Home Sweet Home

I'm back at home and all is well in the world again.

Charlie gave me a enthusiastic greeting with lots of hugs and kisses, so I was happy with that :-)

I was wondering during the trip what would be signs of healthy attachment and what would be signs of not being attached....

If Charlie cried a lot while I was gone, is that a good sign or a bad sign? If she doesn't cry at all, does that mean she's not attached properly?

What ended up happening was she would cry for a little while after seeing me on Skype, but was easily distracted. She asked for me a few times, but didn't dissolve into paroxysms of grief.

My un-professional opinion is that is pretty healthy.

I think the week long experiment went well and I'll be confident to leave her in the future when I need to do work related trips. Luckily that is only once a year.

Do you leave your kids? For how long and how do they do with that?

Here is an ADORABLE adoption video.... for those who claim "adoption is unnatural". It may be "unnatural", but all kinds of species do it, so that kind of argues that it IS natural.

6 Months Later.....

In the excitement of being snowbound for 4 days, followed immediately by the holidays, I neglected to blog about my 6 month anniversary of having met Charlie and becoming a family of two with her.

Things have changed GREATLY since that first day when she cried for 5 hours straight.

If you read some of the archives, I was an uncertain mother (still am in many regards, but different regards) learning to nurture a child who had been separated from everything she knew. Some of the posts talked of attachment parenting in the face of tantrums. Some posts asked for help with her fear of letting me out of her sight. Some days seemed like they would never end, as far as the crying and then Post Adoption Depression combined with maternity leave hit. Then some days felt like they would never end...

I've written about all of it, although it took me awhile to write about the depression, as one of the biggest taboos in today's society is being a "bad mother".

So, 6 months later, I can honestly write that I think I'm a "good enough" mother. I'm not perfect. There are still days when, like being stuck in the house for 4 days with no electricity, having to entertain a toddler for 16 hours a day, I thought I would lose it. But things have gotten MUCH better. For those of you suffering from PAD, get on some meds if your Dr. thinks that will help, and hang in there.

Today, Charlie is a precocious, happy child. She still has tantrums, but I walk out of the room (ala Supernanny) and that works almost instantly to quell them. Most of the time she is happy, affectionate, bright, curious, active, loving. She is confidant and will go with her babysitters when I need to leave without fear. She has a nighttime routine which is easy (for both of us) and consistent, whether she's at home or somewhere else. Makes traveling much less stressful. There have been a lot of changes, for the better.

The only "problem" we are still dealing with is biting at her daycare. I truly believe this is due to her having teeth coming out on all four sides of her mouth at once. She is getting better. I brought Ora gel to the school and her teachers give her a cold washcloth several times a day. Since then she has had a few "attempts" but no successful completions of a bite. I'm grateful the school is working with us on this, and there has been no talk of expelling her. Well, they'd lose $700 a month so I suppose they are loath to expel anyone. Not good business practice. But still, I appreciate it.

She is well bonded with me and her grandparents, who visit often. I probably am not the role model for attachment parenting, I do let her cry it out for 10 minutes at a time, but it works for us.

There are moments when she is absolutely the cutest thing on earth. Like when her little lips form to babble her high pitched baby talk, or when she points her chubby forefinger right into my eye and says "AIIIIIIIIII??????" When she points her finger and frowns sternly at the dogs and says "no no nooooooo" when they try and take her cookie. When she tries to rub lotion into her round tummy with her uncoordinated hands and looks up, pleased as punch, to make sure I noticed. When she says "mamamamamamamamaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa" until I look up, and then she asks "moh?" and makes the sign for "more" when eating tangerines.

I get enough sleep, but I am still tired a lot of the time. I'm lucky Charlie is a good sleeper. She has me beat by a few hours per day actually :-) I suppose the fatigue just goes along with single parenthood and all the responsibilities that need to be taken care of. It's endless. I'm on the 3rd load of laundry this weekend. One load a day really. But I knew most of this when signing on so I'm not complaining. In fact, I'm very lucky. Charlie is very easy for the most part. Many times, if she wakes up before me, she plays quietly in her crib until I get up. She has started saying "sank yooo" whenever you hand her something. My family was quite impressed with that ;-) considering she is only 16 months old. (I took all the credit for teaching her that, when really it was her daycare who taught her. Shhh! Don't tell anyone.)

When I think of parenting a special needs child... I just don't know how people handle that. Hats off to them. I couldn't do it without a very involved partner.

So that's where we are 6 months later. I'm not totally over my depression, but then, I don't know if I ever will be. I've had some low grade depression since my teens, so I don't know if that will ever totally lift. Charlie does help me find joy just in watching her.

Time Out and attachment

When Charlie and I first met, she seemed to attach immediately, after a few hours. I couldn't put her down and no one else could hold her. If I left the room, she shrieked in terror.

All understandable for someone who, at 15 days, lost her biological mother. Everything must seem very insecure/impermanent once that happens.

I remember posting about her shrieking and how to discipline her, if say, she was pulling the table cloth off the table, or sticking her finger in the socket (a battle I didn't have the choice to "pick" or "not pick".)

I got lots of great advice and suggestions: distraction, holding, go to her every time she cries, etc. I tried different things. At 9 months, she was too young for the typical time outs, nor were they really needed as her disobedience was easily distracted and not born of willfulness or stubbornness but rather curiosity.

As she has aged (she is now almost 14 months) and gotten way more mobile (she can run and kick a ball at the same time!) some of her naughtiness has definitely taken a more mischievous tone. Now, don't get me wrong, 95% of the time she is an absolute angel, happy, follows direction, communicates well with pointing and some sign language, etc. And many times I allow her to do things that I'm not thrilled about (taking everything out of the cabinets and strewing the pots around the house, many times each day, etc). I do pick my battles because I hate having to say "no" all the time, or take things away from her when she's just trying to explore her world. But there are certain things she likes to do, over and over, which I would REALLY rather she didn't. For her own health. Like put her hands in the toilet bowl and splash and drink the water. I have told her, no joke, 50 to 70 times not to do that.

She still does, only now she tries to sneak in there when I'm busy. I always have my eye on her though, and catch her. I tried a stern voice, removing her, distracting her, closing the bathroom door so she can't get in, etc.

I decided it was time for time out. Let's try and see what happens, I thought.

I've watched my share of Supernanny and so thought I had a good handle on the steps of timeout: warn child that if they don't stop time out is coming, remove child and tell them to sit/stand in the timeout area; set timer; go back to child after timer goes off, kneel to their level and explain again why they are in timeout, ask for an apology, hug.

Well, she did all of it except say "sorry"! (because she can't talk yet). She was awesome! It worked GREAT. I couldn't believe she stayed in time out. She really understands a lot more English than I give her credit for. And that hug at the end was sooo sweet.

I liked this discipline procedure a lot because it kept me calm and even tempered, I don't have to repeat myself more than the first warning, and after the hug we can get on to doing fun things again. It's like the slate is wiped clean.

I don't know what age is usually appropriate to start using time out as a discipline tool, but I guess 14 months is not too young. I also think it helps with attachment, because, contrary to what one might first think, I believe discipline and attachment are closely related. After that hug, we are closer... I have set a limit; she has agreed (at least for the time being) that I'm the limit setter and she is the settee (shows respect); we have done this is a loving, non-angry way; we have hugged; and going to play afterward reinforces that she can be naughty and I will still love her and that forgiveness is alive at our house.

Brilliant.

What are your discipline tools and which ones work best for your family?

Terminating an Adoption

Have you all heard of "Adoption Termination" or "Dissolution"? It's when an adoptive family "returns" their adopted child, either during the adoption process or after it's been legalized. It's a heart breaker for all parties, but especially, I think, the child who has now been rejected by parents twice. That's got to really hurt.

This was printed in the New York Times at the end of August. I have mixed feelings about it, as did hundreds of commentators.

Read the whole article and hundreds of incensed comments here.

My Adopted Son

By Anita Tedaldi

The first time I considered giving up D. I was lying alone in my oversized bed. It was about midnight, my children were asleep and my husband was deployed. I was so taken aback by my thoughts that I bolted upright, ran to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. It was dark, but I could see my silhouette in the mirror and I stared to see if I was looking at a demon instead of D.’s mother.

I ran to D.’s room, afraid that he was already gone. But he was there, lying on his Thomas the Train sheets, sucking his thumb and breathing evenly. I caressed his cheek with two fingers and he exhaled. “I love you little man,” I whispered, and kissed his forehead, swallowing down the knot in my throat. I went back to my room and sobbed into my pillow.

D. was my adopted son. He’s a little boy from South America who came to our home several months before that frightening night. He arrived through Miami International Airport on a Monday afternoon, and I was so anxious that on my six-hour drive to pick him up, I dug my nails into the steering wheel for the duration of the trip, leaving marks I can still see today. I couldn’t contain my excitement. After waiting many long months, I’d finally hold and kiss my son.

I had wanted to adopt for a long time, even before I met my husband or had my five biological daughters. I’ve always wanted a large family, like the one I grew up with in Italy, and I love the chaos and liveliness of many kids.

I did lots of research on adoption, including attachment problems and other complications that older adopted children can have. I spoke to my therapist and went through a thorough screening process with social workers to figure out if I, and my family, could be a good match for a child who needed a home. We were approved, and began the long wait for a referral. When they told us about D., I was ecstatic and convinced that I’d be able to parent this little boy the same way I had done with my biological daughters.

When he arrived in the U.S., our pediatrician diagnosed our son with some expected health issues and developmental delays. His age was not certain — he had been found by the side of a road — but the doctor estimated he was a little younger than one year. D. lacked strength in his legs and had a completely flat head, from lying in a crib so many hours a day. The first few weeks at home, people often asked me if he had experienced a brain injury. D. also suffered from coprophagia, or eating one’s own feces, which my pediatrician assured me the majority of children outgrow by the age of four. Most mornings, when I went to pick him up from his crib, I’d find him with poop smeared on his face and bedding.

But the physical or developmental issues weren’t the real problem. Five or six months after his arrival, I knew that D. wasn’t attaching. We had expected his indifference toward my husband, who was deployed for most of this time, but our son should have been closer to his sisters and especially to me, his primary caretaker.

His social worker, his pediatrician and his neurologist all told me that he had come a long way, and that attachment issues were to be expected with adoption. But D.’s attachment problems were only half the story. I also knew that I had issues bonding with him. I was attentive, and I provided D. with a good home, but I wasn’t connecting with him on the visceral level I experienced with my biological daughters. And while it was easy, and reassuring, to talk to all these experts about D.’s issues, it was terrifying to look at my own. I had never once considered the possibility that I’d view an adopted child differently than my biological children. The realization that I didn’t feel for D. the same way I felt for my own flesh and blood shook the foundations of who I thought I was.

I sought help and did some attachment therapy, which consisted of exercises to strengthen our relationship, mostly games because of D.’s age. He fell in my arms many times throughout the day, we sang songs, read books, repeated words while we made eye contact. We built castles and block towers and went to a mommy and me class.

Still, I struggled. One day (I’m still not exactly sure what was different about that particular day) I was on the phone with Jennifer, our social worker, who merely asked “what’s up” when I blurted out that I couldn’t parent D., that things were too hard.

As soon as I said these words out loud, a flood of emotions washed over me, and I sobbed, clutching the phone with both hands. Jennifer didn’t say anything, she waited patiently, and when I had nothing left, she asked me to start from the beginning. We talked about my family; about the problems my husband and I were having with D. and, as a result, with each other; about the girls and their partial indifference toward D.; and about some of my son’s specific challenges.

For the next several weeks Jennifer and I spoke daily. She mostly listened and told me to focus on D.’s future and well being above everything else. Eventually I told her that I’d look at profiles of potential families, but stressed that I wasn’t committed yet, just considering options.

My thoughts and emotions were disjointed and came in waves. One moment I was determined to keep D. because I loved him. An instant later, I realized that I wasn’t the parent I know I could be, and that I should place D. with a better family, with a better mother.

As I wrestled with these demons, things remained very tense in my home; whenever my husband was stateside we fought incessantly. I felt I was swimming upstream until one early morning Jennifer called, and told me that she had found a great family for D. They had seen his pictures, learned about his situation, and fallen in love with him. The mom, Samantha, was a psychologist, and the family had adopted another boy with similar issues just a couple of years before.

I spoke to Samantha and her husband a few times on the phone and right off the bat I felt comfortable with them. During one of our conversations we decided that she’d come down to meet D. by herself, to ease the transition.

This meant that the decision was final. D. would leave my home.

While waiting for Samantha to arrive, Jennifer helped me to talk to my kids, to family members, even strangers, but most importantly she held my hand when it came to speaking with my son. I explained to him that he’d be joining his new family and that we loved him very much — that he had done nothing wrong. I don’t know how much he understood because of his young age and because he never reacted to my words.

For my first meeting with D.’s new mom, I was a wreck. I dressed D. in one of his cutest outfits, white polo shirt and blue khaki pants, strapped him in the car seat and took off to meet Samantha at a nearby McDonald’s.

The car ride was short, but each time I approached a traffic light, grief assailed me, and I turned around, determined to head back home and keep D.

The five-minute trip turned to a 30-minute journey, and when I finally made it to the McDonald’s parking lot I was frazzled. My hands were shaking, my mouth was dry, and my eyes were red. Samantha recognized us as soon as we got out of the car and rushed over. Her eyes lit up the moment she approached D., and she lowered herself to his height to hug him.

Over the next few days Samantha and D. got to know each other, and then it was time for him to leave with her. That morning, I awkwardly let her into the house and willed time to stop. With my hands shaking, I handed her D.’s bag and some of his favorite toys. My daughters were watching SpongeBob and said goodbye to their brother almost nonchalantly, as if he was just going out for a bit and would soon be back.

I opened the front door of my home in slow motion. It felt heavy and my feet stayed glued to the ground. Samantha told me she’d give me a few minutes alone with D. and quickly walked to her car. I kneeled down and pulled D. close to me, desperately wanting to impress an indelible memory of my son on me, and me on him, inhaling his scent, feeling his soft skin and touching his coarse hair. In our last moments together, I stared into his eyes and told him that I loved him and that I had tried to do my best.

His new mom would love him so, so much; my little man would be OK.

He didn’t cry, he stared back at me, then looked to Samantha and asked for more juice. I was too overwhelmed to utter another word, but Samantha squeezed my hand and reassured me that D. would know I had loved him and that I had done a good job.

The next few weeks I felt a mix of emotions, desperation, relief, sadness, guilt, shame, and acceptance. After a couple of months at Samantha’s home, I learned that D. was doing well and adjusting to his new life. He was struggling with some issues, but I know that Samantha and her husband are the best parents D. could possibly have. They went to great lengths to legally adopt him, to welcome him into their home and provide him with the best care he can receive. The fact that he also has a sibling who has dealt with similar issues has made the transition easier. Samantha told me that D. can’t get enough of his brother or his dad’s attention.

My husband had originally asked me not to write about D., because I’d only open myself up to criticism. But I wrote this essay because D. taught me a lot about myself and about parenting and because I hope that by sharing this experience others can feel less alone in their failures. D. deflated my ego by showing me my limitations. Because of my little man, I have more compassion for the mistakes we make as parents, and I’m far less willing to point my finger at others’ difficulties.

I’m still processing this experience and I think I always will.

I don’t have anything left from D.’s time with us. Samantha didn’t want D.’s clothes, I think she preferred to make a fresh start, so I donated everything to the Salvation Army. We don’t have D.’s pictures around because my husband thought it’d be too difficult, but in my wallet, I carry a small close-up photo of D.’s face, which I took after his first haircut at a barber shop. When I think about him, I take it out and look into his big dark eyes as a deep endless sadness fills my heart.

Thank you little D. for all that you’ve been to me, to us. Despite my failures, I loved you the best way I could, and I’ll never forget you.


__________________________________________________________________

On the one hand, the boy ended up in a better situation, on the other, what kind of agency gives a special needs child to a woman who has three children already and is pregnant with a forth (and then fifth) who is a single mom most of the time? Most agencies make you sign an agreement not to get pregnant during the adoption, and for about 6 months after wards, under pain of removal of the adopted child if one was to break that part of the contract.

On the third hand, I think it takes guts to publicly admit something (that brings this much shame upon the mother) so that others can learn.

On the forth hand (huh?) I don't think she is being honest when she says she "loved her son although she wasn't bonded to him". How is THAT possible?

Some of the commentators Googled the author, Anita Tedaldi and found a couple of years earlier, she BLASTED a Dutch couple for terminating their adoption of a Korean girl. In that article, she bragged about the adoption of her son and how well it was going, while calling adoption termination a "monstrosity". Then she gave away her son a mere year or two later. I can understand being in "denial" of her own situation... Perhaps she lashed out in anger at the Dutch parents who were doing what she (possibly unconsciously) wished she could do herself.

The main issue this article seems to have brought though, for the commentators, is whether an adopted child is really the "same" as a biological child. Would Anita have given up a biological child with special needs? If they are all loved the same, and equal in all ways, why didn't Anita "re-home" one of the 2 infants that she gave birth to after the adoption? Why didn't she make sure her contraception didn't fail TWICE after adopting a child who obviously needed extra attention? If it failed ONCE, wouldn't you double and triple up on it??? Also, if her hubby is deployed "most of the time" I find it hard to believe - on the presumably few opportunities to get pregnant that she had - that the contraception (which when used consistently has a 99% success rate) failed twice. What are the odds of that???

Oh boy, what a mess!

The article has also brought up the hurt feelings of many adult adoptees, as it definitely seems to place adopted children in a "second class" child type of situation.

Readers, what do you think? Have you read some of the comments on the article? Is this a "brave" woman, who admitted her defeats and tried her hardest to do right by this child? Did she act in a selfless way by letting him go to a family who could "love him more'? Or is she a despicable quitter who damaged not only her adopted son, but her own daughters by teaching them if they are "bad" they too can be given away?

Hurricane Charlie

It begins with a crease. A slight furrow of the brow.

Then, a whimper.

Soon, too soon, a resentful look.

A lower lip juts out.

A nose wrinkles.

A howl reaches ear splitting heights.

Within seconds, tears sprout like from a fountain, sweat beads up on her forehead, all eye contact is denied... Hurricane Charlie has arrived.

Temper tantrums. Daily basis. Sometimes on a minute by minute basis.

They used to show up whenever I left the room, but now they appear whenever she doesn't get her way. It's also her nap time and bedtime routine... the back arching, wailing.. she never falls asleep peacefully, it's always this colossal battle against herself to allow herself to sleep.

I'm not sure how to handle these tantrums.... I've tried different things. I've tried ignoring them (that doesn't work, she keeps going until she is spent and then falls asleep), and I've tried holding her (she arches her back, refuses eye contact, shrieks, until she's spent and falls asleep), I've tried standing near and coming closer when she lessens up and farther when she intensifies (has no effect). She is 10 months old. Ten second time out? (Or, for attachment parents:) Ten second time in? Somehow I don't think that will work... ten seconds is not noticeable to her during one of these meltdowns. Although I haven't even tried time outs... I think at this age they are worthless as she wouldn't understand what was happening.

I don't know how I am supposed to pay attention to anything else around the house. For example, today I needed to pick up dog poo in the yard. The dogs track poo in if I don't pick it up and it's unhygienic so I have to do it. I put her in the high chair, on the deck, where she was within 15 feet of me and could see me at all times. The high chair is very sturdy and she is safely strapped in. She wailed the whole time (15 minutes). This also happens when I shower, even if she is in the bathroom with me. Or any time I'm not paying attention to her 100%.

Did the nannies in the care center pick up every child as soon as they started crying??? I find it amazing to think, but I'm starting to believe it.

Should I just let her cry?

I feel like such a bad mother if I do that. Here I did all this work to bring her here and she's had all this loss and trauma and so how can I let her cry? It doesn't seem right. But soon I will be going back to work and we need to have some ways that we can survive and get things done. She is going to have to be ok being the only child of a single woman. God or whoever put us together and so we must find a way to make it work. She needs to learn, and I am definitely learning!

On the other hand, when she is not tantrumming, she is a delightful, smiley, playful child. She does great with eye contact, she's alert and interested in the world around her, and she is affectionate with me. So this is not RAD or anything as severe as that... it's behavioral and I seem to be making it worse rather than better.

Suggestions?

Smooch in the park....

To Addis and back (Part 5) Donations

Happy 10 month Birthday, Charlie!

Before I start his post I'd just like to thank the AP community (and others) who posted comments on the last thread regarding Charlie's *separation anxiety*. I found them truly helpful. And the fact that EVERY SINGLE comment gave the same suggestions made for a powerful and persuasive lobby. I had, of course, read all about attachment parenting, and knew in theory what to do... but in real life, with Charlie here in front of me and the theories not... plus being swayed by parental advice (even though they are great parents they have never parented an adoptive child as many of you pointed out)... Well I needed you readers and forum members to remind me of the months of studying I had done previously to bringing Charlie home. So I went back to 100% being there for her and not trying to sneak out the room for a bathroom break or whatnot. Although my back is killing me (spasms), she had a much more pleasant afternoon and evening and I did too. She didn't cry AT ALL (because I never left her side) and laughed and played a lot more than she had been. So thank you all for taking the time to respond. Back to the trip journal:

DONATIONS:

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We brought 4 suitcases of donations for various orphanages. My belief was that my agency care center most likely did not need all 4 suitcases, as every few weeks a new influx of American parents arrive with donations, and I was right. The day we visited her care center, there was a whole courtyard full of suitcases filled to the brim. They are well supplied with diapers, formula, clothing, shoes, medications, etc.

So instead of leaving all 4 with the IAG care center, I did some research ahead of time and my mom asked her Ethiopian friend to do some research as well. We came up with AHOPE

and Mary Joy Aid Through Development as needy organizations that do awesome work.



Each place got a suitcase full of kid's clothes, medications, and jewelry (the edible candy type!) Even the boys enjoyed the candy bracelets! Here are some pictures.


I was not able to go to the orphanages, and deeply regret that. I needed to stay with Charlie, as this was the day she was dropped off at the Guest House. There was no way I was leaving her after waiting all these months to meet her, and she was traumatized and needed to stay put. I know in a general sense what these orphanages are like, having been to several in the past, and worked at one in Bolivia for a summer. Still, I felt sorry I could not go to these, but we can't always go to everything we want to in life. Luckily my mother could go in my stead., She was especially impressed with MJATD, which is not an orphanage, but does outreach in the community regarding HIV/AIDS education and does aid HIV positive kids (just doesn't adopt them out) through community programs. It was started by a Sister named Zebider Zewdie. My mother was very impressed with that program. The website is www.maryjoyusa.org or www.maryjoyethiopia.org

Need some serious help, Moms. Attachment parenting confusion and dilemna.

I need some advice from the adoptive parenting community:

Charlie cries whenever I set her down for a second. This is not good for our lifestyle, although I can manage it for awhile longer, but not forever.

Let me describe the behavior a bit more. For example, I will have just changed her and fed her, so I know she is physically comfortable. I get up from where I was sitting (10 inches from her highchair while feeding her) to get a paper towel, and she starts wailing.

Or, we are lying in bed and I have to get up to switch off the light which is 5 steps away. She starts wailing.

Etc. This behavior seems to be getting worse over time, not better. There are a few improvements, like she will let my mother and father hold her while I'm in the room (but swivels her head to see where I am all the time) for a little while, but soon reaches out her arms for me to take her. If I leave the room, she wails.

This behavior at first seemed to be completely attachment related. Recently I'm starting to notice that it seems she has learned that crying will get her what she wants. For example, I tell her "no" very gently and remove her hand from the table cloth which she was pulling off the table... she starts crying. I had been then trying to distract her with a toy or something else, but I really want her to learn to accept "no" in her life. It's an important lesson. I certainly don't want a child who cannot tolerate being told "no" or having limits set.

Here's where the confusion sets in. Since she is adopted, and has had three large losses in her life (birth mother after 15 days, nanny after 9 months, and the Ethiopian culture she lived in for 9 months), should I give in to her?? Should I pick her up, distract her, each and every time she starts crying when I stand up for a second? So far I have been and the behavior seems to be getting worse.

My parents are of the mindset that I'm going to "spoil" her (I hate that expression! She's not a piece of fruit!) by picking her up whenever she cries. This morning, she cried non-stop when I went to take a shower and my parents decided to see what would happen if they ignored her (while sitting very close to keep an eye on her). They thought she would stop crying. Well, she didn't. She cried the whole time I was gone, and by the time I got back, it was a full on shriek-fest. She was drenched in sweat. I picked her up and she stopped immediately. I felt really guilty. My poor baby!

My dad mentioned that "she won" by getting me to pick her up. He fully recognizes and thinks the bonding and cuddling are necessary, esp. for newly adopted babies, but thinks it is better done when the babies are being sweet and happy, rather than in response to tantrums (if that's what they are).

I don't see this as a game or contest to be won or lost, but I do understand that I basically reinforced in her mind that 20 minutes of crying gets her what she wants.

Everything I've read about adoption though, says to pick them up whenever they want you, at least for the first month or two, and then once they are firmly attached you can start setting boundaries. My parents think that will be too late, or much more difficult to change behaviors then, and I tend to agree with that notion (that a habit is harder to break once it's been firmly reinforced). So I'm very confused. Also, I have tried to let her cry but after about 5 minutes I start thinking I'm a terrible person, she's so little and vulnerable, she's already been abandoned twice, etc, etc, etc... and I go pick her up to stop those thoughts and reassure her (and myself) that I'm there for her and will never leave her.

One last bit of information to help you give advice: She seems attached to me ever since the first day. I've been with her 9 days today. The attachment seems more "desperate" to me than a secure attachment (like any of my nieces or nephews had. They could all tolerate their mothers leaving the area for a minute, knowing she would be back.)

Ok, parents, here's the question.... How would you handle this behavior? I getting worried that I'm doing the wrong thing, causing the behavior to get worse instead of better, and damaging her somehow.

Being ready.

I remember posting, back around referral time, that I was confused by PAPs that had this IMMENSE LOVE for a picture. I thought for sure they were in love with a fantasy, an idea, and not really the baby in the picture.

Because, really.

Its a piece of 2-dimensional glossy paper. How can anyone love paper?

But I have to admit, going through court, getting many more pictures, seeing the video my mother shot, watching it over and over, it's more than a piece of glossy paper. Real emotions have developed.

I guess this is why bio-moms go through 9 months, and they make us PAPs go through a waiting period too. It's the process. The readying process.

Today I went to buy all the items needed for Charlie's trip home.

Total bill? $250.00. The amount only matters in that it shows how many items are needed! At Wal-mart prices each items costs about $2.00, so you can see how full my cart was. I printed out Chatty Cathy's packing list and got everything on there except the nipple brush. I'm using my pinkie and that's final! Anyway, nipples, bottles, liners, bibs, wipes, diapers, hats, toys, teething rings, orajel, pacifiers, spoons, bowls, socks, jackets, lotion, soap, cream, etc, etc, etc, later.... something sinks in deeply.

The care of this child falls 100% on me.

Everything she needs in this world... must come from me. I must supply it, arrange for it, buy it, provide it, make it happen.

And I feel prepared for that.

I have a few questions, such as situational wisdom items, but there are other moms around for that. I'm already finding that other moms seem very happy to help. I have joined some sort of club that I wasn't a member of 4 days ago.

I asked one mom in Wal-mart (Iknow, I know, I'm terrible for shopping there) about cereal and bottles and she informed me that nipples actually come in "cereal" size. She "got chills" when she learned about Charlie. Another two moms were happy to show me clips that would work in Charlie's baby hair and clips that would work in her hair when she was older. The cashier saw everything I was buying and started asking questions and of course I got out Charlie's pictures and she got tears in her eyes. "Her color don't matter one bit. If you got love in your heart, thats all that matters. I love all babies, no matter what color they are!" Ok thanks cashier lady. I know you tried. You meant well. (It is Wal-mart and it is the South.) It seems the world is happy Charlie is coming home.

I'm happy Charlie is coming home.

I'm ready.

But is Charlie?

Of course she isn't.

While I've been going through the mental and emotional process of bonding my heart to her over the past 5 months, she has been doing baby things 7000 miles away without a clue of my existence, or what is about to happen. This will be a huge change for her, with no prep time. I'm hoping I can make the trip fun for her, and that it will not be traumatic. I sense from the video she is a strong soul, but that doesn't mean she won't be fearful. After all, I'm taking her from the only 4 walls she's known, onto a plane for 20 hours, across the ocean, to a place she's never been, with people she doesn't know and who look different than all the people she's used to. I really hope some toys will ease the shock.

Ideas for the trip, moms?

Instant attachment.....

I found this interesting article at the Rainbow Kids website, and it reminded me of my query weeks ago about whether one could truly attach to a picture, if that was reasonable and REAL, and whether I was deficient in some way for not attaching to a piece of paper. I still wonder whether PAPs who attach immediately to a photo are perhaps setting themselves up for disappointment or problems later on by attaching to a fantasy or an idea of what the child will be like, since a photo really can't tell you much about personality as it's just one moment in time. My feelings since that post have changed, as this adoption progresses forward, and I do feel more love for this child than at the point of writing that post. However, I still don't think I'll feel much like a mother until I have her with me, and even then it might take a few days ;-) . Certainly I'm more attached to the idea of a child than to a picture. Anyway, back to the article:

"Insta-Attachment and Other Adoption Myths


Why the dreams we hold on to while waiting for our child can sometimes prevent us from seeing our child's reality clearly.

I let out a long, deep sigh as I re-read the words in my inbox again and again. It’s not that it was the first time I had heard those very same words. It’s not that I judged the family who spoke them, knowing I would have written the same a few short years ago. But the pang I felt in the back of my heart and the lump in my throat was for the little girl they were describing. Despite the words of bliss, despite their descriptions of a perfect adjustment, my heart sank as I could envision her face before me. I knew what her eyes would look like if only I could see them. I knew what expression she would have on her face. I knew because I have seen it before. And now I know what it means.

I had received the glowing report in my inbox from a friend of a relative who had just come home with their beautiful new daughter only 7 weeks prior. “She is bonding with everyone! Family, friends, neighbors, people at church! She is just adjusting so quickly and bonding to everyone she meets!” This particular report was really quite similar to many I hear early on. She was doing “so well”, “adjusting great”, and was “better than they could have ever expected”. It is the report our families, friends, co-workers, and even agencies hope and expect to hear from us. Everyone is waiting for the “he/she is all we ever dreamed of” and “it is as if he/she has always been with us”. These are the words everyone waiting to bring a child home reads on the blogs of families who have gone before and prays they will be able to write.

Insta-Attachment. Psychologists and anthropologists have noted for decades that our society is especially vulnerable to the temptations of insta-everything. We are used to it, after all. Everything is fast, easy, convenient. We hate waiting in lines, despise slow drivers, and adore our internet as long as it comes in high speed. We think we are immune to that constant drive for speed and convenience in the adoption world because we wait so long through endless paperwork to bring our children home. We herald the “lesson we have learned in patience” as we agonize through the trials of the paper pregnancy. But that is where so many draw the line. Once our child is home, that is the end of the waiting, right? They are going to be placed in our arms and our waiting is over! Hurray!! The end of our trials and tribulations and now our joy can begin!

The problem is that for your child, they are not in the joyous epilogue of a long novel finally reaching the glorious conclusion as you think you are. They are still in the introduction of a brand new book, one that includes chapters they have never heard of called “Living with a Family”, “Welcome to a Mom and Dad that Look Nothing Like You!”, “A Few Strangers in Your Life Would Now Like to Kiss and Hold You Endlessly” and “So This is America??”. In the midst of all of this is the greatest myth of all. Insta-attachment.

Children do not bond in a week. People do not learn to trust in a day, a week, or even a month. A child who is living in a strange land with strange looking people who speak an even stranger language cannot possibly learn in a short period of time what it means to be loved by a family, what a mom and a dad even are there for, what it means to be a sister or brother, and that all of these strange people can be trusted to never leave them again, never harm them, and navigate them through the twists and turns of life. We want so much to believe in Insta-Attachment because, truthfully, it makes us feel better. The wait has already been so long for us, we sacrificed so much to get here, and the last thing we want to face is the possibility that our work is not done once we reach what we thought was the end of the road, the fulfillment of the goal. Sometimes we are willing to accept a few hours of grief, a few days of the child’s emotional walls, a few weeks of sleepless nights. But we certainly don’t want to face the chance that perhaps those few tears, a night terror or two, and the struggles with sibling relationships might last longer than a week or two. Or, even harder to face, is the possibility that even though our child seems to be doing well, their actions may be masking the true grief and trauma that so many adopted children hide deep in their hearts.

And this is where the temptation to ignore the unspoken signs of trauma and grief in our children steps in. We want so much to believe they are adjusting quickly that we interpret signs that actually are warning signs something is not right as signs that our child is doing really well. When our daughter reaches her hands out and lets anyone hold her, we beam with pride that she is so social. When our son falls apart on the floor because we asked him to do a simple task, we say he must be really opinionated. When our kids run around at an event, wandering in and out of strangers without concern for the location of a parent, we say they must really like parties. When our child plays alone on the floor for long periods of time without a need to be entertained, we are grateful we got one of the “easy kids”.

Attachment is not instant. Bonding takes time…a long time. And even if your child is pleasant and calm with you from day one, plays with you and hugs you, lets you hold her and seems to get along with everyone, it is simply a matter of common sense that what the child is experiencing in those early months is not and cannot possibly be attachment to you. Even if the child has the opposite reaction and cries every time you leave the room, it is still not defined as true attachment. When we were in China picking up our second daughter, she cried the first time I tried to hold her but by the next day she screamed if I was not in her sight. This was not because she somehow miraculously attached to me overnight (though that would have been nice to believe!). She simply had figured out a major change was about to happen in her life and that I somehow was the next person in line to provide her some tiny amount of security so she was going to latch on and not let go! This does not mean she suddenly loved me, trusted me, or even liked me for that matter. It was a matter of survival. Her instincts kicked in and she knew that her safety and future depended on clinging to me.

We are now weeks away from bringing home our 5th child, our 3rd adopted child. We have had the privilege of visiting him twice. Though by week’s end on both visits he was clinging to me and watching my every move, I am not fooled. My heart would love to believe this baby has decided I am his mother, thrown himself in my arms and shunned all others to choose me. But I have seen his eyes. I know what his eyes say that his actions sometimes belie. He does not trust me yet. He does not love me yet. How could he possibly? Though my heart wants to believe I can spend the months and years to bring a child home that will run into my arms and realize I am their family forever now, I am now a little more cognizant of the impossibility of that expectation on a child.

So how do you create attachment in a child if it is not instant? You build it, one brick at a time. Sometimes you even have to break down the faulty foundation that was created before you ever received your child, and then build a new foundation one brick at a time. If your child seems content, seems “okay”, seems social, seems to “fit right in”, look past the surface behaviors and do not let the survival instincts of children fool you into thinking their past has not affected them and that they are rubber balls who can be bounced around yet simply bounce right back. Do not just move on with your life as if your work is done. Stay with your child. Give some things up. Spend time playing, holding and talking to your child. Do not let your child push you away, manipulate you with shallow behaviors or place any other friend, relative or caregiver above you. You have the right as the parent to ask questions, challenge your child emotionally, and insist on being the first love of their life.

You are not a failure as a parent to admit your child home for even a year still does not show preference for you. Your child is not “less than” other adopted children because he does not appear as adjusted as other adopted children whose parents glowed, “This was a perfect adoption!” Do not believe in Insta-Attachment. It is a fairytale that ultimately prevents you from really seeking out the deepest part of your child’s heart and searching for true healing instead of proper behaviors. It is worth the search. It may take much longer than you had hoped for, your emails to family and friends may be lacking in the instant gratification. But the long, slow simmer of true attachment in the end is stronger, more deeply satisfying, and more healing. Do not look for the easy path. Look for the road less traveled. Be willing to take another journey of patience even after the paperwork is done and your child is home. Do not close the book. Begin a new one. It is worth the effort. It is worth the wait. Your child is waiting for someone who is willing to take the time and energy to write it for them. Insta-Attachment is one fairytale your child can do without.

Dawn Greer Choate and her husband are the parents of 5 children, including 2 daughters born in China and one son born in Guatemala. In 2005, the Choates launched Healing Hannah, a resource to educate parents on issues related to attachment and emotional healing in the adopted child. Dawn is an ordained minister, author, speaker, and a co-owner with her husband of a computer/software business. For more information, please visit www.healinghannah.com and www.fishersofwomen.com"

Attachment X dreams

I had my first dream about my (soon to be) daughter this morning right before awaking.

Now, I realize that no one wants to hear about another person's dreams. It's the ultimate conversation killer really: "You've got to hear about the STRANGEST dream I had last night!" I mean, no one cares to hear about this except the dreamer...

So I won't go into details and bore everyone, except to say that I got to hold my daughter "for the first time" and woke up almost immediately afterwards with a warm feeling.

I'm wondering.... other parents out there... any dreams before adoption? Before birth? Did they leave you feeling closer to your child?

Ooo... found a great blog!

I found a wonderful blog! Obviously, seeing as to how many followers this blog has, I'm late in the game. It's called Any Mommy Out There.

I loved this entry for the writing and honesty. Can't wait to read the rest. Also, this explains about the indiscriminate attachment that some adopted children go through when they first come home. I didn't understand at first, but it makes sense, after being cared for by multiple adults. Go here now: http://www.anymommyoutthere.com/2008/06/invisible-bonds.html

and this post too, her writing is transcendent... it takes you elsewhere....
http://ethiopian-adoption-journey.blogspot.com/2009/02/id-like-you-to-meet-beulah.html

And omg, this one is HYSTERICALLY funny. I hope my baby never eats poo, but if she does... I'll try not to panic. http://www.anymommyoutthere.com/2008/08/lets-play-new-game-poop-or-bread.html


Enjoy!

Could co-sleeping kill your baby?

My mom sent me this article. (Aside: Do your parents send you articles all the time? It used to annoy me no end when it was on the perils of smoking cigarettes, but I'm rather enjoying the parenting articles! I'm pretty lucky to have supportive parents.) Anyway, having read a bunch on attachment parenting at this point, co-sleeping is regularly suggested as a way to bond, and to let your child know that you will always be there when s/he needs you. It builds trust.

I plan on having one of those foam "drawers" on my bed... I don't know what they are called, but they are rectangular, and have four little walls around the sides, and it's made out of soft foamy material and covered with waterproof material... Anyway, my cousin has one for my Godson and he loves it. Also, it provides a "sacred space" that I would not be able to roll over into. I'm a pretty good sleeper though, I'm used to having my dogs on all sides and never squash them. In fact, often I wake up to find myself petting them gently around the face or tummy :-)

Here's part of the article but as it's quite long, you can find the rest at The Washington Post:

"More Accidental Infant Deaths Blamed on Suffocation in Bed

By Amanda Gardner
HealthDay Reporter
Monday, January 26, 2009; 12:00 AM

MONDAY, Jan. 26 (HealthDay News) -- Even while the rate of sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS) in the United States has declined, the rate of infant deaths from accidental suffocation in bed has quadrupled, a new study reports.

Such deaths have been most common among black boy babies younger than 4 months, according to the study, published in the February issue of Pediatrics.

The authors said the increase might be due to differences in classification rules and methods among medical examiners and coroners.

But, regardless, the message to parents and caregivers stays the same.

"The safest sleep environment for an infant is one that's close to the parent on a separate sleep surface," said study author Carrie K. Shapiro-Mendoza, an epidemiologist in the division of reproductive health at the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. "Infants should always be placed to sleep on their back on a firm mattress, and the sleep surface should be free of pillows, quilts, comforters and stuffed animals."

Another issue related to infant deaths is co-sleeping, the term for when a baby sleeps with a parent, sibling or caregiver.

"The concern has as much to do with parental behavior," said Dr. Thomas G. DeWitt, director of the division of general and community pediatrics at Cincinnati Children's Hospital Medical Center. "If you're a deep, sound sleeper, or if you're on medication or if you're drinking, then it's really a bad idea to have the baby in the bed with you."

The United States ranks 29th in the world in infant mortality, according to data released in October for 2004. It ranked 27th in 2000, 23rd in 1990 and 12th in 1960.

Accidental strangulation or suffocation in bed is one of a number of conditions included under the umbrella term "sudden, unexpected infant deaths."

Such deaths can be caused by a baby sleeping on soft bedding such as a pillow or waterbed, a parent rolling on top of a baby while asleep, a baby getting stuck between a mattress and a wall or bed frame, or a baby catching his or her head between crib railings.

For their study, the authors examined data from death certificates for U.S. infants 1 year old and younger.

In the two decades from 1984 to 2004, infant death rates attributed to strangulation or suffocation in bed jumped fourfold, from 2.8 deaths per 100,000 live births to 12.5 deaths per 100,000 live births.

The biggest increase occurred between 1996 and 2004, when strangulation/suffocation deaths rose 14 percent. During this time, sudden, unexpected infant death rates overall remained relatively stable, with a possible trend downward after 2003, and deaths attributable to SIDS actually declined.

The decrease in SIDS has been attributed largely to the national "back to sleep" campaign, launched in 1999.

Strangulation or suffocation deaths, which occurred while the children were sleeping in beds, cribs or couches, were highest among black male babies younger than 4 months. Overall, black babies had a higher mortality rate from this type of death than did white babies (27.3 deaths per 100,000 births compared with 8.5 deaths per 100,000 births), and the rate was higher for boys than girls (12.5 vs. 9.6 deaths per 100,000 live births).

"That there's such a disparity between black versus white is important," DeWitt said. "The disproportion that we know happens in SIDS continues in this category as well."

Strangulation and suffocation deaths appear most common in infants 3 months old and younger, with most deaths occurring at 1 month of age. And they occur more often from Sunday through Wednesday than during the second half of the week.

"It seems that medical examiners or coroners seem to be moving away from SIDS as a diagnosis and more likely to report suffocation as the cause of death," said Shapiro-Mendoza. "We don't know the exact reason. It could have to do with better death investigation or stricter adherence to SIDS definition."

National death-scene guidelines for sudden, unexpected infant deaths were released in 1996, intended to standardize investigations and make them more user-friendly.

"One of the caveats here is: Was there truly an increase, or is there a more careful assessment of unexpected infant death cases?" Dewitt asked. "It's hard to know."

Emotional day!

1-19-2009

Today I had a lot going on emotionally.

First there was an appointment with a fertility doctor to see what's up and plan for the future. That went fine. No plans for right now, I've got enough on my plate.

Then I went to Babies R' Us with my pregnant friend, and I parked in the expectant mother spot! Ha!

While walking around the store and looking at so much STUFF, I started to feel anxious and panicky. I don't even know if I need a crib, or what size bed, or clothes and there are 4 sizes of bottles, how am I supposed to know what size to get?

Adoptive mothers.... HELP!

Can you tell me how you PLANNED this? I have no idea when I'm picking her up. How big she'll be. What size car seat to get. Bottles. What kind, there are about 40 different kinds. SIPPY CUPS? No, probably not yet, right?

Also, adoptive moms... please answer this question: When did you start feeling like "a mom"? Was it right when you signed the agency contract? Right after your referral? After the judge said you were a mom? I'm not sure I'm feeling what I'm supposed to be feeling. I look at her picture about 20 times a day. Here are my feelings, you tell me if something is missing: excited, obsessive, scared, worried, relieved her medical seems good, but nothing very maternal yet. I don't feel like I could lift a car, stop a train, lay down my life for her anymore than I would for any infant (I would try for any infant of course). When do THOSE feelings come? Is there something wrong with me? I don't feel the innate connection. It's been two days since I got her picture. How long did it take you adoptive moms?

Then of course in "The Curious Life of Benjamin Button" this afternoon, I saw a little black infant being nursed and immediately felt that "Aww..." and breath catch. The movie was great, but a bit of a tear jerker in a good way. On the way home, I finished up the sad last chapters of an audio book I've been listening to, "The Girls", about conjoined twins who die at age 30. Sniff. Roller coaster of an emotional day! I highly recommend Benjamin Button though, it was really good.

I thought the attachment on my side of things would be instant. But I really don't know what it feels like to "be a mom" yet. I asked my pregnant friend if she already felt maternal towards her baby in utero... I figured if the baby's inside the attachment must be automatic. She said that she felt more like a mom to her dog than to her baby presently, but expects that to change. That was a relief to hear. I didn't feel so deficient then. If she feels that way and her baby is in her stomach 24/7 and has been for 4 months, than maybe I'm expecting too much after 2 days when I've never even met my girl yet and she's 7000 miles away.

Moms, I'd really like to hear from you.

PS. Funny thing since I've been thinking about and reading a lot about trans racial adoption: in Benjamin Button, he is a white baby adopted by a black couple. His bio dad thought he was a monster and wanted to throw him away. Then the black couple find him and she says "He's still a child of God" and they keep him and raise him as their own.

Attachment myths

12-30-2008

I've been reading a lot about attachment and adoptive children. From the beginning of my research into adoption, this has been a huge topic that shows up everywhere. I asked my social worker during the home study about whether infants will also have attachment issues, as I thought the younger the child, the less attachment issues there would be. I'm right, she said, but there will still be SOME no matter what. I'd be naive to believe everything will be peaches and cream just because I'm adopting "as young as possible". Also, I might accept a young referral who, through the closing of courts during rainy season or other problems may grow older while we wait. So this is a topic that all adoptive parents should read up on and feel comfortable with before their children come home, I believe.

Tonight, in my traveling through cyber space, I came across a wonderful website chock full of information on attachment and attachment disorders. The website is A4everfamily.org. It has articles on neurobiology, PTSD, "before placement" attachment issues and "post placement" issues, how to grow bonds between parent and child, etc. Really chock full of great info. Here are a few myths for those who may think adopting an infant will prevent all those issues:


Myth: Infants, especially those adopted out of foster care, do not have attachment problems.
Every adopted child, regardless of the age at adoption, has suffered trauma: that of being separated from the birth mother. Many times, that single trauma is enough to produce attachment problems. Attachment therapists treat even children whose adoptive parents were present at the birth.

FAQ: When newborns are placed with a foster family at birth, how can they miss their birth mother?
A baby's first attachment is to the biological mother. Research indicates that attachment develops throughout pregnancy. At birth, the child knows his mother's voice and her smell. His emotions, heartbeat, and respiration are regulated by hers. He believes that he and his mother are one. If this attachment or bond is broken, trust becomes an issue and the child may have difficulty forming a secure and healthy attachment to the foster/adoptive mother.

Myth: Babies don't remember.
Early memories are remembered by the body. Although a child may not consciously remember early trauma (including separation from the birth mother), the experience is difficult to erase because it is stored as a nonverbal/emotional memory in the body. Neurons in the heart, stomach, and other parts of the body can fire messages, effectively hijacking the thinking parts of the brain…especially if these memories took place before the child developed cognition skills. We have also experienced many moments that indicate that our children remember more than we give them credit for.

Myth: All They Need is Love!
Although love is inarguably what attachment disordered children need, the challenge is getting them to accept 100% of their parents' love. They are like tiny banks, desperately in need of deposits, that have put up signs saying, "Closed for business." Adoptive parents with attachment impaired children find it helpful to consider where their children are in the attachment process by asking, "Is my child willing to accept ALL my love?" When the answer is no, the task then becomes figuring out how to get the love in when the child shows resistance. "

Here is the link to the website:
http://www.a4everfamily.org/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=54&Itemid=77