Honest. Real.

I write for many reasons. First, for myself. To sort out my complicated feelings and to have a record of this journey for me and for Fort.  I write so that friends and family have an inkling of what we are going through, so no one thinks this is easy and that everything is hunky dory.  Lastly, but importantly, I write for anyone considering or going through adoption. When I was trying to educate myself, I read tons of books and blogs and found so much helpful information. Unfortunately for me, I did not connect with all of the very religious blogs, as I do not personally believe that I have been called by god to do this. And most adoption blogs are heavily religious. I wanted some answers for people like me, who need more than faith to lean on. Anyone who knows me knows that I am nothing if not direct, so I can only be forthright in my posts. And I found that honesty in the difficulties of adoption was lacking. 

So here it is folks. Honesty. Discussing the difficulty. It is difficult. Brutal. Infuriating. This child, who has seen so much, is a puzzle. He can understand English and I can understand him fairly well, when he communicates.  Which he often chooses not to.  I am not sure if he uses communication as a method of manipulation, or if it is just a terrible habit from years of neglect.  It is the silence, the pulling away, the lying prone on the floor, the sharp elbow jab that means go away, the spitting - all the ways he demonstrates that he is mad or unhappy- that leaves me baffled. I can see that he is upset, but at what? Why?  I can't help him if I put breakfast in front of him and seconds later he has melted to the floor and is kicking his sister's chair.  What just happened?  Did I miss something?

I keep reminding myself that he is 2 inside. Yet watching this preschool age child biting me and pulling out my earrings because he wanted toast instead of waffles (really??  That is what that was about?) or because I am holding Ben when he is crying (jealousy rears its ugly head) twists my mind. I know he is reacting to this new life in the way a toddler would- except he isn't a toddler. He is a strong smart boy who is hurting, but also has survived long enough on his own to have an array of behaviors to get what he wants. 

So with every day comes new and confusing tests. And I cannot decipher if they are purposeful or not. Sometimes it is clearly a test of limits - he is clearly wanting to see what I will do if he pushes that stool over, or throws not one or two but three things. And when I sit with him in his room, sometimes for more than an hour, I see him going back and forth on whether he wants to please me.  He will throw of all the pillows and blankets off his bed, and when I don't react he picks everything up and makes his bed better than my 7 year old. I never leave him alone in his room for naps or punishment, because I know that is scary to him. So I sit in his room as he screams "AI II EE" and comes and crawls onto my lap where he pinches me as he hugs me and pushes my arms away and I gently place him back on the rug where he flails and screams louder. And ultimately he calms down enough where his screaming turns to sobs and I hold him til he can calm down and hear me talk about what happens. Our only rule is he has to say "sorry mommy" for whatever he's done and give me a kiss. Sometimes after calming down he can't do all that and then the tantrum starts anew. And I worry that he will be mad at me or we are asking too much of him by disciplining him already. But afterwards he is more responsive, more loving, and sometimes even talks about "me cry lots. Me say sorry."  And then it all feels like a small step in the right direction. 

But those outbursts I at least feel I can understand - I know from raising other children what testing limits and independence is all about, even though this is at warp speed.  There are so many other times, throughout the day and night, when neither my husband nor I know what the behaviors are about, or how to begin to bridge to him.  He is clearly bonded to me, but less so to the rest of the family. It is so sad watching Ben try and try to be so nice to him, only to have Fort push him away, or cry "Mama! Mama!" like Ben was taking something instead of giving him something. I am constantly worried that I am approaching him in a way that is unhelpful, or possibly unhealthy. How much is too much?  What is reasonable to expect from him?  When can he start sleeping on his own?  Is it beneficial that he is regressing?  That he wants to be carried?  What happens when we ignore behaviour we don't like?  Will any of this hurt him in the long run?  

Questions, questions, questions. Fear and frustration and sadness. I think Fort has to be feeling the same confusion. That is a small relief- some way I can identify with him.