At half term, I decided to put one of my kids in clubs while the other had 1:1 time with me. The elder went first and all was well, as I had expected. After a day away from his brother, with whom he is locked in war, he felt nourished, attended to, happy. I had been able to let him make more choices than usual and he really rose to that.
The youngest, however, presented me with a very different day out.
This week, an adoptee blogs for us. She writes a letter to herself at different stages, starting with the neglected baby and ending with the hopeful, thriving adult.
WARNING: POSITIVE POST
In writing this blog I am acutely aware that what I am about to outline is far from the reality in many families. Many families and individuals, be they adopted or not, are seriously struggling right now. My heart breaks for these families for whom there is little - if any -support. Cooped up in increasingly untenable situations.
This post reflects the other side of that coin: the sizable number of families who are doing well.
Yearly letter box contact has been agreed and we diligently get the boys to write Christmas cards for birth Mummy and Daddy - regardless of indifference from our oldest and huge resistance from his younger brother - in addition we put pen to paper and write a letter updating them on the boys past year.
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We were told that our adoptive lives would be a rollercoaster ride, weren't we? My day started on a dizzy high, and now I'm sitting here feeling like I've been turned inside out.
A recent weekend away with a friend's son threw up moral dilemmas that I was not expecting. How we parents have to interpret other families' norms, how our own standards clash with those of the culture we're parenting in, and how innocent assumption can lead us into treacherous territory.
Since we first read about our daughter, we’ve known that there were half siblings out there somewhere, in other adoptive families. This knowledge, which we had but she did not, has felt very heavy.
I was at a meeting with non adoptive parents and somebody brought up the fact that their child had screamed ‘I hate you' at them the day before and how hurt she had been by this, almost all of the other parents said that they had experienced the same and the group went on to discuss how difficult it is to hear and how hurt they had been.
Both our sons have indeed declared their hate for us in fits of anger - as well as the possibly more dramatic ‘you are not my parents anyway’, but neither my partner or I had been hurt or upset.
...In our western world we are appallingly bad in dealing and talking about death, loss and grief. In any form, but death in particular. It's nothing to do with us. Until it is. And it will happen to us all. That much is certain...
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