If It Was So Good . . .

why am I so unhappy ?

It is a paradox and difficult to explain beyond the fact that fear and trauma put the child into a survival mechanism.  Yes, even with a loving and kind, caring adoptive family, an adoptee can feel messed up a lot of the time.  The adoptee may rationally feel like they should be okay with having been adopted by such nice people.  Yet, they are sad.  There is a trauma that exists deep down in every adoptee whether they ever become aware of it or not.  Adoption by strangers is never a normal experience in reality.

Adoptive parents may say, “My adopted child is so close to me.  It is like they are attached at the hip.”  While this may seem like a good thing, and the adoptive parent interprets this to mean that their child is well adjusted and/or bonded to them, it is actually a fear driven survival instinct in response to an abandonment, even if the child could never define it as such to their adoptive parent.

Sadly, the perspective of many adoptive parents is something akin to owning a possession.  In some adoptees, the response to the adoptive parents is similar to repulsion.  While an adoptee may attach, it is an attachment based on a longing for what is not there between the adopted child and the adoptive parents.  It is inescapable that all adoptees are deprived of something fundamental that affects them developmentally.

The young adopted child will eventually stop crying for the need that can never be met.  Unfortunately, in this surrender, the adoptee is seen as “such a good baby”.  By the time this happens, the adoptee’s attachment style has already been deeply altered.  They adapt.

Adoptees know how to use all of the different attachment coping styles, and switch between them based on the specific situation they find themselves in. Very little of what they are expressing outside reflects their true internal feelings.  It is not how they are really feeling or what they are really needing.  Mostly it is about appeasing the adult who is caring for them.  It is a survival tactic.  Always, what is seen, is even so, coming out of a deep and unaddressed trauma.

Hard Questions

Adoption makes this true.

The questions carry a completely different weight than they did just months ago before we adopted.  A place where my heart screams that he is mine forever but that same heart plummets into a deep ache knowing the gravity of loss he has already faced.  The loss of the mother in whose womb he grew.

He will always know he’s adopted. I tell his story to him every night at bedtime. I ask all the normal questions.

I wonder about the day he will ask about his birth parents. Will there be a constant ringing in his ears to know them? Will he feel the guilt of reassuring us, as the adoptive parents, that the ringing has nothing to do with us?

Will I be able to honestly, deeply, and fully lock arms with him while he searches for answers?

I can wait for the hard questions but know when you start to ask, your worth is immense, your value is priceless, and I will always and forever, be right by your side.

A true story. One worth pondering if you are planning to adopt.  Someday, that child will want to know where they come from and why they are not being raised by the people who conceived them.