Yesterday there was a giant wall in front of me. We drove 4.5 hours (one way) to take my daughter to overnight camp for the week. She has been going to this same camp since she was 5 - the whole time she was in care and the last two years with us. We wanted to keep her in this camp for continuity and so she could visit with her foster parents. I have held on to this camp for her sake, yet finding the drive far too much.
Last year, just a few months after my husband's death, I arranged people to come with me to help with the driving and I arranged other people to pick the girls up the following Saturday morning (for me to get there in time for the pickup would have meant leaving home at 6am). The people who picked up last year were resentful and tired. They made it seem like we were a burden and like they were put upon by having to collect the girls.
No one wants to feel they are a burden, so there was no way I would ask for help from them again. The net result was that they felt I was angry at them and they didn't want to contact me afterward, even though they ostensibly want contact with the girls. This was never resolved. I tried to explain that I was grieving, and they seemed put upon, but was met with more misunderstandings.
The next aspect of the wall was the possibility of bumping in to my older daughter at drop off. This is something which may seem like no big deal, but sends me into a real state of panic.
I recently read an article an adoption website which called for supports post-adoption for families. One of these supports was for adoption breakdown. The article acknowledged the tremendous emotional, mental and physical strain that precedes and follows the decision to end an adoption placement. Those outside may judge, feeling that the child was "out of control" or the parents "uncommitted, inexperienced, unrealistic in their expectations".
I had a neighbour upbraid me for separating sisters, although she had no idea the hell I had been living in, nor the reality that both girls are doing much better separated and visiting one another. It's likely to be healthier in the long run, although it would be ideal if they could both successfully integrate into a forever family.
My older daughter is a symbol of all the failures I have faced in my journey to parenthood. I have had to endure so much waiting, loss and stupidity while others can fall pregnant at 16 and spend their baby's early years traumatizing him or her.
But we each have our own wall to face.
So, I took another deep breath and, with no small amount of martyrdom, prayed that God would wrap me in His protection through the long drive, the awkward meeting in the hallway with someone who represents the final collapse of my dream of a family, and the emotions that come with it all.
On the drive, a song came on the radio, and I found myself opening myself to whatever comes (a Brian Doerksen song). Surrender to His will rather than sucking it up and stiffening myself for the worst.
It was a struggle to get there. My daughter was resistant to getting ready, and fought me the whole way. Yes, she wants to go to camp but she doesn't want to get herself organized to go. I was exhausted before I left home with still such a long drive ahead, and a potential time bomb of emotions.
We came, we did what we had to do, and left. All within half an hour and without seeing the older child anywhere. That was such a relief, I can tell you. Not only did we avoid the emotional tidal wave, but we also avoided the inevitable lineup and waiting interminably.
I was home by 9pm, with a thankful heart. Yes, I was also tired, but relieved. It's behind me now.
Interestingly, the whole process of getting ready to leave, dealing with the tantrums and the anxious anticipation of uncomfortable hallway encounters, not to mention the long drive, helped me reach a conclusion I have avoided up till now.
It is the last time we will do this. Camp has been great, and it has been tremendous to be able to go, but it is too far, too much effort.
The wall is the fear of taking away one more thing from a child who has already lost everything. However, we are rebuilding in another way and another place. There are camps nearer home. Perhaps there are even alternatives to camp!
And another great revelation: surrender to God in the midst of the worst case scenario is necessary.
It was hard, as I knew it would be. I felt the injustice that such a burden has fallen on me when I could have shared it with my husband and he would have carried at least half of the load.
But I did it, just the same. And what's more, it doesn't feel as overwhelming as it did before I did it. Have to say, I won't be jumping to do it again soon. But my big Aha Moment was worth the time and energy it took to reach and push through this wall.
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