Category Archives: Doubt

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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Thanking God for a Dead Car Battery

And here’s part 3…

Last night, after more than nine hours in the waiting room and finding out that L was apparently still in triage, we left the hospital for a change of scenery (and I’m not gonna lie, a change in beverage). After dinner we came back to the hotel feeling frustrated by all the red-tape keeping us from being with L or even communicating with her, wondering if she had been able to eat and how she was feeling. Our emotions were fried and feeling such a lack of control made me want to crawl in a hole and not come out until it was over. I can admit now, the frazzled frustrated look on Chris’ face for the last several hours of waiting stole my heart away. He was a bit of a disaster with dark circles under his eyes, pacing the hall between the area we’re loosely calling a waiting room and nursery. Seeing the pain of a father, desperately wanting his child, filled my heart with emotions from all parts of the spectrum.

After dinner we walked back to the hotel defeated, showered, put on pajamas, crawled into bed and searched through channels for some form of mindless entertainment.  We were just about to hit the lights….

“I’m gonna run back up there” Chris said, already grabbing our keys and his wallet.

I closed both my eyes tight against the lamp light I was desperately trying to escape. “To the hospital?”

“Yeah. I would just feel better.”

Earlier we discussed our gut-feeling, based on the day we’d had, they wouldnt’ call us if he were born after hours. He suggested I stay at the hotel since my emotions were a little over-easy and I’d already found my comfy spot in bed.

“I’ll just run up there and call you if there’s anything going on. I’m just doing this to make myself feel better before I go to sleep”

I agreed and fell fast asleep.

The next thing I know, I hear this loud BANG! I jump up out of bed to see Chris’ shadow against the bathroom light.

“GET UP! GET DRESSED! You need to come meet your son.”

I swear I could see his heart beating right through his shirt.

Confused, I looked around and remember who I was and what I was doing in a hotel room.”Wha– ARE YOU SERIOUS?! WHAT?! WHAT TIME IS IT? WHAT HAPPENED?!”

Y’all should have seen me. I practically fell out of the bed, one foot hung in the twisted sheet. With one hand reaching for my glasses and the other for my shoes, I was still asking questions and leaving no room for answers.

“Here. Look.” Chris turned his phone towards me and I can not believe my eyes. There was nothing at all about that moment that felt like real life. Not mine, anyway. How could I ever deserve such an amazing moment? But, there he was; all hunched over with a mop of black hair, his face sitting in the hands of a nurse dressed in blue scrubs. I continued to hop around the hotel room with one shoe on and one in my hand, grabbing things I thought I’d need, and then putting them all back. Finally, I got that second shoe on, grabbed my purse and we ran down the hotel hallway, out the lobby to the car and Chris drove like a crazy-man down the block to the hospital.

We stood at the nursery window and stared at him through the glass for what seemed like an eternity. I just couldn’t believe how perfect he seemed. How can anything be so perfect?

 

When we finally got to see him in person, I was amazed at his size. He was so small. It wasn’t until we were sitting alone in a room with him in our arms that Chris told me what happened.

When he left the hotel room, he realized the battery on our car had died. After finding someone to jump the car for him, he was able to get the car over to Auto Zone to recharge the battery. Unfortunately, it was totally dead so he ended up having to replace it with a new one in the parking lot. An hour and a half later, he made his way to the hospital, five minutes from the hotel. When he walked up to the nursery window, Eli was still being cleaned up from being born twenty minutes before.

If our car battery hadn’t died, it’s likely we wouldn’t have even met him that night.

I’ve been absolutely amazed at how our prayers have been answered. We didn’t have to meet our son that night. But, we (and most of you) begged God for it anyway. Holding our son, I really understood that God is more than a distant being who does what’s best for the greater good. I was reminded that He isn’t uninvolved. He looks us in the eye and, when it’s good, wants to give us the desires of our heart just like a parent wants to give their child the same. And through a dead car battery and a dad desperate to meet his child, He delivered us the greatest gift either of us has ever received.

Needless to say, we’re completely head-over-heels in love with this little guy.

 

 

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Tug-of-war

Ever since we found out the baby is a boy, chose a name and met the baby’s parents- my heart has been filling right up. Each day this past week has been better than the last, and it’s been months since I’ve been able to say that. I’m not sure I’ve ever lied so much about how I’m doing so it’s been really nice to at least feel like an honest person.

There was no nodding-and-smiling, for lack of knowing how to actually respond to people comparing this waiting to “every pregnancy” because I never had to explain myself. Friday was so awesome my face could have exploded y’all. And just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, I had a letter from the baby’s mom and an ultrasound picture waiting in my mail box.

Our. very. first. picture.

After I stared at his little face for what felt like an hour. I sent it to the hub’s phone.

Then, to my parents…Then, to two of my best friends…Then, to Chris’ parents.

Then, it went on our fridge.

Several hours later…I realized how very very wrong I was. It hit me like a ton of bricks.

This sweet boy, isn’t ours yet. And we’ve been acting like he is.

We’ve shared more details with a handful of our close friends than we intended, because we needed people to talk to. And I can’t undo that. But, I’m not sure I want to. But, I feel like I should want to. Selfishly, there have been days when I needed to see a friend look back at me and really see how scary this is and not just take my word for it. Selfishly. And then, I want to celebrate with those friends when we have good news because holy-geeze we’ve been so down-in-the-dumps or freaked-out waiting on one tiny piece of information that it’s necessary to put them out of their misery too.

So is it better to say nothing? To deal with this alone because it’s someone else’s private life involved? Probably.

Because their privacy trumps my needs.

And so I’m sick to my stomach. Because I don’t know what the right thing is. All I can do is be honest, handle my emotions a little better and start over tomorrow.

So, I will continue preparing for him,  calling him by the name we’ve chosen and writing him letters. But, I’ve repositioned my heart this weekend and acknowledged that he isn’t our son yet. We hope he will be. But at this moment, he belongs to someone else.

 

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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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Five Hours Ago

Today, I decided I couldn’t do this kid thing. I sat at my desk, with a lump in my throat, totally convinced (Okay, maybe ninety-two percent convinced) that I could not be responsible for tiny human being. I could not mother. I couldn’t trust God to provide.And I wanted to blame all of this on my husband.

I swallowed the lump and tears, wondering how I would explain this change of heart to everyone. Perhaps, change of mind is a better term. Oh, my heart still wanted. I just felt like believed I couldn’t.

That was five hours ago.

I got half a step inside my bedroom after work tonight, sat on the floor, and began putting my worries where they belong. I am still sitting here-overwhelmed by the way God loves and provides.

This week has been an incredible display of how He can fill the gaps if we trust Him to do so. Today was no different.

I am trying to understand how He loves. I am trying but I’m at a loss. I just know that He does.

(and yes, I’m still doing this “kid thing”)

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