I haven’t found my words yet. The irony doesn’t escape me that I have to have such conversations face to face. Yesterday I cried. As the sense of irritation turned into deep sadness. Then I went to one of my last post adoption support group meetings.
There I just drank and drank from the shared wisdom, and laughed at our silliness. And it’s so strangely familiar. I was reminded of a therapeutic project to try with Jackie, called “The Grief box of losses”. Take any box and put in it all the losses of an adopted child. First write them down with them, on little pieces of paper, put them in the box, and later on add symbols of said losses. What did an adoptee loose in the first years of life? They lost the biological mom (cut a picture of a mom and a baby from a magazine and put it in) they lost their biological father, their medical history (put in a an empty box of bandaid), they bio genealogy tree, the loss of sense of belonging, the loss of a continuous life narrative (add a broken shoelace) etc. This box will create a context to discuss and mourn the past. Most importantly, not let is get stuffed down.
We as parents can also facilitate the mourning of the past by writing letters to the biological mom; obviously not send them, but it will help them verbalize and process their big emotions as they grow older.
It’s a journey and we don’t have all the answers. We never will. But we show up, sleeves pulled, hearts open and ready. And by God’s grace, we will use everything we have and we know to shoulder this story of redemption.