THIS IS HARD!!!!!

I haven’t written in a while because I have been going through what I have dubbed my Third-Life Crisis. I am too old to be Quarter Life (unless I live to be 120, which I am really not up for) and hoping I am way too young for Mid-Life. So here we are. I spent an hour googling adoption blogs the other day looking for someone who has adopted a preschooler and had a hard time. I have come to the conclusion that either there are very few people who adopt preschoolers in the US or the majority of them are having such a hard time that they do not even bother to set up a blog to proclaim their difficulties. So I have decided it is my duty to say what I wanted so desperately to hear from someone else:

THIS IS HARD! Going from 29 years of independence, being in control of my own schedule and not having a constant current of “Why, mommy?” flowing from the backseat to…well, the opposite of all of that, is a BIG deal. It IS hard! I love my child. I would not choose any other way, but just to reiterate, this is HARD!

But it is not even about the actual change in activities. It seems to be something more. I feel as if I have spent the last two weeks in a boxing ring. The lineup has looked something like this: In this corner, we have SelfLESS, determined to live a life poured out in service to others, wanting nothing more than to spend every possible moment showering love on my child and desiring to be like the old woman in the shoe…..but younger and with foster children.

And in this corner, we have Independent Me. IM has never done well being limited in what she can do and has always valued freedom and independence above all else. Period.

So the fight has ensued. As a Christian, I have always been okay with the idea of “dying to self,” and letting God lead my life down His path for His glory. Less of me and more of Him…that’s beautiful, right? But “dying to self” for a 4 year old? Less of me and more of…a 4 year old?!

I always said (Warning: here comes a load of imaginary wisdom from someone who clearly never had kids…) that I would keep my identity when I had kids. I would still work, run and do the things I enjoy. I am happy to say that I have, just in a different way. For example, I have worked and/or gone to school since I was 14 years old in a combination that has always equaled at least 50 hours per week, and now I work a mere 25. Many of my beloved afternoon runs in the park are now done on a treadmill during nap time. And time with friends is often spent in a restaurant with a kid’s menu instead of the wonderful new vegetarian restaurant I really wanted to try. In light of all of this, I think that any parent would agree that if you are really going to care for another human being, be devoted to meet their every need, and love them with all that you have, part of you just has to go. No matter how hard that is.

As I see Round 10 in the battle for my identity coming to a close, I notice that my hair is the same color and length and I have no new tattoos or piercings. To me, this means that I am no longer 19 years old and able to solve these battles for “me” with a quick fix. Instead, I need a more long term solution. So, I believe that I will probably go back to work full-time in a few months. I feel that surge of the infamous “mommy guilt” even as I type this, but I know that I am just not meant to be at home this much. And I love my little redhead enough to know that if I don’t, he will probably end up an only child with a crazy mother. And that is way worse that a couple of hours a day with a babysitter!

So there. That is what I wanted to read last week, that THIS IS HARD! And that it gets better when the fight is over and you are able to radically accept losing a small piece of yourself in exchange for the immeasurable joy of loving someone else.

Not You

I knew that my son would miss his "other" family when he came to us...That's normal. No matter how great we are for him, they were all he knew for 18 months. From a psychological perspective, it would actually be unhealthy if he didn't miss them. It would show a lack of attachment, which is never good. After all, if were (God forbid!) to be taken from us after 18 months, I would hope that he would cry for me.

He has actually never cried for them, but instead says periodically-and randomly as far we can tell- "I want my Other Daddy." (we call him OD for code) For some reason, he has really stepped up asking for OD (whom he says was not good to him) in the past couple of weeks. Ironically, he often does it when we are on our way to take him to do something. For example, this weekend as we drove to the Rainforrest Cafe and Legoland, he sat in the backseat asking for OD. But my real favorite is when he is mad that I have asked him to do something and he says, "I want my Other Mommy." Here's betting OM would make him hold her hand when he crosses the street and brush his teeth, too.

In the past few days he has started saying, "I really miss my other mommy and my other daddy," and asking "Who brought me to your house?" A few times he responds with, "I didn't want them to do that." I can understand that. No one wants to be ripped out of their home with no notice, whether they live with the Brady Bunch or not. It breaks my heart for him and I try my best, whether he is genuinely expressing sadness or just mad, to empathize and to make sure he knows that it is okay to talk about those feelings with me.

I have taken all of this like a champ. I know it is all part of the process and a healthy part of transitioning. But then today, in the middle of Target, we are having a nice time looking for a new cup for him and he says very seriously, "I don't want you to be my mommy." OUCH! That one hit like a dagger to my chest. I fought back tears as he said it a couple more times. I asked what he would like me to be and he said that he just wanted to go back to his "Other Mommy"... I know that kids just say stuff. I know that he does like being at our house. I know that it is good and healthy for him to miss his other house...blah blah blah. My head knows all of this, but that couldn't stop my heart from breaking right there in the baby aisle at Target... And they didn't even have the cups I wanted.

In psychology, there is something that happens called an "extinction burst" when you are trying to break a habit, change a behavior, etc... It works for a while, but then before it completely disappears, you do it a lot. I mean A LOT! The theory is that you are no longer getting what you want out of it, so you give it one more hardy try before completely giving it up. I can see that. My favorite little man has a lot to think about in his head and maybe it is just all bursting out now.

We have been told by everyone who has ever fostered or being fostered that there is some magical switch that gets flipped at the three month mark. We have three weeks to go until then...I will keep you posted.

Day 1

We were excited and nervous on Thursday morning as we prepared for our son's arrival. We knew that this would be one of the most exciting days of our lives and one of the more difficult days of his. He had been living in the same home for the past year and a half, so saying goodbye was difficult for both he and his foster mother. Unfortunately, none of them were expecting him to be moved from their home, adding shock and suprise to the already difficult transition.

He arrived at our home wearing red and navy plaid shorts and a gray muscle tee. He had a purple dragon in one hand and a Whataburger milkshake in the other. (The Bible was a gift from his biological mother that he brought with him when he was removed from her home). As I opened the door, my heart leapt. This was him! This was the child that I had been praying for, preparing for and dreaming of for the last seven months! He stood there at the doorway, quietly staring at us and not wanting to come in. After a few minutes he agreed to see what toys we had to offer and even allowed me to hold his dragon. Will and I began to play with him, though he remained cautious as he observed us.

Amazingly, our foster care consultant and his CPS worker stayed about 15 minutes, exchanged some paperwork and left. That was it. With one quick drop off, we were now parents!

I had purchased a small backpack for him. Once he found it,he immediately began trying to put all of his new toys, snacks and clothes into it to "take home" with him. He would not go anywhere without his backpack. I kept trying to explain to him that all of his new things were his to keep forever, but for a child who has just been plucked from all of toys, clothes and relationships, this was hard to believe. (He came to us with one small suitcase containing only a few items of clothing and no toys). We spent the rest of the day playing at the park, drawing with sidewalk chalk and exploring his new surroundings. I know it must've been confusing for him, because I too found it hard to believe that he was actually in our home to stay!

He mentioned his (foster) mommy, daddy, and home frequently the first few days. Once he said, "My mommy is crying right now." It was difficult not to question if moving him from their home was the best thing for him. But I knew that it was. I knew that, though they were familair to him, there were so many issues and concerns that he was certainly better off with us. I would just have to wait for him to figure that out, too.