Post-Adoption Thoughts -- What a Kid!

The media has really had a field day with the news of the woman who sent her 7-year-old son back to Russia. It's a terribly sad story for everyone involved. I have no idea what the family endured, but it sounds horrific. I know that the first month with Teshale was very difficult for me, so I have empathy for anyone who is struggling with a child post-placement. I also have empathy for the children. They have been through great hardships at such a young age -- such loss and rejection. They are thrown into new families in a new place with no preparation and little understanding of what it all means. I had a choice in all of this, so it's easy for me to want to love my son. He on the other hand has had no choice in anything that has happened to him.

We're all warned that the older adopted child might have this issue or that issue, but in my opinion the warning isn't strong enough. I think anyone adopting internationally should be cautioned that with rare exception, every child is going to come home with transitional issues. There should be more support for us. Parent phone networking and books that specifically address attachment with and parenting for children who don't speak any English and therefore can't be reasoned with specifically come to mind. I had no idea what to do with my child who, when having a temper tantrum, would attempt to kick, hit, bite, scratch, and pinch me. There was nothing in the pre-adoption education that specifically told us what to do if this occurred; we were only told it might happen. I remember saying to my husband while we were going through the online courses, "They're telling us everything that won't work in parenting these kids -- when do they get to the part where they tell us what will work?" The pre-adoption education never did.

I reached out for help, and while it was slow in coming, we got there. I learned how to restrain my child so he wasn't able to hurt me when he was furious at the world. As I read adoption books, I learned that I was doing a lot right instinctively, so I felt re-affirmed in my parenting skills and kept at it. Bath time during the day because he loved his bath and it kept him in a better mood longer. I started out doing it for my own sanity, but as it turns out, helping these children regulate their moods and hold on to their good moods for longer and longer periods is exactly what they need.

I learned from my sister that I was chosen to be the recipient of T's anger because he felt safe with me -- that is, he could throw it all at me and I wasn't going to walk away. That helped lessen my frustration. The social worker also told me that I was the stand-in for the person he was really angry with -- his birth mother who left him. Knowing that helped me understand him more and help him walk through the fire he was walking through. There's no walking around the fire of grief -- you have to walk through it to come out on the other side. I know. I've been there.

The first month parenting my child was the hardest month of my life. I've had several highly challenging jobs in my life, and this was by far the most difficult thing I've ever done. Work is going to seem like a picnic now, I think. I tell prospective adoptive parents to expect that.

Two months home and T is the joy of my life. He still has crabby times, but now when he's upset with me, he cries. Sometimes he still raises a fist to me, but he's learning not to do that. He complains when I tell him he has to wear sneakers and not his crocs to school. He cried when I turned the tv off for dinner the other night. He didn't like any of the three shirts I picked out for him to wear this morning. He makes cranky noises when the vitamin that comes out of the bottle is yellow instead of red. (Why do they bother making the yellow ones?) But these days, it seems more like typical toddler behavior than adoption transition issues. He gives me hugs and kisses. He says "I love you Mommy" and "I love you Daddy." He marvels at the flowers that are beginning to bloom in the yard. "Mommy! Fee-lower!" He jumps for joy when I arrive at pre-school to pick him up. We can get so silly we make each other laugh uncontrollably. His laughter is so infectious, he makes complete strangers smile. What a kid! I'm so in awe of my child. I marvel that he's accepted that we're his family. We might as well have moved him to Mars given the difference between where he came from and where he is now, but yet he loves us and finds joy in life. The miracle is that this is the reality for most families and most children. This is what the media should be showing us now, but then again, ordinary and typical isn't news.

I empathize with the family who couldn't make it work with their child -- great hopes and dreams go into adoption. I grieve for the child who has lost yet another family. And I marvel that for most adoptive families, parents learn to love the complete strangers who, with the stroke of a pen become theirs permanently -- no givebacks, and children learn to love the complete strangers who stuff them on planes and take them away from everything they know. The adoption journey is a long and difficult road, but it's truly awe-inspiring.