Trauma in young children (a Hurricane Sandy aftermath post)
Sometimes I forget how young Erika truly is, how sensitive she is to the world, how scary and unknown it must seem.
I'm starting to notice (with growing concern) that she mentioned Hurricane Sandy at least once every third day. Even before the storm hit the night of October 29th, we were already 24 hours without power, in the dark, without heat, and no battery-powered radio. We didn't even realize the extent of the devastation at that point, even driving an hour to my mother-in-law's house, we didn't truly know what it meant to the tri-state area.
We packed enough clothes for a few days, and for Erika, her favorite stuffed animal, two books, two DVDs, and her box of Duplo blocks. We ended up being displaced for close to 15 days, the three of sleeping on a pull-out futon, sharing one pillow, and doing laundry five times. Erika missed her other toys, she missed her other books, she wanted to see her friends, she missed her local playground, and she wanted to go to the beach. She didn't want to stay at Oma's house any more. She kept saying "I just want to go home. Please, can I go home."
We returned home twice or three times during those 15 displaced days; Erika came only once. Our home was frigid cold, all the fishes morbidly floated belly up in the tank, the fridge stank, and it was unspeakably dark and silent. It's amazing the ambient noises you get used to in your house-- as I type this now, two months later, I hear the ceiling fan quietly spinning, water trickling past the aquarium filter, the hum of the refrigerator, and muffled TV noises from the neighbors. During the immediate aftermath of the hurricane, our home felt like a mausoleum; it felt dead.
Erika started to whine... she wanted to leave within 5 minutes of arriving in our home. It was horrid, because we had so many tasks to accomplish in a short amount of time, my teeth were starting to tremble and my fingers were going numb (strangely it was colder inside the apartment than it was outside), and now I had a frightened two-year old on my hand who wanted to be home, but not this-- not this silent, eerie, dark, cold, place.
We grabbed what we needed, emptied the stinking contents of the fridge, and ran out within 15 minutes. It was another hour drive back to mother-in-law's house. We sat in silence.
Since then, Erika has asked lots of questions about what happened. She has learnt that hurricanes get names when they are big, but not when they are little. That this hurricane, named Sandy, came with a lot of wind, and knocked a lot of trees and homes down. That there was a lot of water and that's called flooding, and a lot of people don't have their homes anymore because of the flooding. That "Storm Sandy", as she calls it, "knocked my school down and now it is not open, so I have to go to New School". She told me she's mad that Storm Sandy left a mess for us to clean up. She adamantly wants Sandy to come back and say sorry ("she needs to apologize!!!!"). She says if Sandy doesn't return, then at the very least, she should send her apology with the Wind, and when she hears the wind howl, she will listen for the apology. We've had several windy days, and on those days, Erika inevitably will very quietly say: "I listened, but Storm Sandy didn't tell Wind that she's sorry yet" and my heart feels like it will break with sadness for her.
One day, the storm clouds rolled in, and the sky suddenly became very dark, and the wind started to pick up, and Erika started to panic. She ran helter-skelter in a frantic hurry, rushing to complete whatever task she had at hand, glancing nervously up at the skies, rushing me to hurry-- PLEASE HURRY-- so we could go get Daddy. I told her Daddy was at work and she started to cry. She said "we need to hurry, we need to get Daddy, the Storm is coming. We need to go! We need to go now! The Storm will come and take us this time!" And I had to drop everything I was going and just hug her, and rock her, and comfort her, and tell her everything was going to be OK. That this was just a little storm, so little that it did not even get a name. But Erika kept repeating "no, this is a big storm, she will get a name; this is a big one..."
She talked about Hurricane Sandy last Thursday December 27 when she had a playdate with a friend, talking about how both of them are now at New School together because Storm Sandy knocked down her school. I agreed with her statement, and added "but isn't it nice that you are both together at New School so you can still play together?"
And then on Sunday December 30 she looked at me and said "Is Winter over yet? Daddy said when Winter is over, then Old School will be fixed and I can go back. But I can't go there now because Storm Sandy knocked it down and it's closed and now Shauna [one of her teachers] is not there anymore" and I told her winter isn't over, and it takes a long time to fix the damage, so it will be a while, but in the meantime, there's New School and I'm thankful to have New School.
And then again on Wednesday January 2, her first day back at daycare after winter break, saying "I dont like New School, but my Old School is not there because Storm Sandy was bad and knocked it down" and I acknowledged her statement and added "I'm sorry you don't like New School, but you are right. Old School isn't there right now, so we have to go to New School until Old School gets fixed, OK?" I know toddlers live on repetition, and so much of their behavior is mimicry and reliving their days... but how much is too much? Do we need to start paying serious money for some counseling/therapy down the line? What can I do for her?
I'm starting to notice (with growing concern) that she mentioned Hurricane Sandy at least once every third day. Even before the storm hit the night of October 29th, we were already 24 hours without power, in the dark, without heat, and no battery-powered radio. We didn't even realize the extent of the devastation at that point, even driving an hour to my mother-in-law's house, we didn't truly know what it meant to the tri-state area.
We packed enough clothes for a few days, and for Erika, her favorite stuffed animal, two books, two DVDs, and her box of Duplo blocks. We ended up being displaced for close to 15 days, the three of sleeping on a pull-out futon, sharing one pillow, and doing laundry five times. Erika missed her other toys, she missed her other books, she wanted to see her friends, she missed her local playground, and she wanted to go to the beach. She didn't want to stay at Oma's house any more. She kept saying "I just want to go home. Please, can I go home."
We returned home twice or three times during those 15 displaced days; Erika came only once. Our home was frigid cold, all the fishes morbidly floated belly up in the tank, the fridge stank, and it was unspeakably dark and silent. It's amazing the ambient noises you get used to in your house-- as I type this now, two months later, I hear the ceiling fan quietly spinning, water trickling past the aquarium filter, the hum of the refrigerator, and muffled TV noises from the neighbors. During the immediate aftermath of the hurricane, our home felt like a mausoleum; it felt dead.
Erika started to whine... she wanted to leave within 5 minutes of arriving in our home. It was horrid, because we had so many tasks to accomplish in a short amount of time, my teeth were starting to tremble and my fingers were going numb (strangely it was colder inside the apartment than it was outside), and now I had a frightened two-year old on my hand who wanted to be home, but not this-- not this silent, eerie, dark, cold, place.
We grabbed what we needed, emptied the stinking contents of the fridge, and ran out within 15 minutes. It was another hour drive back to mother-in-law's house. We sat in silence.
Since then, Erika has asked lots of questions about what happened. She has learnt that hurricanes get names when they are big, but not when they are little. That this hurricane, named Sandy, came with a lot of wind, and knocked a lot of trees and homes down. That there was a lot of water and that's called flooding, and a lot of people don't have their homes anymore because of the flooding. That "Storm Sandy", as she calls it, "knocked my school down and now it is not open, so I have to go to New School". She told me she's mad that Storm Sandy left a mess for us to clean up. She adamantly wants Sandy to come back and say sorry ("she needs to apologize!!!!"). She says if Sandy doesn't return, then at the very least, she should send her apology with the Wind, and when she hears the wind howl, she will listen for the apology. We've had several windy days, and on those days, Erika inevitably will very quietly say: "I listened, but Storm Sandy didn't tell Wind that she's sorry yet" and my heart feels like it will break with sadness for her.
One day, the storm clouds rolled in, and the sky suddenly became very dark, and the wind started to pick up, and Erika started to panic. She ran helter-skelter in a frantic hurry, rushing to complete whatever task she had at hand, glancing nervously up at the skies, rushing me to hurry-- PLEASE HURRY-- so we could go get Daddy. I told her Daddy was at work and she started to cry. She said "we need to hurry, we need to get Daddy, the Storm is coming. We need to go! We need to go now! The Storm will come and take us this time!" And I had to drop everything I was going and just hug her, and rock her, and comfort her, and tell her everything was going to be OK. That this was just a little storm, so little that it did not even get a name. But Erika kept repeating "no, this is a big storm, she will get a name; this is a big one..."
She talked about Hurricane Sandy last Thursday December 27 when she had a playdate with a friend, talking about how both of them are now at New School together because Storm Sandy knocked down her school. I agreed with her statement, and added "but isn't it nice that you are both together at New School so you can still play together?"
And then on Sunday December 30 she looked at me and said "Is Winter over yet? Daddy said when Winter is over, then Old School will be fixed and I can go back. But I can't go there now because Storm Sandy knocked it down and it's closed and now Shauna [one of her teachers] is not there anymore" and I told her winter isn't over, and it takes a long time to fix the damage, so it will be a while, but in the meantime, there's New School and I'm thankful to have New School.
And then again on Wednesday January 2, her first day back at daycare after winter break, saying "I dont like New School, but my Old School is not there because Storm Sandy was bad and knocked it down" and I acknowledged her statement and added "I'm sorry you don't like New School, but you are right. Old School isn't there right now, so we have to go to New School until Old School gets fixed, OK?" I know toddlers live on repetition, and so much of their behavior is mimicry and reliving their days... but how much is too much? Do we need to start paying serious money for some counseling/therapy down the line? What can I do for her?