"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is
the will of God in Christ Jesus for you."
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 ESV
Let me first start off by saying, adoption is hard. I'm not pointing fingers at any given individual, but rather speaking in defense to the silent eyes, body language and labeling that happens when
trauma speaks louder than words.
This comes from a place of brokenness, and hearts that seek healing after being beat up and, at times, feeling like a prisoner to the trauma.
trauma speaks louder than words.
This comes from a place of brokenness, and hearts that seek healing after being beat up and, at times, feeling like a prisoner to the trauma.
Adoption is a beautiful display of scripture in action.
Tim and I knew God called us into adoption but we didn't have the scope of what that would take from us until years later. In all the training we have had from both our home study and obtaining our foster license, none of that prepared us for the ugly that trauma causes. The courses don't train you on how to respond to complete strangers gawking at your tantrumming child that appears to be undisciplined or having to execute a safety plan due to trauma becoming violent. There's no heart training when things said pierce a mother's heart, completely shattering her belief as a person and able parent.
Tim and I knew God called us into adoption but we didn't have the scope of what that would take from us until years later. In all the training we have had from both our home study and obtaining our foster license, none of that prepared us for the ugly that trauma causes. The courses don't train you on how to respond to complete strangers gawking at your tantrumming child that appears to be undisciplined or having to execute a safety plan due to trauma becoming violent. There's no heart training when things said pierce a mother's heart, completely shattering her belief as a person and able parent.
This past summer we have witnessed some of the hardest behaviors yet through words and actions and it nearly broke me. My ability to parent and love well was almost shredded. It has been painful to watch knowing so much of what is happening is spiritual and tied to generational sin. And worst yet is the secondary trauma that takes place in our other kids. I can tell you story after story of things that have happened all due to secondary trauma. Things like our Man Cub trying to protect his Mom when Myriam is hitting me, kicking me or saying things out of rage that she doesn't truly believe to be true. Confusion and bondage have her spewing hatred that has left stains on this Mama's heart. Bruises from the punches when anger needs to release itself.
That is secondary trauma.
That is secondary trauma.
I don't share that to scare you or to set off alarms. I'm simply stating reality in many adoptive homes.
Trauma is unpredictable; it's real. Trauma is terrifying but can be comforted. Trauma can be the very thing that makes you want to give up and not continue to pray making you think it will never get any better.
Things in Myriam's pregnancy were completely out of her control. Patterns of living were done so out of habit and generations of doing things a certain way. When we brought her home we immediately attached and grew as a family of five. Tim and I educated ourselves in adoption circles finding support through our church and other families who had adopted as well.
Myriam has always been a busy little body walking by nine months and never not having a curiosity about everything. We love that about her, but it's also the thing that has gotten her into trouble.
Last year at school was a challenge even before the first day of school. The transition into first grade was far from smooth and felt safety wasn't established until months into the school year. Our friend Micah has been a huge blessing meeting us weekly for "play time" or better known as occupational therapy. She was a wealth of knowledge and saw some of my most unpleasant moments. Those mornings she would greet me with chocolate treats and supportive hugs, never judging me for not having my crap together was the encouragement I needed to keep going.