horseofdifferent

A Horse of a Different Color

By Kathryn Taylor

I wanted a baby……………..

I had wanted one for as long as I could remember. My husband had finally said yes. I was afraid, yet excited. It would work……..I knew it would………because with the desire and love I had……how could it not? I wanted the baby to be as young as possible, where he or she was untainted by this world's rough hands……..where he or she was still impressionable, moldable, workable, and able to trust and love me back. I could not decide if I wanted a boy or a girl. I did so well with boys; I already had four sons. They had brought such joy to my life. Girls, on the other hand, had brought such heartache in my past and even more so in my present. But, I still had such a deep longing to win a daughter's love.

A good friend of mine and her husband took me on the two-hour drive to select, Lord willing, the baby I longed for. There were about a dozen to choose from. I would have gladly taken them all. How would I choose just one? Which one, I wondered, would bring me more heartache? Which one would be able to trust and bond to me?

As we walked through the maze or corrals, I prayed. Horses of all ages, sizes, and colors paced their iron pens fearfully awaiting their fate. There were pens of mares with their young foals at their sides, hiding nervously behind their mommies. Their short lives had been spent in wide, open spaces running in the summer sun with the herd. Now, these babies were in this scary place with no idea that they would be separated from their mothers forever today. How could I do this!? How could I be a part of this process?……….”It was going to happen to them anyway,” I told myself……It had to be all right…..I could give them as good a home as anyone else here……..Thoughts of my adopted daughter at home flooded my mind. She was so full of anger, mad at me because she wants to believe that I have stolen her from her "real" mother. What was I doing here? How could I risk any more pain to try and do this? I had been to livestock auctions before, but this time it was different. I felt so raw. I felt the pain, fear, and suffering as if these horses were human. I was finding it hard to separate it from my own suffering.

They ran the horses in and out of the sale ring…..one by one……as the auctioneer babbled out a steady stream of numbers……”Sold!”…..”Sold!”…..”Sold!…… Two little babies were run in together, half brother and sister, a matching pair of red roans. Before we knew it, my friend's husband bid on, and bought the pair. (He had come with us to make sure we didn't come home with a trailer full of horses!)

During a break, we wandered the pens again hoping I could make a decision. Then, we went to see the filly and colt they just bought. They were now separated from their mothers. One weanling was literally trying to climb up and out of the pen. They were terrified of us. It was then that I realized I didn't have the proper kind of pen for such a wild thing. These babies were stronger and more wild than I had anticipated. Once again, it reminded me of my adopted teen-aged twins at home. They had such extreme behavior problems. It seemed I didn't have the proper confinements for them either. How do I keep them safe? I wanted to put them somewhere where we were safe from their lashing out and they were safe from the world……Maybe I should change my mind……….and not get a baby horse.

Despite my fear, I was taken with a little chocolate filly. A good number of other buyers were also looking at her. She had beautiful markings and appeared younger and calmer than some of the others. My price range was low. But, I decided if it was meant to be, I would get her. If I did not get her, I would go home empty handed.

It was finally her turn to sell. Her mother had been run through and sold right before her. There she was, circling the ring, whinnying for her mother, scared to death. I wanted to rescue her so badly. The auctioneer fired numbers like a machine gun as people in the crowd raised their hands. Within seconds she sold, and unbelievably I was her new owner.

After the auction, the three babies were run through shoots right up into the trailer. They were too wild to touch or halter. My friends said I could keep my filly at their farm until we got them settled down and halter broke. My dream was now a reality, but what did the future hold?

My husband and I already had three sons when we adopted our boy/girl twins from foster care. It turned out that they had a severe case of Reactive Attachment Disorder. Our daughter acted out more than our son. This dreadful thing called RAD made it so that my children were unable, and seemingly unwilling, to allow themselves to be loved. My mother's heart, after battling with this disorder for over 5 years, was terribly wounded and sometimes seemed unmendable. My daughter refused to even try anymore. She spent most of her days locked up in her room, whatever she could do to stay away from us. After an emotionally draining day at the horse sale, I entered my fifteen-year-old daughter's room and I told her, "Today was the worst day of my new filly's life. Her world was ripped right out from under her. She was so happy just days ago. She ran and played at her mother's side and life was good. Then, people came along, rounded them up, and drove them into a trailer. They were scared and afraid. They were driven to this awful place, chased into pens, separated from their mothers, then taken away to somewhere unfamiliar, never to return. I feel like I stole this little baby from her mother!………But, you know, I did not steal you from your mother…….I took you in and loved you because she would not take care of you. And I'm going to make a bet with you. I bet you, that even though I did this to her, even though she has been ripped from all she knew, even though she is scared and afraid, I am going to win her love."

I turned and walked out brokenhearted over my daughter’s years of incredible stubbornness. I so wished she wanted to help me with this filly. Maybe it could've heal both our hearts.

The first day, my friends roped my filly. We were able to approach her and halter her. She was afraid but allowed us to pet on and love her. Next, they roped their twin filly. She fought like a true rebel. She pulled and bucked and struggled. She was choking herself to death, never giving herself any slack. She would stop, stand with front legs spread wide gasping for air. Each time they attempted to approach her, she would erupt, striking at them with her front feet willing to kill anyone who dared to approach. It took 3 of them to try and work her. With a burst of strength, she broke one's grip on her rope. She charged to the other side of the corral, threw herself at the solid wall as she leaped, and somehow managed to crash her body through a 2 foot gap between the wall and the top wood rail, and summersaulted herself out of the pen nearly landing on a young boy on the other side. My friends cursed the previous owner for not imprinting these babies. Had they been handled a bit and familiarized them with humans, these babies would never be like they were now.

Earlier, I had said that I wanted a baby young enough to not have been tainted by the world's rough hands. And now, we were dealing with the fact that they had not been touched at all. Was it just as bad, or worse? Being untouched or mis-touched seemed to bring the same results.

They managed to get the filly back into the corral and were able to get her down and they held her there. They touched her, rubbed her, let her smell them and spoke calmly to her. All she wanted to do was escape. But right now, man was in control, and like it or not she was going to learn that humans were not going to harm her like she imagined. Tears were rolling down my cheeks…….This was my daughter, out of control because she had been neglected when young. She had the same fight in her. She was totally controlled by fear, despite the reality that no one wanted to harm her in any way. She also fights the very people who would rescue her and love her, teach her and train her. She is always choking herself with consequences and boundaries that didn't need to be there, if only she would relax and quit fighting. Flashbacks of “holdings” with her filled my mind. We held her through the rage, the fear, the desperate attempts to free herself from her perceived threat. We tried to get her to learn that we were not going to hurt her, that touch was good, that closeness would not kill her. I chuckled to myself wondering if this was where therapists got the idea that holding therapy would be effective for children.

It was now the colt's turn. He did the very same things as their filly did, fighting and striking out, choking himself, refusing to let the rope slacken. Only he gave up much quicker and went down at which time they rushed in to loosen the rope and love on him. I was amazed…….Our adopted son was the same way as this colt! This colt and filly were the epitome of our adopted twins, and my little filly was as normal as my friend's 12-year-old daughter was. I felt bad that my friends were having such a

rough time with their weanlings while mine was sweet and approachable.

Wow! What was this strange feeling I was having? Relief?…..Joy?…..Gratification? My friends made comments about my getting the good baby. It felt sooooo good. Right, wrong or indifferent, I wallowed in the feeling of it all. After that first exhausting day, I leaned over to my friend and said, "That was a normal day at our house with my twins." She hugged me. These friends of ours had stuck it out with us, where most friends had long since gone.

We had endured the normal gamut of stages, with them asking:

*What's wrong with these kids?………

*what are you doing wrong?……..

*OK, it's not you, did you try this and that?………

*ok, let me try something…………

*and finally they came to the place to say,

I agree, there is nothing you can do until they want to try……….

A week has passed……….My filly lets me catch her, loves to be petted and rubbed on, she turns into me, picks up her front feet for me, will lead on a leadrope anywhere I go, and will soon be coming home. Yesterday was the first time my friend got a halter on her two. They are still very guarded with front legs sprawled out. They let my friend pet their face and neck, but sometimes erupt unpredictably. They will only pivot on lead, but won't take a step on their own. For days, my friend and I take her babies with me holding the lead rope and my friend getting a lasso around their rumps. We both pull, telling each, in turn, to take a step. Her little filly digs in deeper, grunts, and moans like a woman in heavy labor. Finally, when she can no longer pull against us, she lunges forward at us, leaping into the air then begins bucking to get the lasso off her rump. If my filly were acting this way, I would be afraid of her. I would give up……..But, unlike my twins, my friend's twins are coming right along…….How is it that I haven’t given up on mine yet? What possesses me to continue? What possesses all of them to not submit? I then asked my friend, "What would you do, if after five years, this was as good as it got with your colt and filly, somewhere in between the first day's nightmare and today's guarded submission? What if, day after day, you saw little-to-no-progress?"

"They would be out of here," she said smiling and continued, "At least I can sell my twins or spank them if I need to."

It was then that the reality of RAD family living really sunk in. We really have earned red badges of courage……..

It is amazing how God will take things from every facet of my life to encourage me and teach me. It builds my faith and shows His love for me. I cannot believe for one minute that this whole story unfolded the way it did by coincidence. I believe it was divine. For now, I have lost the blessings of relationship with my daughter, my foster daughter, and my foster- granddaughter. But, God has blessed me and encouraged me with this new, four-legged little girl who needs me right now.

This experience has taught our friends something, as well. Living with rebellious, angry, resistant young ones has far more impact on someone than it does to try and understand what someone else is going through. I think they have a real good idea now of what life is like for families battling with Reactive Attachment Disorder. So often I've heard people say to us parents, "You are going to have a lot of jewels in your crown when you get to heaven for loving these hard-to-love-kids." That's it!!………That is going to be my filly's name!……Jewel! Her name is Jewel because, in this moment in time, it seems like God plucked one of the jewels out of my crown, placed it

in my hand and said, "Here. Hold onto this while you are down

there. She is to encourage you and remind you that I love you and you are storing your treasures in heaven where moth and rust will not destroy." God is so good. I cannot begin to tell what healing this experience has given to my heart. My prayer is that, in turn, I can be a better mom to my unruly twins. And I hope that when I see my friend leading her young horses around calmly, it will give me hope as well.

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