You adopt, you don that superhero cape, swoop right on in rescue said child then skip off into the sunset sharing a packet of Werther’s Originals.
You’ve done this wonderful thing right? The only thing left to do now is liase with your local council to agree where your statue would be best situated.
So, if this is the case (Which it’s not, it’s actually incredibly self indulgent, you get the privilege of becoming a parent to an absolute gem of a kid who enriches your previously unfulfilled life every, single, day) But society just love a fairy tale don’t they and this seems to be a plot some are determined to hang onto. So, for the purpose of this blog we will play along.
Statue has now been situated, entire town thinks the sun shines out of your arse #Winning. You should in theory be feeling pretty bloody wonderful, you’ve done nothing wrong, you’ve ‘saved’ this child. (Again not true, remember we’re playing along here consider this your acting debut)
If the Plot line is true, why then am I constantly questioning if my parental decisions are adding to his early life trauma? Why do I feel overwhelming pangs of guilt? I’m the superhero I bet Wonder Woman never questioned her decisions.
I say “parental decisions,” I’m talking about trying to get him to brush his teeth so he doesn’t end up looking like a sock puppet or deny him that extra cupcake because I don’t want him to develop diabetes and loose a foot *I catastrophize okay, always have.Then there’s the act of getting him to wear a helmet when he’s goes speeding down the road shouting “JERONIMO!!!!”
I don’t feel as though my requests are unreasonable, until he reacts. Not all the time but there are times when he really believes I’m doing this because I don’t love him, to betray him, because I’m building him up somehow for the let-down *The I’m about to walk out of his life let-down. . . .Which thinking about it, Is there a bigger let-down?
Then there’s the magical act of parenting a child with early attachment trauma during a global pandemic.
We’re going to Gymboree this week
We’re not going to Gymboree this week
You can see your Grumps
You can’t see your Grumps
There I go again, taking things away, stepping right on over his trust threshold, letting him down.
The guilt doesn’t stop there though you’re honour. Granted i’m swimming amongst a sea of parents battling toddler meltdowns during this covid Shit show. However, are these parents questioning if they are adding to the trauma? Are they physiologically harming their child? Are they part of the problem? *The problem being adults stealing his trust.
I’d like to hope they’re not.
The moral of the blog; I’m a mere mortal, no superhero act involved here, adoptive parents DO NOT rescue children sorry If I’m crushing egos here. We do not skip off into the sunset, we don’t even like Werther’s originals. The act of ‘adoption’ does not erase all that was before, instead we accept, we adapt our parenting style and very slowly on some days, we overcome.
I your honour, *Pssst Your honour is me, this is an affirmation to myself to get me through week 3 of lockdown.
I plead NOT guilty.
I’m NOT adding to the trauma.
I’m NOT part of trauma.
Trying to keep my son safe, his teeth in tact and hold on to both feet does not in any way mean I’m adding to the stress and anxieties he’s endured before me. How I approach it may need some re-shaping, ultimately I am not guilty.
He’s is a superhero of the non- Marvel variety and I parent plus. It’s not a plot most are familiar with but it’s ours and it’s complexly beautiful.