Family photo 2013

Family photo 2013

Thursday, June 06, 2013

Trauma Mamas

I kind of like that term.

I think it's supposed to be in reference to women who are parenting children that have been traumatized, but the longer I spend within the bounds of this Adoption Realm and the more moms I come to know, I find it well suited for lots of us too. Moms who have endured, continue to endure, sometimes daily and hourly and each moment endure trauma in the name of caring for their beloveds. And it can be wearying. So terrifically wearing.

Each morning, we draw ourselves out of bed and we buck up. We seek therapists and essential oils and dietary restrictions and dietary supplements and treatment facilities and the advice of our fellow soldiers - other tired traumatized souls walking our same tumultuous road. We devour books written by authorities and recommendations shared through friends and assistance offered by family. We devour chocolate and we devour coffee.

We work to see the best in our children, to keep our levels of compassion at acceptable levels, to reach our kids, to pull out what lies far beneath, to break through. We strive to connect. We yearn for forward momentum. We celebrate the tiniest advancement, coveting baby steps as precious progress

We are intimately acquainted with the fundamental yet precarious balance of keeping great hope alive and excessive idealism at bay.

We scale walls for their sake. We become suddenly capable of what we never thought we could do. We leap buildings with a single bound. We break through barriers and forge paths in tangled wilderness terrain and We Never Stop Trying. We advocate with teachers and administrators and church staff.

We wait, on hold, with insurance companies until they hear our voices, until they consider the justness our claims. We wait for sincere apologies and we wait for softened hearts and we wait the initiation of affection and we wait for the words, "I love you, mom." We wait to know our labor is not in vain.

Our hearts cry out. We fall to our knees. We weep. We weep for them. We weep for ourselves. We weep for the women we used to be, for the men and women we long for them to become, for the people we feel we ought to be. We weep for the naivety we once held, for the lofty price and the toll it has taken and the inescapable strain. We weep for our sisters as they struggle too, comprehending all too well their pain.

We fall short, again and again. We rise up, again and again.

Flawed as we may be, often pushed far beyond our own limitations, regularly restless and fatigued, and even sometimes rather angry, we know we are their best chance.

We begin to slowly understand, it's going to be okay. Come what may, we will survive. The future is not ours to hold becomes no longer a cliche, but the liberating truth we hide deep within our hearts.

We learn that we are strong and we are capable enough and we are nothing if not determined. We will find a way to rise out of the valleys. We will find a way to rejoice on hilltops much lower than we once wished for. Spring, summer, autumn and winter, we will not give up. Not ever. To whatever end, we will see this through.

With a mother's mournful tender heart, we will always wish we had be able to do just a little bit better.

But we realize that expanding the depths of our love means coming to accept not only the human frailty of our children, but that of ourselves. It's a breathtakingly remarkable feat.

And so we carry on...

Trauma mamas, my hat is off to each one of you.    


8 comments:

jenlyn said...

So beautiful!

Dawn said...

Right back at you.

We stand, fierce.

colleenbriggs.com said...

So powerful. Beautifully written. Brought tears to my eyes, but hope to my heart. Standing with you, a stranger but a friend.

colleenbriggs.com said...

So powerful. Beautifully written. Brought tears to my eyes, but hope to my heart. Standing with you, a stranger but a friend.

Courtney said...

thanks, friend. i needed this bit of encouragement today!

Erika said...

That was like poetry, from the south, from the bayou ( I'm half Cajun so I felt it deep in my soul). I'm going to print that out and sing it. Wowsers

Meg said...

humbling. stunning. inspiring. thank you for sharing!

Meg said...

humbling. stunning. inspiring. thank you for sharing!

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