Please Don’t Feed My Child. On Eating to Survive, Instead of Thrive
My son is now in feeding therapy (yeah, that’s a thing) because for YEARS, he had problems with eating food from our home. He would starve all day, then ravage himself over dinner. Friends would tell me: “He’s SUCH a good eater – he ate everything and asked for seconds!” Once, he went to a sleepover after a long, difficult day and one of my thoughts was “Please don’t feed him.”
I thought this was the most embarrassing thing ever. A mother should be able to feed her own child!
– – Original post date: Feb. 16, 2018
Trauma Takes Its Toll
My son once told me about a foster home he was in. “The man didn’t have anything in the cupboard. Sometimes, we ate the dry noodles from a box. Sometimes, he’d buy us McDonalds.” In his memories of his biological family, I heard things like “We didn’t have enough food. Sometimes I gave my food to my sister.” His taste preferences were oriented around bread, toast, crackers, and noodles. (Oh! The nutritional deficiencies that come along with this.) There are more stories, but those will be for another post, another time.
The Bottom line: My child was HUNGRY all the time.
Mealtime Struggles
It’s almost like… we go out into life and are in an alternate reality because folks around us don’t get to see past his cute exterior and into the darkness of the past. I’m tend to use the words “force-feed,” although social workers & therapists called it “therapeutic feeding” (feeding an older child like a baby). For multiple years, we had to wean my son from a bottle and then spoon-feed him while he screamed, spit, and fought like a cat. Flavors, textures, and smells overwhelmed him. He never developed proper chewing habits and had difficulty managing food pieces inside his mouth.
The sensation of being “full” was confusing. A few bites into a meal, he’d cry because he felt “full.” Stomach pangs from hunger were familiar. Emptiness was familiar. Bowel movements? Completely foreign and painful… ie. scary.
Trials & Errors
Rather immediately after he was placed with us, we provided food to him 24/7 based off a recommendation from the social worker. We set a basket of food in the pantry as well as one in the refrigerator with “anytime” foods. He didn’t have to sneak or steal or figure out how to eat dry rice. We prepared gobs and gobs of snacks and mini-meals for him to eat anytime he wanted.
I found it odd that even when we told him he had full access to the food… he’d still hide and sneak it out, like there was shame or fear associated with eating his own food?? Besides this, mealtimes still felt like hostage negotiations: “Take a bite AND chew, and we’ll go easy on you. If you swallow the food, we’ll fly in your escape helicopter filled with bags of cash!!”
And then there is this… 5 Things My Child Begs For: Scavenger Behaviors In Foster Youth.
Conversely, this happened: While I had lunch with adult friends that he’d never met, he began eating food off their plates. No warning, just… primal hunger. Likely unsure how to respond, they let him finish off both of their plates in addition to his own. I think they said something like “Oh, he’s a growing boy!” But the look in their eyes was more akin to “What in God’s name is he doing?” I let that one go.
I just let him gorge himself to the detriment of his digestion, and sleep, and blood sugar levels later. And I appreciated that we never discussed it afterwards. But what am I supposed to do that isn’t completely socially awkward?
Should I have said “Stop eating!” when I knew this was the only time he’d effectively and independently swallowed food that day?
There’s More Than One Way…
I had hit my breaking point. I’ll admit, sometimes third parties were used to facilitate meals at this point. More than once. We didn’t quite care WHAT they fed him, but the fact that he refused food from his own home all day hurt. It hurt me emotionally and drained me physically. Why doesn’t he trust us to feed him?? I took it personally, but I had to “get over it” because the bigger picture was that he’d eaten. So, for a while, we manufactured play dates around meals. It worked!
He started to enjoy eating. He seemed to fear food less in the social environment. Surrounded by fun, friends, playtime, and adventures he ATE (Churros and french fries. Baby steps.). Now, all we needed to focus on was getting him to eat enough food and BETTER foods in order to grow.
A few years post-placement, our son is a tad stunted in his height, but filling out well. He eats three meals each day and feeds himself for every one of them. Sensory inputs and motor skills are still being addressed (sort of like dragging a mule through the mud). And, I would now say THANK GOD for the wonderful people in our lives that fed him… when I could not.
You know who you are.
What’s next? Check out these other great posts on adoption and trauma:
The Day We Met Our Son
Who Is This Kid? Post-Adoption Identity Crisis
If You Can’t, Then I Will. Depersonalizing Violent Reactions in Children
The author writes from an unabashed, had-it-up-to-here, daily defeated and re-strengthened by grace and hope… kind of place. An adoptive mother of a curious kiddo, full of spirit and sass, tells her tales of homeschooling, fostering, and raising children with special needs. Thanks for joining us on this adventure from adoption to life!
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Photo Credit: Tookapic