I went to the beach today with my kids. There was a field trip going on and I couldn’t bear that one would have to be in school while the rest of us traipsed around in the rain and wet looking for baby crabs and broken shells and little pieces of ourselves in the sea shore, so we all went. I was very proud of myself for digging up enough rain boots for everyone.
I went to the exact same beach with Isabela, same time of year, five years ago. Five years. How is that possible that five years ago I was at this beach with this girl? Life can be crazy slow and it can be crazy fast. Basically it is just crazy. I was able to dig up the post I wrote so many moons ago {on my old blog, St. Udio} when I went on this field trip with her:
i was a chaperone on isa’s 1st grade field trip yesterday. i feel like such a grown up mom. and i guess i am, i have children who are in school and all that comes with that. parent teacher conferences, homework, end of the year carnival and, of course, field trips.
i accompanied the class with five other volunteer moms. we went to see a production of ‘James and the Giant Peach’ and have a picnic lunch at a nearby park. it was a nice day out for isa, she loved being in a real theater and was amazed at the end when the character James revealed ‘he’ was actually a ‘she’ actress. oh the thrill!
i had a good time, being with isa, but i was honestly a little anxious about going. i have seen her interact with other children besides her siblings only a handful of times. and those times she is still with her siblings and her parents. in this scenario i was getting a glimpse as to how other people viewed her, how she got along with her classmates, ect. and i was most dreading the question, ‘so you guys just moved here, right? where are you from?’ (since she has only been attending school here a few months). it isn’t that i want to avoid the truth, but i also didn’t want to get into an awkward conversation with isa in ear shot. she doesn’t need that. me telling her story, her history to complete strangers. so what is appropriate? when one parent asked i quickly and to the point told the truth. that my husband and i actually have lived in the area for awhile and that we just recently brought home the three kids as their adoptive family.
the thing is, when you tell someone that sentence, it never satisfies their curiosity. i was able to sufficiently answer her questions after a few minutes and refocus the conversation on her and her children. thankfully isa was happy running up and down the shore, so she didn’t hear the exchange. it wasn’t that i was over sharing, but to her, as a fragile 7 year old, i know she just wants to be normal. she doesn’t want the label of ‘foster kid’ anymore. she jut wants to be ‘kid’. it was easy to see as she only called me ‘mommy’ at school, whereas at home i am usually ‘anya’.
and more so, i didn’t want to tell this woman the kids’ story, and then have her repeat it to her child, or an older sibling. simply because kids are mean. that was glaringly evident as i watched the interaction between the 4 girls i was in charge of. growing up is hard enough without any extra stigmas attached to you. and believe me i have learned about stigmas in ways i never thought of since bringing home the children. a fellow foster-adoptive blogger wrote about those all to real feelings here.
oh, my heart is so heavy for isa. i want her to be happy, to do well in school, have friends. i wish all the awful parts of her story could be erased. that on bus rides kids didn’t point out to her that my last name is different then hers. that we don’t look alike. making all her insecurities resurface. but i know as a mom i cannot create an entirely new life for her. i can shower her with love and affection. i can praise her and rejoice with her. i can affirm her and guide her- but I can’t save her.
i am on such a steep learning curve, and some days i feel like i am making such tiny steps. but yesterday, i felt like i made a few big strides on that hill. i was able to join my daughter on a field trip- a first for both of us. i was able to hold her hand through out the play and wink at one another with inside secrets. i was just her mom and she was just my kid. and that is good.
I read that post and remember the day so well. I was such a baby then, 26 years old, and wanting so much to be…be what she needed. I didn’t know what I was doing. The difference is I thought I knew a whole lot more then I know I don’t know now. Growing up does that.
And Isabela is growing up. She now goes by Bela over Isa, she calls me mom- because I am her mom. I am her safe guard and her protector, and now more then ever I am figuring out what that means. And those insecurities we both felt four years ago? They are still there. To pretend they aren’t would be dismissing their authenticity. Our love was borne from loss. Our family tree was knit in pain. That is real, that is okay.
Isabela and I are still experiencing growing pains, don’t all real relationships though? We are still finding roots that were planted in hurt and grafting in trust, grafting in security. We are trying our best to water those parts, the lovely parts. And doing our best to hold with fragile hands the messier parts. We are doing our best to make our tree lovely messy.
It is hard work this growing thing. Especially when you are growing people and strong hearts and steady hands to hold.
But it is beautiful.
And my Isabela? She is beautiful in so many ways.
Tags: 5 years later, adoption, adoption reflection, being brave, family, growing, growing up, looking back on adoption, reclaiming, thelovelymessy, you are lovely
You are here, after all.
