About

Hello, friends! I’m Alison, an adoptive mom and therapist, and I’m here for you and your family.

I remember one of the longest nights of my life. It was the middle of January, sometime around 3 in the morning, and my 8-year-old daughter came into our bedroom asking where her hat and gloves were. She had been out of school for a month and a half after being removed from two placements already that year. She had been refusing medication and was triggered and dissociated pretty much anytime she wasn’t watching the iPad. Her episodes were extremely destructive, often involving aggression towards us, breaking many items in the house, and occasionally aggression towards her younger sister. Recently, she had run away several times, forcing us to involve the police. At the advice of our case worker, we had spent hours in the emergency department earlier that week, hoping to get expedited on waitlists for specialized services, and all we left with was a medication change.

On this night, it was obvious she was seeking attention more than she truly intended to run away. We got up and attempted to connect with her about what she was feeling. She refused to participate in the conversation, being overly silly and inappropriate - unmistakable signs, for her, at the time, of a dissociative episode. Sometime during all this chaos, my 7-year-old woke up and joined us. We had only had the girls for a few months and didn’t yet have the right tools to help our oldest out of her dissociative episodes, so we chose to give her some space and wait in the next room for her to calm down. After a while, we heard her feet coming and hoped she was ready to engage. Instead - it was dark and we were all laying down on the couch or the floor - SMACK. She slapped her sister clear across the face.

My youngest began wailing, and my husband took our oldest upstairs away from her. We could hear her screaming, flailing, throwing things.

I spent the next two hours on the phone, calling every crisis service I could find. It was 4 or 5 in the morning on a Saturday. No one was answering, open, or could provide services for an 8-year-old. My 7-year-old sat next to me the entire time, her face blank and numb, but occasionally trying to comfort me as I grew more and more angry and desperate. Finally, we did the only thing we could think of: we went back to the hospital. We didn’t want her admitted - we knew that would only cause more trauma for her in the end - but we hoped that maybe they could see the severity of the situation and figure out SOMETHING to help.

My husband went with her, and I stayed home with our youngest. I was on speakerphone when he finally talked to the social worker at the hospital. I heard the message and tone that I’ve grown so used to hearing over the years: “I’m sorry, but we can’t help you.” Sometimes, professionals can be compassionate even if they can’t help. Unfortunately, this social worker was not. She said that my daughter was 8 years old and therefore couldn’t be that difficult to handle. No matter how we tried to explain, she didn’t budge. Eventually, she threatened to call security if we didn’t leave.

If you are a foster or adoptive parent, I’m sure this story is only too familiar to you. The lack of resources. The desperation. The judgment and dismissiveness - often from professionals that you hoped would help. The constant wondering if you are the problem and if you’re doing everything wrong.

Our girls have been with us 4 years now, and we’ve come so far as a family. However, I can’t emphasize enough that parenting this way is a challenge that only others who have parented this way can truly understand. As far as my girls have come, there are still daily triggers and deep trauma responses that we constantly navigate. But thankfully, for the most part, we understand each other much better and can much more effectively move through the challenges. And at the same time…it’s so much to carry. In ways that very few others understand.

I know what it’s like to be extremely in the trenches. I know what it’s like to nearly give up. I know what it’s like to see my family practically destroyed and wonder if all of this effort will ever be worth it. I know what it’s like to be judged, criticized, and misunderstood by so many people outside of the family - including those who are supposed to help. I want to be, for your family, the safe resource you deserve.

I will listen to you, understand your story, validate how hard you’re trying and how difficult your situation is. I will seek to get to know your child, not judge them by their behavior, not label them as their trauma, but see the human being they are. I will see the potential they have and the person they are meant to be. I will provide insight that I believe can help your family, but I will especially work with you to figure out what will work for you. There is absolutely no one-size-fits-all approach to parenting, and especially not to parenting after trauma.

You have been through so much and you are doing your best. Sometimes, we just need help.