It's (not!) all about the kids

While preparing for our adoption, there were many high risk factors to consider.
2 kids at once.
Unrelated children.
Out of birth order.
Many children in the home very close in age.
Special medical needs (so we thought).

We took it quite seriously and did our research. We spent plenty of time reading about the tough stuff - RAD, what leads to disruption, extreme sensory issues, lying and manipulation, hoarding, etc. We listened to families' stories of struggle to help their children heal from their past experience of pain, loss, grief, feelings of abandonment, culture shock. We saw good people, great parents, highly resourced and capable individuals face immense challenge. That could be us. No question. We were in no way disillusioned that we are embarking upon a difficult task. Have we thought about......? I would regularly come up with scenarios and question Bobby. Hey, did you know sometimes the kids will [fill in the blank]?! How would we handle that? Are you ready for this?

I had become quite the adoption "expert" in a completely text book, head knowledge, no experiential wisdom whatsoever but a brain loaded with information about what I'm just certain I should and will do when my time comes. Because I know myself and I have invested time to become educated!

It turned out I did not know myself like I thought I did. In fact, I was entirely, unpleasantly, surprised by some of my deep, gut level, wish I was a better person than I am because I do know better, responses. Knowing and doing are different. Knowing is the easy part. It's in the doing that our weakness resides.
As women we tend to be emotional beings. Ever noticed? Ask your husband if he has.☺
And, mothers - the expectation for mothers. Goodness gracious. Have you thought about them? They are almost subconscious, deeply entrenched, so much so that we may hardly even recognize their absurdity, and they are real. The pressure we heap upon ourselves and the pressure society places on us is outrageous. Although real, I've come to believe they have absolutely no place our lives. Like our children, and our spouses, and our parents and friends and everyone else on this earth, we are human beings too. And God made us to be emotional creatures. Motherhood and womanhood go together, hand in hand, with beautiful purpose and great emotion.

Upon returning home with our children, when I had a need, I realized everything I had read, all that preparation and hard work putting in my time to ensure a successful transition, was about them. The kids. Their issues. Their grief. Their mourning. Their loss. Their undesirable behaviors. Helping them heal. Helping them grow. Helping them learn how our family works.

What I was unprepared for was helping myself. Their mom. My grief. My mourning. My loss. My behaviors. My healing and need for growth. Myself trying to figure out how our new family will work. If I am the one running all this - holding it all together - putting in the 24/7 hands and feet labor - dealing with the poo and the pee, and the runny noses, and the ringworm and lice, and the attitudes and the language barrier and the education, and the crying, and the myriad of other things children are prone to do, all while trying to connect, working incredibly hard to feel like a mother to children I barely know, holding the ridiculous expectation that I should have magnificent motherly emotion and a deep bond with people I've just met, feeling guilty that I don't - perhaps I should have spent a little more time preparing for my own issues. Because yes, I too have issues! Where was the woman who had compassion that knows no bounds for orphaned children? I know she existed. Where has she gone?

I find myself wondering why it is that most of the talk is about the children? I'm not sure. Could it be because it is shameful to admit we mothers are not perfect? That, like all humans, we need time. Precious time. Our closest, most significant relationships are not built overnight.
We need time to grow and to bond and to grieve. Yes, grieve. Time to develop a fierce, protective, love that will keep us awake at night with concern for them and what they are going through. Time to experience activities and hours and days and months together that naturally grow into a strong, vital, selfless relationship. Time to become a mommy, tried, true, tender.

Insta-moms may exist. If they do, I imagine them to wear bright red capes, have spotless homes, tall dark and handsome doting husbands, always well behaved, freshly scrubbed little ones, endless reserves of patience, and nothing but free flowing, sweet sentiments oozing from their lip-glossed mouths at all times. No cape is in my closet. But I am learning. Over time. Every day is growing me closer to who I want to be, who I know I will eventually become, in spite of the inevitable, discouraging setbacks that take place.

That woman I was is still here. She just has a new role which requires new skills and aptitudes that must be fostered. Now that it's time to put in the actual day in day out effort, I am developing compassionate qualities that are based in reality, not steeped in wistful, far away images of poor orphans on my computer screen. It's not a snap of the fingers, but I'm getting there. And I'm letting myself off the impossible, proverbial hook. Because moms, even moms, are imperfect people. And that is perfectly okay.