One of the things we talked about yesterday was the post-adoption (like postpartum) depression.
It seemed to be quite the topic of interest for everyone, fathers and mothers alike. Your life is dramatically changed.
The psychologist talked about the obvious physical signs of depression: weight loss or gain, sleeping too much or insomnia, inability to be really happy or sad… just flatlining on autopilot.
“What have we done?” Have many new adoptive parents asked themselves. But not out loud, out of shame or fear of judgement. Especially as the new parents start getting home visits and evaluations. Little do they/we remember that these visits are for support as well. How often do new moms receive home visits from support staff to help them cope with the new role of parenting.
This new adoptive mom about my age said in a post-adoption evaluation that she feels that it adoption entered her life like a bulldozer and is running her life, making decision against her will. She said she even forgot why she pursued adoption in the first place. It is not what she expected. And that hits the nail in the head. Expectations. Parenting expectations. Adoption expectations.
In a culture where opening up about emotions is not embraced, where vulnerability is weakness, where an entire generation wasn’t held enough, cuddled, listened to, played with etc. talking with a therapist, the more necessary it is, the less it is wanted.
It is rather fascinating to see a room full of parents, with childhood memories activated, most of them realizing how their upbringing could have been much better, with a little thought and time put into it. But our parents did the best they could with what they had. And learning how we could be better parents is not a journey of finding blame in our own parents.
My parents didn’t do any homework with me. Never. Never read me stories. Never played with me on the floor (at least I don’t remember). They were fueled by honest survival inertia but also deep love expressed in pure delight whenever around me (full laughter, loving joyous gaze). This is my parents saving grace. A steady pillar for which I am most grateful for. They didn’t teach me manners purposely, and had very few strict rules, thus we learned to pay attention. It is ironic that their life circumstances gave us unknowingly the best upbringing as I see it. I have very few regrets. I don’t think I would change much to my childhood even if I had the chance. Yet here we are, adults in a room, mourning our own childhood. Looking to do a little better for the next generation.
My biggest take away: Delight in your children! With your heart. They will see it. This is a basic emotional need that children have.
I have been a delight for my parents and that built confidence in me. Loads. Thank you mama si tata!
PS. I just remembered something. Something important about my mom in my earliest memories. I remember her saying “It’s ok. Cry with mama. You’ll feel better after you let it all out.” My tears didn’t make her uncomfortable. On the contrary, she had the wisdom to tell me to embrace my tears, and loved me through them. To this day, I feel better after I cry. And I feel good through tears. I wonder how much of it was me believing my mom “pe cuvânt”.
Found this great artUncle that speaks to me a great deal. http://www.janetlansbury.com/2013/11/let-your-kids-be-mad-at-you/