it's really not about the curtains...

One of the attempts we have made in order to have a peaceful nights sleep since my son's attack is changing his entire room.

We had the boys spend the night with grandma, went to home depot and bought paint, and went to town.

We had not had an alone evening together in months.

How we longed to go to a movie, eat dinner out and just relax.

But that wasn't an option.

We had 2 days to completely transform his room.

Our therapist talked with us how children need concrete changes to feel safe after trauma's.

Sometimes, when they have frequent night terrors, the associate their bed or room with the nightmares, so they avoid the room all together.

Or in some instances, they wake from a bad dream and see the same wall hanging above their bed.

That wall hanging then becomes a trigger to connect to that nightmare.

Our son refused after about a week to even get in his bed.

Changing his room seemed like the least we could do.

God came through big on this.

Confirmation to us that it was the thing to do.

Friends gave gift cards.

Cash for paint, rugs, or comforters.

We so needed it.

There would have been no way on our skimpy budget to buy everything new.

Although I love decorating on a budget with a passion, this project was of necessity, versus hobby.

I actually loved the boys room.

I had a fun color scheme and enjoyed being in there.

I had to mourn the loss of a room a worked hard on too.

But it was ok.

So I quickly got over that and asked the boys what new room they would like.

My son quickly said "firetruck room!"

Normally I would jump on this and go for it, but we know red is a huge trigger color for him.

His perp wore a red shirt.

Red would be ok in accents- just not the primary color of the room.

I asked if there was anything else he would like.

Baseball! he said.

My husband had several baseball pics, so it was perfect.

My sweet interior decor friend suggested blue and brown families of colors.

I had my vision and went for it.

After a long night of painting, rearranging, and washing new sheets, the last task was the curtains.

Our home was built in the 50's so all the windows are un-conventional sizes.

I needed to hem curtains, as well as put some decorative touches on them- I just had to.

Because, after all, if I am going to change everything- I am going to do it right by golly!

I had the vision of stitching baseball stitching on white curtains with red yarn.

It was going to be awesome.

It was getting late.

The boys were asleep on the couch.

I just needed to hem the curtains and be done.

The sewing machine started jamming up.

A few stitches, then., "mrrrrwww." It was stop.

Out came the fabric, snip snip. Try again.

Mmmrrwww.

Jam.

"agh!"

"come on! you stupid machine! not now!!!"

My husband said, "try again later."

"no." I said firmly.

Again.

Jam.

Again.

Jam.

it is almost 1 am at this point.

MMRRW.

Jam.

"You stupid piece of Shit!!"

(my husband looks up sharply. I am not one to curse much.)

"Come on! Not now. I have to finish. I have to finish! I just want to make these last curtains!"

MRRWWW.

Jam.

"Ok God. This is not cool. All I want to do is make my son some new curtains for his room. I just want him to sleep. I just want him to feel safe again. I want a new start! Just please.

PLEASE! Let me finish these curtains!"

Jam.

I hit the table and screamed:

"WHY!?!"

My husband walks in.

"it's ok babe. Just finish tomorrow. It will be ok."

"No it won't! It won't be ok! I have to finish.

I have to be done!

Something has to be done!

I need resolution!

I need something to be done. Something to be finished! something that makes sense and looks complete!

I need to finish!
I need to finish!

WHY!!!!??!"

I cried.

Then sobbed.

Then hit the table again.

I couldn't bare to walk by the room and see the windows bare.

They needed curtains.

I needed curtains.

I failed.

Once again I felt I couldn't do it.

I couldn't see something through.

I fought the guilt of this situation rush back in.

It was too much to bare.

I went back to the table and took the thread out.

I took the bobbin out.

I looked.

I cleaned.

I refused to give up.

The normal setting would not work.

No matter what I did.

JAM.

So I found a setting that did.

And the white thread wouldn't work either.

I grabbed beige.

I didn't give up.

I cried.

I sewed.

I cried.

I sewed.

I wiped my tears.

I trimmed the thread.

At 3 am.

I finished.

I hung the curtains and carried my sleeping boys to bed.

It didn't work the way I thought it would.

It didn't work the way it should have.

But I didn't give up.

It was so painful.

It took lots of gumption to keep sewing so late.

But I did.

Because, it's really not about the curtains.

THEN AND NOW

He used to say, "Let's be pirates daddy!"
He used to play farm and cowboys.

He used to say, "there's a growley-guss! Hurry hide!"
He used to play the bad guy.

He used to be excited to use the bathroom.
We used to go on parades. followed by stickers and m & m's when he did.

He used to be in bed by 8:30.
He used to love everybody.
Smile at everybody.
Wave at perfect strangers.

He loved to go to church.
He loved to sing songs.
He used to sing "twinkle twinkle little star.." and "Jesus loves me."

Now he asks "why do big people take off their pants, daddy?"
Now he asks "what that guy doin?"

Now he says, "I close my eyes I see bad man."
Now he screams and avoids any man who has a red shirt on.
Now he wants to know if there are going to be "bad guys" when we leave home.

For days he screamed if we even said the word "bathroom."
He would throw his feet out and stop us from carrying him to the bathroom.
He is in a pull up 24 hours a day again.
He doesn't want anyone to "hurt his bottom."

Now we are lucky to have him semi-sleeping by 10:30, mostly midnight.
He wakes every 90 minutes to 3 hours, symptoms of PTSD.
He is afraid to sleep.
He is afraid to dream.
Now we spray the room with "safe spray" every night.


Now we sing his "Safe song."
"C is safe and he is strong, listen while we sing c's song.
He is growing everyday.
C is safe and he's ok.
C is safe and he is strong.
Listen while we sing c's song."

I used to worry about making it to play dates, parks, and museums, play groups, art fairs and neighborhood outings.
I used to try to involve him with other children, adults, church, school and community events.

Now I worry about play therapy, PTSD medical evals, hepatitis and HIV testing, assault counseling, and support groups.
Now I surround my self with a select few friends and family who know, so when he goes from a normal little boy to aggressive in a minute, or crying and hiding in a second, of screaming and yelling in a flash, no one judges my "out- of-control child."

I forgot what it was like to wake and wonder what the day holds.
Now I wake and worry what the day holds.

"who will call today?"
"who will accuse me of something ludicrous today?"
"who will avoid me today?"
"what will he say when he wakes up?"
"what will he do if he sees or hears a trigger?"
"what agency or case worker will give me more bad news?"
"will I have the answers when my five year old asks hard questions?"
"will I have the strength to go on?"
"will I have the patience to hold him while he screams and hits me for minutes on end?"
"will I hold my tears when I hear a song that reminds me of God's love when I feel so alone?"
"can I go to the store?"
"can I make a meal?"
"WILL THIS EVER END?"

Victory!

Most days I feel like I take one step forward and three steps back.
We will be having a seemingly normal day and within seconds, my son is crying in the corner with his hands over his eyes.
We can be so close to bedtime, so tired, so weary, and my son's heart races and anxiety sets in. He hates to sleep. Sleep is where he dreams.
His PTSD keeps reliving his trauma over and over in his dreams.
How we long for rest.
How we long for peace.
We cry out to God night after night.
"Please Lord, please, let him sleep. Be the God of his dreams. Erase this memory from his mind!"
Then we go through the new routine: changing pajama's. Changing rooms. Changing covers.
Sometimes we have to leave and change environments all together.
Sometimes one of us is driving him around at 2 am.
Sometimes we end up at someone Else's house, mostly my moms.
It is amazing this child can function on so little sleep.
He has looked so tired.
His eyes are dark and sunken in.

Since we know that changing environments helps him feel safe.
We decided to change his room all together.
Our therapist and a few others encouraged us in this decision.
Everything from the trim, to the curtains, to the covers would change.
There would be no evidence of the old room he had nightmares in.

God came through big time here.
Friends showed up with envelopes of cash, offering to help with the cost of all the supplies and decorations.
We ended up only using 50.00 of our own money to redo everything.
God was on the team here, using others to get this done.

I worked until 1 am, while the boys slept at their grandmas house.
My husband got up and worked at 6 am.
We fought, butted heads, cried, sighed, laughed, and worked all at the same time.
We haven't had a night alone in months.
We laughed that this was the last thing we would want to do on date night, but if it would help, once again we would put our marriage on the back burner.

I worried about my son, but he was in good hands. Turns out he slept from 11 to 5. Not too bad for him.

After the room was all done, the boys got to see it.
They loved it.
"It's a big boy baseball room!" they cried.
It was awesome to see my little guy's eyes light up, and to run and jump into his bed.

So, here we are 4 days since it has finished.
He has actually gotten in his bed at bedtime. A victory.
He wouldn't stay in it long, but at least he would get in.
He has slept a little longer stretches: 3-4 hours at a time.

He has had a croupy cough, so last night we gave him triaminic.
By 10:30 he was asleep.
IN HIS BED!
We laid in our bed just waiting for the screams to start.
They never did.
We prayed, read scripture over our home, and fell asleep.
My baby woke at 2 am.
After feeding her, I couldn't believe my son was still asleep.

I woke this morning at 7:30 to hear him and his brother chatting in their room.

My eyes filled with tears as I looked at the clock.
"HE did it Lord, He slept! For the first time in almost 6 weeks, his little body finally rested! Maybe his brain will reset now and quit reliving this memory! Oh Thank you God! Thank you!"

Another victory- my husbands boss is a real jerk.
He hasn't given him any time off since this happened.
When we went to all our initial appointments, he got flack for being gone.
He needed a day off so bad.
He asked for this Friday off.
His boss replied, "company policy states you need to give 2 weeks notice for a vacation day."
Adam just stood there.
Stared at him.
" I guess it's pretty important."
"Yes. I haven't been in bed before 1 am since my sons assault. I need to rest and be with my family."
"Ok, I guess you have shown great effort around here and need to do this."

So, tomorrow morning, we are taking our 2 sons to Kansas City.
We are going to stay in a hotel paid for by my amazing parents, and go to a fabulous family water park.
Our therapist thinks this will give our son a new memory to relive at bedtime.
That is our prayers.
Our only concern is we still don't know all his triggers yet.
We hope we can keep him preoccupied enough that it doesn't even get a chance to creep in.

Today I am soaking in the goodness of this victory.
For weeks I have felt defeated.
I have felt hopeless.
Like our life will never be the same.
We will never sleep again.
I want one day where this guy doesn't affect my family.
One day where we aren't faced with the affects of CSA.
So when I get a victory- I will take it.
I will proclaim it.
I will celebrate with great passion and joy.
Because:
We will win.
We will be victorious,
because we serve a God that is victorious.