One family’s real-life adoption story

A friend of mine has been going through a tough time recently.  Today, she got some great news on one issue, and said “at least ONE thing is going right.”

I asked her – what else is going wrong.  And as she went through the list, she reported that each issue had been resolved in one way or another.  By the end of our conversation, she realized that things were going pretty well!

Sometimes, we get stuck thinking about how hard things are.  Gradually, we build up a list of grievances of things that are making our life hell.  Unfortunately, while we’re very good at adding items to the list, we forget to take them off.  So even though things may be going well, we still have this “things are so hard” burden on our shoulders.

Consider itemizing your list of burdens.  Does each item still belong on the list?  Can you celebrate the turn-around of any of those items?

Such itemization helps us see the whole picture, and, as it did for my friend, give us a more positive view on our lives.

This past Friday, my amazing husband took our kids camping with a group of friends.  I don’t camp.  Did it once or twice, hate it, never gonna do it again.  Even if you tell me “but the kids need the experience…” – forget it. I’m not going.

Such is how I found myself alone.  In my home.  For a full 48 hours.

I’ve been away from the family for that long before – but in that case, it was ME who left the house.  Its totally different being alone in YOUR space, with all your stuff – and no one around to mess it up!

What was my big exciting plan?  To clean the house.  That’s right, clean the house.  I desperately wanted to clean it, and have it stay clean for more than 5 minutes. (Really, this isn’t an exaggeration.  To my kids, the world is their trash can, and I’ve found crap on the floor less than 5 minutes after vacuuming it).

So I cleaned.  Filled up three trash bags.  Scrubbed the floors.  And then, for the finishing touch, got out my brand new awesome Dyson vacuum cleaner.

Which promptly broke. Fortunately, its under warranty, so it will get serviced.  But… I was so bummed!  I was supposed to be able to enjoy a clean house and now I couldn’t! Is this what I’ve come to?  A woman who’s happiness is dependent upon whether or not she can vacuum her home?  When did THAT happen?  Never mind, don’t answer that.

Okay, so I got past that.  The house was as clean as I could get it.  Now what?  Uhhhhhhh…. well……

I was stumped.  There was nothing to “do”.  All I could do was “be”.  So I read, played on the computer, watched a little TV, ate a meal that the kids would never have tolerated, played with the dog.   Once the cleaning was done, I had almost an entire day to just rest.  Remember “rest”?  That thing that helps you recover from the madness?  I got a whole lot of that.  I wasn’t tired or frustrated or yelling at anyone.  It was good.

By Sunday though, I was done resting.  I missed my babies.  I missed the noise, the sparkly eyes, the laughter – I missed it all.  And when they finally came busting through the door, they knocked me over with their hugs – it was a wonderful moment.

Then real life began all over again – in all its messy, painful, noisy wonderfulness.  It was a terrific 48 hours I had to myself – but it was nothing compared to the daily life I have with my family.

As I sit here, I’m listening to a Vivaldi violin concerto.  Its been years since I’ve listened to classical music, something which was once a huge, fulfilling part of my life.

Fulfilling.  Not a word I’ve been using a lot lately. I’m fried.  Everything is a huge effort to be passable.  There is no place I can go to just “rest”.  I am empty.

So what do I usually fill myself up with?  Ice cream.  Toffee.  Mindless TV and web browsing.  Sleep (and not the good, refreshing kind, but the escapist, “I can’t face the day” kind).

It occurred to us that my husband and I started to confuse “vegging” with “refreshing”.  Instead, we needed to focus on filling ourselves up with the GOOD stuff.  And that’s where the classical music comes in.  And jigsaw puzzles.  And crochet.

“But wait”, you say, “so what?  Jigsaw puzzles and Vivaldi aren’t filling – they’re just fun things to do!”

I disagree.  Classical music awakens the artist in me.  Jigsaw puzzles allows me to process the issues of the day in the background, while watching a beautiful pattern come together. Crochet gives me a sense of true accomplishment while allowing me to pour love into a gift for someone.  These are God’s gifts to me, gifts that renew me. And real renewal helps us focus on our sense of purpose, our hope, love, beauty and so much more.

Believe me, when you’re parenting kids like ours, it takes every ounce of energy to take care of myself.  Just last night, I thought about starting a new puzzle, but I literally did not have the energy to open the box.  So maybe I’m going to have to just veg sometimes.  But I no longer want this to be the norm, because it doesn’t really help anything or anyone – vegging just sort of “delays” life.

What are the things you used to love to do?  What are the things you’ve always wanted to do?

Think about it, and start doing them.  The effort will be well worth the refreshment.

One year ago today, the State of California made M and L official members of our family.

Legally, from that point forward, they had the same rights as N, a child born to my husband, and any future children we might have (uh, NO).

Logistically, we were no longer considered foster parents.  We no longer had to track meds on a form, take forms to every doctor’s visit, fingerprint anyone we wanted to leave the kids with, worry about what a social worker might say about our parenting.

Emotionally, we were surprised at how much of a relief it was to us.  The freedom from the logistical concerns, having it settled for once and for all, having our names match – it all added up to a certain freedom from an emotional weight we had been carrying.

In the last year, so much has changed.  M has become much better at expressing her feelings, she’s finally connected with her dad, and is thriving at school.  L is making huge strides, finally being medically and therapeutically treated properly, and is showing more and more of his delightful personality.  N has gone back and forth between hating being a big brother and loving it, which seems fairly typical to me.

My husband and I have begun to take better care of our marriage, and ourselves (more on that tomorrow).   And when we stand back to see the big picture, we are amazed at how its all come together.

Happy anniversary, my beautiful family.  May we celebrate many, many, more.

I was invited to speak to a group of prospective fost-adopt parents about maintaining relationships with birth families.  At the last minute, I couldn’t go, but here’s what I wanted to tell them:

When looking at the ROI, it can be hard to see one.  Its a huge hassle, and every visit is preceded and followed by anxiety.You are going to be tempted to “not bother”.  To try and convince yourself that its really not worth it to maintain relationships, that it’d be best if they just forgot they have a sibling, etc.  Right now, you’re appalled I’m even saying it, but trust me, you’ll go there.

I keep coming back to this: when they get older, I want to be able to honestly look my kids in the eye and say “I did everything I could to maintain a relationship with your sister”.  And even though it may not FEEL like its worth it, I have to believe that it is.

And remember… your child has already lost so much: parents, a decent childhood, part of their education, etc.  This is something you can help them hold on to.  That’s incredibly important.

It really was a great birthday for M.  She got to spend the night in San Francisco with her best friend, go to the zoo, and have a party with a lot of people who love her.

But the day before the party, I saw this anxiety start to develop.  And I’m pretty sure it was because her sister was going to be there.

M loves her sister. And, she hates her sister.  Sounds like normal siblings so far, except in this case, big sister was adopted by another family, a family who rejected M. And, M’s memories of E really aren’t that great – they involve E getting M in trouble for stuff she didn’t do, breaking her toys, and I’m guessing a bunch of other stuff that M can’t articulate yet.

So M was nervous.  Nervous that E would break her presents.  Nervous that she wouldn’t recognize E.  At least, that’s what she said.  But I’m guessing the stress had more to do with the unresolved grief about not living with her sister anymore.

What was especially interesting was E’s response. She adores her little brother and sister, she really does.  But this was the first time that she saw them in their new world, surrounded by a lot of people who love them – and who don’t know her at all.  Suddenly, she wasn’t the heroic older sister riding in to entertain them – she was just another loved one in their life.  At one point, I found her off by herself, because she just didn’t know how to handle it.

I assume I did the right thing in inviting E – though maybe I should have had the siblings have their own seperate celebration.  Or not.  Maybe it was good for E to see that life goes on without her.  Maybe it was good for M to see E while surround by lots of love.  I don’t know.  I guess there’s really no right answer here.

But I hate that my baby girl’s birthday was tinged in grief.  But for families who have adopted older kids, our celebrations are often tinged in grief. That’s our reality, and we’ll just have to learn to manage it.

Warning: this is not your standard adoption post.  In fact, I’m not even sure where this is coming from – I just know its something I have to say.

I’ve studiously avoided talking about my faith in these pages, even though its an integral part of my life.  Why?  Because I know that the minute I say something about Jesus, many – MANY – people will assume that I’m one of those “hellfire and brimstone, you’re all going to hell unless you think the same way I do” type of believers.  And I’ve wanted to avoid that because my passion is that those who have adopted kids will find this to be a place where they can find encouragement, and that those who are considering adopting can get the real scoop – and I don’t want those people to be turned off by my faith.  And honestly, encourage adoptive and prospective adoptive parents is far more important than shoving my faith down anyone’s throat.

In fact, nothing gets me angrier than seeing people denied the opportunity to adopt because they don’t live a certain lifestyle, or hold certain beliefs.  As far as I’m concerned, if you’re willing to love a child who’s been abused, neglected, abandoned, or traumatized, I don’t care what your lifestyle’s like.  Our kids need parents desperately – and to deny people the opportunity to love these kids is a far greater sin than any lifestyle choice.

I suppose its possible that I’m wrong – its been known to happen.  And I’m sure there are those who will disagree with me.  But if you challenge me on it, I will come back with Matthew 25: 31-40:

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his throne in heavenly glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.

“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

“The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’

You love our kids, then God loves you. ‘Nuff said.

My church is having a women’s retreat, and in a cursory review of the agenda, it looks like they’re going to spend a lot of time with activities that are deep and meaningful.  And I instantly thought “oh man!  no way I’m going to THAT!”

???

I was very surprised at my response.  Going deep is a good thing, right?  Growth, building relationships, etc – its all good, right?  And in the past, I’ve normally sought that kind of thing out.  So what’s the deal?

Then it hit me: I don’t need to go on a retreat to go deep, because these days, I LIVE in the deep.

On a daily basis, I find myself so far in the deep end of my kids crap that I’m either exhausted from treading water, or feel like I’m drowning.  Every day, I’m faced with levels of anger, grief, pain and loss that would take down the Terminator himself.  Every day, I have to examine my own insecurities, failings and emotions at a level that most people pay trained professionals to help them examine (and, I pay said paid professional in addition to my own examination).  Every day, I have to work like a fiend at my relationship with my husband, because we can’t take it for granted for a single minute or else we’ll drown.

Every day, I’m in the deep.

Which is why last night was such a wonderful little break.  For one hour, we went out to dinner to celebrate my husband’s birthday, and it was a delight.  My husband and I were making googly eyes at each other; N was being the tolerably annoying big brother; L was being a total, goofy, delight; M was trying desperately to act like a little adult (which is hard to do when your two front teeth are missing and you’re cute beyond words).  We laughed, joked, sang in the car, and generally had a blast.

Of course, it ended the minute we got home, but that’s okay.  Because for a brief moment, I got to sit in the shallow end, and take a break.  When you’re treading water day in and day out, even that brief respite can do wonders.

As mentioned before, L is on psychotropic meds.  And anyone who’s dealt with these kind of meds knows its equal parts science and art.

About six months ago, we changed psychiatrists.  The one we had, while skilled, seemed stuck in a rut, and unresponsive to my calls or observations.  It didn’t help that he didn’t accept insurance either.

So we took a chance, and found someone nearby, who accepts our insurance.  The office is professionally run, she spends a lot of time with L, and she’s the first psych who spent significant time speaking directly with him.  She surveyed teachers, listened to my input, and prescribed a variety of lab work.

One more thing about her: when I mentioned that it was “only my gut”, but I felt he wasn’t on the right meds, she corrected me.  “Its not just your gut,” she said.  “You’re his mom, you know whats working and isn’t working.”  THANK YOU!

After three sessions with her, she proposed a sea-change in his medications, finally treating him for PTSD instead of ADHD.  I cannot tell you the relief I felt when she proposed this.  Very often, kids who’ve experienced trauma are treated for ADHD, because externally, it looks very similar to PTSD.  But internally, its a completely different beast – and I do mean beast.  Your average child with ADHD is trying to create stimulation that’s missing in their brain – a child with PTSD is constantly stimulated, on edge, tense, and is acting out in order to relieve that tension.

Its been a week and a half since we started L on Tenex, and medication designed to lower blood pressure.  We’ve had to gradually acclimate him to this drug, as it can make you very, very drowsy.  He literally slept for three days, and that was while on half a dose! (We also believe he has a huge sleep debt, poor kid, that he was making up for).  He’s been on the full dose for about four days now, and I still don’t know what to think.  On the one hand, there’s been a lot more “happy” L.  Dinners have been a total delight, he’s been playful, even his sister enjoys hanging out with him.

But… there’s also been some pretty major tantrums.  But I think they’re related to when he’s tired.  But maybe not.  I don’t know.

That’s the thing when you have a child on meds – you have to put all your powers of observation to work, because they can’t always tell you how they feel.  And you have to engage in lots of trial and error.  Right now, we’re working on the hypothesis that the major tantrums happen when he’s tired (because he doesn’t know that’s what he is, he just knows he feels bad), so we’re going to go back to regular quiet times (and idea that L agreed to in one of his better moments, but I’m sure he won’t like when we do it!).  And if that doesn’t work, we’ll try something else.

But at least we have a psych who “gets it”, who isn’t just doing what’s easy, but is working toward what’s right.  This may not be the right med, but I’m confident we’re on the right path.

Maybe all parents have this, but I suspect that it hits fost-adopt parents especially hard: this idea that we have to be perfect at what we do, because if we’re not, we’ll have made a our traumatized child’s life worse instead of better, and that’s just too much for us to bear.

But today, consider giving yourself permission to do the following:

Be Lazy

Kids want to go to the park, but you’re too tired?  Then too bad for the kids, they can play at home.  Kids want Round Table, but you want cold leftovers?  Eat the leftovers.    None of this will kill them, or even make them all that miserable.

Lower your Standards

Kids rooms a disaster area?  Close the door and create your own fantasy world where its clean.  Kid doesn’t have many friends?  Be grateful that they’ve learned how to play on their own.  Kid’s got Cs and Ds?  Hey, its still good enough to pass.  Your kids don’t need to have a perfect life – they just need to be loved by you.

Lose a Battle

Kid needs a bath, but they’re resisting?  No problem – people used to go weeks without baths, one more day won’t kill your kids.  You poured mini-wheats, they want cheerios?  Leave the mini-wheats out for tomorrow, and pour another bowl.  Sometimes, battles are worth fighting, but sometimes, they’re more about your pride than anything else.

Put Yourself First

Kid needs to cuddle, but you need a nap?  Take the nap, cuddle later.  Kid hates the sitter, but you and your spouse need a date?  If the sitter’s still willing, go on the date.  If you’re not strong, your kids will soon pay the price as well.

Screw Up

Trained to provide positive discipline, but yelled like a banshee at your kids instead?  Whatever, its over and done with.  Apologize and move on.  Or don’t apologize and still move on.  Accused your kid of lying, but it turns out they were innocent?  Again, apologize and move on.  Don’t beat yourself up for not being perfect.  It doesn’t help anyone.

The thing is, we’re human – with all the flaws and foibles that come with us – so perfection is not even an option, let alone a reality.   I’m not asking you to give yourself permission to go wild – just to be human.