I've been reading lately. I've read quite a bit about adoption {shocking, I know}.
I've read things from people in the throngs of all that comes with bringing their adoptive children home, people stewing over whether or not they should take the first steps to begin the process, people who are in the midst of fundraiser after fundraiser trying to do everything they can to get that "fundraiser thermometer" to climb, people who are on the referral list and on edge daily waiting for that call or email, people who are deep-breathing over the pending interviews and home inspection...people in every stage of this thing we call the "adoption journey".
One thing I've found again and again is confirmation.
I've found that it's not just us, but this adoption thing is hard. H.a.r.d. Hard.
Every part, every stage brings its challenges and distresses in some form.
International. Domestic. Infant. Toddler. Older children. Sibling groups.
There is no escaping the hard parts for most families.
We have a child with Autism. We know lots of other families who have children on the spectrum. Yet, we all have a very different picture from one another even though each family unit is affected by the same disability. Most families I know, despite the differences, have all experienced very similar pain, grief, confusion, and heartbreak at one time or other.
My assumptions regarding adoption are much the same.
Clear differences. Common themes.
I'm finding it to be true as I read. I watch one person's honesty minister to the heart of another time and time again as they share their adoption journey ~ the realities some are afraid to share.
While they vary, one thing they share is the h.a.r.d. stuff:
*This waiting without any information is very painful and I even struggled with several very depressing days. It is emotionally draining to have your heart half-way around the world.
*There is a popular saying that 'No news is good news.' While I can see how that would be true in many situations, when it comes to adoption, no news is not good news most of the time.
*It wasn't until about a year ago that I truly began enjoying being a momma on a consistent basis. Before that, it felt like a ton of work. With sprinkles of rainbows thrown in to give me hope.
*We did the very best we could in order to prepare for the worst, even while optimistically thinking that our “worst”wouldn’t be as bad as all that, and we would strategically use our preparedness to plough through the difficult phase and then we would be fine. We read books, talked to other adoptive families and counselors, and did on-line research. Our extended family was supportive. But it was way harder than we expected. I cannot look back over the collection of heartbreaks that we’ve accumulated in the past four years without feeling like I’ve been walloped in the stomach with a fence post. It makes my head spin and sucks the breath right out of my body. The storm has blown in and it has been stronger and more violent than we ever imagined it could be.
*…beyond the adorable smiles and sweet photos, we are in the trenches. Many times there are emotional reactions that seem extreme. While we know he’s safe and that food is available, he does not always know that. While we know he can sleep peacefully and doesn’t need to be awake, he does not. I’m battling with exhaustion I am empty. I am dry. I am emotionally drained and now unsure how to refill.
*And another truth--it doesn't always get easier. And love can be a LONG process. And those stages??? They keep happening. Over and over again. We're nine years down the road of international adoption. And my heart keeps getting ripped out just like it did the day we stood in court and told a judge we'd love that boy better and forever. Is it worth it? Absolutely.
*There is screaming, kicking, hysterical hysterics. There is wailing and tantrums and full-out meltdowns. This is sorrow and loss and fear and trauma; it is visceral. It is devastating. You and your spouse are haunted, unshowered, unhinged, unmoored. You stare into each other’s eyes, begging the other one to fix this: What have we done? What are we doing? What are we going to do?
*...don't feel like you've failed or you're starting all over if in another six months, you suddenly find yourself wrestling a screaming kid for two hours again-- you aren't starting over. You've made progress! Everyone has. But kids that endured YEARS of suffering/abuse/neglect/poverty/whatever It was will also take YEARS to heal...
~ M
{to be continued...}
I've read things from people in the throngs of all that comes with bringing their adoptive children home, people stewing over whether or not they should take the first steps to begin the process, people who are in the midst of fundraiser after fundraiser trying to do everything they can to get that "fundraiser thermometer" to climb, people who are on the referral list and on edge daily waiting for that call or email, people who are deep-breathing over the pending interviews and home inspection...people in every stage of this thing we call the "adoption journey".
One thing I've found again and again is confirmation.
I've found that it's not just us, but this adoption thing is hard. H.a.r.d. Hard.
Every part, every stage brings its challenges and distresses in some form.
International. Domestic. Infant. Toddler. Older children. Sibling groups.
There is no escaping the hard parts for most families.
We have a child with Autism. We know lots of other families who have children on the spectrum. Yet, we all have a very different picture from one another even though each family unit is affected by the same disability. Most families I know, despite the differences, have all experienced very similar pain, grief, confusion, and heartbreak at one time or other.
My assumptions regarding adoption are much the same.
Clear differences. Common themes.
I'm finding it to be true as I read. I watch one person's honesty minister to the heart of another time and time again as they share their adoption journey ~ the realities some are afraid to share.
While they vary, one thing they share is the h.a.r.d. stuff:
*This waiting without any information is very painful and I even struggled with several very depressing days. It is emotionally draining to have your heart half-way around the world.
*There is a popular saying that 'No news is good news.' While I can see how that would be true in many situations, when it comes to adoption, no news is not good news most of the time.
*It wasn't until about a year ago that I truly began enjoying being a momma on a consistent basis. Before that, it felt like a ton of work. With sprinkles of rainbows thrown in to give me hope.
*We did the very best we could in order to prepare for the worst, even while optimistically thinking that our “worst”wouldn’t be as bad as all that, and we would strategically use our preparedness to plough through the difficult phase and then we would be fine. We read books, talked to other adoptive families and counselors, and did on-line research. Our extended family was supportive. But it was way harder than we expected. I cannot look back over the collection of heartbreaks that we’ve accumulated in the past four years without feeling like I’ve been walloped in the stomach with a fence post. It makes my head spin and sucks the breath right out of my body. The storm has blown in and it has been stronger and more violent than we ever imagined it could be.
*…beyond the adorable smiles and sweet photos, we are in the trenches. Many times there are emotional reactions that seem extreme. While we know he’s safe and that food is available, he does not always know that. While we know he can sleep peacefully and doesn’t need to be awake, he does not. I’m battling with exhaustion I am empty. I am dry. I am emotionally drained and now unsure how to refill.
*And another truth--it doesn't always get easier. And love can be a LONG process. And those stages??? They keep happening. Over and over again. We're nine years down the road of international adoption. And my heart keeps getting ripped out just like it did the day we stood in court and told a judge we'd love that boy better and forever. Is it worth it? Absolutely.
*There is screaming, kicking, hysterical hysterics. There is wailing and tantrums and full-out meltdowns. This is sorrow and loss and fear and trauma; it is visceral. It is devastating. You and your spouse are haunted, unshowered, unhinged, unmoored. You stare into each other’s eyes, begging the other one to fix this: What have we done? What are we doing? What are we going to do?
*...don't feel like you've failed or you're starting all over if in another six months, you suddenly find yourself wrestling a screaming kid for two hours again-- you aren't starting over. You've made progress! Everyone has. But kids that endured YEARS of suffering/abuse/neglect/poverty/whatever It was will also take YEARS to heal...
~ M
{to be continued...}