Confessions of a Failed Perfectionist: The Words Need a Vehicle
I awoke this morning with the overwhelming urge to write. To let the words out of my body that have been threatening to drown me lately. Although a journalist at heart, I have never been a journal writer. I am sure it would be cathartic and it has been suggested by many, as well as attempted feebly several times. I am, however, a deep processor. I am constantly running and re-running everything in my mind, which lands me in trouble and misunderstood at times as people often read me as dismissive, aloof, rude, mad, worried or sad. Usually, it is just me deep in thought, attempting to wrangle and make sense of all the things in my head. Sometimes, I need to stop and just let it all out. I try my hardest to use social media as a
channel for the joy and goodness that happens in life. As a result, I don't
often talk about the hard stuff or challenges, although trust me, they are there. It is not to present some fake,
perfect life. Nobody has that, regardless of what social media presents. I do
so more as a way to celebrate the positive. I choose to deal with the negative privately, unless the need is there to channel some support
from the social media community. Who needs to be burdened with my challenges when they are dealing with their own!? I realize and accept that this annoys some people, and I admire those who have the guts to throw everything out there. It is just not in my nature to showcase the laundry intimates on the backyard clothesline most of the time (although our neighbors who have witnessed our darling puppy finagle my bras out of our bedroom drawers and take them for a spin around the backyard might heartily disagree!)🐕😳. Today, I cannot seem to stop the words from being expressed and am taking the plunge to embracing my own vulnerability.
Revelation of Realities
Yesterday we
went to court to officially adopt Alayla. Although it was a day of joy for her and hopefully the new beginning of the rest of her life, which I acknowledge is
the most important thing, I am going to be completely authentic when I say it
was a day of mixed emotions for us. Adopting a foster child is not all sunshine
and rainbows. This journey has been the most challenging of my life, and I am
quite sure Paul would agree. It is filled with deep anxiety, days of
unbelievable lows, constant questioning, and it is not, by any stretch of the
imagination, a snapshot reminiscent of the movie 'Annie'. It challenges your deepest convictions, your marriage and
your sanity. ALL parenting is work and results in similar challenges, no doubt
about it. It has been my experience that when you have an older child whom you have not given birth to and
not had the chance to bond with at all, handling the day to day multiple fit throwing episodes,
misbehaving at school, ungratefulness, etc., is overwhelming. When
the baggage of the past leaves so many scars and causes all of these behaviors
to be magnified compared to the "normal", it is compounded that much more. Sometimes I feel we are being traumatized as we deal with all of her trauma. A vicious circle to be sure. All those hormones that surge through your body as you become a mother, give birth, and cuddle with a baby of your own creation; those gifts from Mother Nature that allow one to survive the sleepless nights and terrible twos, are just not there. And I fully admit it is so hard
sometimes to stop and remember all the horrible things this sweet child has been through when in
the heat of the moment. We sometimes feel like Sandra Bullock and George Clooney in the movie 'Gravity', floating through space trying to grab each other's hand all the while dodging the space debris hurling at us. We truly get the statement of taking one step forward and two steps back. It is our life right now. The first couple of times that someone took Alayla so that we could have some time together we ended up having huge fights, which is unusual for us. We were just so overtaken by the stress and emotion of it all. There had to be a release. There are so many moments of desperation and the feeling of being so entirely helpless to make a difference or be "successful". Speaking of success, the ego gets involved too. I would be lying if I did not say that on many occasions I would give anything to have a shirt I could wear that says "We just got her. It's not our fault!". And then there is projection...as a high school teacher at an all-girls school, I frequently go to the future and envision the behavior now as behavior in high school, only to become terrified and overwhelmed. Completely unfair, but reality. Paul is so much better at being patient and keeping his eyes on the big picture. It is evident that is not my gift.
It is not that it is all bad. There are glimmers of hope; days where there are sprinkles of laughter and fun, but no deep joy of yet. Watching her go from a shy little girl who would not even get on the floor to practice at dance class to seeing her dance on stage at the recital, witnessing her run down the field in soccer and contributing to her team, and seeing her deep empathy for people and animals come out in acts of kindness and sensitivity, brings pride to the surface. There are tender moments too. The time that I was driving and Alayla suddenly and out of the blue pronounced from the back of the car with little tears on her cheeks "mama, I wish I would have come from your belly", left me speechless and feeling as though my heart had just burst right out of my body and landed in the hand of a 7-year-old. Me too, baby girl, me too.
It is not that it is all bad. There are glimmers of hope; days where there are sprinkles of laughter and fun, but no deep joy of yet. Watching her go from a shy little girl who would not even get on the floor to practice at dance class to seeing her dance on stage at the recital, witnessing her run down the field in soccer and contributing to her team, and seeing her deep empathy for people and animals come out in acts of kindness and sensitivity, brings pride to the surface. There are tender moments too. The time that I was driving and Alayla suddenly and out of the blue pronounced from the back of the car with little tears on her cheeks "mama, I wish I would have come from your belly", left me speechless and feeling as though my heart had just burst right out of my body and landed in the hand of a 7-year-old. Me too, baby girl, me too.
Deep Longing in the Desert of Infertility
When you have longed for a child more than anything,
for as long as you can remember, and now you suddenly have this little person
calling you mom and dad, but who also talks about her "other" mom and
dad on a regular basis, it can be both heartbreaking and confusing. When you
dream of what it is like to be a mother and then everything about the situation
is nothing like you imagined, and you feel on most days that you should have just accepted the fact that you weren't
supposed to be a mother at all because you are terrible at it; it is soul
sucking. We are exhausted, and on some days, even hopeless. The healing I thought would come from adopting Alayla has escaped me. If anything, the longing and reality of not having our own child overtakes me more frequently on a daily basis and has been made all the more real by caring for a child who is the result of two other people. She looks like them. She behaves like I imagine they would behave at times. When I see a brand new baby anywhere, it is everything I can do to not break down and cry. Sometimes I do. The guilt I feel over not being able to give my husband a child, a man who if anyone on earth ever had genes that should be passed on, it is him, tears me apart. The guilt I feel when I see my in-loves and realize that they may never have a grandchild that looks and acts like their son, breaks me. And selfishly, the idea that I will never get to carry a child, something I have yearned to do, give birth (I know, I know, it is not all it is cracked up to be), hold an infant and look for what traits came from me and what traits came from Paul, is my greatest sorrow. There is no peace on this journey of the loss of what I believed I was created most to be, a mother. There is the hurt when people, although with purest of motives and intentions, insisted once we adopted Alayla that we would surely get pregnant. That is a lot of pressure folks. Not to mention that although miracles do happen and it is wonderful, I would venture to guess it is the rarity. People don't likely go around bragging about the time that they really wanted a baby and then adopted, only to go on and not get pregnant on their own. Also, perhaps more importantly needing to be stated, that is not why we chose to adopt.
I adore my students and often times think about the fact that if I ever had a daughter I would want her to grow up to be just like them. Sometimes I have the urge to run out to the parking lot when the parents are picking up their children and say "do you know how lucky you are!?". There is anger and frustration too. Frustration when I see couples with four, five, six children and I think, "really? we can't just have one?". Frustration when I think of Alayla's parents who were gifted with two children, one who is no longer with us and one who is so damaged at their hands. I grieve for them too. I grieve for them because deep down I know that they love her and knowing the pain of not having my own child, I cannot even begin to imagine what it would feel like to have your own children and then lose them, regardless of the circumstances.
I adore my students and often times think about the fact that if I ever had a daughter I would want her to grow up to be just like them. Sometimes I have the urge to run out to the parking lot when the parents are picking up their children and say "do you know how lucky you are!?". There is anger and frustration too. Frustration when I see couples with four, five, six children and I think, "really? we can't just have one?". Frustration when I think of Alayla's parents who were gifted with two children, one who is no longer with us and one who is so damaged at their hands. I grieve for them too. I grieve for them because deep down I know that they love her and knowing the pain of not having my own child, I cannot even begin to imagine what it would feel like to have your own children and then lose them, regardless of the circumstances.
My spiritual life has suffered as well. These past few years, it sometimes feels as though I have been left wandering the desert of Lent and will never taste the true, deep, healing joys of Easter. I have always depended on my faith, and I will continue to do so, but the struggle to hang on sometimes is truly real. I am finishing a Masters in Divinity this year, FINALLY, and have to admit that in the past couple of years, as all of this fertility stuff has come to a head and the clock ticks faster towards the inevitability of saying goodbye to the dream, I find myself plunging into the academia of it all, but lacking in the spirituality that used to feed me so fully. As a theologian, it is also not lost on me that my name is Sarah and thus far, I am barren. Those with familiarity with the Book of Genesis know where I am going. Sometimes this is a source of annoyance, but other times I admit not entirely losing hope because of the glimmer of possibility the story represents. It will return, I believe that, and I continually strive to let go of the plans I have made for myself to make room for the joys that may just be unspoken and unrealized as of now. I trust. There is purpose.
She is a gift. We will love this little girl, Alayla Gem Wahlen, who now officially has our last name. And we will pour 100% of ourselves into giving her every single thing she needs to bring every little precious gift she has in her body to light. We want, with everything we have, to give her the chance at being the very best person she can possibly become, the person she was created to be. We will not give up or surrender, even though there are more days than not that the temptation to do just that is front and center. We will continue to try and stay as positive as possible in the midst of chaos. We have not, however, been given "everything we ever wanted", as so many people like to say when they congratulate us on having a new daughter. And it is most certainly not like being handed a newborn or baby at adoption; a situation that surely presents its own emotional challenges, but where at least there is presumably some control as to how the child is raised and loved, as opposed to navigating the aftermath of parents who have offered nothing but neglect, abuse and upheaval. To be honest, most days I still feel weird even referring to her as "my daughter". It feels like a foreign language because technically she is not "my" daughter and I am so aware of the fact that her "real" parents are out there and someday she will most likely want to reach out and reconnect with them. Most days, I feel like a fraud or a babysitter where the parents forgot to come home at the end of the night.
I say all of this not to be praised for some deed we are doing, nor for people to feel sorry for us. We are not martyrs or saints or angels. Those kind of statements actually put enormous pressure and expectations on us. We chose this journey and were well aware that it would not be easy. We are just two people, who have had the dream of parenting together, trying to make the best of a tough situation. I express all of this to be totally real about an experience that most people do not comprehend, as well as a sort of PSA in a way to allow for deeper understanding for people who are going through the same. I want to give voice to the silence.
I say all of this not to be praised for some deed we are doing, nor for people to feel sorry for us. We are not martyrs or saints or angels. Those kind of statements actually put enormous pressure and expectations on us. We chose this journey and were well aware that it would not be easy. We are just two people, who have had the dream of parenting together, trying to make the best of a tough situation. I express all of this to be totally real about an experience that most people do not comprehend, as well as a sort of PSA in a way to allow for deeper understanding for people who are going through the same. I want to give voice to the silence.
Gratitude
We are deeply aware, when looking around at the happenings in the world, that our troubles may pale in light of war torn countries, fires destroying homes, hurricanes, mass shootings, earthquakes, and the like. The suffering can be overwhelming at times. Reflecting on how fortunate we are in so many ways motivates us to pull up the boot straps and keep on marching. There but for the grace of God go we.
All of this spoken, we are so appreciative for the support we have from our families, friends and communities. We are fortunate to have resources and a village that we know so many others do not have, and for that we are beyond grateful. We are deeply aware that we get to do this as a pair, and that many out there are going it alone, a feat I cannot imagine. We literally could not do it without parents and siblings who take her for the weekend when we are at our breaking point. We are so thankful to have Alayla's Aunt Megan as perhaps our biggest cheerleader and a beloved member of our tribe. We are blessed to have an amazing school community and parents of kids who will arrange playdates and allow us some breathing space. We are surrounded by friends who continually lift us up in prayer and send supportive messages with the words that always happen to be just right for the moment at hand. I am forever indebted to a husband who is my rock and continually takes my hand to assure me that we will make it down the road together, no matter what. We know we were put in this position for a reason and trust in our faith and our love for each other to carry us through. Thank you for listening. My overprocessed heart feels a little sense of peace and release.
All of this spoken, we are so appreciative for the support we have from our families, friends and communities. We are fortunate to have resources and a village that we know so many others do not have, and for that we are beyond grateful. We are deeply aware that we get to do this as a pair, and that many out there are going it alone, a feat I cannot imagine. We literally could not do it without parents and siblings who take her for the weekend when we are at our breaking point. We are so thankful to have Alayla's Aunt Megan as perhaps our biggest cheerleader and a beloved member of our tribe. We are blessed to have an amazing school community and parents of kids who will arrange playdates and allow us some breathing space. We are surrounded by friends who continually lift us up in prayer and send supportive messages with the words that always happen to be just right for the moment at hand. I am forever indebted to a husband who is my rock and continually takes my hand to assure me that we will make it down the road together, no matter what. We know we were put in this position for a reason and trust in our faith and our love for each other to carry us through. Thank you for listening. My overprocessed heart feels a little sense of peace and release.
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Adoption Day in Court |
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Alayla & her Casa Karen, truly an angel on earth, along with her new teddy bear, a gift from the judge and aptly named "Costello". |
