truth telling and normalcy

My dear friend, and adoptive Mom soul- mate R, recently sent me a blog link. I was amazed at how the author NAILED IT when she wrote of her experiences regarding being an adoptive Mom.....

I'm not sure why I was amazed.

She simply ...

told the truth.

I, for one, was too scared to tell the truth about our adoption experience.

Oh sure, you knew about trials and tribulations we went through.

You held your breath with ours when we thought for sure we were going to lose the twins (and I'll add that I needed you holding your breath with mine...... It meant so much to me).

You knew how strapped we were financially and chipped in - immediately.

Maybe that was it right there. YOU wanted all of this just as badly as WE wanted it. You even helped PAY for it.

How then could I tell you about the mornings I woke up, not wanting to get out of bed, because suddenly..... I hated my life? I wondered what on earth I had done. I wondered if ..... these children ..... would ever consider me to be their Mother..... If I would ever FEEL like their Mother.

I wondered why women LIKED being Mothers. I sure didn't. I didn't understand the JOY that people felt from the whole experience.

The hardest, most rewarding job in the world??? Nope. Didn't ever, ever, see even a tiny GLIMPSE of the "reward" people were referring to.

I remember the Mother's Day before last ...... (and thank The Lord my Cousin L was visiting, she is the reason I made it through the day, also E!!!! She came by and gave me a beautiful, sentimental gift!)..... I sat in church feeling like an utter failure. I cried later that night feeling like ..... a stranger ...... a stranger in my own life. Hollow inside.

The woman writing the blog post that R sent to me ...... she wrote about searching for "truth tellers" when she first adopted.... Thinking that she was alone in what she was feeling and experiencing. What's so sad is ..... there are more of "us" out there. I KNOW this because I've MET them! And. Uh. I AM ONE! We are all so relieved when one of us says ANYTHING that indicates that this whole thing has not been as smooth as one might assume. Everyone is so overjoyed for us, that it doesn't feel right to collapse crying into their arms about how miserable we actually are.

We have had our children for three years. And it is JUST NOW beginning to feel in the ball park of normal. I use the word normal loosely because really, what on earth is normal?

OUR normal is this......

I feel like I am a Mom most of the time. Like..... THEIR Mom.

I feel like our kids will leave with me, willingly, from the playground. (VS not caring who they leave with because it really doesn't matter).

They will want to hold MY hand (instead of a complete stranger's).

I feel like one of my kids is completely attached to me.

Another has attached sooooo much in the past year it's amazing.

The third (and this is not in any type of birth order by the way) is ..... well ..... progressing we shall say. I don't see many SIGNS of actual progression, I just know that it's The Lord's WILL that there be progression - and I'm dedicated to that - and I'm claiming that - so it will happen. So. Yeah. There is ..... unseen ..... progression happening. Yes. There is. Yup. (I'm claiming it, see?)

OUR normal is ......

Everyone eating their dinner. (Not holding food in their mouth refusing to swallow. Not staring at us with cold eyes refusing to pick up a fork. Not clearing their plate in under 60 seconds and then grabbing food off of someone else's plate).

OUR normal is .....

Not scratching. Not biting. Not hiting. (And I don't mean the stuff that ALL kids do, I mean the stuff that potentially leaves scars... all kinds of scars).

OUR normal is .....

Me not sobbing at 4PM every single day, texting my husband to see if he can come home early, to see if he's going to be on time, or God forbid, late that night.

OUR normal is ....

Going to bed, saying prayers, singing, and saying "Love you" once last time before the door closes.

For the first time in over three years..... T and I sat on our porch this evening ..... sipping our drinks ..... having a (gasp) conversation ..... while our children played...... OUT OF OUR EYESIGHT and REACH.

Life felt ......

NORMAL.

And I?

Loved it.

xo
K.