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/

{God's} Love & Basketball

You wouldn't know it by looking at her, but this girl was drowning in chaos. My middle school years were marked with trauma that left me spiraling into drugs, alcohol, an eating disorder, and behavioral issues at school from the young age of 11.  I came from a stable, two parent home where I was loved unconditionally and they were often left with more questions then answers as to why I had changed so drastically.

My saving grace during these years was basketball. It came naturally to me (thanks for the good genes Dad) and I could escape the chaos during practices and games. It gave me a community of girls who had good, innocent fun without all the drama. It allowed me to be a kid during a time when in other areas of my life I had to grow up quickly. It gave me coaches who would encourage me and speak life into me. In fact, one of my coaches even became my Sunday School teacher who had a huge role in me finding Jesus. And last but not least, it was pure fun!

That's me in the back row holding the fake cardinal. I've always been unique, guys. 

Fast forward about 15 to 20 years and here I am still shooting hoops when I can.

As a 30 year old, I have the benefit of looking back and realizing that God gave me basketball. It sounds ridiculous, I know. But in those years where God was the last thing on my mind, He was still chasing me. God knew what had happened to me because He was there. (That fact has been one of deep questioning and deep comfort for me.) God knew I would need something to fill me back up, something to give my hurting soul a break, and something to heal through.

I don't know where you are at in your life.

+ Maybe you're a parent of a child who is struggling and you're not sure where it's coming from. Please hear me, God's got them. He's chasing them even in the most subtle ways. Trust Him.

+ Maybe you're a young adult who is questioning where God was during a dark time in your life. Please hear me, God's had you. You must look back over even the smallest details and see He was there providing for you in ways you didn't even realize.

+ Maybe you're a preteen (or adult, let's be real) caught in a mess that you never saw coming. Please hear me, God has not deserted you. He sees your pain. He is big enough to handle your anger and sadness. He's carrying you through this, even if you're being carried like a screaming, kicking toddler.

I want to take a moment and just thank my parents. My dad calls me his "wild child" which I certainly earned and am glad we can laugh about it now but it also came with a lot of stress for both him and my mother. Thank you both for loving me, cheering me on at all my basketball games, praying for me constantly, and for always sticking by my side even when I was awful to be around.

Our Middle (Part 2 of 3)

Tim and I were in the stage of "not not trying" because we'd been trying and nothing happened. I hadn't been on birth control for quite some time. A couple weeks before Thanksgiving, my menstrual cycle was late and I had been feeling so tired. I was still working outside of the home at the time so on my lunch break I went to get a pregnancy test. To be honest, I had full anticipation that it would be negative. But to my surprise, there were two pink lines. I immediately cried and called my best friend. I exclaimed, "I'm so scared!" She reassured me that I could do this - grow a baby and push it out. After that phone call and taking some deep breaths, excitement settled into my soul. 

Pregnancy came easy to me. I didn't struggle with much morning sickness and enjoyed eating for two. Those first moments of feeling him move felt like a little butterfly fluttering around and then that sensation grew stronger until I could literally see the outline of a foot or hand. It was an incredible experience that I'm so grateful for! 

His due date came and went. I had a date on the calendar to be induced. The morning of, Tim picked up IHOP for breakfast and I ate my ever-loving heart out. We checked into L&D and after a low dose of Pitocin, my body started going into labor on its own. The contractions started getting stronger to the point that I felt it was time for an epidural. Unfortunately, my body did not respond well to the epidural and I was given a shot in the thigh (ouch!) to increase my heart rate. From that point, my labor slowed and my body would not stop shaking. After 18 hours of labor, it was finally time to push. Tim was right there in the action and cheering me on while also simultaneously giving me ice chips in between pushes. The stars finally aligned and G was put on my chest.

I was given a small meal and told after the meal I would need to try getting up to use the restroom. It felt rushed, but I was trusting the process. Upon standing up, my ears started ringing and my face turned flush. The nurse got a wheelchair and wheeled me in to use the restroom. It was scary, but the nurse reassured me that I would gain my strength after some rest and more food. I was transferred to the postpartum unit and soon after I started passing large blood clots. The nurse taking care of me on this unit was new and overloaded with other recovering mothers. She took note of the clots but didn't seem too concerned. G was having some issues latching so the lactation consultant was in my room every two hours to help with feedings. Later in the afternoon, she walked in and said, "Oh my! You look really pale. Are you feeling okay?" I mustered up a reply, "No, I'm still passing blood clots." She immediately called the nurses desk and told them to get a doctor. I was pretty out of it at this point but I do remember when the doctor came in. She looked concerned and said something like, "We have to do this now. There isn't time to go to the O.R." I ended up with an emergency D&C right there in my postpartum room and it saved my life. 

I hate that G's story is clouded by my own trauma, but his story is also full of God's faithfulness:

• G was born healthy and happy.
• The lactation consultant who used to work as a L&D nurse knew signs to look for.
• The doctor had the wisdom to skip the O.R.
• G was a laid back baby which allowed for rest and healing. 
• Tim stepped up in countless ways as my recovery was slow. 
• Our family helped for over a month after we returned home. 
• My sister was home for the summer since she's a teacher and was only a phone call away.
• And I could go on and on...

Was delivering a baby everything I had hoped for? Heck no! It was everything I was scared of way back in the beginning. But I'm a stronger, more emphatic woman and mother because of it.

+ 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. +

Pregnancy & Eating Disorders

It started around the age of 12. There is so much that goes into why it started, but what's important to know is that this was much more than a desire to diet or be thin. I finally got help for it in college and made significant changes in my thought patterns. Eating disorders are similar to addiction where professionals explain that you are never fully recovered, but you enter remission. I entered remission in 2009 and it was hard work. But it felt freeing to not be bound by rules, guilt, shame and low self-esteem.

Fast forward to 2014 when I got a positive pregnancy test. What a joyous and scary moment! There were so many emotions. One of those emotions was a fear of what pregnancy and a postpartum body would do to my remission. Up until that point, I'd never seen myself with a belly or being any heavier than my ideal weight. The scale had been my enemy for years and I rarely stepped on a scale since remission.  I knew that pregnancy meant a constant weighing of myself at the doctor's office because that would track the baby's weight. It made sense that they would want to know that the baby is growing and healthy, but seeing the number continually climb to a number I'd never thought I'd see was challenging. Those numbers used to be where I got my sense of control and worth from. I struggled, to be honest. I felt like I had no control, which is a scary place to be for someone who has an eating disorder. I seriously dreaded stepping on that scale each appointment because I knew it was a trigger.

However, I had a moment. A true, God-given moment. It was in my third trimester when I was making sure my outfit looked okay for the day and I literally thought, "I look beautiful...with a belly!" It's SO hard for me to admit that, but the point is that I've never thought that. Not even without a belly. I've been the first to criticize myself with every detail, nonetheless there I was in all of the pregnancy glory feeling comfortable in my own skin for the first time in my life. My body no longer needed to be thin or a certain number on a scale but instead I saw my body for what God intended it to be. His creation.

In 2009 I entered remission, but in 2015 in my third trimester of pregnancy I was healed from my eating disorder. I believe that God used this pregnancy to not only create an incredible baby boy, but He also used it to heal this broken mama. (Don't get me wrong, there are A LOT of other things I need to work on but this was the biggest demon of them all.)