Grownups come back!

That little song is repeated over and over in an episode of Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood. Since the show is one of my daughter’s favorites, we have used it to ease anxiety when dropping her off at school, church, or for a visit with the grandparents. She’ll sing along and yell out her animated friend’s name when we explain that we’ll be back to get her soon.

See the fun Daniel Tiger birthday party I threw for my daughter here.

It’s a fun, yet effective, tool for easing the fears of my three year old. Yet, every time I attempt to sing the innocent little melody, part of me cringes. You see, my daughter was adopted. This means part of her story, like most children with her background, includes some type of abandonment – and the reality that sometimes grownups don’t come back.

Just days after turning 18 months old, little L was handed to me and my husband in a government office in China. The familiar faces of her caretakers at the orphanage are now a distant memory. She doesn’t consciously remember the voice of the birthmother who carried her nine months. For reasons we may never know, the adults who were supposed to watch her grow and thrive are not the ones charged with parenting her.

So that sweet little song is a reminder that my precious little girl will have hard questions that I can’t answer. Ones that could make her question her identity, belonging, and very existence. Part of my job as her mother is to acknowledge the complicated emotions that are inherent with the trauma of adoption. And I pray that as she grows, we’ll all navigate them in a way that doesn’t haunt her for the rest of her life.

I wish there was a catchy tune to solve all of that. 

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Though she is young, I make an effort to talk about her time in China and the people who cared for her before us. We pray for her birthparents, look at photos from the orphanage, and maintain a relationship with her cribmate adopted at the same time. L will tell me that she rode on a plane with Mommy, Daddy, and her brother from China. My goal is to talk about adoption in age-appropriate ways throughout her childhood.

Regardless of how open I try to be, there will still be hard conversations. A few days ago at bedtime, we read Llama Llama Gram and Grandpa where Llama spends the night at his grandparents’ house for the first time. In the end, Mama Llama returns to take him home.

Predictably, L started singing grownups come back! Then she pointed to a map of China in her room, said something about a plane, and then, “Mama, Daddy come back (for) me!”

My heart sank. Though I knew she was reciting the story of how we flew to China and brought her home with us on an airplane, the notion that we had to come back for her panicked me. Would she think that we left her in another country for the first year and a half of her life?

I quickly explained that we didn’t come back to China; we met her for the first time there. She looked a little confused and moved on to the next part of the nighttime routine. But I knew this was just the first of many tough conversations in my future.

That bedtime exchange may have just been meaningless practice of her evolving conversation skills. Or it could be her attempt for reassurance that she will always have a family. Because her life includes the truth that one time, for whatever reason, parents left her for good. Though she won’t remember her earliest days of life, studies show that the scars from the trauma of adoption have lasting effects.

Though loving relationships and early intervention will help minimize consequences, I see them in her life daily.

The night terrors.

Obsession with food and the next meal.

Separation anxiety.

Sheer panic if sleeping routines change.

The intense need for control.

It’s also possible that many of the sensory processing and developmental delays we work on are related to the trauma of adoption. Simply being adopted doesn’t magically erase the past or the questions about what could have been. Those are things that she’ll likely wrestle with into adulthood and beyond.

As beautiful as adoption is, it is also traumatic. It is loss of enormous proportions that even well-meaning adoptive parents can’t fully understand. But as we celebrate National Adoption Month, which I intend to do, it is also important to recognize the perspective of the adoptee.

We are not saviors or rescuers when we adopt a child, just parents stepping into a less-than-perfect situation. Pretending that our love erases the separation, the questions, and the past is inaccurate and irresponsible. Our children aren’t “lucky.” Brokenness and loss had to occur for them to be in our homes.

Kids are supposed to be in families. When tragic circumstances mean that isn’t possible, we absolutely need to step in a fill the gaps. Adopting my daughter was a huge blessing and my life is richer and more joyful because of her.

I have watched L blossom in the security of a family. She snuggles on the couch with her brother (for a few minutes before they tackle one another…), rushes to hug her dad when the garage door opens, and gives me sloppy, double-cheek kisses. Her days are filled with school, therapies, playdates, snacks, dinner table laughter, bathtime splashes, and stories before bed. The future is virtually limitless, something that would be completely different were she still in an orphanage.

Adoption is necessary and full of love. But we can’t ignore the other side of the coin. While you’ll see me advocate for kids who need families over and over, know that it is a bittersweet endeavor. In a perfect world, all children would grow up in the loving care of their biological parents.

Since that isn’t the case, we need people like you and me who are willing to take on the enormous joy and the complex emotions that come along with adopting. Your child will have a much fuller life when both angles are embraced.

For helpful resources navigating trauma of adoption, start here:

Empowered to Connect

Finding and Working with Adoption-Competent Therapists

The Post Institute

You may also like:

What to Expect in the First Year After International Adoption

8 Ways We Raised $35,123.51 for Our Adoption Without Debt

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