When my daughter who
was born to me was very young (two, and talking), we would take
naps together, always lying together like nested spoons. On
three of these occasions of deep, relaxed afternoon sleep, of
easy, trusting physical connection, my toddler daughter and I
dreamed the same dreams. At the time, the realization was so
other-worldly, and my life was so hectic, that I simply shelved
the eerie ‘coincidences’ in the very back of my mind. It wasn’t
until several years later that I really thought about what had
occurred; a stay-at-home dad said something that triggered the
memories, and I suddenly, rapidly, told him about the three
shared dream experiences. It surprised both of us! He looked at
me like he was seeing someone from the X-Files for the first
time, but as a hands-on dad he also knew about the intimate
currents that course between parent and child when daily life
flows intensely between the two, and he nodded his head in
acknowledgment.
I am not psychic in
the usual sense, and my daughter and I had a normal, pragmatic
mother-toddler relationship. But this daughter of mine had been
physically connected to me for nine months while inside my body.
Her dad and I had created her; she was literally part of me--I
had grown her and I would willingly give my life for her. Why
wouldn’t there be lingering connections between us on some
subterranean level? How strange that the ‘unspoken’ mother-child
psychical frisson doesn’t occur more frequently, and, reflecting
on my own immediate reaction to push it back down when it did
occur, how strange that our culture doesn’t even have words to
describe these other-worldly flashes of symbiotic, post-birth
connection.
My two year old is
now sixteen—she rolls her eyes when an outsider points out
similarities between the two of us, but she is secretly
interested and sometimes even pleased! She and I recently had a
conversation about family genetics (I was teasing her about her
traits from her dad’s side of the family, and she was blaming me
for some of her others), while my ten year old from China sat
next to me on my bed, listening carefully.
“You and Molly are
very connected”, she observed seriously, after her big sister
left the room. I turned and looked into her face and read what I
needed to answer.
“You think that
Molly and I are more connected because she grew inside me, don’t
you?” It was a gentle statement more than a question, and it
caused her eyes, bravely direct, to fill with tears. She nodded.
“Listen to me”, I
told her. “Molly and I have a bond because she grew inside me.
You and I have a bond that WE created. It is different than
growing a baby, but it is every bit as precious. I cherish what
we have because you and I worked hard to make our connection
grow, and that is very, very special to me—just as special as my
biological connection to your sister, and just as permanent.“
She laid her head on my chest, and between sobs of pain and
relief, told me fiercely that she loved me.
Pre-birth, a baby is
used to being filled up, physically and emotionally, by the
mother who carries her. As a birth parent I was given a glimpse
of the mystery and power of biology, and an inkling of the
invisible ties between mother and child. As an adoptive parent,
I don’t try to eradicate my adopted child’s first, great
mother-loss, her ‘primal wound’; I see my job as filling up an
empathic ‘primal connection’ by building reciprocal bonds
through honesty, vulnerability, empathy and effort.
When a baby is born
she doesn’t understand she is ‘other’, she sees herself
reflected in her mom and believes herself to be part. By helping
our adopted children understand they are ‘other’ and are loved
and cherished for who they are--for their gifts and losses and
how they joined the family--we open the door to the symbiotic
flashes that celebrate and confirm how completely a part of us
they have become.
Our sons and
daughters from other mothers (mothers who may wander fitfully in
our children’s dreams) are followed by ghosts of their first
parents and their other lives. These children wait for us to
understand the adoption-parenting paradox:
We must recognize
our children’s history and reach toward what walks unguarded
through their minds at night; we must build a dream tower big
enough for two sets of parents to inhabit; and in tandem, we
must fiercely claim these children and share them, in order to
make them truly our own.
Copyright 2006,
MacLeod, All Rights Reserved
Jean MacLeod is
author of At Home in This World: a China Adoption Story,
and co-editor of Adoption Parenting: Creating a Toolbox,
Building Connections and mother of three daughters, two of
whom were adopted from China through Children’s Hope. From one
adoptive parent to another,Jean shares her wisdom here in the
monthly e-news and as a new feature to the quarterly
Children’s Hope Newsletter.
“Creating a
Connection” Resources for Adoptive Parents
I Love You Rituals
by Becky A. Bailey, Ph.D.
The Heart of a Family by Meg Cox
Creating Ceremonies: Innovative Ways to Meet Adoption
Challenges by Cheryl A Lieberman, Ph.D. and Rhea K. Bufferd,
LICSW
The Five Love
Languages of Childrenby Gary Chapman & Ross Campbell
Why I Chose You by Gregory E. Lang
The Twelve Gifts
of Birth by Charlene Costanzo
Twenty Things
Adopted Kids Wish Their Adoptive Parents Knew by Sherrie
Eldridge
2007 Children's Hope International.
All rights reserved.