Book of Chris: One Family's Battle Against Early Childhood Trauma

By Ann Kennedy

What is it like to parent an adopted child, gifted with strong attributes and talents who, nonetheless, is burdened with abusive programming from an early age? How do you raise a loving, attractive boy, admired by adults, shunned by children, who you sense has a secret cancer growing inside? Who do you count on when tragedy inevitably strikes? Who can break the chains of intergenerational abuse?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685700348

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Book of Chris

One Family's Battle Against Early Childhood Trauma

Ann Kennedy

ISBN 978-1-68570-033-1 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68570-034-8 (digital)

Copyright © 2022 by Ann Kennedy

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Introduction

Excerpt A

Excerpt B

Excerpt C

Excerpt D

Excerpt E

Excerpt F

Excerpt G

Excerpt H

Excerpt I

Excerpt J

Excerpt K

Excerpt L

Excerpt M1

Excerpt M2

About the Author

Dedicated to Annette T. D., who inspires me; Sue M., who accepts me; and M. Paul, my darling husband, who is with me still.

Introduction

There is an old story told about Saint Christopher. Some people think it is a myth about Baby Hercules borrowed by the Christian tradition. Whatever the source, Christopher was known as a strong and somewhat belligerent fellow who underwent a conversion or personality transformation. He vowed to use his great strength for the benefit of his fellow beings. He positioned himself by the side of a dangerous stream crossing and made himself useful, offering to ferry people across on his back.

One day, a small child arrived and asked to be taken to the other side. Christopher gladly complied, but as he approached the center of the stream, the weight of the child forced him downward into the water and mud, threatening to end his life and the life of the child. Appealing to heaven, he was only barely able to pull himself and his burden to the opposite bank. It was then revealed that the child himself had been the cause of the difficulty and the key to his deliverance.

It was the Christ child he had been carrying with the heavy burdens and sins of the world. He had, however, also answered Christopher's pleas for help. The name Christopher literally means Christ carrier. This, then, is the story of our Christopher, whose burdens overwhelmed us but who, with God's help, shaped and transformed our lives.

Excerpt A

I glance around my empty bedroom with neatly stacked clothing and papers. I wonder at the still, peaceful feeling that continues to be with me a month after the death of my husband of thirty-five years. Paul's passing in August 2005, after a battle with carcinoid cancer, was not unanticipated. What was surprising was the way he had calmly moved through death's door after brief, last-minute instructions concerning my next steps without him. It had been a completely tranquil end to the most turbulent year we had ever faced.

In March of that year, we had received the news of the death of our only son at age twenty-five. It had been a suicide, occurring in the state penitentiary medical facility where he was beginning his sentence of forty years for the sexual abuse of his first child, our then four-year-old granddaughter.

We had been on a roller coaster with Chris for over two decades since his adoption at age three years. In the beginning, we were elated as we welcomed the strong, affectionate little boy who also came with two of our family's traditional names: Christopher Paul. True, he wasn't talking at that point, and he couldn't give us many clues about what he had been through. But for a time, we felt that our educational status, strong family ties, and resources gave us the tools to sort out any adverse effects of his toddler years.

We'd already had a serious experience with parenthood. A few years before, we'd taken in twelve-year-old David while his single mom attempted to sort out her medical issues. What this talented foster son taught us was that good looks and an adventurous Huckleberry Finn attitude did nothing to fortify one against the urban realities of inner-city schools. Dave's standout qualities were only liabilities where racial tensions were high, and gangs ruled. Still, we found that together, we made a positive impact that David would be grateful for in coming years. He returned to his mom two years later. Although we were rightly concerned about his future, the trial parenting readied us emotionally for another child, a younger one. This time around, we definitely expected to make more of a difference. That's the direction we seemed to be headed as I watched enthusiastic three-year-old Chris bouncing happily on my husband's shoulders as we made the rounds and sampled the delights of the local baby zoo.

Our first check came at his entrance into public school kindergarten. Chris took it all in with a silent, mystified look, eyes darting around the room vigilantly checking out everything—except his schoolwork. Therapy sessions had remediated his speech difficulties, but now he would cry all the way home because he couldn't seem to connect with friends who were willing to play. The system didn't work too well for a guy who lagged behind socially and spent lots of recess time in the classroom doing makeup work. Armed with an IEP* and a constant stream of advice from social workers and teachers, we would inch our way forward, only to be thrown back to puzzle out what now was going wrong. At each new expectation, new cracks would appear in Chris's foundation.

Relief and a real respite came before he entered the third grade when we decided to homeschool Chris. We immediately gained the flexibility to introduce educational activities which worked and the freedom to dump the ones which didn't. In the safety and comfort of our home, I could keep him beavering away at doable exercises, with the carrot of a promise to join other homeschoolers for lunch. Then, all academic work out of the way, he was free to do gymnastics, swimming, or baseball later in the afternoon. Only a couple of months after beginning this routine, at age eight, Chris stopped wetting the bed.

Occasionally, developmental or emotional challenges continued to surface. Problems with reading, writing, and social interactions were dealt with as best as we could, sometimes with professional help. We tried out a repatterning therapist, who put Chris through some rather fun obstacle course training including crawling. Eventually, she was able to help him develop a beautiful cursive handwriting.

We took him to a psychologist when his disturbing attraction to sexual encounters was first revealed during a family backpacking trip. He was asked by the therapist why he had sequestered himself with another little girl in the only Porta Potti within fifty miles. He answered that he was taking her picture to sell to the Japanese. Paul ferreted out the chilling meaning of that phrase. Very soon after, he came across a news article that talked about the breakup of a child pornography operation in Hawaii (Chris's birth state). The gang was selling its materials to the Japanese market. It was clear evidence that adults from his past had shared information with Baby Chris that he wouldn't otherwise know. Still, the psychologist urged us not to overreact, claiming that Chris's interest was still in the normal range.

We were only grateful that our choice of homeschooling allowed us to monitor Chris for the safety of himself and others. I felt comfortable