Living A Messy Life

Thirteen years ago, my husband and I had a very clear picture of what our family would looks like.

Two kids. Girls, of course, because they are easier. Neater. Calmer. They would be exactly two years apart, and exceptionally well-behaved.

It's almost laughable now that I look at my life.

I have two rowdy, crazy, always-into-dirt/bugs/mud/any sport boys. Think pet praying mantis, lizards, and cicadas. And one wild, ready to breakdown at any moment, girly girl. Think tantrum in a tutu and tiara.

They are a perfect mess. There is nothing neat or calm at my house.

Princess is working through trauma and as parents we are stepping into new territory that we never imagined. We are committed to walking through this with her--because she is worth it--because our family is worth it.

But I'd be lying if there weren't days where I wished my family didn't have to face the mess of trauma. Where I wished all three of my kids knew love since their first breath. There are those days when I don't think I have a single more ounce of love or patience to give. How I'm not sure I can meet anyone's needs--especially Princess' the next day.

And, you know what, I get up the next morning and fumble through it all over again. God drops little gifts every once in a while: Grandparents who understand Princess and sit with her, love her, and are patient with her. Or a friend who unexpectedly calls and invites Princess over and gives me an all day break. These things come at the most unexpected and needy times.

Then there's the church service where we are reminded that we are called to live messy lives.

Jesus didn't walk the face of this Earth with perfect, all-together people. He sought out the messiest, trauma-ridden people. He didn't sit in a beautiful house, with his perfect family, and watch the world go by. No he got in the mess--fully emerged himself in it--in fact he sought it out.

We were created to roll up our sleeves and get muddy. We were created for mess. And if we view our parenting as a holy calling--a calling like no other--then it only makes sense that we are equipped to survive and thrive in the mess of parenting.

Hardly ever do I feel like I'm thriving. But I get holy glimpses of it--like when all three of my kids play together;  laughing, talking, working together. Or a little girl who asks for her daddy when she so often rejects him. Or my middle guy, who is only 7, asking to send his toys to orphans because they have nothing and he has everything he needs.

They are fleeting, perfect glimpses of the hard, messy work of parenting.

Parenting a Traumatized Child {Understanding Her Past}

My first baby was well planned.

I ate well.

Took vitamins.

Even got extra sleep.

And then when he was finally born, I spent hours holding him, singing to him, reading to him, just being with him. He attached within days, maybe even hours.

We'd page the doctor if he so much as sneezed. OK we were nervous, over-protective, slightly crazy, first-time parents.

But my daughter, on the other hand, spent her first two years in an orphanage.

In a crib. Alone.

She was born with Tetrology of Fallot and cleft lip and palate. And no one called the doctor when she was sick. Actually she was very near death. And, still, no doctor was paged. 

Her heart wasn't repaired until she was well over two years old.

Her cleft wasn't repaired until she was nearly three.

Simply unheard of for slightly crazed, overprotective parents.

But this is the reality of so many adopted kiddos.

So is it any wonder, that they crave attention. But they don't know how to get it? That they can't attach to their mother and father?

Last week at our Theraplay therapy session, my hubby had an Ah-ha moment. Our therapist said that many adopted kids rely on their cuteness to get attention--to become favorites. They smile and hug anyone. My hubby, remembered looking at files that said certain kids were "nanny favorites" in the orphanage.  And the nannies always loved to give them extra attention.

Our daughter was not one of those.

She was just another very sick, actually dying, kid locked away in an orphanage fighting for her life.

I've known all of this since we first got her referral. But there is a difference between knowing and understanding. Because understanding means that I don't get frustrated and stressed when she has her fifth tantrum of the day, for what seems like no reason.

or

When she clings to me in fear, from something I don't understand.

or

When she asks me a hundred times a day if I love her.

or

If she asks me again if I will leave her. 

Instead of frustration and stress, understanding means I have compassion because I know her brain has always been in flight or fight mode. She has fought for her very survival. And there are times, when she's still not sure if we will always be there, always feed her, always love her.

We know that we will never leave her. And that we will love her forever--no matter how she behaves, or what she does, or even how cute she is or tries to act. 

But we have to teach her.

And that takes time and work.

And we've only just begun.

But I have faith that she will be emotionally healed. And she will truly let herself experience the love of a family. And one day, she will realize her place here with us is permanent.

Come back again. I'd love to hear how you are dealing with the past trauma in your child's life. 

Parenting a Traumatized Child {Why There is Hope}

{Definition of Trauma} a disorder psychic or behavioral state resulting from mental or emotional stress or physical injury

Like head banging, lying, stealing, tantrums, guilt, shame, anxiety, fear, withdraw, hyper-activity.

Which have been brought about by abandonment, abuse, neglect, traumatic medical experience.

Many adopted children have experienced more trauma in their short little lives than most people ever do.

And as parents, we often feel lost and alone as our child, the one we prayed for and hoped for, bangs his head on the floor.

Or lies.

Or asks if we love them.

Or if we'll leave them, too.

But, but, but...

{Definition of Hope} to expect with confidence

It's not an easy road.

And it's work.

Dirty, in the trenches, cry yourself to sleep, wonder if it will ever get better work.

But our kids--the ones we love more than we could ever possibly image--are loved even more by their Heavenly Father. And his promise of hope is this:

{Jeremiah 29:11-13} For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

Stick around, I'm doing a series on parenting a traumatized child. If you are deep in the trenches, I promise you there is hope.