

The next challenges after my daughter’s traumatic birth, were stressful to say the least. She continued to have feeding problems, along with being very gassy and spitting up a lot. She wasn’t gaining weight like she should have been. She had skin problems as well, so we started trying new baby wash, and lotion until we found two brands that work, Cetaphil baby, and Aveeno baby. Aveeno is quite spendy, Cetaphil is a more affordable product. I, myself have skin problems, psoriasis runs in my family, and I have it mildly as long as I use the right products, and I actually use Cetaphil product myself it’s an awesome line of products!  

So, there was one small challenge down, and at the same time we were trying different expense and strange looking bottles until one stuck. We tried Dr. Brown’s bottle which is a good bottle it just did not work for my daughter. MAM’s brand bottle is the one that finally stuck, and we are still using it today. The last challenge was her being gassy to the point of extreme pain, and spitting up constantly. We had asked my daughter’s doctor about maybe changing her formula, or switching her to soy formula. She said no just keep using this one and feeding her ever 2-3 hours.  

My daughter got to the point where she refused to eat because of the pain it would put her in every time. She passed gas that sounded like a grown man had let loose. She would scream so bad and wiggle around, grabbing you and holding your fingers so tight until the pain would pass. It was worrisome to say the least, traditional gas medicine did not work on her to boot. So, finally we decided on our own to change her to soy formula, and it worked. Baby girl started doing much better almost immediately.  

In the mix of all the other challenges, the next and biggest challenge of our lives presented itself in the form of Children’s Protective Services. Someone had called us in claiming we were doing meth. She had a police officer with her, and yes, I knew my rights. I didn’t have to talk to her or let her in. But I had nothing to hide. I let her in and she explained that the report was about my 12-year-old. The baby was not mentioned in the report.  

The investigator went from us using meth to an allegation that my daughter’s dad which is not my son’s dad had threatened to “beat my son’s ass”. Completely untrue btw. But she continued on to ask me if I knew he had an existing CPS case with his previous child. I replied that yes, and no one got in trouble because it was an accident. She had no comment on my response. The investigator could see that there was food in the house, the house was clean, and so were the kids, and there were no signs of drug use. She left, leaving me with her card and a threat that she would be back around. I said okay, and have a good day as they walked out the door. We did not hear from her again. 

It’s hard work. With each face I meet, my own changes. For the boy with the downcast eyes, I avert my gaze and speak softly. For the girl who fills the room, I wear a big ole smile and applaud her confidence. The woman who speaks 90 mph per minute, I wait and subtly nod. For the young woman who stays in fight or flight response, I calmly praise and reassure her. 

Within moments of walking into a room, gauging the body language and posture, we judge each other and make assumptions. I see the girl hiding behind her supportive pillow - putting a physical barrier between her and me.  The boy peaking through a hood zipped up to the top, hiding himself away. I feel the energy of the frenzied chaos seep into the atmosphere when the young woman starts talking about gangs and rivalries. Her arms flying like she is being operated by a puppeteer, reenacting the battle scenes. Minutes before she had been subdued, making no eye contact and watching the clock like it was a countdown. Being in a conversation such as these is like a dance, twirling around each other round and round until a bit of truth seeps through. 

An hour at a time, I change. Each hour attempting to be the support sought out, the voice they need to hear, the encouragement for them to keep pushing forward. Time begins to fade as the faces blur and the voices blend. By the end of the day it feels like the roar of a crowd as the conversations are dissected and pieced together in a framework that makes sense of the pain and trauma such young people have experienced. 

When I walk out of the door, after each acting session is completed to a sufficient outcome, my whole face falls. The charade of whichever need presented falls away and leaves the furrowed brow and distracted gaze of a mind lost in the conversations of before; worrying about the discussions yet to come. 

Photo: Cardiff Speakers including Lisa Hurt, Jules Akers, Bev Winn, Anne Marie McKigney and Jill Grange

Jules Akers, an autistic adult participant at the Cardiff seminar, described his experience of the seminar in his in Reflections on the Public Services Seminar. Jules gave a presentation in the session called Consulting young adults about Services in which he offered some important insights from his own life as advice for future autism services. Another Cardiff presenter, Alex Lowery, shares Jules Akers’ story in his blog Alex Lowery Speaks About Autism. You can also read Alex’s own story and his other recent articles about autism here.