CASE #5243
INTERVIEW:
PIPER GOLDSTEIN
Luke flipped through the file in front of him like he didn’t have a care in the world and could stay here all day. It made me feel more hedged in. He looked up and then back down before speaking. “It says here that you got them help? Why did you feel they needed psychological help?”
I shook my head. It wasn’t like that. “Janie had been seeing a child psychologist since the day she was admitted to the hospital. The only thing I suggested was that they see an attachment therapist.”
“An attachment therapist?”
“They’re therapists that specialize in working with kids who’ve been abused and are experiencing attachment issues.”
Ron jumped in. “So you thought Janie had attachment issues?”
“Anyone in her situation would.”
“Did you tell the Bauers that?”
“Of course. And I also told them they needed to have realistic expectations about Janie.”
Everyone always acted like I hadn’t warned them. I’d warned them plenty. They just hadn’t listened.
Luke cocked his head to the side in a way I’d grown accustomed to in only a short period of time. “What do you mean?”
“Parenting a traumatized child is horribly difficult. Most of them suffer from severe attachment issues, and mothers are usually the targets of their rage. It can get pretty awful.”
By law, I was only required to check in monthly with the Bauers, but I had stopped by as often as I could. I’d stopped by shortly after Christopher had gone back to work and had gotten to see firsthand how Janie had ignored Hannah.
I had knocked on the door, and Janie had opened it within seconds. She’d frowned when she’d seen me.
“Hi, Janie, how are you?” I’d asked.
“Good,” she’d replied.
“Janie, let Piper in,” Hannah had called from inside.
Janie had stood there, unmoving.
“Can I come in?”
She’d shrugged. “Okay.” Then she’d moved aside.
“It’s so good to see you,” Hannah had said, coming into the entryway. She’d hugged me. “I’m still trying to adjust to this day schedule. Sometimes I think I still have my days and nights mixed up. Three years of working nights will do that to you.”
“I bet it’s going to take a while,” I’d said.
“I just made tea. Do you want some?”
“Sure.” I wasn’t a big tea drinker, but Hannah always insisted, and I didn’t want to be rude.
“Janie, do you want anything to drink?”
Janie had headed through the living room. She hadn’t turned around.
“Janie?”
She’d kept ignoring Hannah and walked into her room.
“Wow, that’s harsh,” I had said.
Hannah had handed me my cup of tea. “She’s been like that since Christopher went back to work. Ignores me completely. Talks to everyone else but me.”
“But Christopher has been back at work for almost two weeks now.”
She’d forced a smile. “It’s been a long two weeks.”
“Oh my gosh, that’s got to be awful,” I’d said.
“Thank you. It feels good to hear you say that. Christopher looks at me like I’m making a big deal out of nothing. It drives me crazy that he doesn’t see how disturbing it is. I understand that she’s got mom issues, but she’s so hostile toward me now.”
I’d nodded. “Not to mention that it’s manipulative and controlling.”
“I never thought I’d say it, but I kind of miss her tantrums. At least then she was interacting with me.” Her face had been lined in stress. A frown had tugged at the corner of her mouth.
I had placed my hand gently on top of hers. “This has got to be hard on you.”
Her eyes had brimmed with tears. “I’m not sure she even likes me.” She’d struggled to keep the tears from falling down her cheeks. “I’ve never said that out loud. Not even to Christopher.”
“I know I keep saying this, but it’s going to take time. It’s only been a little over two months. We always tell families that it’s going to take about a year before things stabilize. Sometimes it takes even longer.”
“Do you think things will get better? I mean, with me?” She had looked down, embarrassed to even ask.
I had put my arm around her shoulders. “Yes, it will get better, but you’re probably going to need a lot of help.”
Luke’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “And you referred them to Dr. Chandler?”
“Yes. I respected Dr. Chandler, and she was the best at doing early-childhood work with abused kids. If anyone could help Janie, it was her.”
TWENTY
CHRISTOPHER BAUER
Dr. Chandler’s room looked more like a kindergarten classroom than a therapy office. Janie was with Dr. Chandler’s assistant playing in an adjoining room so Hannah and I could meet with her alone. There were toys and games stacked everywhere. Comfortable pillows and beanbag chairs were strewn around the room. An entire wall was covered in children’s artwork. I felt like a giant and had no idea where to sit because there wasn’t any actual furniture in the room. Hannah was eyeing the room in the same way as me. We’d fought in the car on the way over. I could tell by the rigidity in her body that she was still mad at me.
I understood how frustrating it must have been for her, but Janie wasn’t treating her the way she was on purpose, even though Hannah was convinced she was. She was only six years old. She was too young to be that manipulative. And besides, Hannah was an adult. She could handle it.
Dr. Chandler strode into the room. “So sorry I wasn’t here to greet you. I was at my other office, and traffic was a nightmare getting here.”
She was older than I expected, tall and slim with short gray hair piled in loose curls that framed her face. Faint wrinkles branched from the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her face sagged with age and was dotted with sun spots from the era when people slathered themselves with baby oil without any caution of the rays. There was a floral-print scarf tied casually around her neck. She reminded me of my grandmother, in her red cardigan, pleated pants, and loafers with thick soles for support. She plopped down on the floor gracefully and with ease, and she patted the rug in front of her.
“Come; sit. Let’s get to know each other,” she said.
We sat cross-legged in front of her. Hannah looked comfortable, but I was awkward and stiff. It felt too much like a yoga class, and I hated yoga. Hannah had been into it a few years ago, and she had dragged me to a class with her once. I’d fumbled my way through it and had never gone back. It just wasn’t for me.
“I’m Dr. Chandler, but you can call me Anne if that makes you feel more comfortable.” She folded her hands on her lap and looked back and forth between us. “Tell me a little bit about what brings you here today.”
Hannah and I eyed each other, neither of us wanting to go first.
“We recently became the guardians of a six-year-old girl who we’re in the process of adopting, and our social worker suggested we meet with you,” I said.
Dr. Chandler clapped. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations! Who is your social worker?”
“Piper Goldstein,” Hannah said.
She smiled knowingly. “Piper, yes, she’s one of the good ones. You should feel very lucky.”
Hannah smiled back at her. “We do. Piper’s great.”
“Are you part of an international adoption, or is it a local foster-to-adopt program?” Dr. Chandler asked.
“Foster-to-adopt,” Hannah said.
“Did you hear about the girl who was found in a parking lot a few months back?” I asked. “The one who’d been tied up in her closet?”
Dr. Chandler nodded. “Yes, I read about her case. Is that who you’re adopting?”
“Yes,” we said in unison, then laughed nervously.
“I imagine you must have your hands full, then. What’s it been like?�
� Her eyes were filled with curiosity.
I chose my words carefully because I didn’t want to upset Hannah any more than she already was. “She was diagnosed with child abuse syndrome in the hospital, so parts of it have been extremely challenging, but things are steadily improving.”
Hannah snorted.
Dr. Chandler turned to her. “I take it you don’t agree?”
“I agree that things are better than when she first came to live with us, but not because she’s improving—we’ve just gotten better at dealing with her,” she said.
“Can you tell me more about that?” Dr. Chandler asked.
“Well, bedtime has been bad since the beginning. Nobody slept much because she either got out of bed or screamed her head off from her bedroom. Christopher has to sleep on her floor every night to keep her in bed, or she won’t go to sleep. So we’ve theoretically solved the problem, but not really because she doesn’t know how to sleep by herself. I’d like for her to learn how to sleep by herself. It’s a skill she needs to have, and I miss sleeping with my husband. Does that make sense?” Dr. Chandler nodded, and Hannah continued. “There’re so many other things too. Like, she still eats things that aren’t food. Earlier this week I caught her stuffing her mouth with hair she’d pulled out of her doll’s head. We had no idea she was going to do that, so we had a few bad accidents, and one of them led to an emergency room visit. We locked everything up in the house after that. Everything is still locked up, and we don’t leave her alone because we never know what she’ll put in her mouth. And I was okay with all of this in the beginning because having Janie feel safe and secure with us was the most important thing, but I feel like we’ve done that, so it’s time to move to the next phase, which probably means starting to deal with the issues head-on.”
“So you feel like you’ve masked the problems in your home but haven’t been able to treat them?” Dr. Chandler asked.
“Exactly,” Hannah said, looking relieved. “And there’s more. She’s really aggressive and violent when she’s upset. She’s hit, bit, and spit at us. Sometimes she gets up and just stands over us at night—”
I interrupted. “She’s sleepwalking.”
Hannah shook her head.
“You disagree?” Dr. Chandler asked Hannah.
“Yes. I think she’s awake,” Hannah said.
“What does she do when you find her standing there?” Dr. Chandler asked.
“She’s smacked Christopher in the head with a toy train before. I don’t know what she does to him now, but she just stares at me like she’s plotting something. I can feel the rage coming off her,” Hannah said.
“Oh, Hannah, you’re exaggerating,” I said.
“I’m not. It’s what she looks like,” Hannah said defensively. “She’s really manipulative too.”
“Can you give me examples?” Dr. Chandler asked.
“That’s easy. It’s why we’re here. Christopher went back to work three weeks ago, and she hasn’t talked to me since. Not one word.” Her eyes flashed with anger before she quickly rearranged her face into a neutral position. “I expected her to struggle when he went back to work, so I wasn’t surprised. I even just let it be for a few days, but we can’t keep going on this way. It’s not healthy for any of us. She talks to everybody else but me, even strangers we meet in stores.”
“She talks to you, Chris?”
“Yes.” I hung my head, but I didn’t want to feel bad. I shouldn’t have to feel guilty because Janie had a different bond with me, but Hannah made me feel awful about it.
“Tell her how she talks to you, Christopher.” Hannah peered at me.
I let out a sigh. “She whispers if Hannah is around so Hannah can’t hear her.”
“All the things you are describing are characteristic features of children with child abuse syndrome,” Dr. Chandler said. “Maybe—”
I couldn’t help myself. I had to interrupt again. “She makes it sound like Janie is this terrible little girl, and she’s not. She’s incredibly sweet. If she sees a little kid crying when we’re at the park, she always runs over and hugs them. She never stops asking questions about things around her because she’s so eager to learn. You should see how she is with people. It would melt your heart. I don’t want you to get the wrong picture of her.”
“Just because she’s challenging doesn’t mean those qualities you described aren’t real. Both things can be true, even though it’s hard to wrap your head around. She can be a sweet, charming girl and also mean and manipulative.” Dr. Chandler paused, giving her words a chance to sink in. “One of the things you realize pretty quickly about parenting is the number of conflicting emotions you can have about your child. It’s a roller coaster of highs and lows. In Janie’s case, the highs are likely to be much higher and lows much lower. Why don’t you tell me more about Janie’s background and history? I’d like to know as much about her as I can before meeting her.”
There was little history to give, but we did the best we could. We spent most of our time describing her medical issues, since that was what we knew the most about. We took turns describing the progression from when she had gotten into the hospital and the current status of her issues, making sure not to forget any of the therapy work she was already doing. Dr. Chandler spent a significant amount of time focusing on her rage episodes, asking us to describe the triggers and what we’d done to try to alleviate them.
Time flew, and our session was over ten minutes before the end of the hour. We booked a session for the following week even though I wasn’t sure we’d accomplished anything.
“I really enjoyed meeting the two of you, and I look forward to getting to know your family,” Dr. Chandler said as she walked us to the door.
We were quiet as we walked to the car.
“Do you want to drive home?” I asked. She hated the way I drove. She said I drove too jerkily, and it made her carsick.
She shook her head.
Hannah stared out the window as we drove, her lips pursed the way they were when she was deep in thought. I knew better than to interrupt. She would come to me when she was ready. I just hoped it was soon. I hated fighting with her. It didn’t happen very often, so I was always thrown off by it when it did. I hoped we could find our way back to feeling like we were on the same team.
TWENTY-ONE
HANNAH BAUER
I tried to keep my face neutral as Janie kicked the back of my seat while I drove her to her first appointment with Dr. Chandler. I’d asked her to stop twice, but as always, she’d acted like she hadn’t heard me. Dr. Chandler had to do something. I was at my limit, especially after what had happened at Target yesterday. It had been the second time she’d pulled a stunt like that.
We’d stopped at Target to grab a few things, and she had skipped in front of me down the beauty section while I had grabbed my conditioner. Suddenly, she had put her hand out and started knocking down the row of shampoo bottles like they were dominoes.
“Janie, no!”
She had ignored me and kept walking. I had scrambled to grab things as they’d fallen. She had walked to the end without stopping, turned, and headed back in my direction. She’d reached out her arm to continue knocking down the bottles on the other side. Bottles had covered the floor.
I had grabbed her arms. “Stop!”
She had jerked away. She’d swatted down more bottles. One of them had popped open on impact, and liquid had spread across the aisle.
“Stop!” I had yelled.
She had paused, and for a second, I had thought she was done, but she had turned and looked at me, challenge written all over her face.
I had done my best to keep my voice calm. “You cannot make a mess in the store.” I had pointed to the bottles. “You are going to help me pick these up and put them back on the shelves.”
She had stuck her tongue out and bolted before I had had a chance to respond. I had looked at the mess she’d made—horrified that I had to leave it—and run after her. She hadn
’t been in the main aisle. I had looked left to right. I’d walked fast up and down aisles, eyes continually scanning for her or any sign of her—her purple shirt, the top of her blonde hair, her pink slip-ons. I had almost reached full panic mode when I had spotted her ducking into one of the aisles on the other side. I had bolted after her.
This time she’d been knocking over paper towels. I had scooped them up as quickly as she had knocked them over, but it hadn’t taken long before my arms had been overflowing and things had fallen onto the floor. I had grabbed her arm and pulled her back before she could do anything else.
“Mommy, stop! You’re hurting me!” she had screamed at the top of her lungs just as a woman had come around the corner. The woman had given me the most horrified look.
I had tried to explain what was going on, but I’d sounded like an idiot. I had been so furious on our drive home that I hadn’t said a word, and I’d basically been ignoring her since. It was childish and immature of me, but I couldn’t help myself. I hoped Dr. Chandler was as good with troubled kids and families as Piper had said, because we needed help.
She was in her office when we arrived, and Janie rushed over to her like she did with every new person she met. Strangers were some of her favorite people.
“You must be Janie. I’m Dr. Chandler,” the doctor said with a smile.
“Nice to meet you,” Janie said, smiling in return.
“Did Christopher and Hannah tell you anything about me?”
She shook her head.
“I know you’ve had lots of doctors before, but I’m a special kind of doctor. I’m a feelings doctor for kids. Do you know what that is?”
Janie tilted her head to the side, puzzled. “A feelings doctor?”
“Yes, my job is to help kids learn about feelings, but mostly we just play. Do you like to play?”
Janie’s eyes lit up. “We get to play?” She pointed around the room. “With these toys?”
“You sure do. What do you want to play with first?”
The Perfect Child Page 11
