07/17/2025
I feel this one! Anyone else? ✋
I have no idea why people say raising a child with early trauma is so hard. It’s really quite simple.
You just need to help them feel safe and secure without being too controlling. Be consistent, but also flexible. Have boundaries, but make sure those boundaries don’t feel threatening. Be predictable, but not rigid. Gentle, but not permissive. Strong, but soft. Firm, but tender. Basically, be a regulated nervous system in human form. 24/7.
Make sure you stay attuned to your child’s triggers—but don’t walk on eggshells. If you walk on eggshells, they will sense it and become more anxious. Create routines, but don’t let the routine become a prison. Let them express their big emotions, but not at the expense of your other children, your drywall, or your mental health. Validate their feelings, even when those feelings are very, very loud. And inappropriate. And seemingly unrelated to the situation.
Make sure they know their past doesn’t define them, but also make room for it at every meal, holiday, bedtime, school event, transition, milestone, and Tuesday morning. Honor their birth family. Talk openly about adoption. But don’t romanticize it. And don’t sound too negative either. Answer their questions, even the ones that come with rage, silence, or total withdrawal. Be available—but not invasive.
Help your child build resilience, but don’t trigger their survival brain. Help them learn consequences, but not the kind that feel even a little like rejection or shame or disconnection or judgment or—well, any consequence, really. Teach them coping skills, but only after you co-regulate for 45 minutes and follow that up with a sensory snack and a somatic check-in.
Love them unconditionally, but also teach them not to bite people. Or scream at the dog. Or swear at their teacher. Or pretend to run away every time you say “no.” Teach them to share, and understand you will be the only one ever sharing. Show them they are safe, even if they don't believe you. Even if they accuse you of being just like everyone else who hurt them. Especially then.
Make sure you advocate for trauma-informed care at school, but also don’t be “that” parent. Explain developmental trauma to every teacher, therapist, principal, bus driver, coach, Sunday school teacher, dentist, librarian, and stranger who dares to comment on your child’s behavior in the frozen food aisle. Make sure to explain it without revealing too much personal information.
Encourage therapy, but only the kind that doesn’t re-traumatize them. EMDR? Play therapy? Equine? Somatic experiencing? Neurofeedback? Great! Unless your child refuses to go. Then you’re just back to long car rides and praying.
Hold space. All the space. Hold space for grief, confusion, rage, loss, shame, joy, and hope. Hold space when they push you away. Hold space when they pull you too close. Hold space when they scream, when they cry, when they shut down, when they regress, when they sabotage anything good. Especially then.
Model emotional regulation, even if you haven’t slept in three years, haven’t eaten a real meal since Tuesday, and are currently being screamed at for buying the “wrong” kind of toothpaste. Again. Don’t take it personally. Even when it’s very, very personal.
Give them a voice. A strong one. But also don’t let them scream over you, hit you, threaten you, or run the household. Empower them—but don’t let their trauma lead the way. Stay calm. Always. Especially when you're not.
Pick and choose your battles. But pick the right ones. Not that one. Or that one. Actually, just sit this one out. You’ll know in six months if that was the right choice. Or you won’t. Who knows.
Give them love, but not the kind they don't trust. Stay near, but not too near. Be warm, but not clingy. Be present, but not intense. Be open, but not vulnerable—unless you're modeling vulnerability. Then go for it. Unless it scares them. Stay tender with them all while developing the thick skin of a rhinoceros.
Oh—and don't forget—also raise them to be resilient, empathetic, honest, confident, respectful, responsible, independent, securely attached, emotionally intelligent, socially appropriate, self-motivated, and magically healed from all early adversity by the time they graduate from high school.
Easy, right?
If you’ve read this far, I hope you know I’m kidding. Sort of.
This is hard. Really hard. But if you’re still showing up—even in your pajamas, even with tears in your eyes, even if you messed up yesterday—you’re doing it. You’re breaking cycles. You’re giving a child something they never had before.
Keep going. Love hard. Heal slow. And please, for the love of your nervous system… pick one battle today. Just one.
That’s enough. You’re enough.
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