The simplest explanation is most often correct…clearly William of Ockham never met my son, or any other child impacted by trauma. As my husband was putting him to bed last night, J (VERY!) angrily demanded that Bluebell (one of our beloved and EXTREMELY patient dogs) had to sleep with him or else he would stay awake all night. An outsider observing this interaction and analyzing what was happening using the simplest explanation might conclude:
- My son is stalling. He does not want to go to bed and is trying to come up with a plan that will delay the inevitable.
- My son is disrespectful. He does not know how to speak kindly to adults – probably a result of too much screen time and/or lazy parenting.
- My son is spoiled. He has learned that if he demands something and makes threats about what will happen if we do not deliver on his demands, then we will give in as we always do. (Again…a hallmark of lazy parenting.)
For the record…we only allow T.V. on Sundays (sometimes on a weeknight if it is a special occasion and the children have earned a Family Show Night) and our children do not own devices (i-pads, kindles, etc.) and are not allowed to use our phones. In addition, we do not give in to their demands – we say no…A LOT. Unfortunately, children who have been exposed to drugs in utero (including alcohol) struggle to connect actions to consequences. In other words, the fact that we did not give in to his tantrums the last 100 times does not translate into his thinking that his attempts are futile. (“So you’re saying there’s a chance!” [Dumb and Dumber reference for any fans out there!]) And if lazy means spending every waking moment learning about my children’s multiple “labels” by reading, attending webinars, and going to therapies, watching their diet, homeschooling while teaching 4 graduate courses and writing a book, all while being intentional about helping them process their complex feelings…then, yeah, I am lazy.
New piece of data…when we do not produce Bluebell as demanded, my son then bursts into tears saying that we are the worse parents in the world, that we do not deserve him, and that he wants to go live with his “real” mom. Might this be another attempt at stalling by making us hurt and angry enough to engage in the fight…maybe. But we are veterans at this point, and we know better.
I decided to use a strategy that our amazing adoption specialist therapist introduced to us. I call it the “I Wonder If” strategy. So I come back with, “I wonder if it was difficult for you to have Baby J here today because it made you think about your own story?” (Baby J is our foster cousin whom we LOVE and upon whom my children dote!) His response was a grunt as he buried his head in the pillow. Aha…I was getting closer to the real explanation, which as it turned out, was not at all simple. My son began to sob.
One of the things about J is that he loathes talking about his feelings. I realized that I had struck a chord, and I knew that it would be counterproductive – at that point – to make him engage in a conversation. I said, “I love you buddy! It must be so difficult to see this baby who is looking for a forever family and be reminded of your own journey to find a forever family. It must make you think of your birth mom. And it must be hard that Mommy does not have stories from when you were as little as Baby J. But I am here, and I will hold you.” (Side note: Baby J is getting fitted for a helmet to round out his skull, and J asked us a lot of questions about whether or not he had a helmet as a baby. When we don’t have answers for him, he usually makes up a story about what he remembers – so, according to him, he also had a helmet as a baby.) In typical J fashion, he refused the invitation to be held, but he did relax his body into the pillow and within 5 minutes was asleep. And so, it was not as simple as what was observed on the surface. It took us a LONG time to figure that out, and we are still learning how to navigate these complex waters.
At this point, I can imagine the questions that are swirling around in your heads…but he said he wanted to live with his “real” mom:
- Does he still see his birth mom?
- Why?
- Doesn’t that confuse him?
- Doesn’t it make it more difficult for him?
In short:
- Yes
- Because it is important
- No
- No
Here is the reality…whether or not he sees her, he thinks about her all of the time. He has told me as much on multiple occasions throughout his life. He was 16…almost 17…months old, and YES, he remembers. Do you think that if you were yanked out of the only life you knew, you would really forget? How fair is that to ask of you? J’s identity lies partially with his first family, and we MUST honor that and help him understand it. Is it hard at times? ABSOLUTELY! He is 8 and is still trying to figure out how to articulate and appropriately express his feelings. But that is life, and that is our responsibility as his real 🙂 parents.
We are blessed in our relationship with birth mom. We realize that we only see her 2-3 times a year and therefore only “know” her based on 6-9 hours of interactions a year. But we have no doubt that she loves our (the collective our – hers and our) children. She is working so hard…writing up her story for them, providing pictures of relatives so our children can see their faces in others, and providing a book for our son to document questions he has for her that she can answer at our next visit. I cannot even begin to imagine how she feels, losing a part of herself. And I can’t begin to imagine how my son feels, loving two women – both of whom care for him in the best way they know how – and worrying that love for one might diminish his love for the other or struggling with his anger at one, but only having the other to shoulder the brunt of that pain.
In the foster/adoption realm, there is no simple explanation. There is only digging deeper, forgiving more freely, and loving more fiercely.
The Sun, The Rain, and The Appleseed 