Saying “Yes” – Exposing the Realities of Drug Exposure in Utero

It’s midnight and tears are streaming down my face as I sit in the dark staring at my Instagram feed. Worry like a heavy blanket keeps me up, scrolling through our days. Beautiful days really. But heavy ones too.

It’s a feed that shows a joyful and playful curly head baby, splashing in the lake, smiling for the camera. Summers with dripping ice cream cones and cute chocolate covered grins. A feed of snuggly nights around the campfire and picnics at the park.

He’s happy. He’s beautiful. He’s carefree.

But it’s a colorful feed that only tells half of a story.

What you don’t see on the screen is the effects of in-utero drug and alcohol exposure. And how it affects our day to day. It’s not my story to tell publicly, and even privately we are careful to whom we share with. He has invisible needs.

There is so much I want to say about this subject so I’m thankful for this space to write anonymously. Maybe our experiences will bring comfort to another family on a similar path, or shed light to a family considering following our footsteps.

Because while I firmly believe our children’s stories need to be kept sacred and private for their dignity and preservation of self, I also believe that hardships untold can be isolating and stories told can breathe life into a mother’s weary and tired heart. Knowledge is powerful. Empathy? Soul changing.

So Mamas who are parenting children from hard places this post is for you. You are not alone. I know it might feel like it sometimes. But you aren’t. I see you and I am standing with you.

I know that parenting your precious children, is tedious and exhausting work. And at times it’s lonely. I know you hurt and ache for your babe and wonder what the future holds.

I know because this is my life.

From the outside looking in, many would not be aware of the struggles we face daily. In fact even many who do life closely with us are unaware.

But the battles, although subtle most days are very real and present. I find myself constantly questioning, “ Is this behavior typical or is it a symptom of something much deeper? Is this a phase or telling of much longer journey”.

I want to make it clear though – We chose this journey. We chose him. And we’d chose him all over again.

I’ll never forget the afternoon when I first laid eyes on his Mama’s situation. From the very first sentence, we were all in. Our hearts instantly broke for his Mama and her painful struggles that were outlined in the email.

Minor alcohol and major drug exposure wasn’t written in bold print. But they might as well have been. It was those very words that caused every other family to lay their eyes on her situation to walk away.

I don’t blame them for passing. Saying yes to alcohol and drug exposures is not something you should enter into lightly. It is really important that you do your research on short and long term effects of both and talk in depth to medical professionals before committing. You need to enter into it equipped and fully prepared for what your future child may struggle with and what your “yes” requires of you.

When we were researching one of the best words of advice we were given was that the range of effects of drug and alcohol exposure vary from child to child. So there is really no way to fully know what challenges and needs may lie ahead. We were told that we needed to expect and prepare for the hardest scenario and decide if we were able to proceed. Not simply “hope for the best.”

With that advice, our yes was not without careful thought and deliberate research. When his mom chose us we were prepared as much as we possibly could have been, but even still-it hasn’t been easy.

Many of the behavioral and social challenges we said yes to initially are part of our day today. To be honest, some days with him I’m barely breathing, holding my breath, recovering from and awaiting the next storm.

That storm can come in the form as something as simple as being unable to button his jacket causing an outburst that would make your ears bleed. Or it could come when he’s asked to transition too quickly from one activity to the next. Or when someone is too close in his space. Or when his brain is working faster than his physical abilities.

He was born a warrior though who had survived so much even before he took his first breath. I know that with support, consistency, and grace he will continue to grow. It’s hard work for him, but we see him every day doing the heavy lifting. We are so proud of him and everything he’s overcome.

But most don’t know all that and I can’t explain without divulging his story. Which I won’t do. Nor do I think we should have to. One thing this experience has taught me is the need to be compassionate to all, regardless of our outside perceptions.

In all of our careful research I never expected the utter heartbreak of others not understanding him, who even criticize him for his struggles. This adds another layer of hard.

But they don’t see his internal battles.

Rather they see a three year old, kicking and screaming at the park, because he lightly bumped his knee. They think he is out of control, undisciplined, and wild. They think we need to parent better. Some will even tell us so.

They see a child hurling his plate of food on the floor because his potatoes were touching his corn and not the child that struggles with impulse control and needs extra patience.

They see a house on complete lockdown. Doors. Fridge. Stove. You name it. It’s locked. They think that he’s disobedient and stubborn. They don’t realize that his brain is wired for risk, and that teaching him safety and boundaries is a deliberate and very slow process. They don’t know that those locks are there to protect him.

Other’s judgements hurt, especially from those who are close to him. He’s been excluded from activities because “He’s just too much.” And some days we aren’t just helping him through his struggles, we are also defending him from those who refuse to understand him.

But we see him. We see the layers of complexity that exposures gave him. We see how his brain isn’t like most three year olds. We know that to him, that little bump at the park feels like a thousand hammers pounding into his body from senses that work on overdrive. They only see his anger but I see the fear that courses through his veins. I see the fight response that is triggered in his tiny body.

A fight response we met on his very first day of life. He spent a week in the NICU, withdrawing and shaking from a drug store of narcotics. His body was rigid for months. He’d arch his back and scream for hours on end- very little would soothe him. He was easily overwhelmed with noise and people, so we kept him as cocooned as possible. His was a beginning of life with struggles – struggles he didn’t choose, of no fault of his own, but now has no choice but to battle.

Let me reiterate. A life with struggles he didn’t choose.

What he needs to thrive is a soft spoken voice, someone to breathe deeply with him, and give him reassurance that he is ok. He needs tools to handle these big emotions and time and patience for him to overcome and heal at his own pace. He needs people in his corner advocating for him and celebrating his wins. He needs compassion and grace. (And frankly so do his parents). We have learned that his circle needs to compromise of only people who love and support him completely.

He needs us to say yes again and again.

Yes To him. Yes to his struggles. Yes to loving him beyond his present capabilities. Yes to loving him in his hardest days. Yes to whatever storm lies ahead.

And even beyond that, he needs us to continue to love and honor his birth mother…

He needs us to say Yes, to his sweet Mama, who carried him, birthed him, and loved him first.

Because when we said yes to her son, we said yes to her too. And there is so much grace in that. So much love to be walked out.

To be continued…