broken rubber band

Most toddlers, when you take them to a wide open area like a park or a beach, will run and run for a few yards, and then turn back to look at you. Then they will laugh and run very quickly back to you.  It's like they have an invisible rubber band attached to them that runs between them and you (mommy/daddy).  If they run too far, the rubber band pulls them back, fast.

Lily came home with us at 15 months. She had just learned to walk, and for the first couple of weeks she still had that step-step-stumble-fall walk of a young toddler. As soon as she got steady on her feet though, she took off.

We took her to wide open places and she ran and ran and ran. It was clear, her rubber band was broken. 12 months in a care center without a mommy or daddy to run back to will do that.

Sometimes I let her run away from me, just to test and see how far she would go. Would she ever turn around?

She never did. She just kept going. My own heart, my own aching rubber band, would snap, and I would chase after her and catch her up.  But it was clear, she would have kept on going.

Lily, you may have noticed, is something of a dare devil. If there is a sharp object within reach, she is picking it up (and when she was younger, putting it in her mouth. Let's see if this steak knife from the dishwasher mommy is unloading is really clean.) If there is a body of water to jump in, she jumps. If there is a tall tree or hill or large rock, she is climbing it. If there is a cliff or porch railing or window ledge, she is leaning over it. If there is a set of wheels to ride, she is on it. Running into traffic? That's so fun! Disappearing into crowds? Loves it! I have been paged over the YMCA loudspeaker to come get a (pantsless) child from the bouncy house she refuses to leave. I have grabbed her from the jaws of death (oncoming cars and trucks) three times.

This child has taken years off my life. YEARS.

And yet, she is still alive. Steak knife in the mouth at 16 months? Not a scratch.

Diving into a busy street? Fine.

Tumbling off of a high rock? Not a bruise.

She really does have a guardian angel.

A couple of days ago we took the kids to a huge beach near us. Waves! Sand! They were thrilled, and the waves were so much fun they didn't notice the water was like ice.

At this beach there is a large rocky island that you can walk out to at low tide. We all started towards it, but Daniel got distracted by the waves and we stopped to let him jump for awhile. Lily, though, wanted to get to the top of that island. She took off. I stood at the bottom of the slope, watching her, conducting the test again. Just how far and how high will she climb before she turns around? Has her rubber band, after 3 years with us, been stitched together at all?

She climbed and climbed and climbed without a glance back. Soon, she was out of sight. I had a vision of the waves crashing on the rocky ledge I knew was on the other side of the island. I started climbing after her.

Lily, as an adult, will be able to climb so high. She is so fearless, so ready to take on the world. Perhaps by then, we will have stitched together enough of the rubber band that she will not leave us behind.

A Break from Ordinary

what is he thinking?

Most of the time, my children do not want to talk about being adopted. They'd like to go about their normal lives and just pretend that we are just an ordinary family who are all the same color thank you very much. And most of the time, I am relieved, because talking about their adoption and about how we are different colors is exhausting and often makes me cry. So for the past several months, we've gone about our lives- school and snow storms and renovations and arguments about screen time and on and on...

But this week, for reasons unknown to us, our son has said a few things that prompted me to think that we need to talk more about being adopted.  First of all, we had last weekend's eye opening conversation. Read it here. Then, Daniel says something to Andrew about being replaceable. As in, if he was lost, would we "just adopt" another boy? And just yesterday, Daniel asked me which orphanage I lived in when I was a little girl. He was disappointed when I reminded him that I lived and grew up with Grandma and Grandpa.

I'm glad to have these reminders that we are not just another ordinary family.  We had gotten too comfortable pretending.

So tonight I sat Daniel on my lap and read him his life story. He pretended not to want to hear it. He pretended to climb off the chair and run away. But he also sat back into my chest and nodded when I asked him if I should keep going. His story, as he said once, is a sad story.  Reading it I tried not to cry, and failed. Daniel said, "Stop crying! I'm going to be embarrassed."  I said, "I'll try."

In telling Daniel his story I try to get him to understand that he is not replaceable. I try to get him to recognize that it was a terrible tragedy that led him to lose his first family, and not because he wasn't wanted or loved.  I want him to hear me when I say how much he is loved and wanted and treasured.  I try to help him understand just how special his story is.  But I know that he will probably not truly internalize those truths until he is an adult.  My loving words fall into a deep, deep space inside him.

I'm telling you, the whole wide web, this intimate family story because I want more people to understand just how hard adoption is for children. Just how tragic and terrifying it is. Yes, life saving and life changing and trans formative, but also, a sad story.

Occasionally someone will say to me about my children, "how lucky they are." Nothing could be farther from the truth.  The only luck they had was in getting adopted at all, and not having to grow up in an orphanage.

I am the lucky one.

Ethiopia is slowly closing their international adoption program. I have very mixed feelings about it. On the one hand,  it is certain that many, too too many children were wrongfully taken from their families and "sold" into adoption. On the other hand, too too many children will now suffer, die or grow up to live limited lives in care centers. There is nothing worse for a child than to grow up without a family.  I can only hope that more families will stay intact, or that more children will be adopted within the country.  I'm hoping that when we visit Ethiopia this Spring, we will go to find Daniel and Lily's old care center empty and shuttered.  Those hopes are fairly thin.


Ah! You might be saying... What can I do?! I hate crying over all these sad stories! What can I do to help?! 

Well, you might donate money to one of the many, many organizations all over the world that are helping children stay with their families or work to prevent the causes of orphaning in the first place. Heifer International, The Fistula Foundation, Heartline Ministries Haiti and Ethiopia Reads are four that we donate to regularly. Or, you might sponsor a child at risk of being orphaned through one of the many organizations that helps children attend school, get good health care and clean drinking water. We sponsor four Ethiopian children through Food for the Hungry.

Or, you can find out ways to support families at risk closer to home. Tragedies and orphans don't just happen far away in Africa...

But even if you do nothing more, even if all you did was read this, thank you. I am the lucky one.

eye opening

Sometimes my kid says something that completely changes my perspective on our shared life together...

D with Daddy in Ethiopia. Ohmygoodness he was so tiny!

Yesterday we had this conversation over a snack:

Daniel: "When I first came home, I thought you and Daddy were like monsters. That maybe you had lots of kids and you killed them and ate them or something. Ha!"

Me: "Really? Wow. And when did you stop believing that?"

Daniel: "Oh, maybe like after 100 days."

Me: "Hmm. And what helped you change your mind?"

Daniel: "That you bought me toys."

Yup. That's right. When our newly adopted son first came home, at age 5, he thought maybe we'd adopted lots of kids, and murdered them, and possibly ate them.

This puts a whole new spin on my memories of our first 100 days as a family, and also makes me rethink the value my son places on new toys.

First of all, you should know that the conversation above was not a whispered, emotional confession. It was a relaxed, normal conversation over apple slices at our dinner table.  As in: "Ha ha ha... remember how I used to think you and Daddy were murderers and cannibals! Ha! That was something!?"

Secondly, our son loves to get new toys, and gets super worked up around birthdays and holiday about which toys and how many and will they be fun and cool enough... Which I used to find really annoying and stressful. Who was this materialistic person I was raising!? And now I see that he's somehow equated these people buy me nice toys = they must not be about to murder me and my baby sister.  So, I guess I will keep those new toys coming for a bit longer just so he is clear that we are not out to get him.

Thirdly, and most importantly: What! holy @#$%! Is THAT what you were thinking during those crucial first weeks when we could barely communicate and you were having daily tantrums and grieving and we were all just trying to survive? I can't believe that Daniel was terrified for his life all the time. I think part of the time he was happy and excited to be in his new home. Part of the time he was confused, and a lot of the time overwhelmed.  But maybe I'm projecting my own emotional memories of that time onto him. Usually when we ask he claims to not remember those first few weeks.  After all, those memories were coded in a language he no longer speaks or understands.

I'm going to have to ponder this some more. And I'll ask him about it again. It maybe that he was pulling my leg. Or he might have other revelations for me...

Life with kids: always full of surprises.

D contemplating his new life in America

Showing or Telling?

"Preach the Gospel, and if necessary, use words." - St. Francis

This quote was in a recent profile of Pope Francis I read, and it has stuck with me for days now.

Preach the Gospel, and if necessary, use words.  Or: Live it, don't just say it. Show, don't tell.

Am I doing that, as a parent? I sure have been using lots of words lately. Loud ones, angry ones, frustrated, exasperated, had-it-up-to-here- ones.  I've also been trying out teaching words, and "lets all gather around the advent candles" words, and the 'true meaning of Christmas' words.

And I think what my children are hearing is Blah, Blah, Blah.

My son used to ask me why I didn't give to people who ask for money on the street. I didn't have the right words to explain to him then.

This Christmas season we sponsored a family in need. I bought a stranger and her children presents and wrapped them and sent them off.

My son asked me why we would do that. As in, how come you are buying presents for other people's kids!? (and not more for me, is left unsaid but implied.) Words failed me again, because I was so shocked that my normally generous son was talking so selfishly.

Then I remembered his pre-Christmas and pre-birthday stress. How he is convinced that we will not get him the presents that he wanted. That we will fail him. He does not trust us. He does not trust the world. Any why should he? The world failed him once before.

How many more years until he learns to trust again? Maybe only God knows...

It has been a hard Fall. I almost missed the signs of our pre-Christmas stress because of the months of buying-selling-packing-moving-unpacking-renovating stress.

My children have seen me lose my temper, pour too many glasses of wine, throw things in frustration (packing tape!) answer shortly, sigh loudly, cut corners (microwaved nachos for dinner again guys!) and in general, preach a gospel of be-quiet- this-is-all-too-hard-why-don't-you-just-hurry-up-and-go-to-bed-already!

Which is not really what I set out to do as a mother.

Christmas is coming, and the kids will open up a pile of presents and the house will get messier than ever. But then the New Year will arrive to. And with it, some space. Some time. Some blank pages on the calendar and an end to the renovations and the moving.  I will no longer need to spend 3 afternoons a week shopping at Home Depot or picking out tiles. (oh, thank Heaven!)

These days, it seems, that even more than a kitchen back I want myself back.  I want to preach the Gospel of "I love you kiddos".

And if necessary, I'll use words.

Orphanage Behaviors

When Lily first came home, she rocked herself to sleep. This is a classic "orphanage behavior", a strategy many children develop to cope with the stress of living without a family. No matter how wonderful the staff are at a care center anywhere in the world, they aren't a family. They don't rock babies to sleep.  They feed them and burp them and change them and swaddle them and put them down in the cribs. That's it. If babies cry, they cry.  Rocking is soothing, so babies learn to self soothe.

At 15 months, just adopted, Lily would thrash her head back and forth, back and forth quickly.  She only did this a few times, thank goodness. It was so sad and stressful to watch. The couple of times it happened she was strapped into a car seat (a hated contraption unknown to African babies).  Since I couldn't pick her up to soothe her, she soothed herself in the only way she knew how. From the very first night we were her parents, we rocked Lily to sleep. After a couple of weeks, she stopped self soothing. She'd learned that we would soothe her when she needed it.

I still rock Lily to sleep every night, even at 3 years old.  She still snuggles in my lap every night, and we sometimes chat or sometimes sing or sometimes we just rock silently.  She (almost) cannot fall asleep without at least 10 minutes rocking. When I get frustrated with all the time I've spent rocking Lily- especially those nights when she's not sleepy and is wanting to talk or be silly or get off my lap for a drink of water- I think of all the months she spent crying alone.  I think of the time soon, when she is a big kid who neither fits nor wants to be on my lap.

Rocking is a classic orphanage behavior, but not the only one my kids have. The other ones are subtler.  If you didn't know my children better, you'd think "Wow, these are some friendly, outgoing kids!" And they are, but that is also an orphanage coping skill. Who is going to get better care, more attention, a second helping of food or an extra cuddle? Cute, friendly, outgoing kids.  Kids who like to talk to adults and make silly jokes for them. Kids who know how to connect quickly and negotiate for what they need. It's no accident that Lily always (ALWAYS) gets a ride on the coolest set of wheels in the playground. It's no accident that Daniel quickly joins in baseball/handball/whatever ball games with older kids at the park.

Today at the beach my kids' amazing set of social skills was on display. Daniel got to ride on a giant float. Lily scored a giant shovel and a handful of crackers from the family next to us.  If you didn't know them better, you'd think, wow, these are some well adjusted kids!

Uh-uh.

Until a dog scares Daniel and he storms off, tears running down his stormy face. His social skills extend only to making connections. He is lost when a connection is broken. He is easily embarrassed. When the dog's owner laughed and said, "he won't hurt you!" Daniel was mortified and ran away.  He didn't know what else to do.

Until Lily tires herself out so much from chatting up all the people at the beach that she forgets to tell me she needs the bathroom, twice.

Until Daniel loses (or thinks he loses) at a board game and tosses all the pieces on the floor. He's unable to separate the loss of the game to loss of his self esteem.  His tenuous sense of control over his little world is lost with every toss of the dice.

I'm grateful, often, that my kids are so outgoing and so happy to be out in the world. I worry though, when Lily spends an hour sitting on some other mom's blanket, talking her ear off about who knows what. I worry at the amount of energy Daniel is exerting to hang out with the big kids, and the lengths he will go to make them laugh.

Later, at home, we shower and change out of our sandy suits and settle down for some cozy family time. We knit together the unraveled threads of ourselves. We try to teach our kids a little bit more about the deeper coping strategies; the ones that don't take quite so much energy. Reflection, talking, connecting.  We're not always successful. Sometimes we have games tossed on the floor. Sometimes we have lots of laundry to do.

Sometimes we spend a long time in the rocking chair.  Which is just where we need to be.

Under the banana trees...

Sometimes when I'm feeling a bit too wild-eyed, I imagine our son as a the adorable toddler he must have been, playing under the banana trees outside his home in Ethiopia, and I start to feel calmer.  His life was so simple then: eat, play, hide in the shade under the banana trees, find mama when you are hungry or tired or thirsty, play some more.

We are not living in simple times now, not at all. We are walking through what us adoptive families call "traumaversary" season. This month marks 3 years since Daniel and Lily's simple life in Ethiopia was tragically ended. Soon it will be July, which will mark 2 years since their life in America began. Those two big events don't go un-noticed around here.  We've got lots more tantrums, lots more non-compliance, lots more grumpiness.  If only children grieved logically. If only he could say, "I'm sad because 3 years ago my mom died."  But it doesn't work that way.  Instead it's "You are so mean! You NEVER let me... (wear shoes 3 sizes too big, play on the i-pad for 2 hours, watch R-rated movies or other completely irrational things) It's been a bit of a challenge to keep my cool and remember that what he's really saying with this annoying, difficult behavior is "I'm sad."

This morning I found myself ranting out loud to nobody, "Don't these children know it's Mother's Day!?!"

Plus we are moving.

Plus the school year is ending. And because this school year has been so long and so challenging*, everyone is ready for the end. Which means we're all acting like it's June. Which is BAD.  I really dislike June. It is the hot, sticky, sweaty, exhausting, dirty, dusty, can't possibly-end-soon-enough month. It's the wine for dinner, ice cream for lunch, iced coffee 5 times a day month.

* I was wondering why!? this year has felt so long, and then I remembered: hurricane, school shooting, flu upon flu upon flu, bombings, building collapses (in many of) our students' home country. It's been a long year.

So last night, after a long tantrum involving shoes, I crawled into bed beside our son and we talked about the banana trees for a while. And we felt a bit better.

Seriously! Is it summer yet!?

That's MY mommy!

So as I've written before (here and here), Lily is going through an Attachment phase. You could call it the Velcro phase, or the Glue phase, or the name-any-sticky-adhesive substance phase.  She's ATTACHED to me.

And it's lovely, most of the time. She's growing in love, she's starting to understand that Mommy is special and sticks around, that I'm not just another long term caregiver, that I love her and I always will.

The parts that are not so lovely about her being attached to my hip are going to the bathroom with a 2 year old chaperone, and how she is treating her brother. Her new thing to do, any time Daniel is sitting with me, is to push him away and shout, "That's MY mommy!"

She knows that I'm Daniel's mommy too. She just doesn't like it.

"cheeeeeeeese"

And frankly, this doesn't bother Daniel all that much, because he is going through an opposite attachment phase... what I'll call the "nay, let's try another family", or the "can I be adopted again?" or the "this family @#$% isn't all it's cracked up to be!" phase.  He's not so sure he loves us, because in his view a perfect parent gives him whatever toy he wants and lets him play video games all day. His ideal mommy lets him eat and drink whenever and whatever he likes, and always has the best apps on her i-phone. (None of that education junk!).  He's finding out that life in a new family is hard, and he's kind of throwing up his hands a bit.

So I've got one kid who can't get enough kisses, and another who wipes them off.

But we keep on.  I keep giving Daniel kisses, trying not to blow my stack when he wipes them off. I keep giving Lily kisses, trying not to roll my eyes when she insists on just one more.

I do long for the day when both of them can say, peacefully and with conviction, "That's my mom."

"make a nice face, D"

Attachment

Welcome to More Injera Please! 

This post was excerpted in the Spence Chapin Fall 2012 Newsletter (yeah!) Thanks for reading...

Oh, irony of ironies... while I'm trying to get his piece written my 6 year old son, home one year, is asking me to play cars with him.  And I'm asking him to please, please play by yourself for just a little bit longer. Naptime only lasts so long. Sigh.  I'm clearly no expert on attachment. Karin Purvis would shudder. But, I'm pretty sure my son still loves me. So we'll carry on...

Here's my top 5 Strategies for Growing Attachment with Older Adopted Children.

FYI Older child = 4 years - 12 years old (I will claim no expertise adopting teens). Most children currently waiting to be adopted, both internationally and domestically, are in this category. So many, in fact, that they are considered "special needs", even if completely healthy. 

1. Food

If you make a parallel between fostering attachment with an older child to growing attachment with a newborn, food is first.  Newborns are fed, on demand, very often, and in very close proximity to a parent (nursing or bottle).  They are not left hungry, or told to wait for mealtime, or only given a little bit. They are fed til full, by a parent, all day and all night.

When our son first came home, he ate up to 3 bananas, 2 granola bars and 8 rolls every day, in addition to meals.  He ate about every hour, sometimes more often. We never went anywhere without enough food for the entire day. After all, we had a newborn on our hands. A five year old, 45 pound newborn.

Internationally adopted children are often underweight, and often have suffered from hunger, deprivation or malnutrition.  These are children from poor families in poor countries.  It is very common for newly adopted children to do a lot of catching up... and they eat that way. Our son has grown about 7 inches in the past year, and gained 15 pounds.  He went from the 50% to the 95% on the growth chart.  Allowing him to eat like a newborn was a key part of his growth, and our attachment process. We made sure he always ate with a parent (when not in school). We prepared favorite foods. ( I made meatloaf in August, as only a new mother could.) We shared, we cooked together, we said grace; we did everything we could to make his daily nourishment more than for his body.

2. Sleep

Being adopted is exhausting! Especially when you are learning a new language, and how to read and count and how to write your name. So newly adopted older children need lots of sleep. They may have difficulty falling asleep, or staying asleep. They may have nightmares they cannot explain. They may be afraid of the dark. They may be afraid to sleep alone, because they probably never have.  Whatever sleep solutions work for your family, do it! I'll never forget spending a whole day at an African wedding.  I struggled all day to make sense of the language and the customs and the food. That evening I could hardly keep my eyes open, and I was tired for days.  This is an adopted child's experience every day.  Our son hasn't made it past 8:00pm, ever.

 I wrote about cuddle time in Toddler Attachment. All of that is also true for older children. It can be trickier to find ways to have one:one snuggle time with an older child.  A quick nap on the couch, some wrestling on the rug, a back massage, stretching out together, sitting together with a book, rocking in an oversize rocking chair... even a high five or a pat on the back is a good place to start. Who doesn't need a great big hug more than a newly adopted kid? Sometimes, they don't know it and don't want to admit it.  Sometimes we don't realize how much we need it too.


3. Play and Exercise

The first morning we were home in America, we took the kids to the park. We put them in the swings, side by side, and pushed them high. They've never smiled so wide.
Playing, kicking, bouncing, jumping, running, climbing, swinging, sliding, scooting, riding...  there is no language required to have fun. In fact, older children who have spent time in an orphanage or other institution have probably had loads of experience with outdoor play. (Daniel can jump rope like a boxer.) Our first summer home we spent every day at the park, hours and hours and hours. Lily toddled around trying to put sharp or disgusting objects in her mouth, as toddlers are want to do. Daniel learned about water balloons, sprinklers, and scooters. (One of his first sentences: "Want that, wheels.") Independent, unstructured creative play will probably be out of reach of an older adopted child.  It requires too much language, too much patience and ease. Our son still cannot sustain his own imaginative play for more than a few minutes. We've got building blocks getting dusty and playdough getting crusty. But chasing his sister around the apartment? That he can do for an hour. So, plan to have lots of space for an older adopted child to run, and run and run and run.

4. Connections to Home Culture

Being adopted can feel like alien abduction to older children. They get in an airplane with people who don't look, sound or smell like them, and suddenly they are eating and sleeping and living in a place that looks absolutely different from everything they've ever known. So trying to bring some part of their first home into their new home is crucial. It will never be enough, but it will be something. One of the first things we did after arriving home was let Daniel pick out photos to print and hang up in his room. He picked photos of his cousin, his new family, and the few photos we have of his Ethiopian family. We now have framed photos of their first family in both their rooms. We also have some Ethiopian books, artwork, and music.  Both kids love to look at Ethiopian cartoons on Youtube. We eat Ethiopian food at least once a week.  We're trying to make it seem like America is really on the same planet as Africa, as different as it is here.

5. Honesty

Here's the thing: being adopted sucks. Losing your first family, your first home, your language, your friends, siblings, everything: It's a really raw deal. And older children know it. They were there. They saw everything.  They are keenly aware of the losses they've suffered.  They will be super sensitive to any attempts to gloss over, put silver linings on or in any way diminish their past.  The best way to begin to develop trust is to be honest. Acknowledge their loss and let them know that you will not discount it. You do not think they are "lucky". (Maybe they are, depending on their history, but they probably don't see it that way.) Like we say here in our home, it is a sad story.  Which is not to say, it can't have a happy ending.

It can be so challenging to be honest with our children. They have such hard questions. And the answers are sad or incomplete or just simply unfair.  When our son asks us, "But why?" we are hard pressed to give him the truth.  But we cannot build a family on lies.  We must tell him, and we do. And it is sad, and it is unfair. The world is sad. The world is unfair.  But in our honesty, we are teaching our son: Here in our home, we can be sad, but we can help each other feel better. Here in our home, we will be honest and fair. Here in our home, nothing is too difficult to talk about or feel.

And then we go out to play, and run, and run, and run.


To Read More:

1. Attaching with a Toddler

2. Attachment Challenges

3. Attachment, Progress

Attaching with an older child

Welcome to More Injera Please! 

This post was excerpted in the Spence Chapin Fall 2012 Newsletter (yeah!) Thanks for reading...

Oh, irony of ironies... while I'm trying to get his piece written my 6 year old son, home one year, is asking me to play cars with him.  And I'm asking him to please, please play by yourself for just a little bit longer. Naptime only lasts so long. Sigh.  I'm clearly no expert on attachment. Karin Purvis would shudder. But, I'm pretty sure my son still loves me. So we'll carry on...

Here's my top 5 Strategies for Growing Attachment with Older Adopted Children.

FYI Older child = 4 years - 12 years old (I will claim no expertise adopting teens). Most children currently waiting to be adopted, both internationally and domestically, are in this category. So many, in fact, that they are considered "special needs", even if completely healthy. 

1. Food

If you make a parallel between fostering attachment with an older child to growing attachment with a newborn, food is first.  Newborns are fed, on demand, very often, and in very close proximity to a parent (nursing or bottle).  They are not left hungry, or told to wait for mealtime, or only given a little bit. They are fed til full, by a parent, all day and all night.

When our son first came home, he ate up to 3 bananas, 2 granola bars and 8 rolls every day, in addition to meals.  He ate about every hour, sometimes more often. We never went anywhere without enough food for the entire day. After all, we had a newborn on our hands. A five year old, 45 pound newborn.

Internationally adopted children are often underweight, and often have suffered from hunger, deprivation or malnutrition.  These are children from poor families in poor countries.  It is very common for newly adopted children to do a lot of catching up... and they eat that way. Our son has grown about 7 inches in the past year, and gained 15 pounds.  He went from the 50% to the 95% on the growth chart.  Allowing him to eat like a newborn was a key part of his growth, and our attachment process. We made sure he always ate with a parent (when not in school). We prepared favorite foods. ( I made meatloaf in August, as only a new mother could.) We shared, we cooked together, we said grace; we did everything we could to make his daily nourishment more than for his body.

2. Sleep

Being adopted is exhausting! Especially when you are learning a new language, and how to read and count and how to write your name. So newly adopted older children need lots of sleep. They may have difficulty falling asleep, or staying asleep. They may have nightmares they cannot explain. They may be afraid of the dark. They may be afraid to sleep alone, because they probably never have.  Whatever sleep solutions work for your family, do it! I'll never forget spending a whole day at an African wedding.  I struggled all day to make sense of the language and the customs and the food. That evening I could hardly keep my eyes open, and I was tired for days.  This is an adopted child's experience every day.  Our son hasn't made it past 8:00pm, ever.

 I wrote about cuddle time in Toddler Attachment. All of that is also true for older children. It can be trickier to find ways to have one:one snuggle time with an older child.  A quick nap on the couch, some wrestling on the rug, a back massage, stretching out together, sitting together with a book, rocking in an oversize rocking chair... even a high five or a pat on the back is a good place to start. Who doesn't need a great big hug more than a newly adopted kid? Sometimes, they don't know it and don't want to admit it.  Sometimes we don't realize how much we need it too.


3. Play and Exercise

The first morning we were home in America, we took the kids to the park. We put them in the swings, side by side, and pushed them high. They've never smiled so wide.
Playing, kicking, bouncing, jumping, running, climbing, swinging, sliding, scooting, riding...  there is no language required to have fun. In fact, older children who have spent time in an orphanage or other institution have probably had loads of experience with outdoor play. (Daniel can jump rope like a boxer.) Our first summer home we spent every day at the park, hours and hours and hours. Lily toddled around trying to put sharp or disgusting objects in her mouth, as toddlers are want to do. Daniel learned about water balloons, sprinklers, and scooters. (One of his first sentences: "Want that, wheels.") Independent, unstructured creative play will probably be out of reach of an older adopted child.  It requires too much language, too much patience and ease. Our son still cannot sustain his own imaginative play for more than a few minutes. We've got building blocks getting dusty and playdough getting crusty. But chasing his sister around the apartment? That he can do for an hour. So, plan to have lots of space for an older adopted child to run, and run and run and run.

4. Connections to Home Culture

Being adopted can feel like alien abduction to older children. They get in an airplane with people who don't look, sound or smell like them, and suddenly they are eating and sleeping and living in a place that looks absolutely different from everything they've ever known. So trying to bring some part of their first home into their new home is crucial. It will never be enough, but it will be something. One of the first things we did after arriving home was let Daniel pick out photos to print and hang up in his room. He picked photos of his cousin, his new family, and the few photos we have of his Ethiopian family. We now have framed photos of their first family in both their rooms. We also have some Ethiopian books, artwork, and music.  Both kids love to look at Ethiopian cartoons on Youtube. We eat Ethiopian food at least once a week.  We're trying to make it seem like America is really on the same planet as Africa, as different as it is here.

5. Honesty

Here's the thing: being adopted sucks. Losing your first family, your first home, your language, your friends, siblings, everything: It's a really raw deal. And older children know it. They were there. They saw everything.  They are keenly aware of the losses they've suffered.  They will be super sensitive to any attempts to gloss over, put silver linings on or in any way diminish their past.  The best way to begin to develop trust is to be honest. Acknowledge their loss and let them know that you will not discount it. You do not think they are "lucky". (Maybe they are, depending on their history, but they probably don't see it that way.) Like we say here in our home, it is a sad story.  Which is not to say, it can't have a happy ending.

It can be so challenging to be honest with our children. They have such hard questions. And the answers are sad or incomplete or just simply unfair.  When our son asks us, "But why?" we are hard pressed to give him the truth.  But we cannot build a family on lies.  We must tell him, and we do. And it is sad, and it is unfair. The world is sad. The world is unfair.  But in our honesty, we are teaching our son: Here in our home, we can be sad, but we can help each other feel better. Here in our home, we will be honest and fair. Here in our home, nothing is too difficult to talk about or feel.

And then we go out to play, and run, and run, and run.


To Read More:

1. Attaching with a Toddler

2. Attachment Challenges

3. Attachment, Progress

Attachment: Toddler Style

This morning it is my turn to work in the Toddler Room at our church.  I'll be spending the worship hour playing with blocks and wiping noses.  I won't be able to stress about the mess being created, or the laundry or what's for dinner, or sit with my nose in my phone. And that is a perfect way for me to spend Sunday morning. The truth is, the biggest obstacle to my attachment with my toddler is, me.

Attachment is a two way street... just as your child needs to fall in love with you, you have to fall in love with your child. The best way to do that is (just like in a new romantic relationship) to spend lots and lots of time just being together.  I don't know about you, but I find spending lots and lots of time with an active toddler to be very challenging. First of all, the destruction. Lily's favorite thing to do is make giant messes. Oh, the day she discovered the tupperware drawer! Oh the field day she had with my boxes of fabric! Oh the peanut butter adventure! (smearing is fun!)

It is hard for me to spend lots of time with Lily and stay focused on her. I get distracted... by the mess, the laundry, my phone, the computer, the chaos in the tupperware drawer.  And when I get distracted, she gets more destructive.  It's a vicious cycle.

The biggest challenge for attachment with a toddler, I think, is meeting them where they are. I know what I need to do is get down on the floor and join her in the glorious mess. (And I will do that... in the safety of the church block room. Making messes outside of my house is much less stressful for me.)

Our attachment process with Lily has had its ups and downs. Here are some strategies that did work, and that are fairly typical of the toddler attachment process.

1. FOOD.  When Lily first came home she had not been exposed to solid food at all. At the Ethiopian care center she'd been fed copious amounts of formula and warm cereal with purees.  On the spur of the moment I'd packed a box of sweet potato "puffs", and as I've joked many times, "This adoption brought to you by Puffs."  Lily loved those puffs. They got us through our first days together, the airports, the plane trips, our first hours home. That box of puffs took us a long way.
 Food is a major part of any baby or child's attachment process. It is common for adoptive parents to make sure that they alone are the ones to prepare and feed their newly adopted child.  Especially for children who have known hunger and deprivation, food is more than nourishment for the body.  Food = safety, security, and family.  For us, introducing new foods, textures and tastes to our 15 month old was a great opportunity to bond. She loved to eat. She loved to make a huge mess with her cereal and snacks.  I spent a lot of time with her and food, encouraging her to try new things, eating with her, and making sure we always had a snack on hand.  I literally do not leave the house for even the shortest errand without at least one snack packed. (More about food insecurity and hunger triggers when I describe our older child's attachment process. Oh boy!)

2. Cozy time together. It is common for adoptive families to encourage a certain amount of regression. This is a case of 5 steps back, great leaps forward.  There are several reasons to encourage regression. One is that, in family age, even older children are babies. They are new to this family, they are new to this country and this language.  They need to be coddled and cuddled, just like a newborn.  Another is that, just like for newborns, the best attachment strategy is just to be quietly cozy together.  Some families sleep in one big bed. Some families use rocking chairs, even with older children.  I used to carry Lily around in a baby carrier, even though she loved to walk. We still rock every night before bed. We try to strike a balance between encouraging her growing independence and making sure we have cuddle time every day.

3. Routines 
Routine = Structure = Safe = Attached

We are ridiculously strict about our evening rituals. Daddy and Mommy do better when the kids go to bed on time (early), and the kids thrive when they know exactly what is going to happen. They've had some nasty surprises in their short lives. They don't want any more, even if it's as small as "mystery dinner". We don't do surprises in our house.  Even on holidays we follow similar routines.  Last Christmas Eve I had the brilliant idea to go for a drive after dinner to see all the pretty lights. Ha, ha, ha, ha! Silly mommy. We don't go for drives after dinner. We get into our pajamas and watch TV, then we read books and go to bed. We don't care that it's Christmas! Get with the program! We will not be trying that again soon.

Predictable routines are especially important for toddlers.  Lily now attends a very traditional, structured day care and she LOVES it.  She loves knowing exactly what is expected of her and having a set of daily routines to follow. She's not a fan of the uniform, but she's thriving on the structure.  Her natural tendency is still to create chaos and mess, but she now also is learning the satisfaction of clean up time. 

Thank goodness!

Adoptive families of toddlers... what strategies have worked with your little ones?

Attachment: Challenges

August 2011

Attachment: What adoptive parents read lots and lots of books about.

The term attachment describes the connections that keep a family bound together. Attachment is the net, the glue, the bond.  For most biological families, new babies begin to form this bond with their moms and dads from birth (and some say, before birth).  New parents hold and kiss and watch and listen to and admire their infants for hours at time. New babies get lots of time smelling and tasting and hearing their parents. Their first sight is of their parents' faces.  All that time holding a newborn, playing with an infant, cuddling a baby, and chasing a toddler is the foundation of what keeps families together.

So for adoptive families, there is often quite a bit of catch up to be done.  Most adoptive families don't start at birth, even in newborn domestic adoption.  All international adoption is done when children are older, often toddlers or school-aged children.  Most children adopted from another country have experienced a major loss, some kind of trauma and some period of living in an institution. All those are major factors is how the attachment process will go. For some families, it is really rough going.  It can take years for children to feel safe and whole in their new families. This is why adoptive families read lots of books about attachment (or was it just me?)

Our family attachment process has had its challenges, but for the most part the kids are doing really well. (Which saint do I thank for this?)

By far the biggest challenge was simply that we adopted two children at once. My sister, God bless her, has twins.  Once she left me in the room alone with them, and they both started crying.  It was the longest hour five minutes of my life.  Who do I pick up first? Who will calm down first? Can I hold them both at the same time safely? OHMYGOD please just stop crying!

There have been only a handful of times when Daniel and Lily both needed me desperately at the same time.  Those few times have been the most heartbreaking and terrifying of the past year.  I can't hold them both at once; I can't meet their desperate needs right now.  Who will calm down first? Who needs to eat something first? Who can I safely hold while I talk calmly to the other? Those were tough moments. Lucky for me, my kids tend to tag team their tantrums.

Two children at once was a great blessing for our family (no more adoption paperwork! hooray!)  However, having two children to bond with made our attachment process a bit... jumpy.  Three steps forward, 2 steps back.  Daniel, who came home at age 5, heading off to Kindergarten just weeks after we came home. So bonding with Lily went on the back burner while I made sure Daniel was secure enough to spend all day at school.  Rounds of sleep issues put Lily on the front burner, then trying to explain holidays and birthdays made Daniel the focus of our bonding.

The best decision we made was for me to take a maternity leave (unpaid- ouch!) I stayed home with Lily for 3 months.  It was great for our family, and for Lily and I to become closer. The fact that I missed the first few months of school made going back to work really challenging.  And we are still digging our way out of the financial hole we fell into without my salary. But, it was the best thing for our family and our attachment process.

The other thing we did to promote our family attachment was to prioritize our family time.  We spend our weekends together- at the park, visiting family or friends, having fun. We try not to drag the kids around running errands or over schedule ourselves. We make sure that the weekend is simply the four of us, together.  We keep to the same schedule as the week. We don't stay up late or skip naps or have meals at odd times.

Routine=structure=predictable=safe=attachment.

Evenings are the same. At this point we are nearly religious about our evening routines.  Even Lily can recite it now: home, bath, dinner, TV, books, bed. When Daniel was first home and learning English we would go over our daily routine each morning. It became a litany for him; it helped him ground himself in our family life. Dinner, bath, books, bed.  Wake up, school, park, dinner, bath, books, bed. 

Are our kids completely and perfectly attached to us? No. That takes years. In "family time" they are both just over one.  We've been family less than 1/2 of Lily's life, and only slightly longer than they lived in an orphanage.  Maybe in 4 years, maybe in 10 years. But are we growing closer every day? Yes, most days. :)

August 2012

Attachment.

This weekend, like most weekends, we went to the park.  Lily raced around and around, and ran far out into a field. Then she turned back to wave to me.

Waving at mommy may be an insignificant moment in most family's life, but for ours, it was huge.  Until recently, Lily would run and run and run, and never look back.  We sometimes joked that we would test to see just how far she would go. But we always got too scared to try.  

Most 2 year old don't run far from their parents. They may play and run and chase, but they don't go more than a few yards from their parent: their "home base".  And every so often, they run back to "base" for a hug or a sip of juice or to show off a boo-boo.  

Our two year old would run, and run and run... until Andrew and I worried about her running into traffic, or out of sight, or into danger.  Then we chased her down and made her come back to "base".  

Attachment is a big word in Adoption.  It's a big worry. It's a big deal.  It's the thing that comes easily to most families, and that adoptive parents have to work hard at every single day.  A healthy, attached toddler will not run far from mommy.  A recently adopted toddler will simply keep on running. They have no "home base" yet. 

When Lily first came home, she would go to any adult for the typical "mommy" check-ins. When she fell down or got bumped, she would show off her boo-boo or ask to be hugged by total strangers.  She showed little preference for me when we were out in public.  It makes sense, doesn't it, that when you have been raised from infancy in a care center staffed by multiple adults, that you think all adults are caretakers. 

So we've been working on attachment. We are by no means done with this work, but little by little we are seeing tiny signs that our children are growing more deeply connected to us.  We are definitely not experts on attachment; we've had lots of ups and downs on this journey. We consider ourselves extraordinarily lucky at how well our children are doing. 

In the next couple of posts I'll go into detail about how we helped our toddler and our older child grow more deeply connected in our family.  I'll also reflect on what didn't work, or isn't working.

Sleep update: (oh, how sleep and attachment are connected!).  Lily is sleeping through the night, but taking a long time to fall asleep, and waking up just a bit too early. We're working on it. Thanks for all the advice!