The Unexpected

Once upon a time a young woman born of privilege (in every way) adopted a little girl from India born with nothing. She expected trials, a long and windy adjustment period, moments of defiance, and a big old hot pink suitcase of emotional baggage to unpack. However, what has surprised her more than anything is that every day that passes and every challenge they face together actually increases her love for her daughter more than she ever knew was possible.

Smelling her teeny shirts before hanging them up on her tiny hangers happens regularly now. I miss her when I'm away from her, and from the third degree she gave me before I left town last Thursday I think she misses me too. "Where going?" Where sleep?" "When coming home?" "What time?" "Promise?" The longer she's with us and the more she attaches to us, the size of my heart multiplies. Lucky for me my breast plate has plenty of room (thanks Mom).

Friday night we all got in our bed (Gatsby included of course) and watched a movie. Well I tried to watch the movie, but mostly I just watched Richa, thought about how every child deserved moments like these, and answered a bazillion questions "That bad man?" "Who that?" "Why that is?". She's sitting on the bed (a bed she wouldn't even have touched 3 months ago) with one of HER dogs in the cutest pajamas ever with wide eyes glued to the TV. I remember when we brought her home she wouldn't even go into our room. At that time I remember thinking will we ever just all sit on the bed and watch a movie like a normal family? Well what do you know....look at us now.

Before giving birth or adopting or starting any new journey for that matter, most of us type A control freaks read everything we can get our hands on. As a pre-parent and a teacher I've read a million times that setting boundaries and enforcing rules with consistent consequences is what children unknowingly long for....that it increases their sense of security giving way to trust which then spills over to love. I've watched it happen in my classroom, but to see it happen in my home with my new daughter has been fascinating to observe from a psychosocial standpoint as well as a new mom. Whether she's messed up on accident or she has purposely disobeyed we always leave those difficult moments of confrontation closer as a family. The more that we do it, the easier it becomes for me to stay calm/non-emotional, and love her through the muck of misbehavior. Then I see the fruits and wah la! She still loves me? Hold on a second...she even seems to love me more? This makes no sense. Wait are those my thoughts or hers?

A little light bulb moment happened after one of these incidences yesterday morning and I realized that Richa is a mirror. I look at her and all the insecurities I feel about being her mother she most likely feels about being my daughter. Does my daughter love me? Does my mother love me? Will she still love me even if I mess up? Will she still love me even though I messed up? Born on two different sides of the Atlantic our lives up until this point could not have been more different, but I'm starting to see that we're really not that different at all. Receiving love from my adopted teenager daughter is a wonderful feeling, and it's definitely a bonus to parenthood but at the end of the day regardless of it all I have to remind myself it's not about me because I'm the parent. That truth gives me the ability to keep serving her even when I'm anxious, hurt, annoyed, and worst of all feeling defeated. It will also hopefully help me do this again one day. Did I just say that? Lobotomy needed stat.