January been a rough month after 2019 was a rough year. Theo and I were spending some time together this Sunday afternoon talking it all through. I told him that in many ways I'm, weirdly, feeling like I'm in that 3 month postpartum zone. I always said my pregnancies were 12 months long because I wasn't really myself until my newborns were about 3 months old.
Well, I feel like this adoption process has been a 15 month pregnancy that still isn't over.
Adoption, of older children at least, has none of that. I can't really, fully let myself go and fall in love with kids who aren't truly, legally my own children yet. And a 4 yr old with sensory integration issues is not nearly so easily to love and cuddle as a newborn.
No wonder I feel like I've lost all joy. On Friday Theo and I took Seth to go visit another college. It was an outing for just the three of us and we wanted to make it a special time for him. I'm so incredibly proud of his accomplishments and the creative person he's becoming. I am truly excited about launching him into the world and can't wait to see where he'll go and what he'll do.
But, as we're getting our tour every single time someone from the college said something nice, something even remotely along the lines of "we'll take care of your kid" I started tearing up. I had to keep walking away and pretend looking at bulletin boards to hide my ridiculous emotions. Because I'm also so incredibly scared. I feel like so many things have gone wrong in my life this past year that it's easily within the realm of possibility that more bad things could happen. My anxieties over Seth's health and safety are out of control.
This morning, in Quaker meeting, someone shared that she's been struggling with anxiety and having trouble sleeping as a result. She said that what helped her was the simple thought: of course I should be anxious about this. Just acknowledging that there are things we are afraid of, unknowns we worry over, and that it's normal to feel anxiety. That really helped me.
Of course I'm stressed about the adoption (possibly finalized this week, though we were to exactly this point on Nov 23rd and look that resulted in a two month delay).
Of course I'm stressed about my first child choosing, and then going off to, college.
Of course I'm stressed by parenting a special needs child (oh, Theo and I went to the therapist on Saturday and she confirmed that, yes, Jane is on the "severe" end of the needs spectrum and we should expect to be in therapy until she's 7 or 8 and, by the way, if we don't have her bonded to us and able to feel empathy by that point then she's probably doomed and will go completely off the rails as an adolescent. Wow, you ask your therapist not to hold back and then she doesn't and suddenly you wish she'd go back to sugar coating things. But, it was good for Theo to hear how dire this is and realize I haven't been "catastrophizing" her needs as he accuses me of doing.)
Of course I'm stressed because I really need to go back to work for the sake of my sanity but I worry about the transition to preschool for the littles.
Of course I'm stressed every time I realize poor Gus is last on my list and probably being neglected.
So, I'll go to sleep with the words of wisdom from a Quaker elder, why yes, of course you feel anxious, why wouldn't you be?
Well, I feel like this adoption process has been a 15 month pregnancy that still isn't over.
- I've got so much to worry about that I'm not sleeping.
- I'm having all these perimenopausal hormonal fluctuations that make my thinking foggy and my emotions too raw. I feel too tender and exposed, with no capacity for maintaining a thick skin about anything anymore.
- I have three little kids who need contact with my body all day long and while I've always been a hands-on mother at some point I am just done with other people needing access to my body for 12 straight hours a day. And I have to have my hands on their bodies all day long, too. I'm still wiping butts and helping them get dressed and wiping faces and helping them wash hands and lifting them in/out of the car and buckling their seat belts, not to mention the hugging and kissing of every boo boo.
Adoption, of older children at least, has none of that. I can't really, fully let myself go and fall in love with kids who aren't truly, legally my own children yet. And a 4 yr old with sensory integration issues is not nearly so easily to love and cuddle as a newborn.
No wonder I feel like I've lost all joy. On Friday Theo and I took Seth to go visit another college. It was an outing for just the three of us and we wanted to make it a special time for him. I'm so incredibly proud of his accomplishments and the creative person he's becoming. I am truly excited about launching him into the world and can't wait to see where he'll go and what he'll do.
But, as we're getting our tour every single time someone from the college said something nice, something even remotely along the lines of "we'll take care of your kid" I started tearing up. I had to keep walking away and pretend looking at bulletin boards to hide my ridiculous emotions. Because I'm also so incredibly scared. I feel like so many things have gone wrong in my life this past year that it's easily within the realm of possibility that more bad things could happen. My anxieties over Seth's health and safety are out of control.
This morning, in Quaker meeting, someone shared that she's been struggling with anxiety and having trouble sleeping as a result. She said that what helped her was the simple thought: of course I should be anxious about this. Just acknowledging that there are things we are afraid of, unknowns we worry over, and that it's normal to feel anxiety. That really helped me.
Of course I'm stressed about the adoption (possibly finalized this week, though we were to exactly this point on Nov 23rd and look that resulted in a two month delay).
Of course I'm stressed about my first child choosing, and then going off to, college.
Of course I'm stressed by parenting a special needs child (oh, Theo and I went to the therapist on Saturday and she confirmed that, yes, Jane is on the "severe" end of the needs spectrum and we should expect to be in therapy until she's 7 or 8 and, by the way, if we don't have her bonded to us and able to feel empathy by that point then she's probably doomed and will go completely off the rails as an adolescent. Wow, you ask your therapist not to hold back and then she doesn't and suddenly you wish she'd go back to sugar coating things. But, it was good for Theo to hear how dire this is and realize I haven't been "catastrophizing" her needs as he accuses me of doing.)
Of course I'm stressed because I really need to go back to work for the sake of my sanity but I worry about the transition to preschool for the littles.
Of course I'm stressed every time I realize poor Gus is last on my list and probably being neglected.
So, I'll go to sleep with the words of wisdom from a Quaker elder, why yes, of course you feel anxious, why wouldn't you be?
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