I seem to have my heart on my sleeve...

PBS has scheduled a series of programs on adoption.  Last night, I happened to catch the middle of one of them.  It featured a family's journey to adopt a girl, maybe 7 or so, from China.  The interesting thing to me was that a Chinese translator was the behind the video camera so it was easy to ask the little girl was she was thinking or to have the translator explain the little girl's comments.  As an adoptive mom, I found it painful in a lot of ways.  This little girl was able to give voice to so many of the feelings my kids have had but have not been able to say.  Her behaviors, her nonverbal expressions...they were all things I've seen in my kids.  I guess now that our lives have slowed down a bit, my grief for my kids has really begun to come out.  It's something unexpected.  I just find myself feeling incredibly sad for the losses my kids have had in their lives. 

Sometimes it's big, like watching an adoption documentary.  And sometimes it's small.  Like last night as I was putting Kenson to bed and was telling him how he had such a beautiful smile.  It's his best feature, one that literally makes his whole face.  I couldn't help but wonder which birth parent gave him that smile.  I've never really seen his birth mom smile.  And birth father is a complete mystery.  I was just sad that he probably wouldn't know the answer to where that smile came from.

I recently read this post by Thankful Mom .  It's so well written and captures a lot of the feelings I've had of late.

"I thought of my children and my heart was heavy. These three years have not only been hard for us, they have been equally, or possibly even harder, for them. While our lives have been turned upside down, it cannot compare to the changes they have faced. They have given up their:

country

culture

language

home (even if it was an orphanage, it was home)

friends (some who were like sisters and brothers since they were together for many years)

and the life they imagined.

I do not doubt that this is the life God has for them; He places the lonely in families. But we cannot ignore their losses. We must not ignore them. It is essential that Russ and I acknowledge our children’s grief, fear, loneliness, and anger. We must join with them in their suffering.

Even their healing comes at a cost to them. Letting go of the old ways of relating to people, the ways that made them feel safe, is terrifying. Learning to trust that we:

won’t hurt them,

will provide for them,

will keep them safe,

will love them,

will never leave them,

is hard, gut-wrenching, wrestling-with-your-soul work.


Lest anybody (including me) think that Russ and I have made all of the sacrifices, we must always keep before us just what our children are struggling to embrace.

May we never give up, never lose hope, and always believe in the transforming and healing power of our loving God. And may we do it gently, with our children’s hearts held tenderly in our hands."