Nesting

Nesting. Hibernating. Cocooning. Shrinking your world. Stripping your calendar.

If you’ve been around the adoption community for any length of time, you’ve heard terms like these and likely have some working familiarity with the general gist of what they mean. Even if you are brand new to the adoption world and all these terms seem like a foreign language when applied to parenting techniques, your basic grasp of the English language gives you at least a working definition to go by. But one thing I’ve discovered over and over in my interactions is that many folks don’t really know WHY adoptive parent ought to consider cocooning. To be sure, there are quite a few philosophies out there that sufficiently cover the ranges of how strictly one ought to consider pulling back from their normal routine and pace of life. But in my studying, the WHY of each philosophy has one common thread that runs through them.
Adoption comes out of tremendous loss for our children.

It’s a hard truth. A truth that brings me to my figurative knees quite often. A truth that puts the responsibility for bringing the healing and hope of Jesus Christ to that loss squarely on the shoulders of my husband and me. A truth that pushes me to seek resources, support and training that will increase my ability to be used by The Father to see wholeness come to my daughters. That loss is the common thread that drives many families to consider some form of cocooning with their newly adopted child.

In the early days home with both of our girls, I confess that I was far more excited about sharing our beautiful new daughters with the wonderful community that we had built around us. This dyed-in-the-wool extrovert wanted everyone to coo over chubby cheeks and marvel over sweet smiles and sassy personalities with me. “Shrinking our world” felt like serious potential for the kind of cabin-fever about which nightmares are made! But choosing to spend our early days and weeks attending to their adjustment and transition from “orphan” to “daughter,” was my way of honoring the truth of the tremendous losses they were experiencing. In the beautiful but messy process that is adoption, we gained two beautiful daughters. But in that same beautiful messiness, our daughters lost everything familiar to them in their daily lives.

Our home smelled different than their foster homes. We looked different than the ayiis. Our food tasted strange. The language in our home, even our faltering attempts at pre-school level Mandarin, was odd and dissonant to their ears. Every single sense that my daughters have was assaulted with difference for days and weeks on end.  Bigger than that, and long before we came and took them into our family, they lost their first family. Certainly, the exuberant love and joy of welcoming them to our home was evident even in our awareness of their losses. Our hearts were filled with great joy and pride in our older kids’ understanding of this process and their abilities to attach to their new sisters. And yes, the attachments my husband and I formed with each daughter had good strong roots already going deep thanks to wonderful isolated travel-time together in China. But the differences they experienced, the loss these girls had suffered in those early days cannot be minimized.

So, in light of this truth, WHY cocoon? One of my favorite adoption experts, Dawn Davenport of Creating A Family puts it very succinctly:

The idea of “nesting” is to simplify life, settle into a routine, and limit the care of the child to the mom and dad. This is especially important when adopting a child past the newborn stage – in other words, when adopting from foster care or internationally. With adoption, the baby/child’s life has been turned topsy-turvy. The idea of cocooning is to allow life to settle down for the child and parents and to firmly cement in the child’s mind who are mom and dad.

The general gist is to hang close to home for a while: [simplify] life, reduce the number of toys and trips away from home, set up a predictable routine. Generally allow time and space to get to know each other, and to allow the child to learn to trust and rely on her parents. It is the first step in establishing attachment.” Taken from Dawn’s blog.

As Christians, the WHY of cocooning felt a bit weightier even than nesting to simplify. We found that the loss our daughters had experienced was also about the loss of the deep care and nurture that The Creator intends for all the precious lives that He crafts. It was also about the loss of the original plan that He made for them when He looked at them in their mothers’ wombs. His redemptive plan to bring them to our home carried great joy for us but also required great responsibility to serve their little hearts. Hearts that He was entrusting to us for healing and restoration of hope.

The weight of this charge pushed me past the natural tendency I would have had to share my joy with the whole world around me. I put myself on a bit of a leash, if you will, and moved toward focusing on and prioritizing their needs for unconditional love, constancy, structure, and learning that Mommy and Daddy are Forever. That their place in our home is permanent – physically, emotionally, and spiritually. That this family is theirs to rely upon and will be the example of Christ’s healing and hope that their little hearts needed.

Our efforts to cocoon with our girls looked different between our two adoption journeys. How could they not? The adoptions were five years apart. A lot of learning and growing occurred in The Gang’s home in those five years. NOT the least of which was our expanded understanding of the trauma that this loss brings to a little heart and mind. While our methods were very different, the intentions were the same. At first, when bringing home our youngest daughter, our cocooning looked and felt so very different than before. This difference was stressing to me. I was out-of-sorts over trying to make this time resemble the cocooning of five years ago. But after praying about it and finding ways to negotiate our expectations better with our older kids, we found our groove again. A new groove! I found that once the older kids better understood (by both example and years of hearing Mom talk about what she was learning!) the “WHY?” behind cocooning, the easier those negotiations became. It was such a remarkable lesson to me about my heart and its intentions: keeping my motivation for cocooning was paramount. The change in how we implemented it was different but still a healthy out-flow of both that motivation AND our family’s season of life.

So whatever you choose to call it, I strongly urge you to consider some kind of cocooning with your newly adopted child. If you’ve been home for a while now and feel like your attachment to your child could use some re-anchoring, give some thought to temporarily stripping down your family calendar and get intentional about relationship-building time. It’s never too late to adjust your course and hone in on some things that need your time and attention. That’s the gift of parenting, isn’t it? The time and care you put into bringing healing and hope to any of your children is never wasted. His grace and mercy offer us daily do-overs! My favorite Scripture in recent days has been Lamentations 3:22-24:

“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.”

**********************************************
Below are some of my favorite resources that I have shared with friends over the years with regards to cocooning. Enjoy exploring the ideas presented!

“Finding Balance with “Cocooning” Newly Adopted Kids” – http://creatingafamily.org/adoption-category/finding-balance-cocooning-newly-adopted-kids/
“Should Grandparents Be Allowed to Care for a Newly Adopted Child” – http://creatingafamily.org/adoption-category/grandparents-allowed-care-newly-adopted-child/

“Creating Attachment with Your Adopted Child In the First Year” –  http://creatingafamily.org/adoption-category/creating-attachement-with-your-adopted-child-in-the-1st-year/

“How to Be The Village” – http://jenhatmaker.com/blog/2011/11/02/how-to-be-the-village
“After The Airport” – http://jenhatmaker.com/blog/2011/09/06/after-the-airport

And from my own blog:

“Speaking of Attachment, Part 3” (with links embedded for other parts of the series) – http://whitneygang.blogspot.com/2009/12/speaking-of-attachment-part-3.html

“Wow, I’m REALLY Glad That Is Over” (with part two following) – http://whitneygang.blogspot.com/2012/07/wow-im-really-glad-that-is-over.html

“To CSmith” – http://whitneygang.blogspot.com/2013/04/to-csmith.html

________________________________________

 

Tracy WhitneyTracy, aka The Gang’s Momma, has been married to Todd, aka The Boss, for almost 25 years. Together they parent 6 kids (ages almost 21, 19, 16, 13, almost 8, & almost 4).  She is passionate about post-adoptive care and family support. In her downtime, she loves to read, write, cry over weekly episodes of Call The Midwife, and share a good cup of coffee with a friend. A confirmed extrovert, Tracy has met her match in their youngest daughter for both strength of will and love of socializing. Parenting her two youngest who came home through China’s special needs program is definitely the most challenging thing she’s ever done (between attachment issues & some complicated medical needs), but she’s trusting the Lord to use it all to make her a stronger, better mommy. (At least that’s what she tells herself over her 2nd or 3rd giant Tigger mug full of coffee almost every day!)  You can find the (very!) occasional musings of the momma at www.whitneygang.blogspot.com.

 

_________________________________________

We’re building the nest this month!

Head right on over HERE to find out more and learn about the 40+ businesses that support adoption and the work of The Sparrow Fund!

Moments – Two Weeks

It turns out, I was right in feeling {unprepared} for all that the last two weeks have held for this gang.  Until you’ve lived through something like this, there’s really no way you can fully prepare for the experience.  EVEN if you have the most awesome support network of “been there done that” mommas sharing their experiences and advice.  EVEN if you have an amazing crowd of friends and family praying you through and supporting you practically and emotionally.  Which, I am so grateful to say, I do.  But still. {unprepared} I was.

I’m not gonna lie.  These last two weeks since Mei Mei’s surgery have been hard.  The day of the surgery, frankly, was likely the easiest of the days that we had while IN the hospital. ( We waited. She slept.  And oddly, I only felt momentary flashes of nervous anxiety over her care or well-being. SO. SO. grateful for that.) 

And just this past Saturday we finally experienced the easiest day-into-overnight since we returned home from our four day stay.  In between those good days, we’ve crammed all kinds of hard moments.  Sleepless nights.  Night terrors.  Temper tantrums.  Pain management gone awry.  Lost patience.  Ugly behavior.  And not all of it was Mei Mei.

But in between those good days, we’ve also crammed a lot of really great moments.  Those are the moments on which I am (sometimes hourly) choosing to focus.  Those are the moments that the Lord uses to swing my eyes back to HIM and HIS perfect plan for Mei Mei.  For our family.  It’s an act of discipline, this choosing to focus.  Especially at this time of year.

Mei Mei got the honor of placing the first ornament
on her first-ever Christmas tree. Yes, I cried.

I could (and am sorely tempted to) stress over the anger and aggression that comes bubbling up out of her in those difficult moments.  I could keep looking at that “holiday To Do list” that isn’t getting smaller any time soon and despair of ever finishing it in time.  I could sink into the flashing moments of Mommy-guilt and inadequacy, wallowing in the fear that I’m not meeting the needs of the other gang members, in the every day and in the fervor of the holiday.  I could, I could, I could. And really, I’ve struggled NOT to.

But then there are these other moments.  These moments when HE comes to me and whispers to my heart. S nippets of Scripture memorized as a child.  Refrains of songs and hymns buried deep in my heart.  I’ve said it before but it bears repeating. In these moments, I am so incredibly grateful for parents who trained me in The Word.  Who taught me to seek His face in good and in bad moments.  Who encouraged me and lived out the example that joy comes NOT in the circumstances but in the confidence and security of being HIS CHOSEN CHILD.  It has carried me well in these last two weeks.

First cookie decorating party ever! Not sure how much icing went on the cookies.
Last year, only 3 of our kids were home for this tradition.
This year, The Gang was ALL here. Yes, I cried.

I am convinced, in all of these moments, both hard and healing, that the prayers of the Body of Christ carried us.  I am convinced that His Word is powerful and full of Truth that rises above the difficult moments.  I am convinced, now more than ever, that HE HAS CHOSEN ME for this time.  For this child.  For even in those moments where I feel like I’m failing miserably at all of it, He speaks to me.  In those moments when I wonder if my inadequate and all-too human response to my daughter’s broken-ness is doing more damage than good, He offers me HIS response.
It’s those moments when I get the second wind to go just a little deeper into her heart.  It’s those moments when I get a fresh fire to escort her to the healing He has for her.  Those moments, even the hardest of moments, I remember that they are just that: moments.  By definition, moments (both hard and exultant) are fleeting. He is not. He holds those moments.  Each and every one of them.

________________________________________

tracyTracy, aka The Gang’s Momma, has been married to Todd, aka The Boss, for almost 24 years. Together they parent 6 kids (ages 19, 18, 14, 12, 6 & 2 ½).  She loves to read, write, cry over weekly episodes of Parenthood, and share a good cup of coffee with a friend. A confirmed extrovert, Tracy has met her match in their newest daughter for both strength of will and love of socializing. While parenting her two youngest who came home through China’s special needs program is definitely the most challenging thing she’s ever done (between attachment issues & some complicated medical needs), the Lord is also using it to make her a stronger, better mommy. (At least that’s what she tells herself over her 2nd or 3rd giant Tigger mug full of coffee almost every day!)  You can find the occasional musings of the momma at www.whitneygang.blogspot.com.

 

An Unwelcome House Guest

It’s been pretty quiet here in my little corner of the blogosphere. I know. We’ve been in a hard season with things. This season has been exhausting. Frustrating. Desperate. Isolating. Painful. Exhausting. Draining. The pace of our household has hardly relented in deference to the hard season. It couldn’t.
 
I can tell you exactly when it started.
Let me tell you the story.
In early December, Trauma came to visit. He snuck into the house, bringing Control, Anxiety, and Fear with him. They are the kind of house guest that rolls into your pretty little guest room unannounced. The kind of house guest that brings his unpleasant friends stowed away in his suitcase before you can even process that his suitcase has been tossed on your guest bed. On the good linens no less. They are the kind of house guest the adage speaks of: “Company and fish start to stink after three days.”
Let me tell you, it stunk way sooner than three days.
It seems as if Mei Mei’s first surgery brought Trauma out of hiding. It’s totally understandable and we knew to expect it from lots of previous experiences – Trauma lurks in those hospitals for lots of kids. Kids from great, loving, nurturing beginnings. Kids from hard places. Kids with serious sicknesses. Kids with simple playground accidents. But it really feels like he was waiting for her in that room. Hiding under that oh-so-institutional crib cage. Hovering under the ugly, rough blankets.
Worse, he felt it necessary to follow her home from the hospital. He toyed with her, making a game of randomly waking her. He got his buddy to help. Fear clutched at her throat. Trauma whipped Control into a frenzy of raging tantrums over peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that weren’t cut “just so.” He’d whisper in Anxiety’s ear a teensy little musing, thus starting the “Telephone Game” of insecurities repeated and grossly warped beyond recognition by the time they got to my girl’s ear. It took us a few weeks of muscling through our own sleep deprivation and the dirty laundry of these unwelcome guests to figure out that they thought they were here to stay.
When the awareness took root that these weren’t visitors, but squatters, The Boss and I dug into our bag of spiritual warfare tactics and started making things very uncomfortable for these intruders. It’s been hard work, this remediation of the damage they sought to inflict. It’s taken all of our energies. Certain Fruits of the Spirit have gotten extra work-outs, through the muddle of sleep deprivation.

{Really, moms, isn’t the irregular sort of sleep deprivation the worst kind of all? I think I could probably get used to 4-5 hours of sleep if that was the new norm. But 8 hours, then 4, then 6 then 4 again? Oh.MY.WORD.}

Scripture is being spoken, sung, hummed, and prayed. The new rocking chair is logging many, many miles. Old hymns of Truth and Promise are being called to mind, used as lullabies, even if the verses are mixed up and tunes are badly mangled. The security and anchor of The Word that my folks encouraged me to memorize and sink deeply into my heart as a young believer are pouring out when I’m too tired to coherently put together my own prayer.
Practical things had to be tended to, to aid the eviction of the unwanted tenants. So January was spent re-establishing household routines and my beloved systems.(Gasp! Yes, even I was shocked at how long it took me to get back on that bandwagon I so love!) I grocery shopped multiple times between snow storms. I baked and cooked whenever the snow dumped on us, and we were snowed in. Menu planning, preparation of the daily dinner, and laundry days all were re-instituted. Many days those tasks were literally ALL that I could handle. But handle them I did. Anxiety had no choice but to pipe down in the wake of the loud, proud boasting of permanence and structure that our return to routines gave. I much prefer when Security and Confidence hang out with my gang, don’t you?
February was focused on establishing some kind of social schedule for the little extroverted Mei Mei and her extrovert momma. Too many unstructured days staying home all day gave Trauma and Control way too much freedom to wreak their havoc. Play dates here at home and busy mornings out to do our errands made way for Joy, Cooperation, and Peace to hang out with us. It continues to amaze to me just HOW much of an extrovert this little girl is!
And while we aren’t certain that Trauma has left the building just yet, we do feel as if he’s recognized that his days are numbered. When he slinks off into the darkness and muck from whence he came, he will have no choice but to pack up his traveling mates with him. The foundation upon which we have built our home has made Trauma’s stay an uncomfortable one and he’s learning that we cannot, WILL NOT co-habitate with him.
Since our name is on the mortgage, he’s the one that’s got to go.

________________________________________

tracyTracy, aka The Gang’s Momma, has been married to Todd, aka The Boss, for almost 24 years. Together they parent 6 kids (ages 19, 18, 14, 12, 6 & 2 ½).  She loves to read, write, cry over weekly episodes of Parenthood, and share a good cup of coffee with a friend. A confirmed extrovert, Tracy has met her match in their newest daughter for both strength of will and love of socializing. While parenting her two youngest who came home through China’s special needs program is definitely the most challenging thing she’s ever done (between attachment issues & some complicated medical needs), the Lord is also using it to make her a stronger, better mommy. (At least that’s what she tells herself over her 2nd or 3rd giant Tigger mug full of coffee almost every day!)  You can find the occasional musings of the momma at www.whitneygang.blogspot.com.

 

The Scar

I was washing Li’l Empress’ face the other day after a particularly messy bout with a “peeder budder and jelly sammich.” I took an extra breath of a moment to study her face, lingering over her deep, bottomless black-brown eyes and her sweet little rosebud lips. And the scar just under her lower lip. The scar that halts my admiration of her beauty and her sweetness every time I notice it anew. The scar that reminds me just how different parenting this child of mine really is.

You see, this particular scar doesn’t fit with all the other little tiny scars that dot her face and torso. Those scars tell me the tale of a nasty case of chicken pox while she still lived in China. They remind me of my own experiences with pitiful little patches of drying and crusting skin. I have quite a few similar scars of my own. I can empathize with her misery. Those scars make me sad for her itchy, feverish days in someone else’s care but they don’t really evoke any other response. They feel common. Normal.

But this scar? This scar is very different to me.

In pure physical appearance, it looks different. Not much larger than the chicken pox marks, it is noticeable for the way it interrupts her lower lip just ever so slightly. It’s whiter. Longer. Jagged. I can easily assign it to a nasty fall. Or maybe a tumble down the stairs. After all, I do have five kids. We’ve had our fair share of bumps, bruises, and split lips. And my girl is really physical. It’s not a hard conclusion to reach, with very little “connecting the dots” necessary. On the surface.

But underneath that simple conclusion? There is nothing simple about it. Its physical appearance lends itself to contemplation of its origins. And that, my friend, is where it feels so very important. So markedly different for me.

What happened to split that pretty little lip?

Who held you when you cried?

Did you feel reassured and comforted?

Is that the first big boo-boo you ever experienced?

Did the blood from that cut make you freak out as you do now?

Is THAT where that comes from?

And so many more… so. many. more. questions. Questions on top of questions. Questions that lead me to more questions.

I stop that train of thought in its tracks. Screeching halt, throwing the brake till smoke billows. I can almost taste the acrid smoke as I swallow and change the course of that train that wants to barrel on ahead, down the tracks.

Because that train is going nowhere good. Nowhere because these are the questions to which I will never have any real answers. I will likely never know definitive conclusions to my mother’s-heart questions. That’s the hard part, isn’t it? The part that is so incredibly different about parenting this girl of mine. That’s one of the risks, the unknowns, that we take on when we sign up for this thing called adoption.

You see, each of my older kids have scars. I know that the little orzo-shaped scar under Shaggy’s eye is from the headboard that fell on his head. I remember praising the Lord for His protection that night, that the rails of the headboard missed his nose, grazing his cheekbone instead.

I can see the scars on Baby BlueEyes’ lower lip and instantly remember the pain and fear we all struggled through that awful summer day. I know the heart-scars that that experience left behind.

Because no matter how old they are or how tall they tower over me, I was there from.the.very.beginning. There for each of those little life experiences that scarred my precious ones. I remember it all, in my momma’s heart, in many ways as if it were yesterday. A momma doesn’t forget, does she?

So I stop that train. And change the tracks. Change my thoughts. I go down a different railroad all together. I turn my train of thought to gratitude.

Thanking the Lord for the care she did receive.

Praising Him for protecting her, from the worst outcomes

of things like chicken pox and falls.

Honoring the Maker who created those pretty little rosebud lips.

Glorifying The Father that knew her and held her

before I even knew her, preparing her heart for mine.

And I take that extra breath of a moment to go back to her deep and bottomless black-brown eyes. I kiss those lips, taking care to plant my kiss on the scar. And I tell her again that I love her. In my heart, I whisper that I love the scar, too.

________________________________________

Tracy Whitney

Tracy Whitney blogs over at

The Sparrow Fund
124 Third Avenue
Phoenixville PA 19460
Email Us
Copyright 2024 The Sparrow Fund. All rights reserved.
An approved 501(c)(3) charitable nonprofit organization.