Most little girls plan for motherhood - what they will do and how they will care for their children. Most of us assume we will have children. And, many more of us now are dealing with the reality of childlessness.
For some, childlessness comes as a choice. One partner, or both, prefer not to have children. For others, childlessness is not a choice but a burden. In many ways, it is a loss. My dream was to be a mother. I wanted to be a mother. I didn't want to live my whole life without children. However, I had no idea what cost it would be.
For about 10 years, my husband and I walked through the journey of infertility. There never was a reason that we knew of for the inability to conceive. We had some of the tests, and made the choice not to pursue IVF for a number of reasons. Just the amount of time spent in the gynaecologist's office was enough to tell me that I needed more compassion and care for the emotional toll the therapies would take on me. My husband was always hopeful that it would just work out, and he sometimes said that he didn't feel the loss in the way that I did. He never really expressed his loss at all.
In time I felt that God was stirring my heart for adoption. I waited for my husband to hear that same calling too, and the nearest he came was to be supportive of my desire. I found out later, that this is often the case. One partner is the initiator and the other comes along. One partner takes a more active role (is it usually the woman?). As we went through the training and the home study, I saw him become more active and show more interest and enthusiasm. But I will probably always live with the feeling that I "forced" or "pushed" this upon him and that somehow bringing these challenging, needy children into our lives moved him further along the path toward choosing his death. But that's another story...
I read lots of books - some felt more like horror stories - about adoption and parenting damaged children. I tried to prepare. I mentally steeled myself to expect little and be ready to give out much more than I received. I prayed for God's highest match for us. In some ways, it is like pregnancy for the first time: not knowing what to expect, knowing your life is going to change completely overnight, but having no real idea what that will be like, anticipation, fear and excitement. And new parents to adoptees are like all new parents: what's normal? what do I do now? how do I cope? However, there are so many differences too.
Just the process of adoption was arduous: going through the home study and the training, then waiting endlessly with no information. We went to three separate adoption resource fairs, and became increasingly discouraged. We were selected, we were turned down. Nothing seemed to be happening. And, when we did finally receive the call that we were being considered for two girls aged 8 and 12, it felt like winning the lottery.
We actually were considered for three pairs of siblings at that time, and it was a very difficult process. Somehow you have to emotionally distance yourself and imagine how you can cope with a situation that you are basically blind to. There is really no way that any amount of reports, paperwork and interviews can prepare you for reality.
Right away it became very clear that dreams of parenting were going to be smashed to pieces. As time went on, they all had to go. My dreams meant nothing - it was all about the children, what they needed and how I could meet their needs. Now, however, two and a half years later, we have come full circle. Yes, it's important to me that I meet my daughter's needs and provide a secure home for her. However, I do need her to attach to me, to identify me as her mum and to allow me to parent her. I can't suspend my basic needs to parent so that I can selflessly care for a child who can't, won't and may never trust.
There may be saintly folk out there who foster children like my older daughter. And, as far as some go, she isn't bad. She never punched holes in the wall, threatened me physically with a weapon (other than her fists and feet) or rubbed fecal matter on the walls. However, she still stole things from friends and family, bullied her sister, abused me verbally and pushed every single emotional button she could find. She fought me at every turn, she refused to stop trying to control the environment, no matter how small the issue.
Battles with her were not fought over major issues. They were fought over the toothpaste tube, the amount of toilet paper used, the amount of compliance she was willing to give (not much). Control battles never ended, and she probably never will stop with those.
It's exhausting just thinking about it. How did I do it? How did I live that way? I always had to be one step ahead, thinking fast to come up with strategies that would contain her, de-escalate her and dis-engage her attempts to engage and manipulate everything. We couldn't enjoy anything. It all had to be tightly controlled and managed. My life was like a military operation.
Last night I dreamed about her. She was having one of her screaming fits (I guess you could call it a tantrum, but it tends to be directed at someone rather than a general explosion of uncontrolled emotion), and I was with the current foster mother, a woman I have not met. I just remember feeling sorry for her, and saying "It's not my responsibility now. It's yours".
I guess that's my mind processing what has happened. I am handing her over. In so many ways it feels like getting rid of her, but I feel no shame in it. I needed to do more than just let go. I needed to divest myself of the life I had taken on.
There are many people who live this life. Every day is full of anxiety. The butterflies in the stomach feeling never really goes away. The stress load for adoptive parents, especially single parents, is unbelievable. And to most people, appearance never reveals reality. These cute, damaged childred DO deserve a loving, secure home. But can they accept it? Can they adapt to it? Can they live with it?
My younger daughter is embracing, to the best of her ability. My older daughter cannot allow herself to do that. She does not want to dare to trust. She cannot believe that she deserves security like this. It is too scary. It is too hard. It is very sad.
I'm looking for a daughter who wants to be part of a family. We are a family of two now. This time last year there were four faces around the table. Now it's just the two. But my daughter will sing "I love you. You love me. We're a happy family.". She does understand what family is.
It's not the dream I had. There is a lot of pain in the dream I had. I've lost every little tiny bit of that dream. But I am grateful that I have that little girl in my life. Thank you God for grace in the midst of broken dreams!
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