The body remembers...

7 years today I held my 12 pound one year old son in my arms for the first time. I met my shy, scared 4 year old. I can bet you neither of them remember the date, but their bodies remember. A brain somehow etches into permanency the trauma of adoption. So many people idealize adoption, and while it is beautiful, it is tragic, it is trauma, it is devastation. I cannot imagine being a 4 year old and being told, "Go, this is your mama now". That is all Maran was told in her language. She had not seen a white person, she had not heard the English language, and in the orphanage, she hadn't been caressed or changed or tucked in. And now here is this woman and man she has never seen that are doing these things. I cannot imagine the fear and confusion. The mind may forget the details but the body remembers.

This month has been hard, plain old hard. Trauma rears its ugly head in whining, attitude, discontentment, anger, uncontrolled outbursts, lashing out with words, and regression. Bed wetting, sibling arguments, ungratefulness, negative attitudes. And when you bend down and look in their eyes and say "This isn't you, whats going on in your heart?" The response is I don't know. The mind can't put it all together at this age I guess, but the body remembers. The body remembers leaving the orphanage, the place where 4 "mamas" cares for 35 kids, where one meal a day was all you got, and even that was often sautéed leaves and worms and a ball of dough called Fufu. The orphanage was the place where 6-8 kids slept on a queen mattress on the floor, where they would bring a bucket in at night and you would sit your bottom on the edge of it and go to the bathroom before bed. The orphanage was the place where the older kids would target the younger to take their one meal a day because they could push a baby out of the way to get a double portion, the scar still protrudes on Levi's head to prove it.

I can't believe it has been 7 years. Part of me wondered if at 6, 7, 8 , 9 years home that they would forget the painful memories of trauma, but the body doesn't forget. Doctors say continued hunger and malnutrition in the first 2 years of life creates a trigger in the brain that can rarely be reversed. Food equals nurture from that day until forever, which brings its own set of issues. Food is intensely triggering during these periods of grieving. This year for my child's birthday I got the most special breakfast, I brought their favorite treat to school to share with friends, I had an expensive rare treat waiting for them as an after school snack, I cooked their favorite dinner and dessert that evening, but it wasn't enough. Why didn't you do this mom? Why did I not get celebrated enough mom? It is a vacuum that cannot be satisfied. It is exhausting and so hard to parent through that from a place of patience and compassion.

I think the hardest part about walking with someone through grieving is when grieving doesn't look like grief, it looks like anger, apathy and irritability. Give me tears and "this is hard" and I am there by your side echoing your hardship and comforting and affirming. But the alternative form of grieving stirs my default reaction of stress, frustration, impatience and a lack of compassion. I am trying to take a step back each day and ask God for just what I need for that day, not get afraid of the future or how long this will last, but just enough grace to give my kids for today. I ask him for eyes to see their regression and anger with compassion, because it stems from them sensing that their world is not as it should be. And that is a true assessment, it is not how it should be. No kid should lose their first family.

But as I tell them as I tuck them in, 'our family is forever', 'it is ok to be sad and mad', 'mom still loves you and always will no matter your behavior', 'I am sorry I got frustrated with you today, that was not kind of me'. Affirmations, apologies and vulnerability do go a long way in the midst of grief.

As I am learning from my diagnosis, people don't tend to do well when there is no "end" in sight to suffering, when there is no promise here on earth that this will tie up with a pretty bow and you will just say "Wow wasn't that worth it all". Not here, no. In heaven, all the sad things will come untrue and all of the suffering will appear as a brief second in time that had complete purpose filled with love and intentionality.  But in the meantime we will put one foot in front of the other, love when we don't feel like loving, ask God to help us to endure well, and enjoy the lives He has given us. Happy 7 years together to my sweet treasures.