Saturday morning, we're sitting at baggage claim waiting for a woman we've never me. All we have is a phone number and name in hand, while the downpayment had already left our bank. Is she really going to show or is this really a scam? The week had started with our heads spinning. Grasping for some semblance of normalcy, Rob and I decided we needed a puppy! Okay, maybe this was an impulse, materialistic purchase in hopes of simply feeling earthly joy. However, we weren't entirely sure it was real. We contacted the kennel and they agreed within 6 days to fly this puppy up to us from Hawaii!?!? Our hearts were racing, oh Lord please let there be a dog at the airport! We finally see the carrier appear and the nicest woman extends her hand. Kekoa ( Hawaiian for Rascal) graced our presence and just like that we are now a family of 5!
Of course I justified this animal as our emotional support puppy...and life began to crawl forward. The funeral had sucked every ounce of emotional energy from us and we decided to take our dogs, child and ourselves to the mountains for one night AWAY. You see, by this point people were starting to ask questions and were calling for an arrest. Conley's brain was still wrapping itself around the fact that the woman who had been present at his Dad's shooting; the woman who forced Conley to call her Mom, was in fact not actually married to his Dad. T and E had lied to Conley about their relationship and he was bewildered as to why.
Monday was going to be the start of school. I had missed any preparation time, and had missed connecting with families at our open house. How in the world was I going to provide counseling services to students? I guess like the rest of us in pain, put on our masks...literally...and take each conversation in stride. It almost became routine that week to cry all the way to work, dry up, suck it up and force myself to walk into the building. I thought by this point everyone must know what Conley and I were going through. I had met with his teacher and Principal to make arrangements for if Conley started expressing grief in class. Of course, at that point no one knew what that would look like. And then I waited.
I thought for sure, within the first three days, we would at least see tears. Yet, he stoically maneuvered class, giggling with friends and participating in lessons. Okay, for sure, he was going to lose it, right?! Interestingly, only 3 people asked how we were doing that week. I mean, I know I'm a fairly private person but I thought I was liked more than that! My pity party ensued, "God, why do you have me working in this isolating place?" Thursday, at noon I walked into lunch and saw Conley with tears streaming down his face. Not typical of his happy, go lucky personality, I immediately asked what's wrong. He snaps back that because I had him do Yoga last night, he had pulled a muscle and it hurt SO BAD that he couldn't even WALK! Uh oh, here it comes...He finished his lunch, tried to get some fresh air, and then we were going to have a talk.
As professionals, we can be trained to look for signs of trauma, but sometimes it can be hard to make that call. Psychosomatic pain rears it's nasty head when a child can't describe their emotions but their body has to release the chemical stress build up. I also think this coping mechanism allowed Conley to save face and have a physical reason for his tears. Turns out that at 9 am that morning a fellow student had said "sorry to hear about your Dad." That small act of sympathy and kindness threw Conley into an emotional storm that was about to burst by 1 pm. As he started talking about his pain, emotions and memories were finally revealed. Luckily, he was able to go back to class and finish his day. Thankfully, we now knew how he was going to exhibit his grief and trauma. The system however, breaks down when we "brush" off small hurts as "they just need to toughen up". He had searched me out before lunch that day, but was sent back to class with an ice pack. After feeling a major pity party that night, I realized I don't think everyone knows...in fact, I'm not sure anyone knows! "Conley, has anyone asked how you're doing or about your Dad?" "No, Mom." I asked one of the specialists the next day. "Do you know what's going on with Conley?" He replied, "No, should I know what's going on?" And the fiery pits of anger within started to spew! I had mistakenly thought all the teachers working with my son would have been notified of his trauma. The tricky part is that this was also my personal life and not something my administrator was going to go around speaking about. It was on my shoulders to let people in and make them apprised of the situation and I had failed Conley and felt completely alone in the process.
God says he is close to us when we are brokenhearted and crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18). Thankfully I knew I wasn't alone, but seriously, how can I tell this story to my friends? Coworkers? It's really not text worthy...and I wasn't sure calling in a blubbery mess was the right way to go. All the researched sites for raising a child in trauma were geared toward foster parents. Of course, they all say create a support system with parents going through the same thing. Good advice!! Calling all parents who are raising a child where their ex-husband was shot and killed...any takers?? This was the genesis of the blog idea. I needed to be vulnerable and tell my story. I couldn't carry the embarrassment and shame of this event within me any longer.
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