One Year (excessively long post)

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

February 26th is exactly one year from the day we met L. 

 It seems impossible that we have only known her for a year.  I feel like L has been with me my entire life.  At the same time, this year has slipped by so fast, it feels like the blink of an eye.

Adopting L isn’t what I expected it to be, back in those days when I was a wet-behind-the-ears wannabe adoptive parent. 

Maybe it is luck (or maybe my surly expression), but it is very very rare that anyone comments on the fact that L and I don’t match racially.  I can probably count the instances at less than 20 (and at least 4 of those were from the same checkout woman at the grocery store…the next time that stupid woman opens her mouth I am requesting a manager if I can manage to restrain myself enough to avoid bashing her with a baguette).  I don’t worry about the cultural stuff so much either.  I feel like we have a good start on that before and there isn’t any reason for drastic changes just because L is here.  I expected problems with Mr. A’s family, but after a slightly bumpy beginning, things have gone quite smoothly. 

The most defining feature of our beginning together was trauma.  I did a lot of reading about attachment before we traveled, but most of those books and articles only touched on trauma and trauma-related stress.  I was secretly convinced I could prevent problems by focusing so heavily on attachment.  I don’t regret that work, but in retrospect, I don’t think attachment was the L’s core problem.   Now, I can see that L was extremely hypervigalent and terrified for most of those first months.  Even though her attachment progressed pretty well, the after-effects of trauma colored much of our days.  There is no quick fix for trauma.  Only time, consistancy and security seemed to make a difference for L.

One of the truly amazing things about L is that even though she was in an orphanage with lots of other babies, she is a girl who knows how to get her needs met.  One of the things her nannies told us was “L cries more than any other baby in the orphanage.”  And when we met her, it was pretty clear that she was used to having those cries answered…QUICKLY. 

At the beginning, those screams were the bane of my formerly peaceful existence, but now I am so grateful that L was clear about what she needed and would not accept anything less from us.  Without that clear communication, it might have been easier to slack, to cut corners on attachment stuff, to write off her demands as those of a ‘normal’ baby when she wasn’t. 

L survived the trauma of losing her whole life in China.  She lost her ayis, the babies she grew up with, the beds she slept in and even the food she ate every day.  While she is a mellow kid in many ways, I could tell she knew what she had lost.  And this new gig with us wasn’t so bad, but she was going to hedge her bets and stick like superglue to at least one person (me) until she knew that she was safe.  As healthy and happy and strong as L is now, I am so thankful I was able to stay home with her this year.  I know many babies do find in daycare after adoption, but those first months with us, L was undeniably fragile.   

While I knew it in my head that L would experience loss when she joined our family, the burden on my heart is more than I expected.  I think of L’s nannies and the girls who were in the orphanage with her often.  We have visited with two of the three girls adopted with L recently.  These girls knew each other before we knew L and I hope we can keep some kind of relationship alive as they grow older, even though our families are very different and live far apart.

We have pictures of a woman we believe was one of L’s closest ayi.  Earlier this year, when I would try to show L the picture, she would look away or close the book.  Her rejection was completely different from the way she looked at other photos in the album.  But just this week, L brought the book to me and as we were looking through the pages she said “Ayi” on that page.  She said it quietly and very clearly (usually her words are hard to understand).  I had never heard her say Ayi before.  She took the book and touched her forehead to the Ayi’s picture.  It was similar to the way she placed her forehead affectionately against mine in those first weeks after we met.  It broke my heart a little and I wonder if she remembers on some level.  I wonder if she feels safe enough with us now to acknowledge her life before we met.

It goes without saying, I think of L’s parents (especially her mother) all the time.  While we don’t know who or where they are, I feel their presence.   

Though I don’t know their personal circumstances, we are caring for the child whose very existence may have endangered their family.  A child who they almost certainly brought into this world at great personal risk and emotional cost.   I feel the weight of their hopes and dreams for their future and their family.   These hopes may have both brought L into this world and may have caused them to turn away from her.

In my heart of hearts, I hope they are at peace and their lives are good.  At the same time, I hope they feel a void without L, because she is just the most amazing and wonderful girl.  I hope they know that L is a girl worth knowing and loving; that life without her just isn’t the same.

I still have hopes we will be able to locate them one day.  With our China trip indefinitely on hold, I have distanced myself a little from actively trying to find more information for now.  It takes a lot of emotional energy to search for a needle in a haystack, all the while knowing that finding it could be the key to L’s history.  Our chances of finding them may decrease each day. 

Sometimes I dream about being in China with L’s parents just around the corner, but I can’t find them.  Some days, I am convinced we should just get on a plane now and go look for them so L will never remember a time when she didn’t know who her parents are.  Other times, I wonder how can I live with myself knowing that L’s mother is out there not knowing what happened to L.  Finding L’s parents is totally not about me, but I may be the only person in the position to make anything happen.  I didn’t expect to feel so strongly before I met L.

This year hasn’t been what I expected at all:  It has been better and harder and different.  My life more complicated and more exhausting, but I wouldn’t go back to my old life for anything.   I can’t imagine my life or my family without L.  It is a privilege and a joy to be able to know and love her.