The Deep Dark Secrets of Toddler Adoption

Adoption is an interesting beast.  Sometimes it is lovely.  Sometimes it is wrapped up in a nice, neat package with a pretty bow.  And sometimes it howls like the wind on a snowy night.  Or is a soggy grey rain that seems to have no end in sight.

In our adoption experiences (and our one short bout with foster parenting), we've seen all of those things.  (And more.)   I wouldn't say we've experienced the wildest end of the adoption spectrum.  But I think we've certainly gotten a good dose of the realities of adoption, specifically adoption as it pertains to 2 and 3 year olds.

So for the next few posts, I thought I'd share some of the secrets that people may or not now about toddler adoption.
Secret # 1.  Adoptiong a toddler means incredible amounts of cuddling, holding, and carrying.  With adopted kids, they are learning to count on you as their safety net.  (And that's a great thing.)  But the reality of that is that they will literally cling to you at every turn, especially when they first come home. 

There is no separation.  Your child will not play in a different room than the one you are in.  If you sit down, even if there are toys on the floor, there is a good chance your child will bring those toys to your lap.  Sending your child upstairs or to a different room of the house where he cannot see you will probably result in a tantrum that is a product of anxiety over being apart from you. 

If you go out in public, expect that desire to cling to be magnified.  Of course, when you are in a setting where people know you, they want to visit and gush over your new peanut.  And you may find that your child's hands immediately go up, asking for you to hold him, and your child's face pressed deep into your neck as he tries to avoid those interactions.  Which may last for many minutes.  And may mean you start losing feeling in your arms as you deal with the 40 pounds of weight that are pressing on some random nerve.  My daughter has been home almost a year and still is reluctant to sit on the rug by herself at storytime at the public library.  (She absolutely refused to sit on the floor for about 9 months and would only sit on my lap.) 

And if you are headed to the store or walking somewhere, insecurity aside, their little legs may simply not be strong enough to walk the full distance.    Kenson's legs were not as strong as most kids his age. 

That doesn't even count the concept of "time in" where instead of giving a consequence of spending time away from the family, you have the child sit with you, on your lap.   Or the idea of using  baby sling to carry a child who is having a rough day and needs the extra support of knowing he or she is close to his parent. 

Your arms and back will ache.  And your lap will take big gulps, trying to find fresh air.