lovelygirl and me

lovelygirl and me

Friday, June 11, 2010

The Waiting Game

June 11, 2010

It's a waiting game. The days go by slowly, I try and think of things to fill my time, to keep me distracted but somehow my mind ends up there. Thinking of adoption. Thinking of my daughter.

Where is she? What has she gone through? What will she go through to make her way to me and my family? How much pain has she gone through? Is she silent in her pain? Does she ache for a family to call her own? Will she be open to coming into ours? Or talked into it by the caseworkers?

These things go through my mind as I wait.

I send fleeting prayers up for her. That God will set His angels to protect her. To keep her safe. To help her heal. To help her begin the process of one more transition, hopefully her last.

Does she look up at the moon like I do? Maybe we are looking at it at the exact same time, wishing for each other.

Wednesday morning, I went to a class. It wasn't required, but I highly recommend it! "Understanding and Responding to the Sexual Behavior of Children." It's taught by Linda Bello, MSW, she is from the Portland State Universities Child Welfare Partnership program.

Good stuff. Meat to sink your teeth in. One out of every three girls will be sexually abused by the age of 18 yrs. That is a pretty high number. So sad too. Being robbed of their innocence, sometimes by their own fathers. Sometimes by a mother so desperate for drugs to get high on, that they pimp out their own daughters, letting some greasy, creepy guy take their little girls in the other room and do "whatever they want." How awful for those little girls.

I feel so sad that there will be a good chance our daughter has experienced something of this type of abuse. How can I help her heal from that? I want to so desperately.

To me, these kids are like a type of Helen Keller child...only instead of being physically deaf, blind and mute, they are developmentally, socially and mentally unable to cope in the real world. To them, all their abuse WAS the real world, they don't KNOW any difference! It will take a teacher, much like Anne Sullivan was to Helen Keller, who does not give up on them, who consistantly sets out to reteach them the world.

Anne Sullivan repeated the process over and over and over, until finally the light bulb came on and Helen understood. I hope I can be consistant enough, strong enough, with just the right amount of determination and love to reach through the shell and find the inner child...to re-teach her what real love is...

By example. I am not perfect. I know this. I make lots of mistakes. I did make alot of mistakes with my boys. I see that now more than ever. Their trauma was the whole divorce and our family being ripped apart. Everyone deals with trauma in their own way. I just want to be honest and real. To talk talk talk things out. I want to have unconditional love. No strings attached. Give for the purest reasons, with no thought of anything back. May never get anything back.

This little girl has already been through so much. She has hurt far more than I could imagine. My soul wraps her inside of me, to nurture her needs...even now, in my thoughts...while I wait.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Grafting a new branch to an old tree...

June 8, 2010

Merely a thought, an escaped idea on adoption:

Adoption
the grafting on of a new branch
to an old tree.
A tired
Wounded
hurting branch...
desperately needing nourishment.
Starving for security, trust and unconditional love.
When finally
Hugs
Kisses
Love
Bring tiny hesitant buds
to the surface
ready to spring forth
with newfound joy
Making her tree and ours
Complete.
Can I make you mine by dreaming you?
I scrunch my eyes shut tight
I can see you clear enough
Can I wish you into existance?
I try.
Somewhere out there
you wait for me
Waiting for my wishes and dreams to bring you to life
springing up in joyous rapture into my waiting arms
Can I make you mine by dreaming you?
Yes.
It seems like I have been dreaming this forever. At least eleven years. During my first marriage eons ago, we went through the adoption process. I had three boys, whom I loved with all my heart, but I also longed for a little girl to complete our family. I poured my heart and soul into it. Had a beautiful room all ready; toys, clothes, books and anything a four year old might want and dream of. After taking all the necessary classes, I waited anxiously for the packets of prospective adoptees to begin arriving.
They did too. By the 5th one, I had found her. A darling little 4 year old, named Cheyenne. Eagerly, I sent the packet back with a resounding "Yes!"
It wasn't meant to be. My husband at the time decided he didn't want to go through with it, and I was devestated. It felt like she had died. My daughter died, before I could even meet her.
I didn't find out for many months the reason he had said "no." He had been seeing a woman, and planned on leaving us to be with her. A double whammy. Feeling crushed beyond anything I had ever felt before, I struggled to go on. We divorced. I told the agency I just didn't feel it was right to bring a child into that pain and loss. They said I still could adopt, I just couldn't do it.
So, that was it. The end of my dream and my life as I knew it. I fled to the beach for comfort, renting a quaint little cottage for the weekend and cried my heart out. The sea has a way of embracing your soul, it is timeless and vast. It wraps you in it's salty arms and hugs you, letting you spill all your pain out into the waves, smashing them against the rocks, making them an integral part of the seascape.
And then a message. To me. To my wounded heart. I was sitting on a driftwood log, the tears had run out for the moment. The only sounds were the squawking of seagulls and the waves crashing on the shoreline. Something made me look down.
A set of footprints, one seemingly a ladies...and one, a small child. I could tell that they were together, most likely holding hands, walking along the beach, going from one treasure to another, meandering along together on a fun filled afternoon.
The promise came from deep within.
I would have a daughter. Someday, I would make it through all of this mess and confusion and pain. Someday, I would rise up again and become a strong woman and I would be ready for her.
So, now, after all of these years. I am ready. Ready to find her...my daughter. She is out there, waiting for me. I have waited for her a long time. My heart is ready. My arms are ready.