I was given two sisters, ages 3 and 11 months. Fifteen months later, I adopted them. The oldest has RAD, but it took me a very long time to figure that out. I knew she was stubborn and sly, but the youngest child seemed to give me the most trouble. I was constantly disciplining her and remember thinking that she was such a good little actress when she would protest and tell me that whatever she was in trouble for was due to her older sister. It wasn't until my girls were 10 and 13 that the truth finally came out. I was horrified and physically sick when I learned the truth. My oldest completely fell apart when she hit her teens. I dealt with so many lies. Electronic privileges became a nightmare. I caught this child drinking, vaping, and trying marijuana. She talked to strange men on the internet. Calls from the school became routine. She was so manipulative that many times I doubted my own sanity. But yet, she was delightful and charming to everyone else. I found very few people who would believe the nightmare I was living within my own home. I was shamed for using cameras and locks in my home. I quickly learned that others loved my story, a widowed mom adopting two needy black children, but they didn't want to hear anything that didn't sound successful. I felt very alone.
I went to my church for help. This is a church I began attending because they were such huge proponents of adoption. But when I explained what was going on, I was patted on the head and told that "teenagers are hard." I had already raised four of them. I know what teenagers are like, and I also knew that what I was dealing with in my daughter fell outside that realm. I was given a book on raising teens, and my daughter was paired with a young woman in the church to do a Bible study on the attributes of God. This wasn't any help.
I found encouragement in online RAD groups. I tried to remember my calling. I continued to be honest with my closest friends and family about what I was dealing with. My daughter was never arrested or attempted to kill me. She didn't have to go to any residential facilities. I reminded myself that I was fortunate compared to some adoptive parents. In between the constant lies and manipulation, there were good days. I still had dreams for this girl that I loved so much.
Today, my daughter is 17 years old and six months pregnant. I don't know that her future is ruined, but it is certainly derailed. She chose a disrespectful boy who claims the name of Christ but does not live in a way that actually indicates that. His family adores my daughter and has love bombed her in an attempt to ensure they have primary access to this new baby. They have done all they can to turn my daughter's heart away from me. It probably wasn't that hard to do, honestly. And me? My heart is broken, of course. When I learned of the pregnancy, I was very willing to support my daughter, her boyfriend, and coming grandchild. It does not look like I will be allowed to do any of that now. But if I am honest, there is a part of me that is anxious for my daughter to just be gone. I am so tired of fighting and loving a child who never wanted my love. My other children are urging me to just let her go, and I think that I am very close to letting that happen.
