Author: Lisa Barry

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Mine

If you had been mine from the beginning, I would have cried tears of joy as soon as I knew you were growing inside me.

If you had been mine from the beginning, Daddy and I would have stayed up late at night dreaming about you: who you would be, what you would look like, who you would become. I would have sung lullabies to you, and Daddy would have read books to my tummy as I rocked gently in my rocking chair.

If you had been mine from the beginning, Daddy and I would have walked through the baby store, hand in hand, making plans for you. I would have been so proud of my big baby belly, and thrilled with each tiny kick from inside. As the time grew closer for you to come, we would have been so excited; we hardly would have been able to wait to meet you.

If you had been mine from the beginning, Daddy would have held my hand, lovingly urging me on as I struggled to bring you into the world. Your first cry would have filled us with a joy like no other, and I would have cried happy tears as I held you in my arms for the first time. Recognizing my voice, you would have looked up at me with your beautiful, trusting brown eyes…

…and you would have known instantly that I would love you forever.

If you had been mine from the beginning, I would have held you close to my heart: nursing you, covering your downy baby head with millions of tiny kisses, marvelling at all your perfect little fingers and toes. I would have held you for hours, drinking in your warmth and your sweet baby smell.

If you had been mine from the beginning, your new-baby cry would have broken my heart. I would have spent hours soothing you, if you needed to be soothed. I would have rocked you and held you and changed you and fed you and burped you and kissed your sweet baby face another billion times.

If you had been mine from the beginning, I would have spent hours looking into your darling face. I would have cooed at you and smiled at you, and Daddy and I would have gazed down at you with love in our eyes, and we would have celebrated those first little sounds that you made…and every little thing you did after. When you rolled over, sat up by yourself, clapped your chubby hands, spoke your first words, took your first steps…we would have been right there cheering you on.

If you had been mine from the beginning, I would have kept you with me always. I would have made up a gazillion silly little songs to animate our days together, and I would have read books to you and dressed you up and put tiny little bows in your hair. As you grew, I would have taught you your numbers and your colors and your ABCs, and I would have pushed you on the swings at the park. You would have laughed and squealed in delight, and looked at me with your beautiful, chocolate brown eyes…

…and you would have known that Mama would love you forever.

If you had been mine from the beginning, you would never have worried that someday, you might be abandoned. You wouldn’t, deep down, think that you’re worthless and unlovable.

If you had been mine from the beginning, you wouldn’t feel the need to control everything. You wouldn’t be so full of anger and fear and you wouldn’t have the need to fight against me and Daddy and against everything we ask you to do.

If you had been mine from the beginning, things would have been so much easier for you…and for me…and for our family. You would have been a happy, care-free child. You would have let the adults worry about adult things, and you would have spent all your energy on simply being a child.

If you had been mine from the beginning, you would trust me, and you would trust my decisions.

You would trust that I’ll love you forever, no matter what.

It’s been a tough day, huh, kiddo?
It was the kind of day that makes me cry out to God, asking Him to take away the suffering I see in your heart. The suffering that’s in my heart, too. I wish life could be easier for us, and especially for you, dear one.

But I know you’re going to make it.
We’re going to make it.
I believe in you, and I believe in us.
We’re fighters, you and me.

Oh, girl. How I wish you had been mine from the beginning.

No matter how many days like today we have, no matter what you do or how angry I am or how horrible you feel, I promise you…I’m so thankful that you’re mine now.

Mama loves you, Butterfly.
And I’ll love you forever…no matter what.

___________________________

Lisa-300x250
Lisa Barry

I’m married to a man that makes me laugh so hard that I usually end up in tears. He was saved four years into our marriage, and then we turned our union over to God and His plans. God took our offer and blessed it with four children in two years (two through the U.S. foster care system and two through good old-fashioned baby-making), and has since given us two more little biological sons, now 2 years and 3 months old. If anyone’s keeping track, that’s six children in seven years. Did I mention I’m insane? No seriously, God is good. He’s gently leading me down the paths of mothering, partnering with my incredible hubby, dealing personally with impulsive ADHD, homeschooling, and helping our adopted kids overcome Reactive Attachment Disorder. I’ve got a lot to learn, and most days I wonder how God could possibly love me with the absolute abandon that He does. I’m so thankful and so blessed, and I write about raising RAD kids, my family, and my lifelong journey of Overcoming Myself. Feel free to visit, but don’t expect perfection…the only good in me comes from Him.

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Broken Little Child

He threw a rage at the hospital tonight. A big one. He kicked and screamed and threw a chair at the receptionist. His super-human fury-driven strength required five men to contain, an empty “time-out” room, a bed with restraints, a “burrito wrap,” and some emergency medications. And somehow, he still managed to spit on people, hit, and slap the doctor across the face.

Of course, we’ve seen this sort of thing before. Many times. At home. We aren’t surprised by his actions, just surprised that he finally lost control enough to show this very real side of himself to other people…the same people he’s been trying to convince that he’s perfectly compliant and well-mannered. He wants them to believe that this is our problem and not his.

We stand by the truth. We are not, have never been, and never will be perfect parents, but the responsibility for the behavior our son chooses does not belong to us. It belongs to him and him alone. The responsibility for the trauma that caused his brain to work the way it does also does not belong to us. It belongs to another set of parents that failed him many years ago.

And yet, I concede to my son’s way of thinking on at least one point. Although not in the area of responsibility, this problem does belong to us as well as to him.

Because we love him.

Tonight, as I was putting our other kids to bed, Miss M, who is our troubled son’s biological sister and who is currently winning a long battle with an attachment disorder, got really serious.

“Mom, why did you adopt us if it was going to be so hard?”

“Girlie, we’ve talked about this before. Everything that’s worth doing- everything really important – is hard.”

“Do you wish you could change it?”

“Sweetie, I would never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever go back and not adopt you, because then you wouldn’t be my daughter.”

I walked over to her bunk bed, reached up, cupped her head in my hands, and planted a few kisses right in the middle of her forehead. Those big brown eyes as dark as chocolate were sparkling with genuine joy as my voice filled with tears and I said to her,

“You are mine. Forever and ever, you are mine. No matter how hard things get, you are my girl. Forever.”

“I love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too. Now go to sleep!”

There was a time, less than two years ago, when I no longer had any idea what I was fighting for. When I felt like giving up. There was a time when that same little girl that hungers so much for her Mama’s love and approval couldn’t get through the day without throwing a tantrum about something, without hitting or biting or screaming, couldn’t let her guard down long enough to show us the real Miss M that she kept hidden inside.

There was a time when all things felt hopeless, when every thought of our daughter brought on panic and despair, when constant talk of her dominated our marriage, and when we couldn’t see God working through all the pain and anger and frustration.

There was a time when I couldn’t see the scared, broken little girl underneath all that spewing hatred; the little girl that I now love with all my heart.

I am convinced that there is a terrified, broken little child inside every traumatized, angry, unattached child.

Inside my son.

It’s that thought that allows me to feel sorrow for him tonight, in an out-of-control rage against people that he doesn’t know and have done nothing to him. How scared and panicked and all alone that little child inside must feel! And as silly as it sounds, he’s never been without my husband and me when he’s been in one of his rages. Does he care? Does he feel abandoned? Does he even notice?

I know God is working in this situation. I don’t know how yet, but I do know that when all seemed lost with Miss M, He showed up in amazing ways…in His own time. He’s healing my daughter. He’s changing who I am. He’s strengthening my marriage and my faith and my family, and best of all, He’s reminded me what – who – I am fighting for.

That scared, broken little boy or girl inside every traumatized child is His precious child. Not ours, but His…created beautifully and wonderfully in His image and for His glory.

And they are people worth fighting for.

_____________________________________

Lisa Barry

I’m married to a man that makes me laugh so hard that I usually end up in tears. He was saved four years into our marriage, and then we turned our union over to God and His plans. God took our offer and blessed it with four children in two years (two through the foster care system and two through good old-fashioned baby-making), and then (surprise!) gave us another little biological squirt three years later. If you did the math, that’s five children in five years. Did I mention I’m insane? No seriously, God is good. He’s gently leading me down the paths of mothering, partnering with my incredible, Godly husband, dealing personally with impulsive ADHD, homeschooling, and helping our adopted kids overcome Attachment Disorders. I’ve got a long way to go, and most days I wonder how God could possibly love me with the absolute abandon that He does. I’m so thankful. I’m so blessed. I write about my life and my journey to overcome the worst of myself. Feel free to visit, but don’t expect perfection…the only good in me comes from Him.

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