The Honeymoon Period is Over

Sometimes when a child is adopted, everything goes really well.  Everyone puts their best foot forward in an effort to please.  The parents have an unlimited patience with the child, and the child is agreeable, loveable, and basically angelic.  Sometimes this is called the honeymoon period in adoption circles.  But as all parents know - whether your kids are adopted or not - this is an unnatural state.  At some point, the honeymoon will come to an end.

Reality has set in at our house in the last couple of days.

When we brought Jack home, he was super easy-going.  He rarely cried.  He freely gave out hugs and kisses to us.  He happily went to bed, smiling at us as he fell asleep.  He came to us when he needed something.  And because all of this was going so well (and because Tim and I have been flat-out exhausted) we got lazy with our attachment parenting.  We have let him wander off and grab other people's hands or ask to be picked up.  We have let various relatives and close friends give him food while we dealt with other children.  And while I cringed a little inside, I was too tired to be firm.  And I thought, He is doing so well!  Why should we worry when nothing is wrong?

And all the adoptive parents out there are shaking their heads at my naivete.  (I'm shaking my head too, for good measure.)

Sunday I decided to take Ben and Will to a movie.  Just the three of us. It turned out to be good, quality time, which we sorely needed.  But Jack noticed that I was gone.  For four hours. I had never done that before.

When I returned I offered to give Jack his bottle while Tim got the others ready for bed.  Now, Jack and I have always had a little control battle going on around food.  He wants to dictate when, where, what, and how much, but I know that this is a sign of distrust and of potential food issues.  And so I have danced around it, offering lots of healthy options whenever he is hungry, and sometimes when he is not hungry.  For example, when he sees anyone eating, he demands food right that moment, even if he ate five minutes ago.

So. Jack and his bottle.

I immediately noticed that not only would he not let me hold the bottle for him, he wouldn't even let me touch it. He cries when I do.  He refuses to look at me during this interaction and is constantly trying to turn his body so his back is to me.  In bed, he clutches the bottle like I am trying to steal it.  He hits, pushes, and turns his back on me.

And the whole time I am thinking that this is a full-blown Kate NaNa attachment fit.  Some of you haven't been around long enough to know this, but Kate NaNa used to despise me.  During the day she liked me fine, but at night she wanted me to leave her completely alone.  She oozed distrust and anger. And so I started crawling in bed with her every night.  When she hit me, I would kiss her hand.  When she screamed at me I would tell her I loved her and would never leave her.  When she would push me away I would pick her up and dance with her.

And now it is time to do this with Jack.  He, of course, doesn't know what to do with this.  He has never had a permanent caregiver.  He doesn't understand that no matter what, he is staying in this family.

He hits me, and I kiss his fist.  He screams at me, and I say, "I love you."  He pushes me, and I refuse to move.  Over and over I have to show him that I am not going anywhere.  No matter what he throws at me, I will always love him.  No matter how much he tries to push me away, I will always be his Mama.  I am not going anywhere.  I will not leave him.  I am here to stay. 

On a final note, please forgive me when I ask you not to feed my son, or pick him up, or take his hand.  I am teaching him that I am his Mama.  That he can trust me to feed him, to comfort him, to keep him safe.  And to never, ever leave him.  Because I am not going anywhere. 

(And a special thanks for some attachment posts I have read recently - RQ, Stephanie and Nancy at NHBO.  I just didn't know I would need them so soon!)