Adoption Part 2: Memphis

We are designed to be connected to the people who give us life. We are literally born attached, already bonded.

All adoption begins with a tremendous loss. No matter the details.

There is so much more to say about C's behavior regarding his adoption. First, understand that 90%  of the time, he is charming and thoughtful and hilarious. But when he struggles, he struggles big. 1000% of the time it stems from him feeling like he has no control. Wording things differently and making him at least feel in control can go a long way.


This is not how Brynn processes her feelings at all.
My high-spirited, giggly girl can turn into a puddle of tears at the drop of a hat. It's heartbreaking.

What's #1 on her Christmas list? Her first mom.
What does she want as a reward for a job well done at her MRI? Her first mom.

We've written letters, we've drawn pictures, we've done art therapy and play therapy and real therapy- but none of it takes the place of the one things she wants. And we can't give it to her.

The second I say, "Brynnie, I wish I could..." she erupts into tears. Big, fat sobbing tears.

"Can you please just get me closer??!!"

That, I can do. That's why we loaded up the car and drove to Memphis this weekend. The timing was not great, we had to cancel plans, and miss important things, but this child... these children... needed to be closer. 

We made the four hour drive with very few plans in mind- trying to let the two of them lead us. This was not our typical free-spirited adventure kind of trip. It was heavy and hard. Very, very hard. For all of us.
Emotions ran high for the full 48 hours. Lots of questions, lots of outbursts, lots of silence.

I noticed that the two of them gravitated toward one another often- NOT normal for these two.

We were grasping at straws to find ways (big, little, anything) for them to feel connected to their beginning.
The most pivotal moment ended up being a trip to the hospital where they were born. They were really torn on whether or not they wanted to go (she did, he didn't). We agreed to just get there and see what happened.

They stayed outside for a long time, before agreeing to walk in.

Gonna keep the details for ourselves, but it was TOUGH. We didn't even get very far, they were done.

{Side note: I could not have made it through this weekend without Layla. She was there to be whatever they/I needed her to be and she was my nine-year-old saving grace. When we came out of the hospital, I was holding them- she had Anna Gray, the diaper bag, and the camera. I am so so grateful she took these pics and so so so grateful for her existence.}

After that, we went to the Children's Museum- perfect way to end two days of hard.
The mood shifted, the air was lighter. They smiled and had fun!

{Signing "airplane"}

As weekends go- this one was kind of awful.
There was picking and fighting. They were tired and argumentative. It rained on us. Anna Gray screamed for hours on end in the hotel room. We ruined everyone's peaceful, quiet Sunday morning breakfast at Panera. We didn't make it to church. I was tired and frustrated and emotional.
But IT'S NOT ABOUT ME.

It didn't change things instantly, their hearts aren't healed, they have no more peace than they had on Friday. Not yet. But hopefully, someday they will remember that we tried. That, together, we did everything we could to find it. That it's okay to be hurt and sad over one family and happy and secure with their other. That they trust me to hear their feelings and hold them safe. That they are unabashedly loved without a doubt. Someday.

Two more things:

1) Children who were adopted will likely need to grieve at each new developmental stage. That's why these emotions are relatively new and different. They will probably change again and again and again.

2) I won't be writing a piece on Anna Gray's adoption anytime soon, as her's is different. Not because she was adopted internationally and not because she has Down Syndrome- because she's TWO. She will work thru her story in her own time in her own way. And we will be right there beside her when she does.

On to November: Adoption Part 1

Yesterday, I promised to expand on Cale's unprompted affection after the last-minute-throw-together-Halloween-Bash, and why that was a big deal.

We have recently been through a rough patch with our little buddy. It comes and goes and is about as predictable as the weather (sometimes you have a pretty good idea that it's coming, sometimes your guess is completely off.) When it started this time, we didn't see it coming.

In hindsight, we should have. But it came on hard and strong. A Cale tsunami.
The aftermath shows a path of destruction with many casualties. Pride, humility, peace, happiness, assurance, confidence... all gone or severely damaged. There are physical and emotional injuries and PTSD when you close your eyes to try to sleep at night. Only the strong survive.

If it sounds like I'm being dramatic, then I'm doing a decent job of describing it well.

It's awful, folks.
It's awful and confusing.
When it starts, you are armed and knowledgeable, but as it beats you down you become weak and weary. Your shield crumbles and you get hurt.
WHY?
Where does it come from? What started it? What are we doing wrong? Will we ever be enough?

We are a couple weeks out from it now and back in a place of understanding and hopefulness, but still trying constantly to build back so that we are prepared, should the tsunami strike again. Education = Armor.

Low and behold, a magazine landed in our mailbox with an article addressing just this type of storm. Oh... Hey, God. Good to hear from you. Again.

I wanted to type out the whole very, very long article right here. No part of it is disposable.
November is Adoption Awareness month and this piece is so.very.relevant. To us, to any member of the adoption triad, to professionals, and just you regular folks who want to understand other regular folks. However, since it is very very long- I'm going to try to condense it, without losing anything too valuable.

NONE OF THESE WORDS ARE MY OWN.
I am literally copying the words from the article, verbatim.
It's actually a Q&A from Lifelines magazine.

Please try to hang in there for the whole thing.

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Fight, Flight, or Freeze
Q: There are times when my child seems to "flip out" for no reason. Something happens that shouldn't be a big deal- like a door slamming- but my child reacts like it's a major problem. Can you help me understand what might be going on?

A: (from Juli Alvarado, Trauma-Informed Care Educator, Author, and Practitioner. Bolded and italicized words in response are not mine. RED EMPHASES ARE MINE. )

"It's a common human response: One second all is well as we are resting in bed... but with the slamming of a door, we immediately switch gears, searching the environment for a threat. We involuntarily kick into fight, flight, or freeze mode to protect ourselves. We defend ourselves, we run away, or we become paralyzed in the face of danger."

"This type of response occurs even when there is no real threat- such as a slamming door- and it happens when there is real danger, such as an abuser entering the room. Our initial response to a perceived threat is an unconscious, protective reaction that stems from deep within the brain and is designed to protect us."

"Children who have been adopted and have experienced the trauma of separation from their biological (parents)... become "stuck" in this protective mode at the slightest hint of danger. At times, children quickly enter the state of flight, flight, or freeze even when there is no visible threat or demand. This phenomenon stems from the earliest history of broken attachment."

"The human brain is user-dependent- the repetition of experiences strengthens pathways in the brain. The earlier the experience, the more deeply that experience is ingrained in the brain. Thus, early experiences have a disproportionate impact on how the brain will function for the individual's lifetime. Adopted children will enter states of fight, flight, or freeze easily and often when there is any perceived event that feels threatening."

"Many adopted children-even from birth- prefer to be alone, avoid family interactions, and may be perceived as defiant when, in fact, they are doing the best they can do to calm themselves.
Another common reaction from our children is anger or aggression. You may ask a simple question... the question evokes a fear response. The coversation begins to escalate, fear takes over, and your son is kicked into fight mode as he yells at you. In response, we parents often escalate the situation and fight back, only adding fuel to the fire."

"The problem is your child reacts to simple questions or commands as if they are attacks. A child with an overactive stress system becomes hyper vigilant and is prone to fight, flight, or freeze the instead he feels a threat. The part of the brain that should help him determine whether or not the threat is real becomes hijacked by the more primitive part of the brain, and the child is literally incapable of calming himself down."

"Our children are often completely unaware of why they respond this way and are unable to correct the behavior on their own. As parents working to heal trauma, it becomes necessary for us to focus not on the child's behaviors, but on the fear, stress, and other factors that underlie the child's behavior, as well as our response to the behavior."

"Learning your child's language of fear will provide the space for you child to learn your language of love. Fear and love do not coexist. Your calm, constant, trauma-informed love will, over time, diminish your child's fear."
****************************************


She then goes on to list several tips for parenting strategies and creating a healing environment.

Shew.
It's a lot, no?
But it is SO important to recognize that the Cale-tsunami is not made of anger and desctruction, it's made of fear and loss. A whirling, twirling, encompassing storm of FEAR and LOSS.

Truth?
I think this is how our little guy ended up with an autism diagnosis. I do not think he is actually on the autism spectrum. 

There, I said it. It was the label given to him, and we needed something- anything at that point- to get him the help he needed. Because he (we) did need the help. He definitely had some developmental delays and one of those was speech- which meant the storms REALLY came out of nowhere because he didn't have the words to tell us about the storm going on inside of him.


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TO BE CONTINUED...
And my Coloring Outside the Lines column will touch on it as well, that will be out Nov 19th. Local friends, our family is also being featured in The Connection this week and next for Adoption Awareness Month.

October: CHECK

October was a wild ride.
A quick recap of the big events, and then I will get started on posting on the stuff in my head. It's a lot.

For those that don't know, I am now writing a monthly column in a local paper called Coloring Outside the Lines. Since October was Down Syndrome Awareness month, this month's column focused on just that.

"Something Extra

In early 2012, my husband and I adopted our fourth child. We had fallen in love with a picture of a precious, pink little girl with round cheeks, tons of hair, and Down Syndrome.

We really didn’t know much about Down Syndrome at all, only that she was ours and we were hers.

During our adoption process, so many people struggled to understand why we would intentionally choose this life. Wouldn’t it be hard? Did we not understand how stressful it would be?

In the year and half since she’s been home with us, we’ve learned a lot about what Trisomy 21 (an extra copy of the 21st chromosome, usually called ‘Down Syndrome’) is and what it isn’t.

Is it hard? Sometimes. 

It’s not hard to just LIVE with Down Syndrome or raise someone who does. The hard parts come in trying to teach her to drink from a straw, buying ten different kinds of cups, trying twelve different kinds of beverages and NOTHING makes her want to wrap her lips around that tiny tube and suck the drink upward. Until she does. And then we celebrate, HARD.

Is it stressful? Sometimes. Of course, it isn’t stressful to just BE a person with Down Syndrome or love someone who happens to have it. Making time for early intervention and physical therapy, occupational therapy, speech therapy, and doctor appointments can be stressful. But when she uses all her might, every ounce of gusto she has, and finally stands up after trying for years ... Well, I just can’t STRESS enough how exhilarating it is.

Sure, some things are harder for her … but not all things. She might do things a little later than normal, but she will do them. She might have to work harder or use extra tools to accomplish a task, but she will accomplish it. My daughter is not disabled. She is differently-abled, but she is able.

She really is more like other children than she is different. Like most two year olds, she is inquisitive, determined, hilarious, and a little bit sassy. We practice counting, colors, and animal sounds. She loves Elmo, swinging at the park, and does a mean version of “Twinkle, Twinkle”.  She has big blue eyes, pink pouty lips, and Rapunzel-like golden hair.

Jimmy Johnson, American coach and broadcaster, said, “The difference between ordinary and extraordinary is that little extra.”

My daughter has Down Syndrome. I hope when people look at her, they see a rockin’ version of “Twinkle, Twinkle”, her golden hair, and yes, something extra."

October also brings us the Buddy Walk!

It was cold and rainy and we honestly were not prepared for either! On the positive side, we had family and friends show up in support of our Annie Sunshine and raising awareness. We saw some other friends and  met some new ones. And we had Jason's Deli. You know, for Down Syndrome. That's how passionate we are.

While the weather for Buddy Walk was not ideal, the weather for the Pumpkin Run was PERFECT.

And of course, the highlight of October: HALLOWEEN

^ My sweet Rockford Peaches!^

And Little Peach who is WAY too wiggly to stay in one spot long enough for a picture these days.

We had the most fun with this. We scoured Goodwill for weeks finding pink button ups that would fit each girl, well enough. We hunted down red belts and red hats and baseball socks. We tea-stained Cale's old baseball pants and a plain white tee shirt. A little felt and puff paint and voila! I know we could have done much more if I could flipping learn to sew already, but we were pretty thrilled with how they came out!

Proud parents, Johnny and June:

Grin. We had not planned on dressing up (though we love it- we didn't think we'd have time), so we literally put together whatever we had in our closet. Since Halloween weather was predicted to be pretty nasty, we (all the parents of the children) ended up throwing an impromptu party instead of actually trick-or-treating (which AG learned to say by the way! Also, when did that phrase become a verb, I wonder?).

They did the donut/string thing, and mummy wrap, and bobbed for apples- all hilarious. And then they trick-or-treated (the verb) different bedrooms- funny in a redneck way. The next morning, Cale wrapped his precious little arms around me and thanked me for the "best party ever". I'll write more on that later, but for now it confirmed that despite yucky weather, they still had a blast. Not bad for a 24 hour prep :)

On to the next!