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.