May the Ick Booty Kickin' Continue

I've given a hoot of a lot of attention to attachment--how well Noemi bonds and connects with me and how well she trusts me as the protector of her world. But being uber-conscious of how connected I feel toward her has taken a back seat.

I spent time leading up to Noemi's adoption learning about grief and attachment and the importance of creating an environment where she felt safe and secure enough to trust me as her mother.  That was our primary focus for many months after her homecoming. We played by attachment parenting rules. But since things only got worse as months went by we sought professional help. That's when my focus turned to attachment's partner-in-crime, trauma. I learned how PTSD can affect an infant/toddler and, again, our family had a focus. The two cannot be separated, so we had a double focus:  work on the healing of the trauma simultaneously with forming an attachment. Bingo--good formula, eh?

Not quite. I was still missing something.  It took until the last few months for me to figure out the missing link. What I did not focus on in my so-anxious-I've-nibbled-my-cuticles-off state was how I was bonding to Noemi through all of this mess. Not how she attached to me--but how I bonded to her.

This is the skeleton in many adoptive families closets. It's taboo to discuss because we've worked SO HARD to bring our child home--years of praying, researching and agonizing as we wait and watch our child grow through photos.  It is assumed we will have instant love and affection for our child when she's finally in our arms. And when that doesn't come automatically, there is eerie, quiet shame. 

I can thankfully say that I did not struggle with loving Noemi instantly.  My heart melted the first time I held her.  I did, however, feel shame for not feeling so honky-dory about our situation (um--to put it lightly).  I wanted to have felt overwrought with bubbly joy, but I felt more defeated exhaustion than anything.  What I can say with thankful confidence is that my love has grown and that I am surprised by how much more affection I genuinely feel for her now that the love is reciprocated.

When I look back on our first year together, I have a bit more sympathy for myself than I did in the moment. I was living on less than a few pieced together hours of sleep a day at best. And the hours that I was awake I was caring for a frantic, scared, angry child who smiled at me one moment then shrieked at me the next. I wanted her to love me; but love cannot be forced.  I remember how hard I had to work for her to smile and laugh for many months.  After a while, I just point blank got tired of tickling her in an attempt to create intimacy.  Sometimes I had to force myself to smile, even when I was bracing myself on the inside for the rejection, because that is what helped build the two-way street.   At least that is what all of the books said:  If you don't feel it, fake it. It will come.  It's HARD to feel genuine affection toward someone that you love and ache for, but who gives you little authentic affection in return.  And I had high expectations of myself.  I was devastated.

But time and hard work and love and commitment and prayer heals.  As months passed and Noemi stared expressing consistent trust in me, love for me and affection toward me, I felt myself letting my guard down.  Our interactions were less emotionally calculated and genuine joy became the norm.  We could just be together rather than needing to work together.  Giggles and hugs and snuggles and eye gazing now come naturally.  It now feels real.  I have no words to express the relief and love. 

Having gotten to this place, I now have room in my psyche to think about what I brought to the family table, rather than focusing simply on what Noemi brought to the table.  Certainly, it would have been helpful if I had given this the attention it deserved before Noemi came home; but it's funny how becoming a parent makes me reflect on things that I was never conscious of before.  Who were/are my attachment models?   What was unconsciously taught to me as a child?  What is hard-wired in me that I may now be passing on?  It's something adoptive parents just don't hear much about--we focus on the child attaching to us but give little credence or attention to how prepared/capable we are to be part of the attachment process.  We ALL bring our ick to parenting.  And when you are parenting a child from a difficult place, the ick-factor gets turned up, lit on fire and rears its head sooner.  It's whether or not I recognize it, grab the ick by its horns and do the emotional work necessary to shove it where the sun don't shine. 

That's where I am today:  Thankful that Noemi's epic ick of last year is behind us and working hard on my own ick.   Thank God the good Lord gives me the grace I need to be a work in progress.

Noemi is doing remarkably well.  Seeing her true self makes my heart swell with adoration, affection, enjoyment and satisfaction.  I am so proud of her.  I am amazed by her ability to continuously heal and grow into her true (dare I say hilarious) self.  She is nothing shy of an incredible human being.  Her steady health has given me more space to reflect on how my own ick affects my parenting and bonding, which has helped me feel more empowered.  So... when she does have a rough day (rather than feeling so overwhelmed that I become paralyzed) I feel more in control to kick some ick booty.  Both hers and mine.