Disruption - A Failed Mom's Look Back

I've chickened out on this post for over two weeks. I even posted that I was going to post it in an attempt to dare myself into hitting publish and still it sat in my drafts list, taunting me. I've rewritten and deleted these introductory paragraphs endlessly. I've tried to explain or justify some of the things I wrote, to soften them, to give background, out of fear that some one reading who is unfamiliar with 'attachment related behaviors' will not understand and will label me cruel. Fear that some one will think she didn't love enough, she was too strict, too soft, too whatever, they should have known what they were getting into, they should have (fill in the blank). I've heard it all. Maybe it doesn't matter what you know about the subject, maybe I am cruel, strict, soft, naive, cold, take your pick.

This is actually an essay that I submitted to my favorite parenting magazine, Brain, Child. They didn't reject it and asked if they could hold it for a while, but I haven't heard from them in months. My carefully controlled excitement (wild joy) has dissolved into mild disappointment (I'm crushed). Yes, I would have liked to become a published author, especially in a medium that I respect so much. What I really would have loved is to reach out to such a large audience on the issue of adoption disruption because I know that there are other mothers out there struggling with this decision or the emotional aftermath and I know how alone and judged they feel.

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Stacey is one of the contributing editors for International Adoption. She writes daily at Is There Any Mommy Out There? where she discusses life with her adoptive, multiracial family.

Tummy Mommy

We have started to talk about it recently and it inspires in me a dark, deep-down fear. Your brother looks at the picture on this blog and chirps brightly, with grave knowledge, "That Darrett. That's Darrett in Momma's tummy."

"And Saige," you chitter, "and Saige in your tummy."

Garrett nods gravely. You do every thing together. It is all you know. You are far too innocent and unsullied by our boring world to look at each other's skin and question that it was not always so. That the bond does not stretch back to that quiet water-filled place. Unlike those we meet every day, the jaded masses who know in a glance that you didn't sip from the same uterine cup.

"No babies," I correct again, "not Saige. Saige grew in her tummy mommy's belly, in Haiti." I wish to just say yes, to keep it simple for you for a short time, while you are simple, but I'll never lie to you about this for my own comfort. Not even once. As I speak, my heart clenches in dread for the questions that will follow. Not today. Not yet. But someday. Soon.

Where is she now? I don't know. Why did she take me to an orphanage? She didn't have any way to feed you and she loved you beyond words and thought, way too much to let you starve.

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Stacey is one of the contributing editors for International Adoption. She writes daily at Is There Any Mommy Out There? where she discusses life with her adoptive, multiracial family.

Invisible Bonds

This post has been on mind a lot since I wrote it months ago. Worry that I would be judged and found lacking in some proper measure of maternal warmth kept me from publishing it sooner. PC discussions of adoption often involve trite platitudes about how it is the same, a mother's love is the same, regardless of how a child comes into our lives. The intensity of the love I have for each of my children is the same. The bonds, now that they have formed, are as strong. But, the process of attaching to a toddler as that child attached to me took my breath away with its difficulties and its setbacks and its sheer stubborn slowness.

I often felt ashamed of my emotions in the first year with my daughter (her second year). I felt compassion, tenderness and love. I felt sad and angry and hurt for her and all she had been through in her first year of life. I also felt tired of her. Tired of her tantrums and her anger and her indiscriminate affection. I felt angry too. Angry at her inability to ever accept what was offered as enough. I could never hold her enough, never play a game long enough, never push the swing long enough. It seemed for the longest time that I was not enough. Looking back on it now from a place of love and trust, I know that I did my very best and I did really well. We did really well. But, at the time I felt inadequate in my inability to love her instantly and without reservations, they way I did my newborn sons.

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Stacey is one of the contributing editors for International Adoption. She writes daily at Is There Any Mommy Out There? where she discusses life with her adoptive, multiracial family.

Stacey's Story

Stacey is one of the contributing editors for International Adoption. She writes daily at Is There Any Mommy Out There? where she discusses life with her adoptive, multiracial family.

I'm Stacey. I'm a mom of three children through international adoption and through birth. Our daughter was born in Haiti and came home at fourteen months old. Our first son is two months younger than our daughter. They are both fast-approaching three years old. Our youngest son just had his first birthday.

The road to our family was both more joyful and infinitely more painful than we imagined. My husband and I had always talked about adoption. We lost our first pregnancy to a first trimester miscarriage. As I struggled to understand that loss, I focused on our interest in adoption. In January 2005, I traveled to Haiti to volunteer at an orphanage and learn more about their adoption program. I knew that international adoption would be a part of our lives on that trip - I also found out that I was pregnant with our first son while traveling.

We committed to adopt our daughter (at just ten days old) and a four year old boy in August, 2005. Over a year later, they finally came home. As our family bonded with our daughter, we struggled to reach our oldest son. He exhibited anger, trauma and post-institutionalized behaviors as well as attachment and bonding difficulties. With the help of an experienced attachment therapist, we were able to find a way to keep all of our children happy and safe. It just wasn't a path that we ever imagined or expected. Our oldest son has successfully transitioned to a second adoptive family.

I write about life with three small children and share my thoughts on adoption, transracial parenting, our difficult attachment and bonding experiences and other aspects of international adoption at my personal blog, Is There Any Mommy Out There?