Trauma Within Adoption

"I don’t know why people think that trauma just disappears after adoption occurs, or that adoptive families no longer need support. There is no doubt that adoption is beautiful, but we must remember that it also comes with so much brokenness.

I know because I’m living & breathing this everyday. As an adoptive mom, I can guarantee you that when the judge signs those papers, it may calm the chaos of the long & stressful adoption process; but it won’t calm the chaos inside of them that trauma brings.

Our adopted children have undoubtedly experienced trauma—yes, even ones separated from their parents at birth. We know that trauma physically rewires our children’s brains causing attachment, anger & behavioral disruptions far beyond what society considers ‘normal’ for most kids.

This cannot & will not be healed overnight.

After adoption, it’s still hard for our families to find babysitters who can manage our kiddos, friends that will tolerate our children’s high needs, teachers that are trauma informed or even health care professionals that fully grasp the effects of trauma.

Every day we are investing in the restoration of our children. It’s absolutely worth it, but it’s also hard & exhausting. Our children need gentle understanding just like they did before adoption took place; & adoptive families still need support so we can continue to do the hard work that healing brains & bodies effected by trauma entails."

-Real Life Foster Mom

It is widely accepted that older children who come through the foster care system or who are adopted at an older age have experienced trauma. However, research strongly suggests that a baby is able to recognize her mother’s voice. Within a few days of birth she begins to recognize familiar faces, voices and smells and is drawn to them. She is able to discriminate her mother’s voice from those of other voices. If you are a parent with biological children, think back on the time when your baby sought your presence, sought your face and smile, and was comforted solely by you. How could we not assume that an adopted baby recognizes the loss and separation from her birth mother, despite her inability to narrate it? I believe that she does recognize such loss – she knows abandonment, sadness, and hurt. Though healing can and does occur, she carries that loss with her the rest of her life. As adoptive parents, this fact is paramount to grasp so that we can help our children who have been adopted from birth heal and validate their feelings of grief when they express them. 

What can we do to help the infant grieve? Be consistent. When the infant is unable to calm (researchers call this self-regulation), the caregiver uses herself to help the infant calm (through soothing touch, holding, soft words, swaying)—we call this co-regulation, and it’s an important part of early relationship-building. The infant who is distressed and protests the loss of his/her caregiver, may be irritable/hard to console, may cry more (while some babies may be more quiet or “shut down”), may appear to be searching for someone, may be less responsive/have a “flatter” expression, may seem anxious, and/or may be less hungry/experience temporary weight loss. With time and consistency, an infant will learn that his/her new caregiver will meet his/her needs, love, nurture, and keep him/her safe. But this process takes time. The infant needs repeated experiences of a caregiver responding in a timely way to his/her cues, providing consistent comfort and nurture in order to trust that this person truly will never abandon him/her and that this relationship will be a “safe home base” for soothing, care, and loving interactions. Over time, these repeated interactions become the basis for a new secure attachment.

This is why it is so important for new adoptive parents to meet the needs of the infant, instead of other family members or friends over the course of the first few weeks. The infant needs to know who the primary caregiver is and make a secure attachment to them through their needs being met. Beyond this, we need to be mindful of this deep loss that our child experienced as they grow. You may notice that your child who was adopted from birth has a tougher time with transitions or needs constant reminders that you will be coming back after dropping them off to school, for example. Although this is normal for most children in the beginning of school, you may notice that your child who was adopted needs these reminders long after many children have overcome this insecurity. However, if we are mindful of the way their life started - with deep loss - then we can be more understanding as to why they may be reacting to a separation more often then their peers. Although this can be overwhelming, we must cling to the hope that our children have a God-given ability to triumph over their trauma and we must stay consistent, validate their feelings of grief, apologize when we mess up, and reach out to a trauma-informed therapist when needed. 

Resources:

Image from @flowering.families

https://www.facebook.com/RealLifeFosterMom/

https://adoption.com/how-infants-grieve-a-guide-for-new-adoptive-parents

https://beyondtwoworlds.com/2018/08/05/adoption-and-preverbal-trauma/

Our Oldest (Part 1 of 3)

It was a typical winter day. There was a dusting of snow on the ground and we were out running errands. We were on our way home when Tim's phone rang with an unfamiliar number. When Tim answered, his face immediately changed. I could see him processing some very shocking information, but I didn't know what it was. He finally said, "A 3 month old baby boy?" I knew right then that this was it. Ten days earlier we had received our foster care license and it was actually happening in that moment. Tim asked the caller for a moment to discuss the details with me, put his hand over the phone, and looked at me wide-eyed. He stated, "They have a 3-month-old baby boy and they are on their way to our home if we accept." We had always wondered how easy or difficult it would be to pull the trigger and accept our first placement. Without even thinking, I replied, "Of course! Yes, oh my gosh. This is happening, Tim!" All Tim could do was smile and relay our answer. 

We rushed home and Tim sprinted to the garage to gather all the items we had stocked up for a baby. (Funny fact: He was running so fast that he ended up needing a puff of his inhaler!) While he was doing that, I sorted all the items and called my sister to ask, “What do 3 month old babies do? Do they eat food? Do they play with toys?” She chuckled and said, “Nope, they basically still do everything a newborn does. Sleep, eat, and poop.” 

Our home was a mess with all the chaos of trying to organize our items and then trying to figure out what we still needed. We decided to wait until the baby arrived before one of us would go shopping for the other things we knew he’d need. We sat at our dining room table and stared out the window. I can take myself back so easily to the feelings of anticipation and excitement while sitting there waiting for the car to come. Tim and I didn’t do much talking, but when we did it was: 

“Can you believe this is happening?”

“I wonder what he looks like.”

Then suddenly the car pulled in our driveway. Tim went out and helped carry J in. He was sound asleep in the car seat so Tim placed the car seat on the couch. Tim took off the blanket that was over top and there he was—a beautiful baby boy with more hair than Tim could ever dream of! It was love at first sight. The paperwork was filled out and we were given the court date, then the caseworker left.

Tim took J over to the Christmas tree and his eyes lit up! Tim started crying and in front of the Christmas tree we fell to our knees, embraced with J in the middle of us, and wept tears of joy and sorrow. Joy because it now made sense why we felt called into foster care. It was for him. All of the classes, applications, paperwork, interviews, phone calls, tough conversations, and prayers were for J. I remember in that moment saying, “He is the reason. He is it.” In the midst of the joy, though, there was sorrow. Sorrow for what he so obviously endured. 

Soon after, J was clearly getting hungry. I remember feeding him that first bottle. As he guzzled it down, he stared directly in my eyes and I stared directly back at him—this was the moment that I became a mother.

+ If you are interested in learning more about adoption and the services we provide at Christian Adoption Consultants, I would love to chat! Feel free to email me at meg@christianadoptionconsultant.com. +

Mommy, why didn't I grow in your belly?

It was a rough day. There was bickering between my boys almost constantly. Breaking up fights was becoming all too common and I was at my wits end. It was probably the 50th time of asking J to stop pestering G which earned him a spot on the steps. I felt tears welling up and asking myself, "Is their relationship always going to be like this?" 

After a few minutes, I sat next to J on the steps and asked him the typical why did he think he was in time-out. He looked down and shrugged his shoulders. I knew something deeper had to be going on. Sibling rivalry is normal to an extent, but this was extreme. It's been so extreme that I've consulted professionals about it and one mentioned that J could be experiencing some jealousy that he didn't grow in my belly like G did. Wait, what? No. I mean, J should know that I love him no differently. He sees that, right? But in this moment on the steps, I decided to attempt to put words to the feelings he might be having. As he sat there, I asked him, "Hey buddy, do you some times feel sad or mad that G grew in my belly?" 

Tears came from his eyes immediately. He melted as if I hit the nail on the head to something he didn't know how to express himself. I brought him in close to me and we cried together. After a few moments, he said, "Mommy, why didn't I grow in your belly?" My response straight up came from God because I'm not great with words on the fly.

"J, if you grew in my belly you wouldn't be you. You wouldn't be so good at drawing. You wouldn't be able to run as fast as you do and be able to do all those flips. You wouldn't be blessed with that handsome tan skin and those beautiful brown eyes. You wouldn't have that big, bold smile. If you grew in my belly, you wouldn't be who God intended you to be. And I love who God created you to be." 

That conversation happened about a year ago and I'd like to say that all had been wonderful after that between the boys, but it was still a journey. What was important, though, was that J had the words to express what he was feeling. He was now able to begin to process where that anger and jealousy was truly coming from. There have been times since when J would draw a picture and say, "If I grew in your belly, Mom, I wouldn't be so good at this drawing stuff. Right?" He was seeing for himself that God gave him these gifts and that was only possible by growing in Mama E's belly. It's been so empowering for him! 

And then this summer happened. The summer of 2019 has been one of deep friendship building for J and G. They still bicker and there are still fights to break up but it is no where near what it used to be. Instead, I've found myself often staring at the boys playing and been in awe of what God is doing. J's healing journey has spilled over into seeing his brother differently. He's no longer threatened by G's existence because he's more secure in himself and his story. You guys, the boys even requested to sleep in G's bed together the other night. Tim and I snuck upstairs before we headed to bed to see if they were still together and we stared with misty eyes at this:

This is a picture of pure hope.

Hope that J can overcome this mountain of insecurity in his life.
Hope that my little boys who will grow into men can have a long lasting friendship.
Hope that God still sees and cares about the details of our lives.

+ If you are interested in learning more about adoption and the services we provide at Christian Adoption Consultants, I would love to chat! Feel free to email me at meg@christianadoptionconsultant.com. +

3 1/2 Months & Grief

Someone asked me how old G was and I said quickly, "Three and a half months." It hit me. He's the exact age J was. However, circumstances were very different.

Since then, I keep having moments where I'm holding G and begin to cry. He's so innocent. He's so defenseless. He's so fragile. He knows me.

J was the same. Except, he didn't know me. He was innocent, defenseless, fragile, and given to strangers (aka us). My mind quickly remembers another time when I rocked him to sleep for the first time in a heartbreaking condition. My heart has been breaking all over again in a deeper way.

I thought I understood it when we were blessed with him. But I feel like now I realize WHY he was so chaotic in the beginning. G knows nothing but us. He recognizes us and we are his world. G calms almost the minute he hears my voice. J was the same. He knew her. She was his world. He calmed when he heard her. Without warning, he was traumatized, ripped away from her, surrounded by strangers, and then placed into another stranger's home. Where is she? Where is her voice? This took months for him to learn that we were trustworthy and could calm him. Understandably so, right? Why would I expect anything else?

J was "so young", I thought. "Attachment" doesn't start until three to six months, I thought. I was so wrong. I guess that's why I'm grieving in a new way. I realize that I failed to acknowledge his attachment to her and questioned why he was colicky. With the experience of G, I get it now on a new level.

So, tonight as J was falling asleep I told him I loved him. He replied, "I love you too, mama." It sunk in deep. He accepts me as his mama even though he had a true attachment to her, and what an honor it has been to be on this journey with him.