When the kids arrived, having experienced trauma layered on trauma, they were a couple of angry little hyenas.
Every morning, our son woke screaming in anger. For hours.
We found the music on K-Love soothed them.
You can read more about that in Our Three Songs, a post I wrote a little over two years ago.
This morning, I woke (in slight disgruntlement at the early hour) to my son singing at a decibel level to rival any bass-thumping stereo system on the road today.
When we turn on the radio, he listens for a few minutes, eyes narrowed.
“Is that K-Love?”
I confirm, and he nods, satisfied.
If it’s not K-Love, I have 30 seconds to change the tuner before he begins to complain.
He’s happier, more confident. So is our daughter. They sing with smiles brightening their faces.
Things are definitely not perfect, and the hours of therapy in which we still participate are responsible for much of their gains.
The music of K-Love is just as responsible for their improved outlook.
Today is the last day of the pledge drive. K-Love is on the air in the USA because of listener support.
Hypervigilant.org is a proud business partner supporter of K-Love.
I encourage you to support their ministry. I have seen firsthand the changed lives.
You can donate at 800-525-5683 or at www.klove.com
“If we sweep disruption under the rug, will anyone notice?”
Adoption disruption is an unfortunate—and often glossed-over—part of the adoption narrative.
Like mental illness in the 1950’s, stories of disruption are minimized, ignored and even hushed. If you’ve been involved in the adoption/foster community for any length of time, you likely know of a failed placement.
The failed placement may even be your own.
We’ve experienced disruption. If our two adopted children had voiced their initial thoughts (wishing death and destruction on us), they might have found themselves in another home.
Thankfully, we were oblivious. About a year ago, our son described his daydreams of the first few months: locking us in the house and burning it to the ground. Our daughter fantasized about bashing our noggins. “But we didn’t know how much we would love you, back then.” Charming.
Parents and children alike need care after a disruption. Both sides need healing.
On arrival in our home, our two were reeling from their own recent disruption. In their minds, two families kicked them out in swift succession (they didn’t fully understand the second family was a temporary situation).
As they dealt with the grief, we (uneducated and ill-prepared) muddled through. Often, we reacted to their behavior instead of responding to the underlying pain. Had we been better equipped, we could have handled the situation with more understanding. We received very little up-front information and didn’t grasp the situation in entirety until much later.
Here’s some information I wish we’d seen earlier. Knowledge we would have been thankful to use. Feel free to pass it on!
Healing after Disruption: the Parents
1. Normalize the wide range of strong feelings experienced in a crisis that, like a death in the family, rocks the souls of parents and immediate family members. Feeling raw for a long time is a normal expectation after living through a disruption. Families who experience a disruption are survivors of chronic trauma and need interventions that address more than grief and loss.
Our disruption happened during a temporary respite situation; even so, I saw myself as a failure for months afterward. I can’t imagine the stress and loss after a longer-term placement. Encircle friends or family members who’ve experienced disruption. If you’re a personal survivor, seek out a support group. You can even tell your story here.
2. Because parents in a disrupted adoption come in conflict with personal, public and cultural beliefs about parenting, they may be blamed and misunderstood. Try to avoid seeking validation from those who may not have the knowledge nor the capacity to understand.
This applies to foster and adoption situations across the board, not just disruption. Individuals with no foster/adopt experience may, on occasion, provide insight. However, they don’t have the understanding another foster parent or social worker possesses. In general, we’ve learned not to ask for advice from other non-adoptive parents—no matter how experienced they seem—because most of the time, their wisdom just doesn’t apply.
For instance: child with bio-mom has tantrum because she won’t give him candy in his bedroom. Bio-mom leaves room, shutting the door. “Call me when you’re done.”
Foster child, traumatized, has similar tantrum, apparently about candy. Tantrum is actually about grief and loss. Child needs to be held and assured of security.
3. Join with parents who have experienced disruptions to validate and honor your efforts. When others you expected to support you withdraw, build a new support system with those who are in the know.
When we adopted, some of the people we expected to support us (mostly because we’d supported them and cared for their kids) vanished from our lives as soon as they realized these kids aren’t perfect. On the other hand, a family we barely knew called, visited, checked on us and made certain we knew we weren’t alone. Let go of expectations. Try not to be hurt or angry when someone doesn’t “come through” for you. Plenty of people care. Join a support group or form one of your own. It doesn’t have to be official.
4. Pay attention to the impact of the disruption on children within the family. Help them find their voice and grieve what happened to them.
We thought the kids were ecstatic when “monster baby” (their name for the loud creature invading their space) left. And on some level, they were thrilled. In a deeper place, they worried. Could they be “bad enough” for us to kick them out, too? What if they screamed and cried?
5. Couples will need to spend time on rebuilding the foundations of their marriage that may have been rocked by the disruption experience.
Thankfully, in our case, this didn’t happen. However, if our adoption had disrupted, I imagine we’d need time for ourselves. If you’ve experienced disruption, seek a counselor familiar with loss and grief. Give yourselves time. Work together.
6. Put words around the pain of disruption as a first step in reclaiming your lives in a healthy way.
Speaking about pain can diminish the enormous blackness. We use this tactic with the kids often: “you’re worried, I can tell. Say it out loud. What’s bothering you?” Writing helps, also. Keep a journal. Start a blog. Get it out of your head; the longer we hold pain inside, the stronger it becomes.
7. Practice describing how you personally were affected, telling your story with a focus on yourself rather than on the child or on the adoption.
Find your voice, whether writing or speaking—for YOU and for THEM. As you draw strength from the telling, others will find connection and the knowledge they aren’t alone.
8. Don’t get stuck blaming social workers. Rather, practice reclaiming yourself through giving up the role of teaching others until you feel healed enough to advocate for change in a way that you may be heard.
I used to cringe when I called the social worker who placed the baby in our home. Will she think I’m incompetent? Does she roll her eyes when my number appears on her phone? Researching disruption has been therapeutic for me. I now know I’m not the only foster parent to call her, frantic. I also realize Hubby and I are not the only adults with regrets; she probably felt responsible/guilt for the disruption since she talked me into taking the baby.
9. Move towards honoring and paying homage to the memory of your relationship with the child.
Remember the good moments; savor the memory of what you did right. Although permanence wasn’t attained, you made a difference in the life of a child. Even if it ended in unfortunate circumstances, the child will be impacted positively by some of the time in your home.
10. When you are able, make a list of the good you found inside yourself around your heroic efforts in raising this child.
“Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger…” it’s cliche, but true. Even when it doesn’t work out, every placement is an opportunity to learn something about ourselves.
For me, our disruption was the moment I knew for certain that the two kids we adopted come first. I’d love to assist every child in the world. And up until that time, I tried to help as many as possible.
Hubby and I worked with the youth in our church. We volunteered with a fabulous child development organization, Compassion International. All of our friends’ kids saw us as extra parents.
The day we agreed it was no longer in the best interest of our children to keep any other foster children, I found focus. We still volunteer on occasion and we still love the other kids in our life, but they don’t come first. The two kids who live in our house are priority.
As you or your friends recover from disruption, know that you’re not alone. Our disruption was “mild” in the sense that we hadn’t had time to attach, and it was never intended to be a long term placement. My examples don’t come close to the depth of loss others have survived.
If you’ve experienced a more difficult disruption, look for others with similar life trauma. Find a counselor with disruption experience—and keep in mind that to seek counseling isn’t an indication of weakness. Getting the support we need enables us to be healthy enough to continue providing help and healing to others.
Feel free to share your story below. We’re here to support, not judge.
Up next: Care for Disrupted Families: Part 2 (the Kids)
*All quotes directly from the MNAdopt.org Fact sheet.