Staying Above Water

What is it like to feel like you’re drowning?  It is slow and fast at the same time.  It is surreal, almost like you can see outside yourself, know what is happening to you and have little to no control over it. Your internal dialogue consists of trying to convince yourself that if you just calm or just swim you could get to safer waters.  You know how to swim, you tell yourself all the steps  to get out of the danger but nothing you do seems to work.  In fact doing anything seems to drag you further down. To scream for help only invites more water into your already exhausted lungs.  Signalling for help feels like it draws away energy you need to stay above water.  Despite attempting to signal for help the people on shore who may see you don’t understand you are struggling, it does not look like trouble from shore.  When someone does see you and starts their own swim out to help you it feels like they may not make it in time.  In your mind you fear for their lives knowing they could be swimming toward their own danger.  At the same time you know without their help you may not make it back to shore.

This is not a metaphor for walking the path of parenting a traumatized child…..and it is.  I truly did have a terrifying experience of near drowning in the lake this summer. I am ever grateful for two of my teenage sons and sister in law who heard my quiet calls for help and swam to support me back to shore.  Without their courage and love I may not have been able to stay above the water for much longer.  We will all be affected for a long time. At the same time it fits so closely to what I have experienced and continue to experience as a parent of a child with relational trauma (early neglect and disrupted attachments).

Knowing how to parent from a place of security and understanding may keep a parent above water longer but even the most skilled swimmer gets exhausted.   You can be taken by surprise to find you have drifted into deeper waters.  What once seemed manageable because feet could find bottom after each wave suddenly becomes a struggle when you have lost that stability.  Catching your breath after each wave is no longer an option.  Sometimes you are left holding your breath knowing the next wave is coming quicker than you can recover.  Parenting a child who is unable to regulate their emotions, a child who rages or shuts down, a child who pushes you away or clings so tight they can’t let go is very much like trying to stay afloat in rough waters.

It is easy to think that all children face these issues at times, and most likely they do.  Parenting any child comes with it’s challenges.  Imagine though, and I really could never until I lived it, that your child pushes you away at almost every turn. Not the irritating kind of behaviours that make us want to maybe not be a parent sometimes but true rejection.  Create a picture of living with near constant opposition and defiance, violent outbursts verbally or physically that seem to be about random things like not wanting the snack you prepared.  Live in a world where your child seems to behave to challenge you to believe about them what they believe about themselves; they are worthless.

Parent a child who pushes you to your outmost edge of patience, pushes you off the edge and then turns to you in such dire and desperate need for your love and empathy in the exact moment that you feel ready to give up.  They cling to you when you feel like you have already given your very last drop of energy.   And then do it all again an hour later.


Like coming close to drowning, parenting a child with a trauma history can be something you have to experience to really get it.  Supporting people, professionals, family members can educate themselves, they can witness and be there to hold your hand or give you new suggestions. They can watch from the shore or even be wading in the water waiting to help you.  Living this day by day, hour by hour is something that needs to be experienced to grasp the intensity of the emotions, and the exhaustion.  As solid as their advice is or as reasonable as their strategies may seem, trying to employ them while you are gasping for breath each and every day is wearying.  

Finding a Groove

The joy has come.  Three years into parenting our daughter I have found a groove in loving her.  I have loved her all along though it has grown and evolved.  What I am proclaiming is that the joy in loving her is mine at last. This past year I stopped focusing on when I would find that joy and focused on trying to be a place of joy for her.

                                                

Learning to accept where we were together at present rather than where we may be or more specifically may never get to has been crucial.  And of course having a safe place and people to cry and express the pain with.  I cannot stress enough the importance of a supportive adoption circle.

I did not wake up one morning to realize I had arrived. It was much more gradual.  As spring unfolded so did our connection.  A set of grandparents parked in a trailer in our yard, a completed backyard pool oasis, and a vacation with just my husband and I may have also encouraged us along a little.

Our days are not blissful, they are real.  They are still filled with rages (hers not mine), tears (hers not mine), and defiance (a bit of both of us).  Laughter, hugs, and cuddles can also find their way into our time.  The life we have chosen is one that allows for slow paces and light schedules.

Words From A Wise Young Man

"If you are self-conscious about your past, you will be blind to your future", says our 12 year old son one day out of the blue as I pick him up from his music lessons.  What wise words, and a wonderful conversation starter.  He didn't know that on that day, and in that moment, I needed to hear those words.  Or maybe he did. 

No being on this earth has left my head spinning like our beautiful, outstanding daughter.  My journey with her has brought me to my worst and made me find the best in myself.  We are only 3 years in on this wild ride so I am sure there is more to come. 

Last week was a particularly challenging week in our home.  The wee guy we had been fostering for 5 months was returned to the care of his mother.  This was outstanding news.  We were thrilled for his family.  We had all been advocating hard for his move back home.  However, it was a loss on another level.  He and our daughter had grown close over those months, making the change for her significant.  She was no doubt ready for him to go home, to have our schedule return and gain more of my time again.  It also meant revisiting a few memories of her own. 

Aside from losing a person in her life she was most likely faced with the task of dealing with memories of other losses over the years.  I can't know this for sure but her behaviour surely began showing signs of her stress and my mama instinct is pretty certain I was reading it right.  Things quickly began to regress.  It felt as though we were spiraling backward on progress.   It was easy for me to begin to feel helpless as I watched her and experienced the affects of her lash outs.  It was very easy to focus on how challenging her outbursts were previously and feel like they had never gone away; very easy to forget the progress we had made over the last year. 

Like the sun breaking through the clouds as the spring pushes out the dark days of winter our beautiful little girl began to emerge again.  I could see it happening but I wasn't ready to let go of the edge of the boat that I had felt sure was sinking beneath me.  It was not easy for me to let go and enjoy her.  I was still stuck in panic mode, wondering if the next step was going to be a breaking point and we would be out of control again.

Hearing the wonderful words from our youngest son immediately made me realize that if I couldn't let go of the rough moments with her I would never be able to fully enjoy the good moments.  Granted, those moments are not just regular rough moments, they are intense beyond what I could have ever imagined as an experienced parent.   Because of how hard they are the beautiful times are just that much more amazing....if I let them be.

Be in a Place of Support

I pull into the parking lot already wiping the tears from my eyes.  It takes a moment for me to decide if I am going to turn off the ignition or turn right around and head back home.   Taking a deep breath I force myself to head through the doors.  Already sitting around the table are the familiar faces who have seen my most awful and painful tears, and a few new faces. 


I feel tense but uplifted by the smiles and welcomes. The veteran foster mother/ fellow adoptive parent who has been a much needed shoulder to weep on more than a few times over the last year, the warm friendly mother who is struggling through parenting her adopted teen but has been such an inspiration to me, the adoption professional who has seen me at my worst and still seems to have hope for me all make me glad I walked through the door.

My adoption support circle. I was not aware of how important it would be in my life.  Sometimes parenting a child who has been adopted is just like parenting a child who grew within you, sometimes it is entirely not the same.  The entirely not the same is what you need to be able to talk to about with other parents who have been "there" or understand how you are feeling standing "there".  They are most likely the very few who will understand when you express your regret over adopting.  They usually know that you are not horrible for thinking your family might now be in a healthier place if the adoption had never occurred.  They know that condemning does nothing and just listening means the world. 


Your adoption support circle may look different than mine.  Do you need to be supported by other transracial adoption families, open adoption families, trauma related adoption families, private adoption families.....?  It is possible that in this moment you do not feel the need to be supported at all. Can you possibly be that ear or shoulder for someone else? Making those connections now could go a long way in a few weeks, months, years. 


No matter how you parent or who you parent be in a place of support.

I can be the joy

Waiting for joy to come may take forever.  

I truly believe that the parents who proclaim the joy their child brings are being authentic. I know what it is to feel the joy children can bring, having loved mothering our three boys.  Many parents who have adopted do not struggle with finding the joy their child brings to their lives.  It is wonderful to know that it does happen. 

I am no longer waiting for the joy to happen. I am going to make the joy; I am going be the joy.   It is not for my daughter to bring me joy in life but for me to be available to be joyful for her.  Ultimately for all my children I would like to be that place they know as safe, loving and solid.

Since I am not a perfect mother I do not always show my happy face.  I can guarantee that when she has had her 5th melt down in a morning during a week of difficult mornings I will not be the portrait of grace I aspire to be.  I will try to be a happy feature in our home, most times. 

"Joy is a net of love, by which you can catch souls" ` Mother Theresa

Will the joy come?

We are so thankful for the bundle of joy that has been gifted to us.  We feel blessed to have such a joy in our lives.  We are grateful, in awe, touched.....

This is not real for me.  I have felt overwhelming guilt and a sense of failure because I cannot in truth shout this out on facebook, to the world or anywhere else.  I am envious of the parents who have come to adoption and feel this sense of joy.  Often I have wondered if something was wrong with me that I am not experiencing this same elation. 

It is hard for me to read the sweet memes on social media that proclaim a love for the child as they were placed in their arms, the place they secured in their parents' heart the first time they laid eyes on their photo, the joy adoption has brought to their family.  I wonder to myself if  there is any other parent out there who has experienced adoptive parenting like I have.  It is lonely.

Sharing this openly I have fear that one day our daughter will read it and know that loving her came with a lot of work.  Will she feel rejected, hurt, angry?  How will it affect her to know that parenting her was challenging and learning to love her was not immediate?

It is not all doom and gloom.  She has made me laugh everyday since the day we met her.  I have loved cuddling her in bed and nursing her in my lap.  There is a comfort in the smile that spreads across her face when she sees me.  Maybe I am not failing completely.

Most recently I have had some realizations that have helped me see this experience in a different way.  We began fostering a baby this fall.  He is a sweet sweet baby and is loved deeply and well by his family   He faced no neglect and has a fantastic attachment to his mother and grandparents.  He had a loving start to life.  He has been taught that he will be taken care of, his needs will be met and that the world is a place to be trusted.  He, like most babies, instinctively pulls in those around him with the appropriate smiles, cuddles and care eliciting behaviours.  It was easy to fall for this baby. 

His first year of life was in stark contrast to that of our daughter's.  She learned early that loving care was not something that was guaranteed.  Her attachment with her mother was disorganized and unhealthy.  The world was not a safe place that she could grow and develop in.  Because of this she did not develop the behaviours that babies normally have to draw people in.  Instead she was on high alert.  She didn't have the time or ability to let her guard down. 

Caring for our foster baby led me to an ah-ha moment.  I was struggling with my daughter not because I was not able to love her but because the normal cueing that goes on between child and caregiver was not happening.  This is in no way the fault of my daughter, but was also no longer my fault.  I was not a horrible mother.

I am not at the point of proclaiming my joy to the world.   Parenting her has been hard, loving her has not come easy.  I cannot erase the challenges of the past two years.  But I can forgive myself.  I can move forward with my new perspective and continue to try to find a new love for mothering.  And I know I am not the only adoptive parent who feels this way.





 

All you need is love...

....and patience and understanding and empathy and maturity and an authentic understanding of the loss your child has faced.

Fantastic children's literature on adoption is beginning to find ways to bookshelves.  Todd Parr's "We Belong Together" is a colourful book that provides images of all types of families in adoption.  I very much enjoy reading this book to our children.  I enjoy it until I get to the very last page where it reads "all you need is love in your heart".  I can't seem to read that out loud.  I very strongly feel that LOVE is not all you need as a family in the adoption world.

Love does not cut it alone.  It is crucial and certainly makes things a lot harder when it is not there but it is not the recipe for success or even a reason to adopt.   Many parents find that parenting a child they have adopted will pull on so many of their skills or be the reason they search out new skills.  You can love a child with all your heart but it does not and will not take away or erase the pain from their history.  Your love will not replace the pain that they may not even be able to verbalize.

To believe that if you give a child enough love they will love you back can be the beginning of a painful journey.  It can be disheartening for a parent to learn that no matter how much love they share for their child, that the same love may not be returned.  Even when your love is returned and your connection with your child is deep love is not enough.   When love is in place without empathy and understanding of the loss your child faced when they were separated from their birth parent or the loss their birth family feels it does not honour your child for who he/she is.  Love without the maturity to accept that you are not your child's only parent does not respect your child's being.

Love can move us to do better for our children, to learn more about how to parent them, to be accepting and honour their birth family connections or their origins.  Love can give us the patience when new feelings arise as they begin to question their beginning in life or their place in the world.  Love can be an anchor or a jumping off point.  Love is not all you need, it is a part of a diverse set of tools, skills and emotions to offer children who have been adopted.