This blog post has been inspired this week by my amazing daughter, as
always, but also by 2 incredible adopters I’ve never actually met, who I admire
so much - @2newgirls and @mumdrah (and her CHT!)
Our kids.
Traumatised.
Broken.
Lost.
Displaced.
Unsettled.
Neglected.
Abused.
Rejected.
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It’s hard being an adoptive parent.
Parenting therapeutically.
Overthinking constantly.
Filling in missing pieces and answering impossible questions.
Protecting hearts and managing fallout.
Trying to outwit trauma and stop it consuming everything and everyone.
Loving the most unlovable behaviours.
It’s so hard for our kids too.
Who have experienced / missed out on so much.
Who are trying to make sense of all their feelings and impulses.
When they’re too young to understand.
And then when they’re old enough that they sadly do.
Sometimes our kids throw everything they can at us.
Needing our help and belief and love but still pushing us away.
Doing all they can to get us to do what every other adult has done –
reject or abandon them.
Sometimes our kids take us to breaking point and beyond.
Sometimes it isn’t safe or healthy for anyone, no matter how much we
try.
Sometimes the support network of family and friends who ‘get it’ isn’t
there.
Sometimes the professional support isn’t there.
Sometimes a family breaks down as a result.
Sometimes we hang on and hold fast, even when we may be losing hope that
things can improve.
Then daring to believe if a glimmer of light appears.
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My daughter.
My daughter is easily unsettled or frightened.
My daughter tests people before she trusts them.
My daughter can be manic and chaotic when triggered, although it’s not
always clear what the trigger is.
My daughter still can’t stay in her own bed through one night without
needing to crawl into mine to check I’m still there.
In the last month my daughter has also …
… changed class and teacher at school.
Which needed her to trust new people and form new attachments – new teacher,
new TA, new learning mentor. Fortunately they have been fab, she is feeling
secure and she is thriving.
… celebrated a birthday.
Which prompted “will I still live here tomorrow?” when I (stupidly) said
“no 6yos allowed in this house, haha!” She did not get my joke about not
wanting her to grow up. She wondered if she was about to move again.
… chosen an adoption story book at bedtime.
(I will suggest one from time to time but she usually dismisses them.)
Which later that night prompted a prayer (overheard by me) thanking God
for her family.
… seen her own baby pics for the first time.
(These came via Letterbox from her birth mum.)
Which she loved seeing but which brought smiles, tears, confusion and
asking for milk in a bottle at bedtime.
I think my daughter is amazing.
I’m so proud of her for facing and overcoming things that most children
wouldn’t ever have to think about.
I’m so proud of how she so far accepts the reality of her story (as she understands it) and I
hope she will in time embrace who she is.
I’m so proud she’s mine and I get to help her discover her potential,
what she’s truly capable of.
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Our kids.
Brave.
Resilient.
Strong.
Powerful.
Chosen.
Wanted.
Loved.
