No matter how much you read about adopting internationally, about adopting an older child, about attachment challenges, nothing really prepares you for the reality of it. Maybe I should say unreality, because as I was talking to a fellow adoptive mom of two Ethiopian siblings today, neither of us were able to imagine going through those first few months again. They were surreal. As I was talking on the phone, H. and L. were crafting with doilies, scissors and glue. I looked at them as we spoke, remembering those intense early weeks of holding and screaming, of watching as every appliance in the house stopped working, the intentional peeing on the rug, (...misty watercolor memories...).
I read a lot and spoke to many people (APs and adult adoptees) before we decided to adopt, before we chose to adopt older children, before we traveled to Ethiopia. In theory, I knew a great deal more than most people who decide to adopt. Still. I was unprepared. Not to mention the boys. Geez, imagine how freaked out they must have been! I bring this up because as incredibly as they are adapting, communicating to us, all that, there is the fear of being left again. I have to keep reminding myself that little things can set off an alarm for them. Especially for H., our elder guy.
I was going to write a post about some books we and the boys have been reading, but then I read this, and then this, and my mind started racing off in another direction. Please read the posts, but I'll encapsulate: A Dutch diplomat and his wife relinquished their 7 year old daughter, a Korean adoptee, to child welfare authorities in Hong Kong. They had adopted her when she was @4 months old. Severe attachment difficulties were cited, as well as inability to adapt to their culture.
I couldn't help thinking of our own children in the same position. I imagined their little faces on the cover of a news magazine, making the rounds of the internet. I felt sick. So sadly sick. We've had some rough times, we have. Times when I wondered what in hell I had been thinking of, adopting two siblings of preschool age. Times when I wanted to run and hide from the responsibility. Times when I did run from the responsibility, leaving my poor husband to put the broken family pieces back together.
I have been paralyzed with anxiety about H. and my difficulties attaching. When I read the posts I linked to above, and the related articles, I wanted to run downstairs and hold him tightly. But then he would wake up, and that is never good. So I squeezed him tightly in my mind, and repeated the resolution we two made yesterday: "We promise no angry no more!"
The two of us have also resolved to have a BIG 'UG at least three times a day. A "really, really BIG 'UG," as H. likes to put it. And yes, we have hugged all along, but these "big 'ugs" are more like a mother holding a baby hug. And yes, I know that this is recommended from day one for an adoptee like H. But it was a struggle even getting him to look at me, never mind touching me, so this is a big deal for us.
It seems like ages since they've been with us, yet it's only been about 8 months. That's nothing. A fraction
of their lives before us, about which we are learning more every day. H. still thinks he can be sent back to Ethiopia at any time. He asks me about it now and then. I ask him if he wants to go back, and he says no. I tell him that when he is bigger, we can all go back together and visit, but he says he never wants to -- "Too 'ard Mommy."
I imagine this will change as he grows -- back and forth, I'm sure. But he isn't secure with us yet, and the fault is partially mine. When a child rejects you, it is difficult to keep coming back for more. I have given myself a time out more times than I can count when I don't think I can tolerate another act of defiance, spitting, or another negative comparison to Daddy. But I will keep coming back. And I have started telling him this, in addition to actually doing it. "Daddy and I aren't going anywhere, " or "Whether you like it or not, I'm here to stay. I'm not leaving" The latter elicits a smile. I say it for myself, too.
