My Love/Hate Relationship with Adoption

I feel like an emotional ping pong ball lately. I am ecstatic at how well the big kids are doing but cry often when the weight of what they’ve endured to get here comes crashing down. And so it goes. Extreme joy to debilitating grief.

I hate when a language gap the size of the Grand Canyon is between meeting my kids’ needs and me.  I love that so many things in this life transcend language.

I love when they tell stories from their past that tell about what they love and who they are.  For example, our son used to own a small flock of homing pigeons.  I hate when they tell stories of their past that drip of anguish and pain no person let alone child should ever experience.

I love the diversity and culture in our family.  It is helping to shape our kids into compassionate, sensitive, and adventurous kids who handle race issues better than most adults we encounter.  I hate that we have a cross cultural family because our kids’ birth countries weren’t equipped to care for them.  I hate that their culture slips away a little more each day unless we play an active role in re-capturing it every day.

I hate that we have kids who have suffered emotional trauma which forever and completely changes their perception of the world.  I love that we’ve been stretched where parenting is concerned.  We’re so much the wiser for our troubles and have been able to use our experience to come along other families as they adventure through adoption.

I love watching them experience new things with the wonder of a toddler but hate thinking about how much they’ve missed.

I love hearing them chatter as they catch up with friends using the latest video chat technology.  I hate that video chat is the best we can do socially right now because social situations will be the last and most difficult thing to overcome.

I love that every time we adopt our diet expands.  I hate that food is can be so alienating.  Thank goodness for berbere!

So goes our adoption adventure right now.