Seeing the World Through "Me-Colored" Glasses

 Yesterday I had a heartbreaking moment with Tink. A friend and I were talking about cats and how we loved our cats. I said that I had done the impossible for me, that I actually loved this particular cat so much that it would be my last cat. Our friend agreed. She too had an extraordinarily loveable cat, "a member of the family. She's not replaceable," our friend remarked. "How could we just get another cat?"

At that point, Tink looked up from her drawing and said, "Yeah, it would be like if you had a kid and gave it up for adoption and then just went and had some more kids."

The conversation got interrupted right then by the door or the dogs but oh, how that stabbed my heart! What a profound and honest statement. I got a chance to talk to her about it later but I know I can't ever really understand that pain of being "given away" and then replaced, which is how she sees it. 

Grief is inherent in adoption. Any book on adoption reiterates this point over and over but it is impossible to truly understand. And I know that I am only seeing "dimly" -- like through scratched sunglasses -- or in a not-funhouse mirror -- that I have no true idea what they are going through.

When your kids first come to you, they grieve for their caregivers and their original families. That part is tough, very tough. It breaks your heart. Kids, especially little ones, are resilient and crave connection, so that stage is eclipsed by everyday activities and the business of building a life together. They are grieving, for sure, but they carry on. 

For many adopted persons, it's the age of self awareness where the grief really begins to set in. As if middle school and all it encompasses were not enough to deal with, children also become much more aware of the differences between themselves and their adoptive families and also begin to deal with the pain of losing their original families.

It's such a personal and private loss; made even more difficult when you're worried about breaking your adoptive parents hearts. Even though we always speak openly with our kids about being adopted and the circumstances surrounding our family, none of that prepares them for the pain of coming to terms with it on a heart level. 

The grief of adoption is like any other loss; it lays dormant for a while and then, when least expected, hits you like a brick to the face. Tinker -- in that moment -- listening to us talking about cats for crying out loud and her seeing herself as having been given away -- no, actually thrown away -- and then replaced. Is it any wonder this child craves love and attention? 

Remember being an adolescent? It was so awful! I'm too tall, too short; too skinny, too fat; too dark too fair, too curly too straight. Whatever I am, is never enough. 40 years later with so much of my childhood a blur, those pains remain sharp and clear in my memory. Add to that a belief that you were literally unwanted  by the person who gave you life. Can you imagine the pain?

Image by creatifrankenstein from Pixabay 

PLEASE NOTE: I am NOT saying that it is true that these were her birth mother's intentions at all. I do not in any way think that. My thoughts, however, are not relevant here. What I'm talking about is a child's core belief. And this core belief was incidentally exposed in this little conversation, thankfully, so now can be cared for and treated kindly. 

It reminds me once again that I always have to be mindful of the lenses through which children view their world. We treat the "wounds" we see, but the ones that need the most care and attention are the ones we can't see. I have to find a way to look through the "me colored" glasses my kids are wearing to have the compassion and wisdom to get them the help they need. 

AFTERWORD: I spoke to The Blitz about this later, to see how he felt about it. He said, "I understand it wasn't voluntary. It was her only choice and the other kids . . . they were to fill the hole in her heart."