Funny that: I was able to talk to the foster mom who had my girls before we picked them up. We walked across the parks green grass. Beautiful day, chatting away about what kind of children they are. What were her concerns etc…? I’ll never forget her insight. “They don’t sleep. They don’t play. They don’t eat without tantrums. They can’t be apart…” I watched our prospective new girls running around the park structure, sweet little bugs. Poor woman, she must be burnt out.
Come to find out, she was correct.
Day one to 3 months in:
Boot camp, orientation, bargaining, hell week and week and week, trial and error, pandemonium, positioning, grief and loss, marathon, amazing, circling of the wagons (cause I like westerns), arduous, hopelessness, overwhelming, enlightened.
Those are my unofficial words for the first months as a new adoptive family. If you can keep your sunny rosy thing going and not be disappointed when the other things hit, more power to ya. My very first trip to the poor in Mexico turned me around. I went in with my cute dress, flats and toilet seat covers in hand,” ready to do this!” I had a rude awaking when reality hit my plan, I was nowhere prepared. The pit toilets where only a few inches deep, understandable since the whole neighborhood used the same outhouse. Moral of the story. Toilet seat covers are a good start, but be prepared to see the worst load of crap.
Bullet points flying through my head: in no order (like most my thoughts)
Do not do relative visits. Opposite of new babies that sleep and can be passed around. It just sets kids up for more overload and stress. Alert family ahead of time, no revolving door.
Have the schedule ready. Simple, with pictures for little ones. Go over it every morning. (High structure). Then keep it.
Minimize your schedule. You’d be surprised at how much you are used to getting done. If you get a shower or one good conversation. You should be patting yourself on the back.
Roll with the tantrums. There is going to be LOTS of crying and fits and disobedience. What is the plan? Calm and redirection? Time out? Time in?
Expect the battle at every turn. IT is NOT PERSONAL. It is their way of flipping off the world for so much disruption. Sometimes it’s to see what you were made of. They are trying to prove to you and themselves you aren’t up to going the distance. If Rocky can, you can. (minus the boxing gloves)
Get outside. Everyday. Our first months were in the winter. But every day we went under the back porch and rolled a ball or popped umbrellas for a walk. Do a park when feeling brave. Equipment with children who don’t obey or listen is for the parent who can sprint on a dime.
Expect tantrum for car seats, seat belts. Probably anything that’s health and safety related. But don’t cave. Pull over, go home. No bargaining over glass flying or dangerous behavior. Take things away, put out of reach. Trust your instincts.
Get help. I know of a mom who has adopted 10 kids all from foster care. When I was feeling my own wellbeing going to mush, I called her. Did I mention she home schools them all? She dropped everything, brought her three youngest and came to my house. Within minutes, my two started pushing buttons. I did my same calm redirection in front of her and then I couldn’t hold back the facade anymore. “I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO, EVERYDAY, THEY TANTRUM AND IT NEVER GETS BETTER. I’M A FAILURE…I NEED A STRAIGHT JACKET!!!” She never bought into my hysterics (a professional non alarmist). She said, “you’re doing fine, that’s all normal, keep up the good work.”
Work at attachment. It feels SO counterintuitive. Maybe once we can get past all this anger and misbehavior then we’ll cuddle and say sweet things to one another. You probably won’t get to sweet anything without doing it. Rocking, cuddling, calmly meeting needs, eye contact. Carry them close until your back tells you different. It feels like hugging a porcupine, I know, just do it anyway.
Food issues. I wish I had a dollar for every time I said this: “Eat what you want. Don’t eat what you don’t want.” Food was one our top obvious stressors with our new kids. They would spin out and bite each other while I prepared meals. Yikes, talk about hungry. I know it wasn’t about hunger but a trigger from neglect. I had a magic line in the kitchen they had to stay behind. They could watch (and not bite each other) and it saved my sanity. Between fostering and our own kids, we bought the food, prepared it and put it on the table. “Eat what you want, don’t eat what you don’t want.” Bing another dollar. Some RAW TRUTH: ten years later of consistent good meals, good snacks we still sit down and see table anxiety. Oh how I wish it would magically disappear, but it hasn’t.
Bedtime routine. Varies by age. Anything I have for bedtime success, I owe to Super Nanny. I saw this on her show. The first couple weeks after bath and rocking we’d read a little book and crawl into bed. Lights out and I would sit at the feet of their beds. Every footy limb pulsed to get out of the bed and I would gently put them back in bed. Sometimes standing to block them from climbing out. There was often screaming and thrashing, not from me tho, I did it like Jo, no talking, just gently putting them back over and over. The second set of weeks, I sat against the bookshelf in their room. This wasn’t so bad, because I would bring a book and read by their night light. They were still restless but for the most part stayed in bed. The next stretch of weeks, I took a chair & book and sat in the hallway. This is where the, “can I have a drink? Can I tell you something?” Or I’d hear them talking. It was easier than being on the floor to hop up, shake my head no, while giving them the quiet signal. Finally the goal arrived! We did our routine and I went and sat on the couch. They would sometimes call for me, and I would appear with my quiet signal. I would say from here on out they were in the 80-90 % of bedtime cooperation.
Getting through the grocery store. I know in most the adoption literature the experts say; outside reward systems don’t regulate emotional kids. But I carried those little dum dum suckers anyway. I flashed them in front of the children before entering the store. I bribed them with those silly things throughout and sometimes made it out of the store with my hair attached. Whoo hoo.
Show them. I mentioned my girls had obvious food issues. So a few times a day, I would show them the panty or cupboards. “Look at all that food! Wow! So many choices for snack! And the refrigerator…SOFULL.” Maybe they worry about people getting in. Show them all the locks. Smoke detectors. Where you sleep. How easy it is for you to hear them. Tell them every day, you will be safe here. I will always take care of you. I won’t leave you.
Never ask why. When I’m asking a child W H Y OH W H Y are you________________. Or I’m just sick and tired of___________________. Those are our cues to something is wrong with me/us. Step back, what is going on with me? What do I need right now to find some calm? What am I afraid of? Even when I’m calm and not vested. “Why did that ugly vase get broken?” I’ve never gotten a rational answer. Save the brain cells for better use.
Birth parent visits. The LONGEST, HARDEST hours of my life. My heart broke in a thousand pieces for them. All of them. I’m tearful writing these words. I don’t care how far off the parental grid anyone has fallen, it’s excruciating to see people whose flesh and blood children will never be in their lives. I don’t care if you have an open arrangement, the planets shift when parentage is taken from one set to another. Everyone’s grief and loss slapped me upside the head to take kicking and screaming children from their birth parents arms. We adopted from another county in California and had to drive to a half way spot to meet. NEVER DO THIS ALONE! I’m So serious, like NEVER driving intoxicated. TAKE SOMEONE WITH YOU. I will name the two best people on the earth today, (okay I’m crying again) Ann and Robin. I didn’t have to leave for my hour and half drive until the birth parents had arrived. So I waited and hung out by the phone. When I got the call, one of these saints dropped everything to jump in my car and drive with me. They helped carry screaming children to my car. They help distract and calm them. They brought treats. Truth be told, they should have done the driving. Many times, I was shaking so bad, I shouldn’t have been driving. AMAZING WOMAN!
Wait on all those routine medical appointments. Unless absolutely required. I was sure my girls were underweight with a bunch of other minor concerns. One child made it in to where the nurse does her routine, the other flipped out and the nurse told me to take them home and try again another day. I didn’t have a chance to tell her over the screaming, it took us a week of Elmo goes to the Doctor just to get here.
Treasure Box. I put together some little toys in Treasure box. My 5 ½ year old was so use to being the parent. It was a tough transition for her to “let me be the mommy, and she could be the little girl.” So the Treasure Box was just for her to pick from. I would thank her for allowing me to help with little sis and whatever else she had overcome that day.
These are just a few that rolled out. When in doubt, call the social worker, therapist. Have them come over and help. Sometimes it takes a world of weight off to know, "is this okay?" And then hang on, the next months are going to get better. -Julie
