The day my adopted son wanted to go back to his "real parents"

The day my adopted son wanted to go back to his "real parents"
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This post has been sitting in my drafts folder for months. I'm finally ready to share it.

I really never thought I would write this post. Or maybe I thought if I ever did, it was going to be a different child inspiring it. For some reason, the naive side of me figured our kids would always love being in our home, that they would be forever thankful for the fact that we "saved" them from foster care, and that they would see us as the loving parents we strive to be.

A few months ago, one of our sons asked to be called by his birth name. This didn't seem abnormal to me, since another one of our sons went through the same phase a few years ago, and we humored him for a few days, until he decided he wanted to just stick with what we gave him.

As a side note, we kept our kids' birth names as their middle names when we adopted them. We knew they didn't have a lot from their past that they could hold onto, and we wanted to respect their history by keeping their given names as their middle names in case they ever wanted to use them.

Back to the story. So our son asked to be called by his birth name. I told him that was fine, I would try, but that he would always be the name we gave him in my mind. So, for a few days, he wrote his birth name on his schoolwork and corrected us when we called him by the "incorrect" name. He seemed to be taking it a bit further than our other son had, but I figured it would pass within a few days.

Then, about a week later, he grabbed a stack of papers and started writing on them. I didn't really pay much attention until later in the day, when I noticed he was still working on it. It's pretty strange for him to spend that much time on something like that, so I asked him what he was working on. He said, "Nothing, just something." I left him alone about it, but over the next few days, noticed he would work on his little project whenever he could, and was being very secretive about it, not letting anyone see.

A few days later, I was cleaning the garage, and I found a stack of papers on the ground outside. I picked it up and thumbed through it and quickly realized it was our son's "secret" project.

When I first saw it, I was so touched. A beautifully drawn picture, with more detail than I've ever seen him draw: trees, flowers, grass...the sun, and smiling people. And then I read what he wrote: To my real mom and dad. From ______________. (I'm not putting his real name here to protect his privacy and ours.) And above the picture of his "dad" said, "I love you son." Above our son's self-portrait read, "I love you too" and then above the mom's head: "Love you son." And then the clincher: "You're the best parents in the world." Insert knife into heart. Slowly turn. The next few pages included a write-up of what our son has been doing, what his life is like, and how he was hoping to meet them.

I have to interject to say, Superman and I have always told our kids that when they turn 18, we will help them find their birth parents if they want to. We have been honest about their histories to the extent that you can with children, but we haven't sugar-coated their past. I've always said that I would have no problem if my kids wanted to connect with their birth parents because I would feel the same way if I were them.

But as I held that stack of papers in my hand, my heart sank. I thought of the love we have given this boy. I thought about where he had come from, what he was like when we brought him home, and what he is like now. I thought about the struggle of having adopted kids and the many, many tears I've cried over the years praying and hoping that I would figure it all out.

To be truthful, my feelings were hurt.

I felt defensive. I felt like my heart was bruised. Not broken, but definitely bruised. If only he knew. If only he could see from our lens as an adult and know that we are only doing what's best for him.

I wanted to run inside, fall down in front of him and tell him his drawings hurt me. I wanted to spew out the many, many reasons he was taken away from his parents so he could see why he is so, so much better off with us. I wanted to ask him why he has never spent so much time drawing me a picture like that. I stood there looking at the drawings and studying the faces of the people he drew. And I wanted to cry. I didn't, but I wanted to.

Instead, I went inside and quietly called him into our bedroom.

I crouched down on his level, gently handed him his drawings, and said, "I found these pictures you drew. Who are they for?" He replied, "My other parents." I went on to say, "They're beautiful drawings. You spent a lot of time on them, huh?" He nodded yes, looking down at the ground. "You may want to guard these pictures more carefully, hun. I know if your siblings found them, they wouldn't understand, and might be mean about them. So, you drew them for your other parents, huh?" Another nod. "Do you want to meet them sometime?" He nodded again, looking down at the floor. "Has daddy talked to you about some of your history and why you were in foster care and why we adopted you?" "Yeah," he replied. "You know hun, I don't want you to ever feel like you have to hide something like this from us. You can always talk to daddy and I about your feelings. It's completely normal that you will have times when you wish you were living with another family. I had the same feelings growing up, and I wasn't even adopted! But I don't want you to be ashamed of those feelings. You can always talk to us about them--we'll never make fun of you. You know we support you and that if you want to meet your birth parents when you're older, we'll help you, right?" Nod.

I continued to tell him how we love him so much, and out of all the kids we could have adopted, we picked him. I told him about how we are so happy he's in our family, and that I want him to know again that he can talk to us about anything.

Inside, my heart was crushed. I didn't want to be having this conversation. I wanted my little boy to wrap his arms around me and say, "Mommy, thank you so much for adopting me! I know how hard it is, but thank you!"

Of course, that's ridiculous, because I live in this little place called reality. And reality hurts sometimes.

So, what does the future hold? I'm really not sure. I would imagine some of our kids will go through these phases of wanting to go live with their "real parents." And each time we make it through will be another notch in my adoptive mommy belt. But how I respond will determine whether our kids grow up and leave our home bitter and defensive and filled with hurt or happy and joyful and filled with confidence.

I know our kids love us. But there are going to be times when they don't even know it. And I'm going to have to be cool, calm and collected during those times. I'm going to have to pray and pray and pray some more that God will help me to keep my hurt feelings from making their way to my mouth.

And one day, I pray our kids will grow up, look back on their childhood with us, and realize that they had one of the most loving homes in the world. It's not a perfect home by any means, but it's safe, and filled with joy. And mostly, I pray that they will still love and appreciate me, even when they meet birth parents, birth siblings, and blood relatives.

It's a true test of faith, friends. But thankfully, I have a ton of it. I believe my God is bigger than any of my hurts or fears and He will work all things together for good, to those who love Him, and are called according to His purpose.

Being an adoptive parent his hard.

Update: a few days after I wrote this post, our son was back to wanting to be called by the name we gave him, and he hasn't mentioned it since. That doesn't mean it'll never come up again, but in the meantime, we'll love on him just like we always do.

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This article was written by Shanti Landon, and originally appeared on Life Made Full. Shanti is a certified life coach and the creator of the popular food + lifestyle blog, Life Made Full. She is mom to five kids and the author of two ebooks: 30 Days to a Life Made Full and 10 Minute Prep Freezer Meals. Shanti started her blog in 2012 after her husband, Chris, was diagnosed with celiac disease, and their family switched to a mostly Paleo diet. Shanti loves running, coffee, pretty much anything chocolate, and watching funny dog videos on Facebook. Oh, and she lets her dog get away with more than she allows her kids. You can catch up with her (and keep tabs on her freakin’ adorable Labradoodle puppy Huck) on Instagram,Twitter, Facebook and Pinterest as well as YouTube.”




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