I knew this could happen. I thought I was prepared for it. But that didn’t make it hurt any less…
While his whole world was shaken upside down, our son found that solid, steady calm in his new daddy that he needed to cling to. I knew and loved that calm in this man, my husband, the father of my new child, so well myself. He had been the one, for a long time now, to pull me in close when I’m hurting. And oh, was our son hurting. What a daddy he needed in this grand shift – this massive jolt – in his life story.
My son and me, though? We needed more time.
The adoption process on our end was long and painful. We knew about our boy halfway across the world since he was mere months old. But we didn’t get to bring him home in our arms until he was almost three years old. We received pictures, updates, sometimes videos of our sweet little thing along the way. I melted in tears at every nugget of information that was sent about our future son. We mailed him care packages, including pictures of us, our pets, and his future home. We did everything we could to prepare, learn what to expect, and smooth our brave boy’s transition home with us. Our love for this child already ran so deep.
But how can you explain adoption to a toddler? The whole thing just made no sense to him, and he wasn’t anticipating us.
We learned before our son came home that a strong preference for one parent over the other is very common in older child adoption. But reality was harder than we were prepared for, as is often the case in parenting.
I have some theories as to why, but to protect my son’s privacy and story, I will just say that our son started attaching to his daddy, and rejecting many of my attempts at bonding with him. In general, he was less fussy with his dad and preferred him for just about everything.
I always imagined myself being a hands-on, nurturing type of mother. However, this part of me seemed to be doing more harm than good for our son. In the heavy, hurting moments of grief, he wanted his daddy. He simply didn’t want me in the ways I thought he would.
The Day-To-Day Struggle to Bond
We did okay together in light-hearted moments. We read books, played, went to the park, and worked on our new daily routine as a family together. The plan was for me to be a stay-at-home mom, so we were about to be spending much of our days just the two of us when my husband had to start back to work . . . and I was dreading it. I knew we weren’t ready. It felt like we were just going through the motions of life together, not really like mother and son.
Life became this vacillating between his dad fulfilling his needs to prevent upset, and other moments of me purposefully stepping in to provide – even though he wanted his dad to instead. Then some moments I would be a mess of hurt or anxiety, taking little rejections personally, and his dad would have to tag in. There were many times I needed a break to feel my feelings, breathe, and calm down. (Looking back, I had some untreated depression and anxiety lurching, which didn’t help me stay clear-headed in tough moments.)
While I felt like a failure, my husband was struggling too. Not only was he growing his relationship and trust with his new son, but he was also tending to that of mine with our son. He wanted to make it all easier – but there simply was no quick fix. My husband also felt exhaustion as the preferred parent. I wasn’t able to give him breaks as easily because of the friction my son and I experienced together.
As I was with our child alone during my husband’s work days, we made a plan for his dad to be the one to enact any necessary consequences when all of us were together. We became very strategic in having me do the happy tasks like bringing dessert to the table and giving new gifts from us. It was a marathon to get his parents on a more even level in his eyes, and keep us parents united through those hard days.
My extended family also witnessed our struggle, and did what they could to help foster our attachment. While loving and bonding with my child, they were great about encouraging me, redirecting him to me when he needed something, and reinforcing my role as his mother.
Turning to Adoption-Focused Therapy for Help
I turned to counseling after about a year of being a family, as I still felt our attachment was rocky. I had a lot to work out in this huge life transition. The therapist reminded me that we’re more of a “slow cooker” family – needing more time to blend our lives together. I knew that; I knew we would take time. But having someone else remind me in the thick of it prompted more grace and gentleness toward myself.
I also had a major lightbulb moment through therapy: I have to adjust myself to my son’s needs. My thoughts on how to nurture my son simply does not equate to the type of nurturing he needs. My frustration was due to my expectations not aligning with the real person my son is. I tried so hard not to have expectations of my child and our relationship, but I’ve usually found that they’re there anyway. And I’ve learned the hard way, so many times, that I need to be present and adjust my actions to my child’s needs. This learning curve in parenting still continues to this day; I don’t always do the task well.
Blending as Mother and Son
Those beginning days turned to months, then to years. Through persistence, therapy, getting myself medicated, and my son simply getting older – we began to feel closer. Setbacks still happen, as they do with any relationship. But my fearful thoughts of, “Will we ever be close? Will I ever understand him and be what he needs his mother to be?” began to quiet as the years have gone on.
My son relates more easily to his father, which is one of the millions of things I love about him. But we’ve come to a greater understanding of each other as we continue this life together. There wasn’t one moment in particular that made me feel like we’re finally more connected. Every time he reaches for my hand, leans in for a snuggle, laughs at a joke with me, asks for help with a project, wants to learn my hobbies, or shows interest in my favorite music or shows . . . I beam with gratitude. It’s the culmination of all the little moments. After years of pursuing him, quality time together, and building trust and communication (mixed with my screw-ups that needed forgiving) – we’re finally feeling as we are: mother and son.
