When I think back to when we first met and brought Meadow and Flint home, in my brand new role of adoptive mother, I believe I was looking for the old familiar feelings I had for each one of our 5 children that came before them - the ones I gave birth to. Immediately, there was a level of affection and a certain fondness for our adopted kids, but it was not the same type of strong emotional connection I had grown to expect and cherish with our biological children.
Sort of in a state of post-adoptive-shock (is there such a thing? I'm going to go ahead and say there is. Or was. At least for me.) I was grieved by this difference. Around every corner, I was looking for sameness - that same desire to spend time with and offer physical touch - the same feelings of closeness - the same thoughts that although they can drive me to the brink of crazy on any given day, these simply must be the cutest, smartest, most exceptionally extraordinary, gifted beyond measure children that have ever drawn breath on this earth! I wanted it to spontaneously occur - now. Now. I wanted that desperately so I could stop asking myself if it would ever come, if things would stay this way forever, if there would always be a marked difference, if we would ever get "there" if I would ever feel like their mother.
I was so hungry for some of the same.
We have been home together nearly 5 months and the development of these emotions is definitely coming along well. I quickly realized it would take time, and it has. Although humbled by that reality, it has taught me much about God's faithfulness and goodness to met my needs so I may serve my little ones. It exposed to me my own deep seated selfishness lurking underneath the parts of myself that I like to exhibit and acknowledge. It has shown me that families really can be born in completely unique ways that are equally as viable and strong and lovely, and how He loves and cares for each member within that family unit. This is not just a fairy tale landscape on the pages of other people's blogs - only for those women that are far wiser, filled with graciousness, and more nurturing than myself. It is a beautifully knitted tapestry woven together by many flawed pieces, bonding because of His grace and mercy at work within the walls of my very own home.
And I learned that different can be good, even necessary - to shake us out of our comfort zones. That the familiarity of being able to look into my kids' faces and remember myself as a child, or see the likeness of their father whom I so adore, to be able to recall their births and holding them in my arms as a tiny infant, is not the most important piece of what makes us one cohesive group called a family. It's not what makes me a mother.
I am beginning to see now that the process of choosing and being chosen for a task like this has a specialness all it's own - that love that starts this way is every bit as real and true and right and good and pure as the other kind I knew. Its birth and origin may not have been the same - the timing and growth may be different - but in fact, that unique quality it possesses, as something entirely different, completely new to me, foreign and strange and stretching and exposing and wonderful, is quite possibly the very best part of the whole thing.
It's never going to be the same, and that's really ok. I don't need to try so hard to find that sameness anymore - it's going to be altogether different.
And, different can be very good indeed.
4 comments:
Post-adoptive shock, I agree. Foreign and strange, indeed.
It's been five months for us, too. I still don't feel like my girls' mother (most of the time). Love is a daily choice. It hasn't come naturally yet. I feel so horrible even confessing that to myself.
I totally get that Jodie. Thanks.
thanks for this, tisha. i'm sure i'm going to be back here, reading this, many times...you are a wise woman.
Thank you for writing this. We just brought our daughter (3 1/2) home from Thailand, and she has attached to my husband more than me. I've felt guilty wondering if maybe it's because I'm less attached to her than our biological daughter. But it's been hard. Most of the time I feel like the mean babysitter she doesn't want. Sometimes she is outraged by my presence, and when I challenge her. She has severe special needs and is used to getting her own way because of them, so I've been constantly questioning myself-should I be more understanding during (whatever the issue is) or do I stick to my "Miracle Worker" ways.
I thought when others meet their children they felt the way I felt when our oldest daughter was placed in my arms.(and what is wrong with me for not feeling that way) It's nice to know I'm not alone.
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