Free to be Isaiah

I recently read a blog post on themotherhuddle.com about raising a high energy child. Reading through the writer's story was like reading about my own wild son. I laughed to myself as the mommy writer wondered if her son's high energy was due to coffee during pregnancy, too much tv when he was young, or early signs of ADHD.

I laughed because I have wondered in the past if Isaiah's high energy could be attributed to the disruption caused by adoption, or my own inexperience, or something inherited from his birth mom. Here we were, both facing a child that has more energy than we knew what to do with, both caught up in "what ifs".

The truth is, I now neither know nor care why Isaiah is the way he is. Like the motherhuddle mommy, I also have come to see Isaiah's zest for life as an admirable quality, no matter how tiring it can be for me.

We've had to be creative, inventing rules that give Isaiah the freedom to explore, but also keep me from jumping out of my skin with worry. "You can climb it, but you have to get down yourself" has put a stop to my yelling "No! Get down!" accross the playground. Similarly, "You can take the scooter on the skate park ramps if you wear a helmet" will hopefully save us from a scary head injury trip to the emergency room.

By far the most beneficial and challenging rule is one that I have for myself. If Isaiah falls down, I don't go to him unless he first cries. That sounds easy, but when you think about applying this rule to watching your toddler fall off his scooter at high speed on a concrete skate park, suddenly it isn't so easy keep those mothering instincts in check.

Maybe it sounds uncaring or somewhat heartless (it can sure feel that way), but by my not making a fuss Isaiah has the freedom to decide for himself if he is hurt. And most of the time, scrapped knee and all, he just decides to get back up and keep going. It's only my heart that is left shaken and in need of a cuddle.

So here's to brave, energetic, adventure loving children. Shaken heart and all, I'm so glad to have one. And if you haven't read themotherhuddle blog, here it is: http://www.themotherhuddle.com/raising-a-high-energy-child/ Enjoy!

                                                       

A Call to Mothers: Seeing the Hurt on Mother's Day

Greeters stood at the doors welcoming, hugging, and handing out carnation flowers to all the mothers. I tried to time my entrance, waiting until all the greeters were busy with other people so that I could slip past unnoticed, but sneaking into church is not so easy. More than anything on this Sunday, Mother's Day Sunday, I just wanted to be invisible.

photo courtesy fanpop.com

One lady saw me and handed me a flower. "But I'm not a mother", I said. "It's for the future" she replied with a warm smile. I took the flower, smiled in return and went in to find a seat. Hiding the flower under my bible I fought hard to resist the increasing urge to rip it to shreds.

The music started and that menacing flower opened up all kinds of hurt. The deep grief of miscarriage and the sickening pain of infertility. I couldn't take it any longer. Struggling to maintain composure I ran out of the church and down the street. Finding an isolated parking lot I sat down on the dirty cement, pulled my knees to my chest, and wept.

Amazing how much can change in only one year. This Sunday when I walk through those same church doors I'll do so holding my son's hand. But I won't do it naively.

Many men and women will come to church this Sunday and instead of finding a place of comfort and healing, will endure wounds opened all over again. Will we see their hurt? Or will we be caught up in flowers, cards, and celebrating ourselves?

"A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”- Jesus (John 13:24-35)

Nama Saya Mommy

In adoption circles the process of developing attachment, the deep connection between families, is often described as a dance. Two people coming closer together, working in rhythm around each other. For me, attachment was more like tug of war or tag. Pushing and pulling, running and chasing. My experience of attachment was mostly sweaty, tiresome, hard work.

Early on, as we planned for adoption we decided to keep in contact with any safe family members of the child we brought home. We weren't interested in co-parenting, but felt strongly that these people would be important for our child to know growing up. We understood that our child would have a history and that part of understanding who you are is to understand where you come from.

When matched with Isaiah we asked about family to keep in touch with. For our little one, his only solid connection was to his foster family. So we set out to make sure his foster mother knew we wanted to maintain a relationship and regular visits.

But how do you explain to a two year old that your mommy is no longer your mommy and now you should love this new lady? How does the new lady become mommy when the old mommy is still in the picture? Would Isaiah ever love me or would his heart belong to the mother who brought him home from the hospital?

The amazing thing about attachment is that once the skill is learned the ability is there to use it again. So despite the scary "what if's" I kept my son close and day after day opened my heart to him. For Isaiah, attaching meant play as well as cuddles. Playgrounds, hiking trails, beach days, swimming pools, all became prime locations for developing attachment. Play and laughter hooking our hearts together.

Today, during our most recent visit with Isaiah's foster family, Isaiah was knocked by one of the swings and started to cry. He ran past him foster mother and into my arms for comfort.

Isaiah's foster mom had told me this would happen with time, but still it caught me by surprise. In that one moment that saw that I am Mommy now. Not just by name or by law, but truly, deeply, Mommy.

Pre-adoption picture from Isaiah's first over night visit.

Tantrums

Melt down of all melt downs. I didn't see it coming either. Wanting to spend some quality time with Isaiah I took him to the Adventure Zone at the Dinosaur Store after school today. We had a great time with the science displays, digging for fossils, whacking ground hogs with mallets and the never ending game of air hockey.

I so didn't see the melt down coming. And it was a big one. I'm talking bamboo under your toenails torture screaming melt down. 

These tantrums started a couple months ago and the smallest thing can set the off. This morning Isaiah freaked because he didn't want my help putting his shorts on but couldn't do it himself when he tried. 

The major melt down this afternoon reared its ugly head when it was time to leave the Adventure Zone. Now please don't try to council me on how I could have done this better, I gave him a 15 minutes to departure warning, then 5 minutes, then 1 minute and a last game of basket ball. I don't know what else to do.

Isaiah flopped down on the floor and just let loose. I asked him to come with me and said I'd had a fun time too. We would one back again but now had to go home. I turned and walked away. He didn't follow. In the end I had to drag Isaiah, kicking and screaming, out the door to the car. It was not my finest moment. 

I hope these tantrum eventually stop. This is the "terrible" two's, right? I mean, they didn't just start with my toddler, plenty other parents have survived this stage, right? Right? Please tell me I will too.

Belizean Boy

We've just returned today from our very first cruise. A 7 day Western Caribbean tour with Carnival Cruise Lines stoping in Cozumel, Belize, Isla Roatan, and Costa Maya. We had a great time celebrating my mother in-law's 60th birthday (which was last September, but never mind about that). Isaiah thoroughly enjoyed having the attention of his grandparents and two uncles.

Without doubt my favorite part of the cruise was seeing the monkeys in Belize. Actually, the monkeys don't have much to do with it at all. Seeing the monkeys allowed a glimpse into how Isaiah will do when we live in Papua.

We had no idea what we were going to do that day when we walked through the port area. A man holding a sign with pictures of tour options caught our attention and after a bit of discussion the monkey trip was selected. We followed him around to the tour office to pay and meet out guide.

Mrs Chris introduced herself and told us to wait while she went for the van. A little while later she pulled up in a mini van and we all piled inside. Isaiah fell asleep as Chris drove us around the city and talked about Belizean culture and her own upbringing as a poor farmer's daughter.

We soon drove out of the city and headed for the jungle. When we arrived at the location where we would see the monkeys everyone jumped out and went to meet our second guide. Mrs Chris said he was the best at monkey encounters.

The second guide's name was Manfred. He met us at the gate barefoot and with a big smile. Seeing that Manfred was barefoot Isaiah too quickly ditched his shoes. Keen to explore, Isaiah ran along the trails at the front of the group looking very much at home in the jungle. Chris commented to me, "He is a little Belizean boy running around with no shoes!"

On the drive back when I told Isaiah we were going "to the big ship", Isaiah asked, "Chris, too! Chris too please Mommy!"

Chris was touched when I told her Isaiah wanted her to go back to the ship with us. "In five years of giving tours this is the first little boy to every take off his shoes and run around like a Belizean. He is also the first to ask for me to go back to the ship. You have a very special one!"

Indeed we do. Isaiah did instinctively what missionaries can take years to accomplish. He just fit. And I cannot tell you how much this did for my heart. I have wondered and worried about how Isaiah would do in another culture. After Belize, I won't worry any more.