Category Archives: Anxiety

Illness and Injury

Today’s open adoption bloggers round table is about illness and injury in adoption. Initially, I didn’t think I’d be able to weigh in on the topic considering our son is only two and a half months old and hasn’t really been sick or injured (I’m not sure that I can count his girlfriend stepping on this head at this week’s play-date as an injury). And it’s possible that this round table discussion will be a bit of a mystery to some, but that’s why I want to write about it.

In adoption, particularly a situation where there is communication with the first family of a child who is adopted, there can be an extra layer of complication added when your child is sick or injured (and I’m throwing in developmental delays and special circumstances similar, as well).

Guilt, insecurity and shame can hover over the relationship with your child’s biological family if your child was injured over something that was technically “under your control” (say a broken arm from falling off a bed or perhaps something even more serious like a car accident). When I write it out, in black and white, it seems silly. Logically, we know that kids just get hurt. Every parent expects it at some point. And although when you adopt a child, he is yours and you are his, sometimes there are other people to consider as well. If you haven’t adopted, just imagine the emotions that might well up if a child entrusted to your care by someone else fell and busted his lip open or knocked out a tooth under your provision. Imagine making the phone call that you’re headed to the emergency room or cringing as you wait for her parents to get a look at the missing tooth or giant knot on her forehead.

You would apologize profusely.

It’s likely you might say “I’m so sorry…I just feel terrible…”. And it’s likely that you would feel terrible. For a while.

Okay, so multiply that by ten and you may get close to what it can feel like, at least in the beginning of an open adoption, when this happens. Adoptive parents have been put through the ringer and taken steps that most biological parents will never have to take in order to parent. There were times during the adoption process when we felt like we were trying to prove we were capable to parent. We did this over and over again for two years- switching agencies three times. And it’s not over yet. Every month we meet with a social worker who writes a report to send to our agency. Every month we have a form to fill out on E’s development to send to the agency. It seems like the harder we’ve worked to be “ready to parent” in the eyes of someone else, the harder the fall into the realty that we are not perfect parents*.

This guilt and insecurity can certainly rise up in an adoptive parent even outside of an open relationship with the child’s first family. When you’ve crossed the bridges that must be crossed to get to an adoptive child, there is a desperation to protect them. I’m not saying that biological parents aren’t desperate to protect their children. I’m just saying that it can make some of us a tad more protective than someone who hasn’t had to fight as hard to bring a child into their family. I would imagine these emotions might be similar for a mom who endured (or barely survived) a very difficult pregnancy or previously lost children.

The other side of this coin is there are legitimate reasons to be more protective with children who are adopted than most biological children, at least when you first bring them into your family. This is true for infants, older children, domestically adopted,  internationally adopted and seemingly well children. If you’re not surrounded by patient understanding friends and family, this can be a very difficult transition and give way to very deep insecurities about parenting abilities, right on the heels of an emotional, long-awaited homecoming.

There can be anger, resentment and bitterness present if your child struggles with development delays or disorders. Regardless of whether or not these issues are related to the child’s previous environment because of something in the first-parent’s control or out of their control, it is heart-breaking to watch your child struggle. While I’m not yet able to relate to watching my son struggle developmentally, or relate to having a biological child (with developmental delays or disorders), it’s a safe bet anger happens in there at some point. If it’s a biological child, you might blame yourself (although you shouldn’t) wondering if it was something you did during pregnancy. Likewise, if you’ve adopted your child- you may blame his first parent or previous care-taker. The web of emotions can become even more entangled if reasons for delays or disorders were caused by choices. Something totally in first-mom’s control.

I am most certainly positive it takes peace beyond understanding, provided by a God much bigger than us, to let go of anger and resentment over something like that. May God grant any of us struggling with this issue the compassion to love that first-parent as best we can (whether an adoption is open or not).

Since I just spent about ten minutes generalizing, I’ll end this by saying everyone is different. Every situation has it’s unique struggles and rewards. So, I’m not speaking for every adoptive parent or every adoption situation. But, for many of us, there is truth in these words- even if the feelings are momentary and fleeting.

*No adoption agency or social worker expects perfection. But, that doesn’t keep some of us from placing these requirements on ourselves.

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Crunch Time.

Hi friends. Long-time no chat. I have so much to tell you, but I just can’t yet. I have 687 reasons why I can’t. However, I’ll do my best not to waste your time with them. I can tell you, we’ve had some rough days. Chris and I both just have our heads down and are putting one foot in front of the other. As I mentioned the last time I posted 100 years ago, we recently moved into Austin. It was a decision we made over the course of about ummmm….five years (For real. No sarcasm here.) Of course, it became a much more difficult decision with more to weigh when we knew there was a high possibility of a baby on the way. Because of the schedule we’ll have when ‘E’ arrives, we felt even more of an urgency to be closer to our community, jobs and clients. Although it was a bit of a difficult transition for me (still is at the moment) and things didn’t really go as we’d planned- we are so so so glad we bit the bullet. It has been a major lifestyle change for us; we’ve nearly eliminated our fuel bill each month, we see our friends about a gajillion percent more than we did before and we’re building a great community in our new neighborhood already.

So now that we have a few boxes unpacked are are (finally) able to wash our clothes and dishes (long stories), it’s time to buckle down and bring our fundraising to a close. We are just waiting for a phone call that ‘E’ is on his way into the world. I’d be lying if I said it was exciting. To be honest, it’s actually pretty difficult. I’m on edge. I’m trying trying trying to remember who is in charge here. To remember who really began this process and who has brought us this far financially. In the beginning, I saw the mountain of $20,000+ and stepped into adoption really believing there was no way this could happen for us. In my heart, I didn’t believe we were “the kind of people” who God provided for in such huge ways. Shortly after those first thoughts, we received an anonymous check in the mail for $1,000. I sat on my kitchen floor and cried; over my doubt and His grace. So shame on me for freaking out today when I realized we are still $8k away from our fundraising goal, and then for burying my face in my hands when I heard the words “we can’t make the placement unless all the legal fees are paid for…” So yes, I freaked out today. But, I’m in a good better place.

Here’s where you come in. We’re hoping to raise $5k of that $8k in only a few weeks. So, for every person who donates $250 or more to our adoption fund, we’ll gift you a photo session plus 50 professionally processed digital images on DVD from Chris Michael Photo. That’s more than half off our regular investment for a session.

And, everyone who shares this blog post on Facebook and tags either Chris, me or the Chris Michael Photo Facebook Page will get their name in a drawing for another session. You are welcome to use the sessions for yourself or gift them to someone else.

So, what do you say? Will you spread the word? Oh, and if you’d like to make a donation now:







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Never Underestimate The Power of a Gas-Station Icee

Well, now. It sure has been a while.

And holy toledo Batman- the things that have been going on in our hearts these last six weeks are hard to explain right now.

We have been all over the board with our emotions and I have never been so thankful for friends with open hearts and minds to listen and love us well. Never.

Via text message:

Me: I’m having a mini-crisis…can’t think

Friend: Wanna come over? I’m craving an icee and will grab us both one.

And with a frozen tongue I ramble for twenty uninterrupted minutes to a friend who has been giving herself to others all day- pouring out my fears and questions. And we decide together, that things have to look a certain way for Chris and I to have peace about moving forward with any adoption- this one or the ones after it.

Not “certain” in a controlling paranoid-about-adopting way. But “certain” in a trying-to-make-ethical-decisions kind of way. “Certain” in a don’t-become-part-of-the-problem kind of way.

(my vagueness here is purposeful- I apologize if it’s confusing)

We turned my fears over and over, weighing their merit. Deciding they were legitimate, we prayed for a very specific situation.

Friends, God answered this prayer very specifically. Very. Very specifically.

God crumpled our fear and uncertainty like a piece of tissue paper, and tossed it in the trash. Not to say that there aren’t new ones…oh, there are new ones. But, I am amazed at His provision.

And not just over this mid-adoption-crisis. But, the people in our life right now.

This past couple of Wednesday nights at our community group from church, I’ve felt pretty humbled at the big family we’ve been given for this moment in our life. We share food. We teach each other. We are loud (okay- sometimes it’s really too loud). We are struggling. We are finding out the truth of things. We tell inappropriate jokes. We cuddle each other’s babies. We hurt each other and apologize. We sing together. We are everywhere, from here to China. We say the hard things. We go to adult skate night (don’t judge). We drive each other to the airport. We wash each other’s dishes. We use each others washing machines. We share office space. We are protective of each other. We send snarky text messages.  We buy an extra icee when someone has a mini-crisis. These things make us a family.

How dare we be anxious about anything? I mean that in an entirely rhetorical way (even though it’s the truth). We will continue to be, while we try not to be (that’s also just the plain truth).

On another note, my mom gave us the only-in-my-dreams baby carrier a few weeks ago and I’ve been testing it out. Works great.

 

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We Didn’t Dare Say It Out Loud Part II

A couple of weeks ago, I revealed one of our adoption confessions: Our fear of letting a birth-family into our lives. I wrote about all the reasons we were afraid and how we evaded dealing with it. The longer we’re on this journey the more we see that experiences in our lives have given us a unique perspective into the life of the child who comes to our family through adoption.

Honestly, I’ve been afraid to say some of these things on a public forum like this. Through the encouragement of sweet friends (who’ve planted bravery in me with their your-story-is-yours-to-tell pep-talks) I am realizing the importance of sharing this. For myself. For others. For children who are adopted. For children who aren’t.

In the last year or two we’ve heard the same things over and over from professionals and adoptees about the grief that an adopted child will experience at some point in their life. As we listened to their voices release the often misunderstood truth of their experiences, my ear drums would ring and throb as I’d feel the blood in my body drain out and rush back. It all sounded too familiar.

At some point, our child may experience grief over an entire family they don’t know (siblings, aunts, uncles, grandparents etc.), over not looking like Chris and I, over unknown medical or family history and a long list of other little things. It would be ignorant to think that Chris and I would ever be able to fill in all the gaps or totally make up for these losses in their life. Because it’s not just one loss- it’s a million little losses that they’ll encounter as they get older. When I wrapped my mind around this aspect of adoption- that’s when all the blood drained out.

“okay class…take home this paper and bring it back with a drawing of your family tree. Then, we’re going to talk about it…” This was a project that caused a great deal of anxiety in my sixth grade mind. I ultimately took an F on this one. To me, that was better than standing in front of my classmates and explaining that I didn’t know who my biological dad was.

Then there was the time a favorite high school teacher made (what he thought was) a joke about “bastard children” in front of the whole class. He didn’t understand the weight in his words. I know that now.

I didn’t meet my biological dad until I was eighteen years old. Until then, the not-knowing left a blank space that I let the world  and my imagination, fill in. Ultimately, I just knew I wasn’t wanted. None of the details of how or why he wasn’t around would change that underlying truth that became the foundation of my self image. You see, when there’s blank spaces in our lives- when we don’t understand something- we make a way for it to become understandable. We make an effort to put the pieces together. Children are the center of their own universe (as they should be) and so I made sense of my reality- with myself as the center cause of all events as any child does. Over the years, my imagination filled in all the gaps that were left blank. Some of it was terrible and sad. Some of it grandiose and idealistic. But, little of it was truth. So, when I was eighteen and met the stranger who was my dad- my entire reality began to shift. You see, I’d already created who I wanted him to be and I’d written that imaginary man letters, folded them into tight little squares and hidden them away in a shoebox.  I’d already decided he wouldn’t be interested in knowing me. Now, I had to shift all those pieces around. Even my own face became something new to me. I saw him and the next time I looked in the mirror- I almost didn’t recognize myself. And it was all really really really difficult. So difficult that I couldn’t manage our relationship and ultimately had to step back from it entirely. That was in 2003.

Fast forward to 2008 when I made contact with my siblings (thank goodness for social networking). One of the greatest things that has ever happened to me, was meeting my siblings and their mom. They’re wonderful, talented, creative and funny. I have been able to see the best parts of myself more clearly, because of them. My little sister is by far one of my favorite people on the planet.

But, it’s more complicated than that.

Knowing my siblings has also brought me much closer to the pain of never knowing my dad. His absence finds new ways to twist and ache almost every time I’m with them. And the longer I know my siblings, the more I grieve the years we never had together. Every childhood story they share, breaks my heart (and how do you work that into the conversation?)

I have grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins who I’ve never met. Who I don’t know if I’m ready to meet.

When we began this journey of adoption, we viewed it as uncharted territory- and much of it is. But one day we looked down and saw some familiar footprints where we were walking and they were ours.

A friend of mine who fought a battle with cancer, recalled in her book, that she knew she had it before a doctor told her she did because someone at her insurance company accidentally signed her up for extended cancer coverage. Oh, and she really really trusts that God is in control of her life. So she just knew. And she was right.

I just can’t help but believe that God is in control of this and that he signed us up for extended coverage long before we fully understood how much we’d need it. I’ve never been thankful that I didn’t know my biological dad, until now.

“And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose”- Romans 8:28

The worst thing we could do is not make a huge effort to understand the loss from our child’s perspective. To not allow them to express-honestly- how they feel about it as they grow up. To not answer their questions. To not at least consider that it might be beneficial to stay in touch with their birth family.

There is so much grief in the not-knowing, that even the most painful truth, is best. We cannot be threatened by our child’s truth, by where they came from- what message will that send?

Don’t get me wrong; we want to protect our child from anything that could truly be harmful and we want them to have a voice in these decisions. I do know that not every situation or circumstance will lend itself to an open relationship with our birth family. We have no idea what our child’s story will be. But, we want to have all the information we can to fill in the gaps with truth-even if it’s painful.

We don’t have a clue what this will look like. But, this is the story of how God changed our attitude towards having some form of ongoing contact with our child’s birth family.

Oh, and this also had a whole lot to do with it.

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Empowered to Connect Conference | Day One

Truly, I tell you. I feel like my heart has been split open- all its contents laid out on the ground.

As day one of the Empowered to Connect conference came to a close, we zombie-walked to the car feeling raw and tired.

(Right now, I’m questioning if I’m brave enough to write this post in its entirety for you all to read. Honestly, I’m not sure that I can. I have even deleted and retyped that last sentence about five times.)

I have been waiting to hear Dr. Karen Purvis speak since Chris and I missed her at the Together For Adoption Conference a couple of years back. We’ve been anxiously awaiting this day since September. We were thirty minutes early. In Dallas morning traffic. (I know, we shocked ourselves too) We took full advantage of this new arriving-somewhere-early-experience and strolled leisurely into the building sipping our coffee. I must have stepped into some kind of waiting-adoptive-parent-vortex the moment my boots crossed the threshold because the very second my body was in that building the tears came.

Y’all.

We weren’t even at the registration table. Seriously? I thought.

Every time I saw Dr. Purvis, I wanted to hurdle the auditorium chairs, wrap my arms around her neck, kiss her cheek and bawl like a baby out of admiration and gratitude.

Dr. Karen Purvis doesn’t know who the heck I am. But, she’s changing my life. Our life. She also happens to have my dream job and is spectacular at it. Through Dr. Purvis, God is putting together some major pieces in mine and Chris’ life, answering our cries (very specifically) and laying a tremendous foundation for our future children that we are overwhelmed with gratitude to receive.

“It’s human being at it’s most sacred” -Dr. Karen Purvis on the connected environment

But. This has been a long hard day. Honestly, my concern for what other people think of me is the thing that kept me from coming completely unraveled at this conference today. I wiped the tears away, attempting to leave the eyeshadow, mascara and powder untouched and wondered if everyone in the room was doing the same thing I was.

Are we all breathing slow deep breaths, quickly wiping tears and swallowing the lumps in our throats to avoid lookin’ a hot mess and snotting all over one another?

I’m sure the ones with children already in their homes had to feel like falling apart at the seams. I’m sure.

I apologize if this doesn’t make sense to you. I have plans to come back and more fully explain the things we’re learning. In the meantime, here’s a few bullet points from the day:

  • When you {remove the violence}, organic (child/brain) development will begin.
  • When a child feels {safe and connected} they are able to use their words. When they don’t feel safe and connected they are not able to use their words (this has been physiologically proven).
  • There are two stages that MUST be reached/attained before a child can successfully self-regulate their emotions and behaviors. (1) Parent provides external regulation (meaning the child IS NOT responsible and SHOULD NOT be held responsible for regulating their emotions). This means if your child needs something, even if it is to be held, you say ‘yes’. (2) The parent and child co-regulate the child’s emotions and behaviors.
  • The “trajectory” of mental illness begins when a child’s needs are not met the first few years of life.
  • Enter: TBRI or Trust Based Relational Intervention. TBRI involves the mind (correcting), body (empowering) and soul (connecting) and if you are not connecting to your child- NO intervention matters. Nothing will work or help your child until you are connecting with them.

The last two hours of the day, we moved into “Adopting From The Inside Out”. And this was kind-of the beginning of the end for me today.

Making sense of your past and being realistic about the future, you can be freed to be fully present in each and every moment to help your children heal and become all that God has created them to be. -I don’t remember who said this and I didn’t write it down.

They discussed how very important it is to look back at your big and little traumas. Not to dwell. To address it (no, like, for real). Stare it in the face. Make sense of it.

You cannot lead your child to a place of healing if you do not know the way yourself. – Karen Purvis

We discussed the attachment dance between parents and their children, discovering a little bit about where we might fall in our parenting styles (Authoritarian, Neglectful, Permissive or Authoritative). After Dr. Purvis covered the four successful skills to relationships (things we need to be able to model that then become the goals for our children) she ended with some videos of some activities she did with some girls living in residential treatment for self mutilation.

Oh their scars. And my heart officially cracked open and spilled out.

Then, we zombie-walked to the car.

More soon…

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