The most emotionally painful loss I have faced has been the death of my grandmother. She was and is “who I want to be when I grow up.” That is the best way I can describe my admiration and love for her. She was strong, physically and emotionally. She believed in God and loved to serve Him. She was always busy, yet always had time for anyone in need.?? As a child I “knew” I was her very favorite grandchild. This of course was not true, but she had this special way of loving that made me feel totally special and adored. If I felt that treasured, I had to be her favorite, right? ??My brother and I spent some time with my grandparents each summer – without our parents. That created many good memories. They would take us for an overnight in their camper at a local lake. Those camping memories are certainly what sparked my desire to camp with my family. In fact, after her death, my dad shared a portion of his inheritance with our family. We used that money to buy our first camper. As an adult, I was lucky enough to live within a few hours of her. Since I was a stay-at-home mom, I was able to visit often. The times I had with her and my children were precious. My grandmother adored children, especially babies. She and my grandpa were both battling cancer when my daughter, Brenna, was born. So, it was extremely important to me to bring my baby to visit as soon as possible after her birth. I will never forget my dear Grandma sitting on the floor at the age of 81, in the midst of battling cancer, eagerly struggling with the buckles on my infant daughter’s car seat. I had brought the baby into the house first and then went back to the vehicle to unload my older three children. Waiting for me to unstrap the baby would have taken too long, so my determined Grandma got down on the floor to get to her newest great-granddaughter.?? As my grandma
Each week seems to bring about a new surprise in the grief and attachment area. Pei seems to be grieving a bit this past week. No trigger, just a bit sad and far away.
It is in the midst of our after-dinner routine that Pei decides to have a meltdown. I really do not think much about it. She is two and occasionally will cry and call my name . . . repeatedly. So, I lean down and ask her what is wrong. And, that is when it happened. She pulled away from me while she was still calling momma.
OUCH!
At that point I realized it was her foster mom that she was calling for not me.
I would be lying if I said that it did not hurt a little bit, but it was like a lightbulb went on in my head. She has done so well with us that I really thought that she was moving past the grief.
But I was wrong.
Since we have been home from China, we have not shown her any photos of her foster family. I thought that we should wait a bit and let her settle in a bit more. So, after this, I decided it was time. I cannot even begin to imagine what is going on in her little mind and heart. The only momma that she has ever know and loved was there one day and gone the next.
So, the next day, I pull up a photo of Pei and her foster mom. I think I held my breath until I saw her reaction. She looked at it and smiled. So, I am thinking, “Okay, you can breath now!” I pointed at Pei and said “Who is that?” and she said “Pei Pei.” Next , I pointed to the foster momma and said “Who is that?” and she answered “Momma”.
[Insert a sigh ]
I have to say it felt like someone had kicked the air out of me. But, worse than that, my heart just broke for her.
So, then I pointed to my chest and said “Who am I?” At that very moment, that little girl came over to me and wrapped her arms around my legs and sweetly said “My Momma.”
[insert a really happy sigh]
So, there you have it. My beautiful daughter has three mommas.
She has her birth mother who held and loved her for 4 days before she picked a place to leave her where she knew she would be found.
Next, she has her foster mom in China who was not afraid to love Pei, knowing that she too would have to give her away. But, despite that, she loved and cared for her like her mother.
And last, she has me, her final and forever momma. I am the one who gets to reap the benefits and sacrifices of the first two mommas. I get the greatest gift of all – Pei as my forever daughter.
So, one day, when she asks about her life story, I will tell her that she was so special that God gave her three mommas to love her.
As we sat down for Thanksgiving dinner this year, I could not help but think back to last year. When we awoke on Thanksgiving day 2009, we received an email that we had received our preapproval for Pei. Along with that PA, we received some updated photos. I honestly was scared to death! It was so real at that point; we truly had found our little girl.
Now, that same little girl is sitting right beside me. I cannot help but watch her and think how last year, I could only dream about her. Now, she is sitting as close as she can possibly get to me, meowing like a baby kitty. I cannot help but feel so thankful that my baby girl is finally home.
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Nicole Settle
In 2008, we walked into an orphanage in Russia, and our lives were forever changed. The blessing that adoption has brought to our lives is amazing. As Ava spent her first birthday in a Russian hospital, a beautiful baby girl was born in China and destined to be our daughter. In August 2010, we became a family of six!
I was browsing blogs Sunday night and came across a post from a mom who is waiting to bring home her child. She talked about a recent training and how there had been so much “scare” info – things that they might well expect for their adopted child…..
struggles with attachment
struggles with school
struggles with siblings
struggles with self-image
struggles with health issues
and on and on.
I went right on down the list and was able to check off every single one.
Before we adopted – even while we were in process and I was reading everything I could find – I still had the notion that the only really “scary” issue that might come out of our adoption would be a RAD diagnosis. I read stories of families struggling with RAD and believed that it would be the rarity and that I didn’t need to educate myself too much because chances are we wouldn’t need it. It would only be those really traumatized kids who would be at risk – abused, witnessing war, living alone on the streets, etc. Our kids – coming from African orphanages (where I let myself believe that kids were cuddled and doted on and hugged and rocked and carried) would be at low risk.
Wrong. First, they aren’t low risk – trauma is trauma, and my kids have experienced plenty. Second, RAD isn’t all there is. There is definitely the rest of the list to consider. And, RAD isn’t just RAD – it’s on an attachment continuum. No adopted child comes home “attached” to his new parents, and there is no way to anticipate how far or how fast they might move forward on that continuum.
And this is what it looks like…
My daughter – who probably had one of the easiest “adjustments” of the children I know still melts down about once every six weeks – this weekend, dissolving into a rage that lasted an hour. This is the kind of rage that she really can’t even seem to see or hear through. She seems to lose all of her faculties and can only rage until she’s spent.
My son still can’t hug me without being reminded to “put your arms around me and squeeze” except on the rare occasion when he is copying a sibling or performing. I do get genuine hugs here and there – about one every six weeks. Last night, I did the “put your arms around me and squeeze” routine while he held himself stiff as a board and then he trotted over and gave dad a real hug.
My daughter will always struggle with learning. It will never come easy to her, and she’ll arrive at each stage three to four years later than a typical child. She is about to turn nine and is just starting to read four-letter-words. She has just started to count by 5’s (which we have been working on for about 18 months now).
My son has impulse control issues that spike with any change in environment, with any anticipaton of change in environment, with any extra environmental stimuli. He loses the ability to thoughtfully maintain control of his mouth and body. And, it is work to get that control back.
My daughter still sneaks food on occasion (but not any longer in the middle of the night, as far as we can tell).
My son considers himself on equal footing with me and resents being parented.
My daughter has had three years of speech therapy and still cannot form full sentences or articulate clearly.
My son couldn’t name one child that he’d spent over two years living in an orphanage with. No special friend. No sweet baby. Not one name. It still takes him a couple of months before he can name kids in his class.
And on and on.
And, it’s all completely explainable and understandable. And, it still gets under my skin all the time. And, I still have to self-talk every day. And, I still fail all of the time. And, I still fall into the trap of thinking that these are behaviors that they are “choosing.”
I sometimes forget in the moment (or long stretches of moments) that their neurological development was hindered and interrupted and that the ramifications of that are life-long. We can parent therapeutically; we can do our best with nutritional helps; we can read; we can educate others; we can anticipate bumps and prepare ourselves; and, we can see improvement. We can even forget for a few days here and there that there are any struggles. But, the underlying issues are there.
When we reached Avi’s one-year Happy Home Day, I cried. A month later, I had my first prescription for anti-depressants. I had thought we just needed to give ourselves a year for things to “settle.” While I was crying, Greg said “we need four years – he needs as long with us as he had before us.” And, it’s true. Each year has brought significant progress in his comfortability with family life. Our relationship and our days are far easier than they were at that one year mark. We have more strategies in place. We generally know when things are “off” and what we can do to help get back on track. But, it is still hard work – subtle work but constant. I still do it wrong so much of the time. And, I now know that four years isn’t the mark. Getting him into an adulthood where he can experience healthy relationships is the goal. And, I know it’s a long road to get there.
I love adoption. I love seeing waiting children join families. It’s really my passion. But, I know that it can be a hard, hard road. And, I know that it takes years of commitment and work. I know that it changes the shape of a family. It changes the shape of a mom (and I’m not just talking about my twelve Avi pounds which are finally gone!).
But, I also know that the work and committment aren’t wasted. Avi may always struggle with relationships. He may always be uneasy if he isn’t controlling every situation. He may never want to hug his mom. But, it is so clear to us that Avi would not have entered adulthood with anything even close to the ability to form relationships without being in a family.
And, everyday, I get to see the areas where we have moved forward, where we have grown, where we are successful.
It’s not wasted work. It’s slow progress. It’s uphill. It’s wearying. It’s life-changing. It’s soul-challenging. But not, not, not wasted.
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Jennifer Isaac
Jennifer Isaac lives in Colorado with her husband and four children, two of whom were adopted from African countries, both with medical needs. She is passionate about medical needs adoption and runs From HIV to Home, a nonprofit that aims to provide education and support to families adopting children with HIV. She blogs here.
A few months after bringing Matthew home from Korea, I began my search. After a while, I thought that things were supposed to be perfect between us, and they weren
Raising a child from birth to adulthood seems like a cycle of teaching attachment and then teaching how to let go. First, you try to get a newborn to attach to a breast for feeding then after a few months, a few years for some, you ween them off of the breast and onto a bottle. The process starts all over again. Attach to the bottle then ween to a sippy cup and so on. Just think about it: we use things to comfort and nourish and soothe our children just so later on we can teach them that they will have to grow up and move on from them. A blankie, a pacifier, a crib, a toy, a home, etc. It’s a cycle of teaching them to attach and let go because that is what life is all about.
Well, parenting an adopted child feels completely opposite of that to me. I feel like I am having to parent backwards. Instead of teaching Jaydn to attach and let go, I am trying to teach her to let go and attach, let go of her defense mechanisms and the tools she has been using to survive her almost animalistic institutionalized life up until now and attach to us at the heart level, let go of her fears of abandonment and sense of self-sufficiency and attach to us, her loving family who she can trust and feel safe with because we aren’t going anywhere.
It is really hard to parent this way after years of doing it the other way. Call me selfish, but I enjoy the times when Jaxon and Jovie are playing in the other room while I do my quiet time or dishes or whatever I need to do for a little while. I have taught them to trust a babysitter or a Sunday school teacher so that Nathan and I can have a date, or I can enjoy worship with our church body. Teaching even toddler-aged kids to let go has its perks! But, parenting backwards is a conscious sacrifice of those perks. With Jaydn on my lap 24/7, I can only catch bits of the sermon between feeding her crackers or keeping an eye on her as she destroys my notes with a pen. Nathan and I don’t go on dates. Dishes, quiet times, and whatever else I need to do will just have to wait until she is asleep at night. And, to be honest, by then, I’m too tired, so it simply doesn’t get done.
Another example is last night. We went to a worship and music ministry party. We couldn’t get a babysitter because it’s too early in Jaydn’s development to leave her with anyone else so Nathan and I drove separately just in case I would need to leave because of the kids. So, as Nathan wandered around meeting and greeting people he will be working so closely with in the coming years, I sat on a couch with a 40lb 2-year-old squishing my face at an almost painful strength, knotting my hair with her forceful fingers, and then jerking herself backwards at random times with brut force almost breaking my arms as I attempt to catch her each time. A sweet new friend offered to watch her for a minute while I ventured to the chocolate fountain, and I jumped at the chance. “OH! YES! Kid freedom!,” I thought to myself. I returned from the other room a few minutes later, knowing I wasn’t really “supposed” to do that, but Lord knows I needed it (both the break and the chocolate-covered fruit). Then, it was back to my lap she came. I kept thinking about how the other two kids were upstairs, entertaining themselves, and what a gift that truly had become to me as one tired mommy. I went upstairs to join them and sat on the floor while Jaydn would get up long enough to grab a toy and then plop onto my lap again. The process of her seeing me as different than every other woman in the room is an arduous one.
Please know that I am not complaining. Actually, I am learning out loud. I am learning how to parent someone who has no experiential reason to trust/love me. I am learning how to walk through every painful door of her self-sufficiency and place Christ’s redemption story there. I am not Jaydn’s mommy because I had to be. I chose this role out of obedience to God’s command through Scripture. So, as in all things I experience in my life where I feel ill-equipped and unable, I believe that God has placed me here to be more reliant on Him. I know He can parent forwards, backwards, upwards, downwards, sideways and upside down–He is The Everlasting Father. My prayer is that through all of this, He will also teach me how to let go (and let God) and teach Jaydn how to attach.
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Bethany Gaddis
I have been married going on 8 years to a worship pastor, a rock star, and the most involved and intentional dad I have ever seen! Together, we have the privilege of parenting three amazing children (Jaxon- 5 1/2, Jovie, 2 1/2, and Jaydn 2). Jaydn recently came to us through adoption from Uganda, Africa. We just moved to Little Rock, Arkansas, but I am a west coast girl at heart. I enjoy photography, adventure recreation, and teaching high-school students about the most important decision they could ever make: to follow Jesus.
I’m very happy to hear from you and receive your pictures. I love all the toys you send to me. Thank you Mum and Dad. Hope to see you soon as possible. I’ve been working hard with English. When we meet each other, we can make simple conversation.I hope to get a electronic dictionary which can help me to study English easily. I’ve been dreaming of becoming a member of your family and start a new life in the States. In the end, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
Miss all of you, Mum, Dad, Brothers, Sisters.
I can’t even begin to tell you all the emotions I am feeling right now. The idea of this beautiful teenager living in my home. My daughter, who we don’t know. But, there is something about this adoption that goes beyond my understanding. The Lord bound us together; this is His plan.
I’m not foolish. I understand all the risks, all the issues that can occur. But, I see a joy in her that I did not see before. The first photos we saw early spring 2009, when we were still waiting for Asher to come home. She
I heard a quote from Wrestling With an Angel: A Story of Love, Disablity and the Lessons of Grace. It went something like this, “I often hear people saying that God will never give me more than I can handle. But, this is not true. God often gives us more than we can handle. Alone. He will allow trials of all kinds in order to draw us to depend on Him.” It occurs to me too that trying times by definition are difficult by the mere fact that our strength and abilities come up short. We are brought to our knees. We are forced to rest at His feet and cry out that we are totally unable to handle this…alone. Only by His strength and the Truths we rest on and in will we be made strong enough to handle the curves of life.
I am standing today as a living testimony to this truth. After falling into the deep dark pit in which I found myself after our children came home, completely overwhelmed and overcome by the circumstances, I had no personal strength to draw from. There was nothing there. Even my reserves were tapped, and it was weeks, months of prayer and pleading (wrestling with an Angel) before I began the process of standing upright and strong in Him. I”ve said it before, and you know it”s true, just as I did, but adoption is hard work, harder than I ever thought it would be.
It”s also true that His mercies are new every morning and His strength is a renewing one. It”s more than a little scary to say but, in a way, in a singular way, I can honestly say that I”ve arrived. It took a year before I was the mother I thought my children would come home to, and it”s been another 5 months before I can say that I am standing strong and I really love those kids. It”s not that I didn”t love them before, for I can honestly say that I did love them. I loved them before I knew them. I loved them the moment I met them. I chose to continue loving them, over and over I chose, when things were really tough. But, truly, I think I wasn”t capable of really loving them until now. It”s visceral now. Not just a decision or something I knew in my head. My heart is now in the game, and it”s good. Really good.
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Leslee Matthews
California native transplanted to Texas and loving it. Married to the man of my dreams for 18 years. Together, we have two homemade children fondly known as Big Fish 14 and Tuck Tuck 12 and three Ethiopian made: Lady-Bug and Twinkles, both 8 1/2 and Scout 7. Our adoption journey is miraculous. Our children came home to us in June of 2009, and, although the road has been bumpy, we wouldn”t change a thing and we are growing more and more in love everyday! You can follow their story here.
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When we reach 200 followers, there will be a giveaway for one lucky follower.
In the six months that our daughter Grace has been home from China, she has continued to bond beautifully with my husband, son, and me, in particular. Whenever she is sad, frustrated, scared, or lonely, she doesn’t hesitate one second to call out for me or run into my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck in a tight hug, and I thank God for the special priviledge of being able to reassure or cheer up my baby girl by simply holding her or looking into her eyes. While Grace can definitely be clingy at times, I am grateful she has bonded so well to her immediate family and grown enough in her security to begin branching out in acceptance of and affection for others.
But even with this incredible progress, moments of grief still occasionally surface. And during those (now rare) times, nothing I do seems to help. Such a moment happened yesterday during Grace’s nap. While she normally gets out of her bed and comes to find me if she feels scared or insecure, she woke up screaming and crying in bed. She was crying out for “Mommy,” but my face and embrace brought no comfort. In fact, they brought more anguish. Grace pushed me away, arched her back, pumped her fists, and screamed with agonizing cries of anger and deep sadness for at least 10 minutes before she would even let me touch her. All of these things are expressions of trauma and grief. And, given that Grace is such a strong and happy little girl, I sometimes forget what huge changes she endured in the first 16 months of her life. I sometimes forget that she was torn from a home and a foster family that she had grown to love for 10 months. When she cried out for “Mommy” yesterday and yet seemed even more agitated to see my face, I wondered if maybe she had dreamed about her foster mom. Consciously, she may not even remember China. But, she’s not so far removed from that part of her life that images would not surface during the mind’s vulnerable state of slumber.
There are typically triggers for regression in sleep, night terrors, grief, etc. If you have adopted or are planning to adopt, keep these in mind so you won’t be caught off guard (as I was yesterday):
changes in routine
overstimulation
separation from parents
introduction of new activities or experiences
stressful circumstances like hospital visits or doctor’s appointments that may trigger preadoption memories
Grace experienced four of these factors over the last few days, so I’m not sure which one is to blame. Probably the combination of them all! The mind works in mysterious ways, so a child may respond very positively to a new experience and not be conscious of the effect on his or her brain. (You’ll find more details on this in adoption/attachment books.) So for example, I took Grace to Disney’s Princess Wishes on Ice. She had a blast! But, it was the largest crowd she’d ever seen. Add on the lights, music, skaters, and her beloved Mickey Mouse in “real life,” and her brain may have begun working overtime to process the excitement and stimulation of it all. Often, the brain copes as if it were under stress, and regressive behaviors or responses can result. The show may not have been at all what led to her naptime disruption, but I had to remind myself of the triggers so I don’t combine so many potential factors in the future as I mistakenly did this past week.
Truthfully, I hope Grace’s mind does hold onto a few images or memories from her life in China. It will eventually help her as she struggles to understand and build her identity. I can’t imagine having the first 16 months of my life be a black void… no pictures, no stories, no details of babyhood. But, it breaks this mommy’s heart to see her daughter wrestle with grief. Some comfort comes from knowing Grace feels loved. I feel certain she loves me. And, I am sure she sometimes misses her foster mother, even if it’s through vague and implicit memories. Moments like we had yesterday are very normal for adopted children. But, I pray everyday that the Lord will fill the dark areas in her mind and heart with light and redemptive love. And I hope she continues to dream.
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Kelley Brown
Kelley is a stay-at-home-mom living in Birmingham, Alabama with her husband Scott and their two toddlers (who are 10 months apart!). Carter is their miracle baby and biological son born in January 2008. Their daughter, Virginia Grace, was born in November 2008 and brought home from China through the miracle of adoption in April 2010. They are anxiously waiting to adopt and bring home their newest daughter, Caroline Liyun (age 11), from China in late spring of 2011. Kelley and Scott also have six babies in Heaven, lost through miscarriages, who never made it into their arms. Having finished seminary right before Carter’s birth, Kelley is now enjoying motherhood, freelance writing, and a bible teaching/speaking ministry for women. She enjoys documenting the trials and joys of family building, adoption, parenting, food allergies, and walking with the Lord on her blog
. It went something like this, “I often hear people saying that God will never give me more than I can handle. But, this is not true. God often gives us more than we can handle. Alone. He will allow trials of all kinds in order to draw us to depend on Him.” It occurs to me too that trying times by definition are difficult by the mere fact that our strength and abilities come up short. We are brought to our knees. We are forced to rest at His feet and cry out that we are totally unable to handle this…alone. Only by His strength and the Truths we rest on and in will we be made strong enough to handle the curves of life.
