One of the biggest challenges of being a foster/adoptive parent is the overwhelming feeling of unpreparedness at parenting a child with such high needs. Daily, I am confronted with the effects of trauma and neglect that my children experienced in their first few years under their family's care. Some days I ask myself what has been worse for my kids in those formative years- The trauma? The abuse? The neglect? Or is it just the perfect storm of circumstances that led to such profound effects on such young brains and psyches that they can't quite function in a normal way?
For me, I have two kids that encountered most of the same experiences as one another, and yet they were impacted in completely different ways. My oldest became hardened, less likely to trust, wary of giving and receiving love, suspicious, enamored with the bad guy and thug life. His brother was much more effected, because not only did he have the same experiences, but he was also exposed to trauma and neglect even before he was born, leaving irreparable damage to his fragile, developing brain. Parenting this child leaves me feeling exhausted, hopeless and frustrated a lot of the time.
Nothing can prepare you for parenting a child with special (or high) needs, especially a child who is not biologically your own. This isn't because you don't love the child as if they were your own, it's because the "not your own" adds a whole emotional and psychological aspect to the relationship that creates a distance and an expectation that wouldn't be there had the child been birthed from your own body. This isn't right or wrong; it just is.
Daily, I scratch my head at his choices. Become frustrated at his mistakes. Became angry with his lying, stealing, cheating and destroying. Daily, I become convinced I am not the best parent for him. Regularly, I question my decision to foster-adopt. Hourly, I ask myself how I can do this until I die, because God knows that parenting does not expire. Sometimes I feel trapped and I cry.
For the last 24 hours this child has had a stomach bug and has been throwing up every 3 hours. He has yet to make it in the toilet. I've cleaned vomit off of carpet, doorways, bathroom floors and walls, toilets, trashcans, and bedding. I have seen him vulnerable and naked, covered in all of his stomach's contents, crying because he was missing school. I have listened to him continually ask for food, even though he can't even keep down water. I have heard him ask if his daddy will read the Bible to him before bed. And I have comforted him as best as I can while also trying to avoid contact because I still have three other kids I have to take care of and mama can't get sick.
Today I read a blog post written about a mom whose son has autism. She posted with great candor how she struggles to connect with her son. Her biological son. She confessed how she doesn't often understand him, becomes frustrated by his behavior, angry at his inability or unwillingness to follow directions, and how she feels hopeless and sad when she thinks about her son. It felt like I was reading about myself. And it provided some comfort because if she's feeling that way about the son that she carried in her own womb, than maybe I could feel less guilt about my own feelings towards my foster son and his disabilities. Maybe I could give myself a break and admit that this is really, really hard and it probably will that way for a long time.
Let me just say, that for imperfect moms like me, I am so, so grateful for all the brave voices paving the way online and in the real world for us to be honest about how it really feels sometimes to be a mom. Without those vices, and without the community of the women that I have come so desperately to depend on, I would be in a much darker place as a mom when it comes to parenting and loving my son.
Everyone says that these years go by so fast, and that's mostly true. But some days, in the trenches with kids with so much baggage, it's so hard to look ahead and see light. It's so hard to imagine that this too shall pass. With every minute, every day, every prayer, all I can do is the best I can and trust that the One who created us all will carry me through when my best is simply not enough.
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