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For years I lived in horror at the thought that I would ever have to call the police for one of my own children.
This is the type of thing that happened to Jerry Springer families, drug dealers and gang members, but certainly not to me, a typical 40-year-old mom in middle-class suburbia.
But it does and I have.
I’ve called the police for one of my own children multiple times, and would do it again if I had to.
As our son continued to become more aggressive, our therapist urged us to call the police if we felt we were threatened in any way.
Parents Feel Trapped
This is where parents of a child with mental health and behavior needs feel trapped.
In some ways we understood what our therapist was saying. We wanted to send a clear message to our son that we didn’t tolerate violence in our home.
On the other hand, what would the police really do? Will it do any good? Does it mean we can’t handle our own child? How do we know that THIS is the time vs. that time? What exactly is the line to draw?
Honestly if I called every time I’ve been hit, bitten, or slapped by this child, I would have called 50 times. 100 times. 200 times.
I have lived with his rage and aggression since he was 2 years old, and it has gradually become more out of control over the years.
We as parents also feel stuck because a child is a child. My child can hurt me, but I cannot hurt my child. That’s child abuse.
Plus, calling the police for your own kid is just a really, really, really awful thing to have to actually do.
One of our friends from church is a county police officer, and Mike and I met her in a coffee shop one day to talk about what would happen if we called. She was very supportive and talked us through the process. She told us they wouldn’t take our son anywhere (one of my fears, that later became one of my frustrations).
The police would calm him down and calm us down. That’s really about it. We scheduled a time for her to come out to the house in her car, with her uniform and show the kids her equipment.
The Night I Called 911.
Spring, 2015
One day Mike and I realize we have idly been threatening our son for far too long that if he escalates in his rages any further, we will call 911.
What’s frustrating is that we probably didn’t call for one of the worst rages, just one of the times we were most at the end of our rope.
As parents, you just reach that point where you don’t know what to do anymore. After so many years of rages, we had tried every blessed tactic we knew to try — good ones, bad ones, ones we had read about, ones therapists had told us about, ones doctors had told us, books we had read, ideas we read online, and ideas other parents told us about.
Nothing worked.
Our son is in his room screaming, throwing things, cursing. I have had it. I stand in my bedroom across the hall from him, pick up my cell phone and dial the numbers.
9.
1.
1.
Then I think — CRAP.
I want to hang up. But too late. Now I am in this.
The responder on the phone is kind. I explain my emergency is my 10 year old son with mental health issues. He asks me if I am in immediate danger. Does my child have a weapon? Are there any weapons in the home? Where is my son and what is he wearing? He keeps me on the line until officers come to the front door.
By the time the officers arrived, my son is calmed down.
The officers are kind. They ask me what they can do for me.
Which ends up being not much.
One officer is a big burly guy. They go into my son’s room where he is curled up under his blankets. They give him a stern talking to, then come down, take some basic information from us and give us their cards. That is it.
Our son is a little scared, but by the end of the night he is back to his usual behaviors.
When the Police Laughed at Me
Summer, 2015
The second time I call is one of the worst days our son has ever had. He is insolent and just plain mean. He is acting incredibly aggressive toward me. Mike is at work and while I’m stronger than my son is, I am actually somewhat scared of him. I know I would never hurt my child, but when my son is raging, he goes all out to harm, and that is a game changer.
The second time the police come, they laugh at us.
That day, I call 911 again.
The police arrive and our son shows no respect to them whatsoever. He is sitting calmly in a chair when they get there.
He will not look at them when they talked to him. He reminds me of a typical disrespectful teenager you would picture, which is really not the child I know.
I know that sounds crazy when you read about all my child’s behaviors. He goes totally nuts and can be awful in a rage, but when he’s calm, he’s not usually like that. Seeing him this mean and nasty in a calm state is truly scary to me. It’s like he isn’t himself.
This officer gives me totally different advice. He tells us to screw whatever social services and other people have said, restrain him as best we can. The law says parents can do it. Once kids know their boundaries, they will calm down. Then they give us their cards and leave.
Sara is a writer, 100+ pound weight loss success story, and a certified Binge Eating and Bulimia Recovery Coach. Her website, The Holy Mess, reaches millions of readers every year. She guides women to healthy weight loss, and an impressive 50,000+ people having completed her group weight loss challenges to date. Click here to read Sara's Before and After story. Message her at sara@theholymess.com.
Reader Interactions
Comments
Hannah Meadows | resources and self-care for adoptive parentssays
Hi Sara,
Thanks so much for linking up this post at the #CPVstories linky. I’m sorry you’re experiencing this stuff too, but so glad you’re writing about it. I look forward to getting to know you.
You are doing such an awesome job with this. I so relate with how to write the stories in a way that does not uncover our children. Great job so far! So proud of you and we will both be cheering when we finish this challenge. Let’s have coffee some day and share more.
Karen
Does you son have RAD? I sooooooo get it. I called the police many times on my boys (brothers adopted from DCF). God Bless. Whatever the diagnosis, it’s a tough road….
Praying for you as you write these words and share.
In this whole series, this post touched me differently than the rest. I don’t know what it is like to be loving on a child with PTSD, but asking for help and being laughed at…oh my yes. The challenge and desperation to keep asking for help when I had been dismissed felt almost as overwhelming to me as the issues themselves.
Your words are eloquent and touching, and I am so grateful you are sharing.
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Hi Sara,
Thanks so much for linking up this post at the #CPVstories linky. I’m sorry you’re experiencing this stuff too, but so glad you’re writing about it. I look forward to getting to know you.
You are doing such an awesome job with this. I so relate with how to write the stories in a way that does not uncover our children. Great job so far! So proud of you and we will both be cheering when we finish this challenge. Let’s have coffee some day and share more.
Karen
Does you son have RAD? I sooooooo get it. I called the police many times on my boys (brothers adopted from DCF). God Bless. Whatever the diagnosis, it’s a tough road….
Praying for you as you write these words and share.
In this whole series, this post touched me differently than the rest. I don’t know what it is like to be loving on a child with PTSD, but asking for help and being laughed at…oh my yes. The challenge and desperation to keep asking for help when I had been dismissed felt almost as overwhelming to me as the issues themselves.
Your words are eloquent and touching, and I am so grateful you are sharing.