How Adoption Changed Me—Part I

So, if you have been reading this blog for any period of time, you know that a little over 2 years ago, my husband and I adopted two siblings from CPS and our lives changed forever.  Everyone tells you parenthood will change you, and they are most definitely not lying.  What people don’t tell you (and really, they can’t) is how it will change you specifically.  In a series of blogs, I want to share with you a few of the ways that adoption changed me.

Adoption changed the way that I spend my time.  When I worked as a nurse, I had a varying schedule where I might get several days off during the week.  Those were MY days.  I would frequently get together for lunch with friends, take long naps, watch copious amounts of Project Runway, and just generally relax.  If I had a few days off in row, we may even take a road trip. 

Those days are over.  Now, I attend practices, tournaments, ARD meetings, speech therapy sessions, fight crowds for school supplies, and play an infinite number of board games.  (Seriously, does any one else’s kids obsess over UNO or mancala, or is it just mine?

Adoption also changed the way that I feel about bedtimes.  Growing up, I was never given much of a bedtime.  I have amazing parents, but bedtimes were never really stressed.  I never told my parents, but I frequently struggled to stay awake at school, and that was probably why. 

When we adopted our kids, they were each on several medications for ADHD that had some serious side effects.  We wanted to do everything in our power to try to get them off of these medications, which included making sure that our kids got plenty of rest and had a healthy diet.  We also prayed for them a lot.  Thankfully, they no longer require medications and don’t have conduct issues at school.  But every time I tell friends when my kids go to sleep, I feel like they think I am a weirdo. 

I am a firm believer that kids need lots of sleep.  The American Academy of Pediatrics agrees. In fact, our kids often turn into emotional wrecks without adequate sleep.  There is yelling, outbursts, and lots of tears.  So, for the emotional well being of our family, we don’t skimp on sleep.

I realize that bedtimes and loss of personal time are not unique to adoption.  What is unique is all the baggage that adoption adds to the normal struggle.  When we adopted, our oldest was starting 5^th grade and our youngest was about to start kindergarten.  We did not realize the toll that moving so many times and living with families that did not provide structure and educational support had taken on them.  My son’s peers were far ahead of him with their multiplication tables and reading comprehension.  Our daughter’s peers were already reading and writing, and she could not even recognize her letters. 

Homework may be a struggle for many families, but with families of adoptive kids, it is even more so.  What should take the average student 20 minutes may last more than an hour for our kids.  Sometimes I can’t believe when they have never heard of some basic word or concept, but then I remember all that they have been through and all that they have missed.  I have spent countless hours at our kitchen table going over concepts that were missed or not understood.  I feel like a large part of my job as an adoptive parent is what Joel spoke about in restoring the years that the locusts have eaten.

Adopting older kids is challenging.  There will be places along the journey, where you will feel that this road is just too tough.  Sometimes we have to let go of expectations that may have been unrealistic and perhaps self-serving.  Sometimes we will be blown away by their incredible resiliency and rapid growth.  But most of the time, you will just catch a glimpse of those amazing, beautiful kids playing UNO with you and thank God that you are blessed to be their parent. 

Life Lessons From A Nerf Gun

Recently my son received a gift from a family member that he was excited about.  At the time, he was under discipline, and as such the gift sat in a closet.  Honestly, I ended up forgetting about it.  While hanging out at the house one day, he asked if he could have it and I told him that was fine.  It was a pretty awesome Nerf gun that needed some assembly. 

Elated, he took the gun to his room to follow the directions and complete the assembly.  He brought the gun back to me in the box about 10 minutes later and reported that it was broken. 

Me: How did you break it?

D: I didn’t break it.  It just doesn’t work.

Me: Are you sure?

D: Yes.

Me: Are you sure that you don’t just need a little help?

D: Yes, I’m sure.  I followed the directions and it doesn’t work.

Me:  Okay, well what would you like me to do with it?

D: I don’t care.  It’s broken.  You can throw it away if you want, because it’s trash.

Me:  I don’t think that I’ll throw it away yet.  If I can put it together and it works, do you care if I keep it?

D: (Exasperated) I don’t care, because it’s broken.

This is not the first time that my son has called something broken that simply needed repair or reworking.  I reminded him of this and he said that was not the situation.  So, a few minutes later I set to work following the same instructions that he had followed, and in about 6 minutes assembled a pretty amazing Nerf gun.  I went into his room to show him and to shoot him with the awesome darts because I am a mature mom like that.  I sat and talked to him for a few minutes about why asking for help is so important and how it helps us to not miss out on incredible opportunities.  I also told him that I was going to keep the gun since he said I could have the gun that was “trash”.

We went about our business of the day and he seemed to be acting strange.  I thought he just wanted to play in his room, but as the day progressed, he started to seem depressed.  I got out art stuff (he is the artist of the family), thinking that would bring him out of his slump and made him come work us on something I knew he would enjoy.  He schlepped through it for about 5 minutes then threw it in the trash without my knowledge.  I sent a text to my husband and a friend asking for prayer because something was wrong.

It took me longer than I would like to admit to make the connection between our earlier conversation and his change in behavior.  Actually, my husband made the connection, and it all started to come together.  Living in foster care, my son has learned a tremendous amount of independence and self-reliance.  It is crazy to think that at the tender age of 10 when we adopted him that he had determined that it was wisest for him to figure everything out on his own and trust no one, and that it was better to miss out on really neat stuff than to let anyone know he needed help. 

This mindset was more complicated than simply feeling like there was no one that he could trust.  He wanted to see what he could accomplish on his own so that he could say that he did it by himself.  While this may seem like a good thing, it was really hindering him in a lot of areas in his life.  He needed a lot of help, as his parents we wanted to help, but he just did not want to ask for it, and as such it left him at a disadvantage. 

Later on, my husband talked to him about humility and pride, and what had happened earlier in the day.  My husband suggested that if D apologized, my husband truly believed that I would share the gun with my son.  D agreed and said he would do it later.  I heard about the conversation and the hours progressed with me hearing nothing from D.  In the morning, D came up to me, and asked if we could share the gun.  There was no apology, so I told him that he could not have it back yet.  The next day, he apologized to me for thinking that I was not smart enough to put the gun together and for throwing away the art project.  I gave him back his gun, and he was thrilled and shot a few celebratory darts into the air.  I explained to him how he had hurt me when he wouldn’t tell me what was wrong and when he wouldn’t ask for help.  I explained that a parent’s job is to love their kids and to teach them how to be good adults.  He hugged me and said he would try to do better next time. 

The whole scenario was a little insight into what my son has been through to this point in his life.  He has received little one-on-one instruction from his bio parents or during his time in foster care.  He was moved around a lot and never really felt settled enough to see parents in the role that I described above.  Foster care and adoption are not for everyone, and kids come with a variety of past experiences, but when you are able to gain a little insight and speak truth into their lives, it is the most rewarding thing you will ever do.