Twenty Things My Adopted Kids Wish Their Biological Family Knew

If you’re an adoptive parent and you haven’t yet read Sherrie Eldridge’s book, “Twenty Things Adopted Kids Wish Their Adoptive Parents Knew,” you’re missing some good insight.  The book will not reveal all the things adopted kids wish their parents knew.  Some adopted kids (now adults) disagree with some of what Eldridge writes.  However, the book will give you some knowledge of what it feels like to be adopted, and some seeds for thought as you try to understand the heart of your child.  I highly recommend you read it.  (I get no financial gain by saying that.)

There is a flip side to the 20 things adoptive parents should know, at least for my kids.  My kids experienced significant trauma at the hands of their birth family and the people that family allowed to become a part of their lives.  Because those adults didn’t handle things well, they ended up in an orphanage system that was often harmful and hurtful.  The things my kids have told me about their caregivers are about the only thing that makes me want to go back to their birth country.  I would very much like to give certain women there an education they’d never forget.

The thing is, my kids don’t care about those people very much.  They were temporary “mamas.”  They were hired help.  They weren’t family.  It is family that caused the deepest pain and left the biggest scars.  It is to family my kids wish they could communicate the things they want to be ingrained into the soul of people living in Eastern Europe.  Here are 20 things my kids wish their biological family knew:

*You caused me more hurt and pain than any child should ever have to bear.  You are ALL responsible.  Those letters you send me now only cause that pain to deepen.  If you loved me so much, why didn't you take care of us when our parents could not?

*I am ashamed of you and I am scared to death I’m going to end up like you, even though I have a good life and parents who know how to love me now.

*Even though you’ve caused me so much pain, I still love you and I still wish we could be together.  I grieve that loss deeply every single day.

*Sometimes I grieve losing you so much, I take it out on my Mom and Dad.  I wonder if that would make you happy?  When my anger is over, it makes me ashamed that I treated them that way.  It’s you I’m mad at!

*I don’t talk about you that often, but when I do, it’s hard for me and for my parents.  They don’t like seeing me upset, so I hide that I’m thinking about you.  I think about you every day.  My parents know that and even though it hurts us both, they still try to show me it’s okay to remember you and talk about you.

*Even though I think about you, I don’t want to talk about you most of the time.  Sometimes, it feels like my parents and my therapist are prying stuff out of me and that makes me even more mad at you, but then I grieve for you right after I get mad.

*I am really mad that I wasn’t worth enough to you for you to register my birth.  (The Princess)  I am really mad that everyone relied on me to remember when my sister was born.  (Youngest Son)

*Even though my parents tell me you were not allowed to see me anymore when I went to the orphanage, I wonder if you didn’t come to see me because you didn’t love me anymore.

*I worry all the time that my new Dad will die, or that my Mom will be with other men.  I freak out whenever my mom goes away on a trip.  I hate it that my Mom and Dad are planning an anniversary trip this year and I am not going with them.  I’m scared they won’t come back.

*I put up a good front in public.  I’m a good Eastern European and the only emotion I show is when I want to let someone know they’re bothering me.  Most of the time, people outside my family don’t know I’m any different than any other American kid – unless they hear my accent.

*You gave me no sense of control, so now I fight to have a sense of control.  It’s hard for me to let my parents care about me and it’s hard to care about other people.  I do care.  A lot.  But it’s very hard.

*I like it when people say I look like my Mom and Dad.  I like it when people say I sound just like my Mom or that I’m as smart as my Dad.  That’s okay.  I don’t like it when you write my parents’ names in letters to me.  They are my Mom and my Dad.  Call them that.  However, I also like it when people in my family tell me I’m as handsome as my Papa or as smart as my Babushka.

*I love my parents.  They drive me crazy sometimes.  I drive them crazy sometimes.  But so do my brothers.  My mom says all teenagers drive their parents nuts and all parents embarrass their teens.  We’re a normal family that way.  I love my parents and I still love you, though I don’t understand that.

*I don’t like telling people about you.

*My parents make my birthday special, but I always feel bad on my birthday, on other people’s birthdays, on holidays, vacations, or any celebration.  You did that to me.

*I hate it that I don’t know my medical history or the truth about my first family’s medical challenges.

*Even though I know I’m forever home with my real family now, I get really scared that I’ll get sent back to you.  I have nightmares about it.

*When I make poor choices, I wonder if I’ll make the really poor choices you made when I’m an adult.  My parents reassure me that I can choose to have a good life, but I’m still scared I’ll be just like you.

*I need extra help because of the things that happened when I was little.  I blame you, but I forgive you.  I do this over and over again.  Sometimes I do it multiple times per day.

*Even if I decide to search for some of you someday, you are not my real family.  My home is here.  I don’t come from here.  I come from you, and so they cannot replace that.  My beginning is with you.  But remember my real home is with them. 

I imagine some of these 20 things will strike a nerve or two with some of my readers.  I ask you to consider the raw, traumatized, developmentally delayed, teenage emotion and thought behind these 20 things.  They are from the perspective of my two particular teenage children who suffered a very traumatic background, and who are home only 4.5 years.  These are raw emotions, but they are honest emotions.  This is what being real is all about.

I Weigh Less Than My Driver’s License Says I Do

When things are really hard for our kids, it’s often difficult for trauma mamas to remember to take care of themselves.  My kids’ therapist reminds me often that even when you travel in an airplane, they tell you to put your oxygen mask on first before attempting to help anyone else.  The thing is, when we forget to do just that, the hard times get a lot harder.  Lack of sleep, eating a brownie and drinking a Coke for breakfast, sitting at the computer all day, not taking any time to have any fun because you’re so busy working on your kids’ needs, and making sure everyone is else is happy (or at least not murdering someone) takes its toll.  I look at pictures of myself from 4.5 years ago and look at myself in the mirror now, and the difference is dramatic.  I look at least 10 years older than I did in 2007.  I do not intend to look another 10 years older in 2016.  I just won’t have it.

 

I am far from where I want to be, but I am well on my way to a journey back to myself.  I doubt seriously I’ll ever wear a size 6 (I’d be ecstatic if I ever got down to a 12), but, as of my doctor’s appointment this morning, I really do weigh less than my driver’s license says I do.  (Yes, I lied when I renewed it.  If you’re a woman who hasn’t lied about her weight on an official document, well then I guess you’re just . . . what-ever.)  I am also making some other changes.  I’ve picked up my guitar again.  Maybe I’ll do it enough times that I’ll get calluses on my finger tips and it won’t hurt to play.  I’ve done some crafts and tried my hand at some art.  I have newly awakened ambitions to reorganize my house.  Ambition is a start!  I had no ambition to even stay organized, or get reorganized, since our adoption in 2007.  Heck, it took me 4.5 years to register my kids for a state-issued birth certificate.  I’ve also cut way back on the sugar I allow into my body.  I didn’t really want to, but I knew I had to.  I don’t want to keep aging so quickly.  So, I’m coming back to me.  I think it’s going to be an improved me.  I certainly hope I’m a wiser me.

If you’re stuck in the muck, MAKE YOURSELF take time to remember WHO YOU ARE.  DO SOMETHING that helps you get back to you.  Do it in baby steps.  Just choose one thing to start.  Don’t put a lot of pressure on yourself.  (When I do that to myself, I just feel like a big, fat failure.)  You will be amazed at how much better you feel when you grab hold of what makes you - YOU.

Post-Institutionalized Adopted Kids and the Homeschooling vs. Socialization Argument

When we brought our (then) nine-year-old daughter, and 12-year-old son home, they were very much lacking in age-appropriate education.  The Princess had the equivalent of a kindergarten student (“grade zero”) and Youngest Son was at about a second grade level, even though he’d completed what they called “grade three” at his orphanage for special needs children.  The kids were also the smallest nine and 12-year-old children in our town.  At 12, Youngest Son wore clothes that fit most American eight or nine-year old boys.  The Princess wore hand-me-downs from a little girl who was five at the time.  Neither child was ready to be put into school with age-peers. 

Before Hubby and I traveled to adopt our two young ones, I was fully prepared to homeschool them when they got home.  Afterall, I’d homeschooled their older brothers until they reached high school.  Easy peasy.  I thought I could do it with these two, also.  Not a problem.  Then I got stuck in country in 100-110 degree heat, on the 3^rd floor of an old Soviet apartment building that had no air conditioning, with two very energetic young children, while fighting against a system steeped in corruption that entire summer.  Fun times.

My kids went to public school five days after we got home.  

The Princess started school in 2^nd grade at age nine.  Youngest Son went into 5^th grade at age 12. 

After a hellish summer, trying to parent two traumatized kids with attachment issues -- kids who could not understand me, and who I could not understand, and after putting up with every Russian-speaking person around me wanting to parent my kids “for” me in a way that would not allow my kids to even BEGIN to see me as their mom, I gave up on the idea of homeschooling.  I was completely exhausted physically and emotionally.  I did not have it in me to homeschool these two kids.  After seeing how cooped up they felt all summer, I believed they needed time with other kids, away from me.  I still believe they needed that then.  Actually, I still believe Youngest Son needs that.  In fact, he’s doing very well in high school.  It is true that I dreaded him going to high school, but his grades are good enough and he’s “making it” (so far) this year.  He is using good discernment for the most part, and he's hanging out with kids who are good kids.  As for The Princess?  Yeah, not so much.

Until this semester, The Princess had straight A’s.  In fact, she skipped from 4^th grade into 6^th grade last school year.  This caught her up so that she was placed closer to age peers.  She was able to keep up with the work and still keep her 4.0 average.  This semester, however, her grades dropped significantly.  She’s gotten wrapped up in girl drama and she’s boy crazy.  This has caused her to sink both socially and emotionally.  Her discernment is out the window – at least during the 7.25 hrs. of school each day, and she’s attracted to other kids from hurt backgrounds whose behavior is less than desirable.  

The Princess is now in the 7^th grade.  I nearly pulled her out of school in January because she has been struggling so much these last several months.  Now, I’m nearly certain she will not be attending 8^th grade in the public school.  

Things at the public school just seem to be getting worse for The Princess.  She’s too smart for this.  She’s too valuable for this.  The thing is, she’s not convinced of that right now.  Because she’s not beating kids up, or stealing property, or cheating on tests, the folks at school just aren’t paying attention.  They don’t care if her grades are A’s or C’s – as long as she does okay on the standardized tests.  (Sorry, but that is the TRUTH.  Like it or not, if you know me and happen to be a teacher in our school district, it isn't personal.  I think we have very good schools and teachers where I live, but I also know our teachers do not have the time to care as much as we’d like to believe they do.  If they did, I would have gotten some calls or emails last week.  I know of at least one teacher that saw The Princess struggling, yet did not take five minutes to tell me about it.)

Thankfully, The Princess and I spent a LOT of time together last week.  She is attached enough, and trusts me enough, and was able to pour her heart out to me.  She handled things well.  She was mature for the most part.  She processed some really hard stuff.  She used her tools from therapy.  Her world was made small by me on purpose, and I was a big, big part of that world.  It helped her feel safe.  I protected her when she needed it.  Yet, I also let her handle things, navigating some hard stuff on her own, because she needed that, too.  She did great!  Making her world smaller helped.  Consequently, I am convinced The Princess needs more time in a smaller world.  So, unless God zaps me over the head between now and August or shows me differently, I’m pretty sure The Princess will either be homeschooled, or will attend a near-by Christian school next school year.  (Right now, that decision is hinging on some financial planning with Hubby.  However, I am leaning heavily toward homeschooling.)

Does this look a little like "Mr. Bill?"

I am looking at both Alpha Omega’s online academy and ACE’s(Accelerated Christian Education) online school.  My older boys used the (P)ACE’s in their Christian school as little boys.  I used Alpha Omega’s LifePaks with them when we homeschooled.  I like both programs.  I’m just trying to decide which would be best for The Princess.  If we begin to homeschool, I want her to complete the program through 12^th grade.  Both are accredited.  Both have retreats, missions projects, and even regional graduation ceremonies.  She would get a diploma and a transcript, just like at a “regular” school.  (If you’re a praying person, would you pray for wisdom for me on this decision?)

The Princess is such a little social butterfly.  The good news is we have a homeschool group in town that meets at the church right next door to our house.  I had tea this morning with one of the moms who takes her kids there.  It sounds like it would meet both The Princess’ social need, as well as my need for help in  higher math (like trig and calculus).  It would also provide physical education opportunities.  The argument of having “no friends,” and not having her “socialization” needs met would not be a valid argument – at least not in this town.  In fact, the socialization she WOULD experience would be the kind I want for her.  I want her to learn to edify others rather than tear them down.  I also want her to develop discernment and be able to navigate the hard stuff when I’m not around.

The challenge for me will be getting organized.  I’ve been so very disorganized these last 4.5 years.  This is not who I am -- not prior to adoption anyhow.  When I start to think about THAT, I get overwhelmed.  I don’t know where to start.  (This is not an opening for a sales pitch on some company's organization system, so don’t even try it.)

Perhaps if I start by moving furniture around this weekend?  Hmmm, Hubby is going to be thrilled.  (Yes, that’s sarcasm.)