Buckle up, Buttercup

A common question in our house lately has been: is this age appropriate behavior or a trauma response? With a three year old it can be pretty difficult to tell the difference and I’m not entirely sure the source is relevant at this stage of the game. Strawbaby is communicating so much more clearly than when we first picked her up seven months ago and we are making a lot of progress in getting her to use her words to express herself. That said, she is still three and has limited understanding of her emotions or the vocabulary to express them. So, when she’s testing boundaries like a velociraptor at Jurassic Park with zero concern for consequences it’s hard. Really freaking hard.

I may post adorable photos of our family together online but behind the scenes it is not always happily ever after, but I’ve been having difficulty communicating this experience. After all, we chose to be her parents and I don’t want anyone, especially her, to think we don’t want her because we do, so very, very much. But she pushes and tests and screams and rages and I can read every book out there and talk to a therapist and it is still going to be difficult.

I think I am also embarrassed at how challenging I am finding this. Because of what I lost, shouldn’t I appreciate this experience that much more? Shouldn’t my history of parenting a medically complex child provide me with a valuable perspective that makes this, if not easier, at least less stressful? Remember when all I wanted was for Adelaide to be an age appropriate tiny tyrant? Has so much time gone by since her passing that I’ve forgotten how to appreciate even these hard, but oh so temporary, days? 

After all, Strawbaby is going to be ok.

Those were never words I could say with confidence about Adelaide. 

What I’m coming to terms with is that it’s all hard just in different ways. I’m incredibly grateful that I’m not being forced to make regular life and death decisions for Strawbaby the way I did for Adelaide - but that doesn’t make this new and different experience a cake walk by default. Maybe I just didn’t recognize how challenging adoptive parenting could be.

That’s not true. I knew this would be tough. I anticipated the tantrums, rage, fear and trauma but thats not the same as experiencing it. Also, I didn’t anticipate everything else that would be occurring in life at the same time. We don’t get to parent in a vacuum, we’re answering the call from the pediatrician, while being screamed at for yet another snack by a child who has taken up residence under our dress, while also trying to locate baseball cleats for a practice which we will probably arrive to late. I have absolutely caught myself being momentarily grateful that Adelaide was immobile and then immediately felt the searing burn of guilt slash my heart. I know it could be worse, but that is of little comfort in the tough moments. Parenting is messy and stressful and I don’t know how anyone has more than two children at a time and maintains their sanity. I bow down to you.

Look, parenting should never be a competition. Not amongst those of us with sick or disabled kiddos, nor those of us who are fortunate enough to have healthy ones and certainly not with ourselves as I’ve somehow managed to do. There is no award for who has it the worst and there is no benchmark for deciding when it’s acceptable to communicate that we are struggling.

Our emotions are real and our perspectives are valid. We do not need to justify to ourselves or others what we find difficult. It just is. And then we persevere because we’re parents and thats what we do.

So, to summarize:

I LOVE Strawbaby and will fight for her to the ends of the Earth.

I am incredibly grateful that she came into our lives.

This is still incredibly difficult and it’s ok to acknowledge that. 

This too shall pass… and then I get to look forward to her teenage years. Buckle up.