|Logically, you may know the steps to clear the hurdle|
Myself? I'm a sharer. I try to be transparent in the realness, because Motherhood can be so damn isolating sometimes. The pressure? It's overwhelming. We are not in this journey by ourselves, so if I need to open my junk drawers or take pictures of the dishes in my sink and share, I'm happy to do it. We can not do all and be all.
Parenting in itself is such an incredible journey...each so unique. Adoption happens to be a part of ours. While our son's social history is not for public consumption, I feel that the hurdles I jump..whether I clear them or face plant, if it can help another momma in ANY way, well- I'll spill.
|But this is reality|
There are so many unknowns; palpable grief, unanswered questions. There are therapists, counselors, paperwork and phone calls. There are undesirable behaviors, more grief, and more unanswered questions. Medical unknowns are scary. The questions he will ask us one day are unfathomable.
I struggle. A lot.
One of my biggest pet peeves that I totally self -impose upon myself is this. Just because we adopted doesn't mean I can't vent about motherhood. This is a child, that is mine, just like my biological child. Sometimes I feel that there is an undercurrent of tsk tsk'ng as if I brought this upon myself so I shouldn't talk about the daily challenges. That I signed up for this. That I knew there was going to be struggles.. that EVERYONE knew there was going to be struggles , so why am I dishing about it. Whether imposed or perceived..that's crap. This is why I cherish my support group and why I love support groups in general. You're not alone. The struggle is real.
I remember after I had Wyatt I was a mess. I didn't know what to do. I was new at this mom thing. He wasn't breastfeeding..was that normal? How much milk was I supposed to produce? Not being able to produce milk..was I doing something wrong? Was he going to be more prone to illness because I couldn't breastfeed? He was kind of yellow..that wasn't normal..but what do I do? Do I lay him on his back? On his stomach? Should he sleep in our room? In our bed? Is he breathing? His sleep pattern is all messed up. How long of a nap is too long. Dear God what have I done?? I experienced the mom guilt. I was working. I was going to school at night. Was this a good decision? Bad decision? Was I missing out on critical moments? Should I just quit school and my job and stay at home? Would anyone be happy if I actually did that?? The tears came and they wouldn't stop.
Nearly 7 years later, I found myself in a strikingly similar situation, yet SO different.
I remember arriving to the orphanage as a family of 3 and leaving the orphanage with Alex, stepping into the cab to head back to the station as a family of 4. Will and I kept turning around and laughing nervously. It was a surreal scenario. All the waiting leads to this moment. I think we kept turning around to see if anyone was running after our cab to stop us. That there had been a terrible mistake.
We went back to the hotel that night with our son...who was this little man? What were his preferences? Dislikes? Did he understand us? Should I call him by his Chinese name or his new English name? Would he learn to love us? I had missed all his firsts..I could only rely on a translated document of what he may or may not like. The pressure for attachment and bonding felt overwhelming. Then there were the night terrors- those screams that could pierce through your soul and make you weep the moment they started. That someone so little could emit sounds of such anguish is indescribable. There was the endless head banging, as he could not express himself adequately enough, and would turn to what he knew to communicate a need. I felt helpless. I felt ill-equipped and so, so tired. The tears came and they wouldn't stop.