Surprised By Loss

Adoption, at it's most fundamental level, is all about loss. We all want to focus on the positive and see what is gained, but the reality that just cannot be ignored is:

No adoption can happen without loss. Ever. 

Even families who are fortunate enough to be present at ultrasounds and baby showers, labor classes and birth-room tours, and even standing by the bedside as their precious son or daughter enters this world, are still involved in a process of loss.

People have often asked me if I felt differently growing up as an adopted child. The outside answer is no. I had a great family. I knew I had been placed for adoption out of love, not a lack of desire. I had been nurtured and cherished from before my birth all the way through my rearing. 

But, I know the real answer, the one every adopted child feels on the inside is: we are different. Even in THE BEST circumstances I still felt those losses growing up. 

There is a loss I am just now realizing that occurs in adoption. And I have also come to the realization it is a loss that occurs every time a new child comes into a family, adopted or not. 

I was prepared for my boys' losses. I have spent hours putting together life books telling their stories with empowering words of affirmation and love. I have spent hours reading books on how to support them in all different kinds of situations and life stages. I have focussed intently on making our bond solid and unshakable for those moments of question and insecurity.

But I missed something this time around: my loss.

I got so caught up in preparing for their losses (all three of my boys) that I forgot about me. And I just realized one of the reasons this past month has been a challenge: I am loosing things too. 

I am not the same mom I once was. I think it all started to change a little with Jacob, but bringing Ty home has thrown me over the edge. I used to be super mom. I used to create detailed activities to enjoy with my kids. I used to take them on individual outings and "dates". I used to put together complex family lessons and object lessons to teach them. I used to spend "Mommy time" with my toddlers. I used to potty train my kids in a day at age two. I used to read endless books aloud while snuggled on the couch with my littles. I took great pride in hearing my Kindergardenrs talk about The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe or Stewart Little or Treasure Island. I went to EVERY performance and sporting event. I even signed the kids up for multiple extra-curricular activities at once!

I miss being super mom. 

I used to run a tight ship. The floors were clean. The beds were made. The clothes were organized, clean, and the right size. Hot, nutircious meals were on the table every day. We always had food, toilet paper, and dog food in the house. Repairs and improvement projects never fell behind. I volunteered at the school and kept up with my committments with ease.

I miss running a tight ship.

Adding our 5th child (and very soon our 6th) is not just a temporary matter of falling behind. There is not enough mom to go around anymore. Having a big family takes some sacrifices as well as team work. And while the big kids learn to pitch in and the littles are still too small to pitch in, stuff just isn't going to be as "super" anymore. 

These things change in a family no matter how the family is growing. But there have been a few other losses specific to adoption. 

With both Jacob and Ty (and our next addition) we immediately start with the loss of our years spent apart. I love that Ty can tell us about his time in China. Jacob will never be able to tell us what he experienced before coming to our family. But hearing Ty's stories is a sign of great loss. We missed out on so much. And there were times we could have done so much for him. Losses include the trials that our boys had to endure without us. Finding peace in all three of our sons' histories is a major process of our losses.

All of our boys have had other very important parents in their lives. Birthparents (even the ones who don't do what they are supposed to) are obviously the most important part of our children's beginnings. Without them our children would not be here. But all of our sons have been loved by others along the way as well. And while I love and appreciate these women, especially because of my own perspective, it is hard to hear Ty tell me about his other "mamas" or to remember the way Jacob lit up when his caregiver came into the room. I want to be the protective mama bear that uses jealousy in a postitive way. But the truth is, it's not a good kind of jealous. At a time when my boys needed their mama most, other (wonderful and blessed) women got to be there to dry their tears and hold them close. I knew I needed to support my boys through the loss of these women. But I didn't fully realize how importnant it was for me to recognize my own losses over these women.

And the last loss that is new to me is the loss of recognition of being "the parent." This one I knew about and thought I was prepared for. But I had not experienced it with Jacob the way I have with Ty and the way I anticipate with our next addition. Jacob looks enough like us and fits so seemlesslyinto a natural birth order that no one assumes he is adopted. I have run into several situations already with Ty where my identity has been questioned. Yes, I am mom. And, even though our oldest son is not yet home, if I mention "our 15 year-old" I always get the immediate questioning look and comment of, "you don't look old enough to have a 15 year old." I know once he is home there will be all kinds of confusion about how he is our son. And it shouldn't matter. But it is another loss. 

But, if you have read this far and can push through just a little more, you're gonna like what I have discovered.

This journey is not about my loss. It's not about the me that I want or the me that I miss. God has called us to our sons so that He can make us what HE wants. Not the super mom. Not the organized house cleaning cook. Not the ultimate activity planner. Not even the mom who looks like or is old enough to be her son's mama. God asked if I was willing to give up the picture I had painted of what I should be so that He could create something so much more beautiful. And I said yes. 

I heard this song on the radio today. I've heard it a hundred times before. Today the words hit me differently. If you've taken the time to read this ridiculously long post, you should go ahead and take a couple more minutes to hear the song.

Father break my heart for what breaks yours.

Give me open hands and open doors.

Put your light in my eyes and let me see

That my own little world is not about me.