Skip to main content

A Song About Adoption

 Today the youngest child, Kate, age 3, got a new stuffed animal toy. She'd been waiting for it for ages (well, two days, but you know, that's ages and ages) and was deeply delighted when it came. She hugged it to her face and walked around the house talking to it. 

I was working so only listening to her with half an ear until I realized what she was doing. She was singing it her own little made up song. The phrases I caught were: when I was a tiny baby...waiting for someone to come get me...then you took me to your home...I was waiting and waiting...

I realized that she was singing a song about adoption. My bio kids, when her age doing that same kind of play, would've said: when I was a tiny baby in mommy's tummy.... She did not. It really struck me.

It was a happy, tender moment for her. The look on her face was sweet and loving. 

But, it surprised me, all the same. After awhile I finished up what I was working on and went to sit beside her on the couch. I asked her to tell me all about her new kitty cat. She showed it to me. Then I asked her about her song and said, "it sounds like you're singing about your adoption." 

She wanted to talk about it. We went over the story. In her version she was no where, living in no house, just waiting and waiting and then one day mommy and daddy brought her and Jane and James all to our house. (She always thinks James was adopted, too.) I gave her a few more details. Yes, she was in someone else's house but that house wasn't safe so important people brought she and Jane to our house and we were sooooo happy when they came to live with us. 

It was a sweet moment full of hugs and kisses. Her adoption story, because she was only 20 months instead of 3.5 as Jane was, is always going to be so much simpler, with less angst.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Separation for Me

 One more note about yesterday. I noticed that when the girls were acting up yesterday I truly was not angry. I felt back in my old EI teacher groove where I could calmly observe and reflect to a student but never feel personally involved in the drama. It felt so nice! The equilibriam I was famous for when teaching but that I've struggled to find in my own home.  Being away was so good for me. Thinking other thoughts; being competent around other smart people. Life affirming to me as a human, not just the mother-drone trapped in a small house doing small things repeatedly all day long.  I absolutely have to have professional level conversation and interactions to maintain my sanity. Essential.
Post a Comment
Read more

Inaugural Post

I think I need to write a blog. I keep searching for good blogs about foster care and none are exactly what I'm looking for. I need to read the work of deeply thinking people who are wrestling with the realities of opening their homes to strangers. But please be funny, too. And, mostly, I need to hear from people whose agenda does not include evangelizing--neither the Christian faith nor the lesbian lifestyle. I respect you both, but I'd rather just hear about the kids, thanks. So, here's the background info I'm always curious about when people provide a peek into their homes. Because context is everything. I'm Beth*. My husband, Theo, and I have been married for 17 years. We have three sons: Seth (16), Gus (12), and James (3). On November 30, 2018, we had two foster girls, Jane (3) and Kate (1) placed in our home. This is our first foster care placement. We are open to both fostering and adoption. (*All names are pseudonyms.) We live in the middle of the mi
Post a Comment
Read more

Getting There

Today was better. Kids felt calmer. I think being at the cottage with Grandma for 3 days really disturbed Jane's equilibrium...but I also think that she has resettled quicker than she once would've been able to. One small, but HUGE thing happened this morning. Jane rode all the way to church and back, 20 min drive each way, without any singing. I know I sound like a curmudgeon but I have to clarify that it isn't really singing. It's toneless, mindless, repetitious droning of the same few syllables for miles and miles and miles. Even the therapist said it'd drive her batty when I demonstrated it for her once. I'm guessing that Jane rode in cars where the radio was blasting all the time. I'm guessing that no one ever spoke with her as she rode. I'm guessing that, in her need to orally process every single thing, and witnessing that she talks to herself endlessly while playing, the lull of the moving car reduced her to one sing-song phrase as she tried
Post a Comment
Read more