Love Blossomed This Year

Aidan, Cole Patrick & Brendan: Our Angels

Well, I know my last post was not much fun--I know it struck a chord with some, and I know others have watched me agonize through my in-law relationship for years, so in this wonderful season of blessings, I want to quickly follow up with a positive note. A relationship that many of you have watched beautifully blossom: our love for Brendan.

It has been a year. A whole year. As Christmas is coming, we have found that almost all of us have somehow blocked last year--we keep asking each other random questions, "Did we do this, that or the other thing last year?" and none of us can seem to recall. I am fairly certain that I was under the dining room table in fetal position--I imagine the others were taking their own emotional shelter. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Adoption is a journey, and the most difficult journey is always the most worth it.

Last year, we were in the midst of home visits, tears and chaos. Most days, I was just thankful that I kept everyone alive--we were a family in transition and more than a few of us were resisting it. I was in the darkest place I have been. I was haunted by worries about the path we had taken--constantly questioning God's plan. Jason was overwhelmed with worries about me. We were literally drowning in worry, doubt and second-thoughts. I had lost the ability to play my usual role of Martha Stewart--knowing that every thing was a struggle with a transitioning two-year-old (not to mention a transitioning 8-year old and 40-year old--Aidan and Jason were the only two to really display some fortitude). I lost my desire to bake because I was entrenched in the food wars--each night, I knew we would go to battle at the dining room table. I realized that as a stay-at-home Mom, my entire world was crashing in--maybe I wasn't the mom I thought I was? (On a positive note, I did really blossom as a runner, as Bren and I both found peace on the trail.)

 A year later, we have a son--an amazing son--without worry or doubt. The baking is back; the crafts are back; and a dark cloud no longer lingers in our dining room. A year ago, I never truly believed it would be like this. Looking back, to be perfectly honest, I was in the process of completely losing faith. I clung to the thought that one day I'll be "Mom" to him and one day I won't worry if everything he does is "normal". I  prayed that one day, we would ALL be better for the path we were walking. But I did not really believe.

 

An amazing struggle reaped blessings beyond what we dreamed: a little boy who truly calls us Mom and Dad. A little boy who now comes to us when he is hurt or sad; a little boy who loves us and depends on us. I no longer fear his emotions or who he might be. I don't think twice about taking him to Target or the Commissary...or public. I KNOW him now; I LOVE him: two things I honestly couldn't have said last Christmas.

 

This year, I am amazingly excited about Christmas--I went from barely breathing to handmaking all our Christmas cards, making ornaments and planning out everything to make this Christmas magical for them. We are happy, we are healthy and we are truly blessed.

 

 

Longing for Grace

Recently, we allowed Brendan to meet Jason's parents for the first time. We did so with great reluctance. Unfortunately, our relationship with them has never been warm, and quite frankly, they did not support the idea of us adopting. Even before me, it was not a typical parent-son relationship--as far as I can tell, it has been strained since before Jason's birth. I am not a psychologist--I don't even play one on TV--but since Jason was not planned, I have long suspected that there is some blame involved. I have spent 15 years trying to understand it. I have also spent 11 years trying to mold them into the grandparents I dreamed my children would have.

In my mind, grandmas are warm, loving and completely huggable--the most wonderful people in the world. When you are grown, they're the people you fondly remember spending time with at Christmas, birthdays and special afternoons. They are pillars of your childhood. Like any parent, I desperately want this for my children, but it is not shaping up to be reality.

They don't "spoil" the children--they spend the little time they have with them fussing at them for wearing flip-flops (impractical shoes) and using product in their hair (umm, because I have spent years teaching them how to care for the beautiful hair they were blessed with). They make them feel awkward and uncomfortable. They don't take the time to get to know what each of them loves, and I am not convinced they care. I am pretty sure I am the only one keeping a relationship alive. For years I tried, but even the desire to try has faded over years of coolness. I have made every piece of handprint art imaginable. I wrote letters from the children, sent drawings, invited them on vacations, opened my home and my heart, but I failed to create this relationship I longed to give my children--and my husband.

This most recent visit I truly hoped to survive with more laughter than tears. I wanted them to meet Brendan and see how amazing he is--I wanted them to adore him, gush over him and leave completely transformed. At times I can be a hopeless optimist--they have never done this with Aidan and Cole Patrick, why would Bren be different? It is always me, who when they leave says, "Never again," and it is always me who says after a few months, "Let's try again; maybe this time will be different."

At the end of this visit, I actually confronted them, including my husband, in a parking lot. "In 15 years, I have never heard the three of you say 'I love you' to each other. I will not raise our children to believe that this is how family acts--it is not!" Jason's Dad told me that was not true, and that I was scaring the children. It is true though--I have never heard it expressed--or seen it expressed--which breaks my heart. I made them uncomfortable expressing myself opening--I think I always have. I am not passive aggressive or quiet. I have never really been popular, so I have never worried about what other people thought of my views. I always try to be true to me and my family--if we are happy we sing and dance, if we are sad we cry, if we are frustrated we shout--we are an open book. My children are not scared by that, but the older they grow, the more the are disappointed and hurt by how Grandma and Grandpa treat them--just as Jason and I are.

This time when they left, I cried for a whole day (because I am always a mess when they leave), and I asked Jason to never let me do it again. Knowing I will cave and say, "Let's try it again," I made him promise he would save me from myself--perhaps I should have videotaped the train wreck to remind myself.

As we come into the holidays, I think about the reason we celebrate: the birth of Christ. Like many Christians, each day, I struggle to live like Jesus taught us. I fall--sometimes a lot. I think that I should make this relationship work for the sake of peace and Christianity. I still long for the grace and wisdom to come to terms with reality, but in the same way, I am relieved to finally realize they really aren't going to change. While it hurts to walk away from any one, I have seen time and again that when they are around, every one hurts. At the end of the day, I know my children will face disappointment throughout their lives, but I cannot bare to see my children unappreciated by family. They are growing old enough to realize, and now is the time for me to protect them and have the grace to give up my idea of the perfect grandparents.