Yesterday was hard….it didn’t start out that way, but it ended in silence, all the way home. We spent almost 5 hours in counseling, yesterday. That is a long time for anyone. We were blessed with a lovely lunch surprise by our sweet counselor.
After we ate, we talked about what we were going to do. I tried to explain it, but she seemed confused, which isn’t off the mark for a RAD kid. We read Psalm 139 and talked about how God created her and that He loved her and created her to be His beautiful creation. We looked at the vase and the plates which were green, blue and red….perfectly made with no chips or defects.
Then, we then talked about the choices that her BM made. Choices that affected her life before she ever even could have a say. The choices, while she was still in her BM’s belly of BM drinking, smoking, using drugs and not making healthy choices for her and for her baby. We talked a little about her abuse/neglect, but not too much, at that point. The discussion swirled around the fact that she was going to take these beautiful pieces and smash them to bits and that that represents all the yucky stuff that happened. I think her mind stopped at that point. All she could think about was smashing stuff, that she has never been allowed to do.
We went outside (bear in mind, we were the only ones there, that day. This office is generally closed on Fridays) and smashed smashed smashed. She had a blast. She would yell out abuses as she smashed….then we had to start collecting all the pieces and cleaning everything up. It made quite the mess LOL.
Once we came back in, she started the process of recreating something new and beautiful. She had all the right words to say, she knew what we wanted to hear. Her counselor, at one point, said “she almost says it more perfect then I would…something seems off.” It was off. That is RAD. These kids know what to say, what we expect them to say and that say it with glory and consistency.
At another point, she started naming her pieces. Each piece represented a memory of her past abuse and neglect. She got very quiet. She changed the subject often and she would would hyper focus on where each piece would go. We would wait and then we would start up again. Silence. She divulged more. Tears welled up and she fought them back. She regrouped, changed the subject and went on hyper focusing again.
She is changing the past and trying to recreate it, to make is seem less horrific than it was. I wish I could snap my fingers and make her wishes come true, but I can’t. All I can do is walk with her, through this healing process and pray that the Lord has mercy on her. I know, for certain, that He has a plan and a purpose and that this will be used for His glory and honor.
She said something about “mom” and I had a bit of a moment. I stopped her from what she was doing and this is basically what was said:
“Being a mom is an honor and a privilege. That honor and privilege is not put on someone for simply giving birth. Do I commend the choice that BM made for having you, absolutely. I will forever be changed by her decision to give you life. Is carrying a child wonderful? Yes. But that doesn’t make a mom. Being a mom comes from cleaning up puke, holding sick children, feeding them well, taking the to the doctor, to the therapist, to the dentist, to the eye doctor. It is teaching them how to shave their armpits and legs, it is laughing at inside jokes, wiping tears, wiping snot. It is loving them when they are unlovable and it is them loving me when I am unlovable. It is introducing them to God and taking them to church. It is praying fervently for them. Being a mom is teaching you to do the dishes, cook, clean and how to be a mom. It is loving their father with all their soul and might. It is playing with each other’s hair and polishing nails. It is the everyday, in an out of life that makes a mom. I. Am. Your. Mom. I have earned that title and I have fought for the title since the day we met. I have fought abusers, lawyers, judges, social workers. I have fought with every ounce of my being. I will love you when no one else loves you and I will be there when everyone else falls away. I. Am. Your. Mom.”
Silent tears welled up in her eyes….I knew that I had penetrated that hard shell. The moment only lasted for just that…a moment. Maybe I said all that for me, I don’t know. Maybe it was my opportunity to say things that I have wanted to say for years and never had the courage. I pray that I planted a seed….even just a small one.
Does she love me? I don’t know, I think so. Does she still want to see BM? Yes. Does she yearn for BM’s love? Yes. Is she making her past less than what it was? Yes. Will I ever taint or take away the fact that BM gave her life? No. Her birthmom, is just that, her birthmom. She gave birth, but the Lord knew that I was going to be her MOM. For better or for worse.
Here are some pictures that I took. We aren’t done, yet and I will certainly post our finished product.