Loving a Monster

I love a monster.

I want her to be well enough to come home. I want to throw my whole everything into loving her and caring for her and into making her be well again. But I just don't think it's going to happen.

Her grandmother finally died. She attended a few minutes of the funeral, and was calm and collected, and appropriate, and everyone was very impressed, and Aunt Kelly, who marrried a Catholic, invited us to bring her to Easter dinner at her house this year.

Rachel continued to do better and better. I was getting so hopeful. She was sharing her feelings and improving her behaviors, and had two (hospital-staff-supervised) home visits in a row that went beautifully, and I was starting to think maybe there was a chance again, maybe someday she could come home.

And then two days before the Easter visit she threatened to murder one of the hospital staff. And she smacked another child in the arm and across the face. And she was physically sexually explicit with a staff member. And etc, and etc.

We didn't bring her.

I love her so desperately, my 12 year old child, and I can't have her. My husband says to focus on my Joey, my miracle, and the rest of the good things in our life. I want to. I dearly want to. I just want her so dearly to be well enough to be home.