What I did next was no easy task. I was mulling over what to do when I received a rare phone call from my grandmother(my mother's mother--not the one I lived with). She began to believe what I was saying that it was not my doing and Brittany herself couldn't help it. She said, "Well, you don't know, she could get up during the night and try to kill you." It hadn't occurred to me. Brittany's moods changed so rapidly, it was hard to say. But then one day, she raised her hand to hit me and I stopped her(luckily due to some training for my job) and guided her to her room. That was it for me. I was not going to live like this...there had to be an answer somewhere. I decided I would call DHS myself and ask for some guidance or help somewhere for Brittany. Plus, I thought it might look good for me that I was asking, given that I was so "Guilty" of neglecting her according to them. I talked with the worker who I'd dealt with already. She spoke with her supervisor and they both got on the phone with me to say: "There is nothing we can do. Maybe the next time she blows up, you can take her to the ER and they can evaluate her."
Ugh...excuse me? You walk into my life, tell me I am guilty of neglecting my daughter, but when I ask for help, there is nothing you can do?
I told them that there was no way I could do that because (1) provided that she is CALM enough for me to drive her there, she would be all calm for sure by the time I got there and (2) I would look like an idiot...not to mention, I would get more questions and blame.
So I decided to call Brittany's therapist and he happened to suggest what I had just done. I explained to him, that I had and told them what DHS told me. "WHAT THE HELL!?" He barked. He could not believe they told me that. So the therapist made some phone calls to different agencies. He called me back to ask if I'd be willing for her to go into foster care. I told him anything that could help her. He called back awhile later and told me about the youth home there in Rock Springs. I agreed to that. Brittany did not want to go all that much, of course and we cried together and I told her that this was all to help her and I would do anything, go anywhere on earth to help her deal with life...help myself also. So, I took her there, met the workers, and as it turned out, one of them I had worked with in the past at my job. Brittany appeared excited once we got there. She had her own room and could mingle with other kids. This was April of 2001. I returned home alone and it was the most cleansing feeling in the world. I walked through the door and it was as if 12 years had melted away and for a moment, I felt guilty for feeling so good. I think a part of me will always feel guilty even though I know I have no reason to. So I immediately got back to work and was thrilled to not have these worries at home. But there were more to come.
Brittany had been at the youth home for about a month and the workers didn't believe that there was much wrong. "She is so sweet...." Brittany is a sweet, loving child...when the mood strikes. I just said, "it will come. Watch and see. You will see the dark side and the mood swings and the violence." And they did. Suddenly, the police were called almost daily, which was their policy. During this time, I changed Psychiatrists. I credit this man so much. He was wonderful and really listened to what I was saying. Not to mention the fact that Brittany had a behavior right in front of him...I was so grateful for this. After going through my whole history during pregnancy and everything since then, he realized a different diagnosis. Oh he stated that she probably was Bipolar but something in addition....he called it Pervasive Development Disorder, which, he explained, is a form of Autism. It has most of the symptoms of autism but not everything that would make it autism. He said that everything fits. I went home, looked it up on the internet and the hair on the back of my neck stood up when I read some of the symptoms and behaviors. Almost to the letter of things Brittany did and has always done that I couldn't explain. He put her on some medication, Zyprexa along with the Depakote. Now I am not saying that she was suddenly better, because she was not. Brittany was wrecking havoc at the youth home. Part of the problem was, there were some workers that would allow her to do things she shouldn't and some workers who would follow through on consequences. This made things difficult. During this time also, I began to have meetings with DHS because they kept asking me to take Brittany back home. Nothing had changed. I said no. They really didn't know what to do. DHS still wanted me to go to counseling....I put it off. It just didn't feel right. To me, it felt like they were saying it was still all because of me.
The people at the youth home worked hard with Brittany...trying to find some type of goal that would work for her, something to make her responsible for her actions. Nothing worked. She was having accidents, wetting and soiling her clothes and hiding them. Brittany called me once and one of the workers said something to her and she screamed at the worker in a voice that made me even question this was my child. It was a blood curdling scream. It was in the fall of that year, I believe, that I received the shock of my life. It came in the form of ARRAIGNMENT PAPERS...being served to me at my door. That's right. I reread it several times. My 12 year old daughter was being charged with BATTERY.
Ugh...excuse me? You walk into my life, tell me I am guilty of neglecting my daughter, but when I ask for help, there is nothing you can do?
I told them that there was no way I could do that because (1) provided that she is CALM enough for me to drive her there, she would be all calm for sure by the time I got there and (2) I would look like an idiot...not to mention, I would get more questions and blame.
So I decided to call Brittany's therapist and he happened to suggest what I had just done. I explained to him, that I had and told them what DHS told me. "WHAT THE HELL!?" He barked. He could not believe they told me that. So the therapist made some phone calls to different agencies. He called me back to ask if I'd be willing for her to go into foster care. I told him anything that could help her. He called back awhile later and told me about the youth home there in Rock Springs. I agreed to that. Brittany did not want to go all that much, of course and we cried together and I told her that this was all to help her and I would do anything, go anywhere on earth to help her deal with life...help myself also. So, I took her there, met the workers, and as it turned out, one of them I had worked with in the past at my job. Brittany appeared excited once we got there. She had her own room and could mingle with other kids. This was April of 2001. I returned home alone and it was the most cleansing feeling in the world. I walked through the door and it was as if 12 years had melted away and for a moment, I felt guilty for feeling so good. I think a part of me will always feel guilty even though I know I have no reason to. So I immediately got back to work and was thrilled to not have these worries at home. But there were more to come.
Brittany had been at the youth home for about a month and the workers didn't believe that there was much wrong. "She is so sweet...." Brittany is a sweet, loving child...when the mood strikes. I just said, "it will come. Watch and see. You will see the dark side and the mood swings and the violence." And they did. Suddenly, the police were called almost daily, which was their policy. During this time, I changed Psychiatrists. I credit this man so much. He was wonderful and really listened to what I was saying. Not to mention the fact that Brittany had a behavior right in front of him...I was so grateful for this. After going through my whole history during pregnancy and everything since then, he realized a different diagnosis. Oh he stated that she probably was Bipolar but something in addition....he called it Pervasive Development Disorder, which, he explained, is a form of Autism. It has most of the symptoms of autism but not everything that would make it autism. He said that everything fits. I went home, looked it up on the internet and the hair on the back of my neck stood up when I read some of the symptoms and behaviors. Almost to the letter of things Brittany did and has always done that I couldn't explain. He put her on some medication, Zyprexa along with the Depakote. Now I am not saying that she was suddenly better, because she was not. Brittany was wrecking havoc at the youth home. Part of the problem was, there were some workers that would allow her to do things she shouldn't and some workers who would follow through on consequences. This made things difficult. During this time also, I began to have meetings with DHS because they kept asking me to take Brittany back home. Nothing had changed. I said no. They really didn't know what to do. DHS still wanted me to go to counseling....I put it off. It just didn't feel right. To me, it felt like they were saying it was still all because of me.
The people at the youth home worked hard with Brittany...trying to find some type of goal that would work for her, something to make her responsible for her actions. Nothing worked. She was having accidents, wetting and soiling her clothes and hiding them. Brittany called me once and one of the workers said something to her and she screamed at the worker in a voice that made me even question this was my child. It was a blood curdling scream. It was in the fall of that year, I believe, that I received the shock of my life. It came in the form of ARRAIGNMENT PAPERS...being served to me at my door. That's right. I reread it several times. My 12 year old daughter was being charged with BATTERY.
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