Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Becoming the "Perfect" Mom

"You should try to breastfeed him, he'll never be grateful, he can't do what your other kids can do, you never know what his genes are, you shouldn't have adopted a child whose caste you don't know, if you fed him more he wouldn't hoard food, if you fed him less he wouldn't hoard food, he'll forget he was adopted, don't remind him that he is adopted, he will never be able to do what you expect him to do, I told you shouldn't have adopted, adopted kids will always be a problem to the family."  And my favorite, "You are lucky that you missed his infant years so you didn't have to wake up every 2 hours!"

These are some of the fun things I've heard through the years.  And though I have never been angry with any comment that has come my way, I would be lying if I didn't admit to the stress and doubt it has caused to me as a mother.  Back in May, we celebrated three years with Amay.  And though I haven't had a chance to sit down and really appreciate the progress we have made as a family and the progress Amay has made, I am able to find myself in awe of what the past years have meant to us.  Amay is doing extremely well, with a few bumps in the road.  He spent the past two years in Kindergarten as we decided to give him the extra year to grow emotionally while at the same time allowing us to separate the two boys in grade level.  So now, as we move forward, I have a kindergartner, 1st grader, and 2nd grader.  And I. AM. READY. for school to start.  This summer was busy.  We cried, we laughed, we screamed, and in the midst of all the fun we were having, we often even got bored.  As Amay gets older, we have found that he has had many regressions.  He continues to struggle with food and his emotions.  His good days are great, but his bad days often cause the whole family to curl up in fetal position.  When he struggles, the other two kids struggle as well.  And the whold family falls apart.  And everyday, we wake up praying for a better, easier, smoother day.  And many days, our prayers are answered.  And those days are beautiful...full of lots of laughter and love.  But the other days are full of lots of tears, doubt, emotions, and screaming.

As I continued to struggle to become Amay's mom,  it became clear that I would never be his "perfect" mom.  He made his feelings obvious many days when he screamed "I hate you!" or "You are a bad mom!".  And I cried, and I listened to everybody's advice on how to love my son or how to be a better mom.  I listened as the mom in the grocery aisle told me "cherish these days, they grow up so fast".  But the worst feelings were the feelings of being judged.  The feeling of not being enough.  The feeling of not being the "right" mother.  The feeling of somebody doing a better job.  I wanted to be the "right" mother for Amay.  I wanted to feel at ease with every decision I had made for my son.  But often, my son didn't feel like my son.  My son felt like everybody's "experiment".  Everybody had something to say to either me or to him.  I wasn't doing enough and for sure, they could do a better job.  And these feelings for the past three years have made things harder and painful.  I have always known what Amay is capable of.  I will admit that I am not easy with him.  And I will also admit that I expect him to excel and do his best.  I don't let him play the "adoption card."  He is NEVER allowed to play the adoption card.  We can work through his "adoption" issues, but I never give him a free ride just because he is "adopted".  Learning is harder for him because he had a traumatic childhood.  Food issues are tough for him.  Attaching and expressing love is hard for him.  Controlling his feelings are hard for him.  But I will never allow him to think it is okay not to work through his problems.  When Amay first came to us three years ago, people told me that it was going to be hard for him to read and learn.  And it was.  It was extremely hard.  But we worked through it.  We worked through the tears and made time.  And as he struggled to learn two languages, we continue to believe in his potential.  We worked on his confidence and his self-esteem.  We continued to tell him that he can do whatever he puts his mind to.  It was vital for him to believe in himself.  And I think it is extremely important for Amay to have a good sense of self and potential.  As he gets older, his "adoption" will become a big part of his identity.  But if he can continue to remember that "adoption" doesn't define him, he will conquer his fears and his past.  And we have finally realized that we can't do this alone.  Therapy will have to become a part of his life.  And so we have started therapy for him again to help him navigate through this journey.

As for me, these past three years have led me to this phase in my journey.  A time in this journey that I no longer care what others think.  I know that most people have the best of intentions in mind.  I don't want to feel judged anymore.  I know that I am doing the best I can.  I know that my son has made amazing progress these past 3 years.  I know what my son needs and I know that often, I struggle to give it to hime.  I struggle as a mom.  But i've seen many moms struggle.  Biological moms struggle just as much as adoptive moms do.  Every mom has a day where they wish they could go back to "pre-kids".  And every mom has had one of those days where she has locked herself in the bathroom or closet and just cried.....for no apparent reason, but just because she needed a good cry.  And of course, my kids have gone to school with different socks on.  I've forgotten to do laundry and had to have my kids wear the same underwear two days in a row( don't worry, i turned it inside out).  I've yelled at them and practically kicked them out of the room just so I can get some alone time.  I've had days where I have admitted to my husband that "I don't really like them too much today!"  I've had grumpy days and many UGLY days.  My kids have seen the worst of me.  Amay has definitely seen the worst of me.  But i've realized that it doesn't matter.  I might not be a perfect mom, but I am HIS mom.  And that, my friends, is PERFECT.

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