Dora had a rough day today. She had a great couple of days mid-week, but today was not so good. She is quite adept at flexing her passive/aggressive muscles … and I know for a fact that it was these behaviors that considerably angered her parents and fueled her departure from their home. Dora was just a pretzel today, tied up in knots … her body language tense and resistant. She stalled on schoolwork again. We rocked after lunch, but it didn’t seem to help her much. She did not accompany Beth and me on a horseback ride tonight. After I cleaned up from riding, we started to rock again. She was flopping around, face down in my lap, feet flailing. I told her that wasn’t going to work, she was going to knock something over or kick me. She flew out of my lap and headed off to bed. I didn't argue with her, but instead told her goodnight and rejoined my husband and Beth … but then the wailing began.


I knew she needed a good cry, so I let her wind up for a few minutes before I went back to the bedroom. It is hard for me to wait it out, but I have learned to follow my instincts. When I went back to the bedroom and offered my hand to take her to the rocking chair, she willingly accepted. “I really, really miss my mom!” she cried. She was clearly hurting badly.


As I rocked her and cuddled her, we didn’t talk at all because she was wailing from the depths of her soul. I spent this time trying to wrap my mind around the circumstances that brought this child to this point … in a rocking chair with a “mom” she just met four weeks ago tonight.


I can say with some certainty that she arrived in the United States from her overseas orphanage already suffering from attachment and trauma issues. She was in her second year of life. She joined a previously childless mother who, like many other new adoptive parents, had no clue about attachment and trauma issues in children. Dora’s issues grew, and with her growing angst and anxiety came more and more negative behaviors. These behaviors created an increasingly irreparable rift in the relationship … and here she is in my home.


But somehow, in spite of her issues, Dora did form an attachment to this mom. As I sat and rocked her, I realized how few kids who have been through my home had this strong of an attachment to a previous caregiver. But it is too late … the relationship is not repairable, and on this point her parents are quite clear. There has been no contact between them and Dora since we left their home nearly four weeks ago. (There has been contact with extended family members, however.)


Dora and I rocked until her crying subsided. I asked if she was doing any better, and she said, “Yes, Mom Nancy.” She gave me a hug and a kiss and crawled off my lap. As she went around the side of the chair, I hugged her again and told her I was sorry she had so much pain. “I will always have this pain inside of me,” she said. “It will get better,” I promised her. She gave me another hug and crawled into bed. It really stinks that the only way past this pain is through it …


Photo Credit