Sunday, June 16, 2013

Epiphany


I had an epiphany this afternoon while hiking on a trail with Matthew asleep in the baby carrier on my back.

I was thinking through the past few weeks, trying to unravel some pretty intense reactions I’ve been having to some of Matthew’s delays, and it dawned on me that on some level, as Matthew’s mama, I feel guilty for his delays and wonder if I’m doing enough for him.

Maybe that sounds silly—because Matthew needs so many things in this season and from all angles it looks like we are doing everything right. We’ve welcomed him into our home, we have helped him learn to snuggle and expect attention and ask for things when needs them. We feed him, give him a consistent routine, give him plenty of hugs and affection, and pretty much take care of any need or want he can have.

And yet I think I’ve been carrying around this guilt that somehow I’m not enough—that I don’t know enough or have enough skills or enough energy to help him catch up. And when his diagnoses in the areas of social development and language continue to be “delayed,” I feel responsible for those delays somehow.

And it makes me ashamed.

But today it dawned on me that the only thing I can be for Matthew is his mama. Maybe that seems simple, but his life and his development are in many ways up to him. He doesn’t need me to be an expert or a child psychologist or a doctor. He doesn’t need me to be a therapist or specialist. He can find all those people when he needs them.

But the one thing I can be for him is his mom—that’s the only job I have that I’m really good at—that I’m supposed to be doing.



What a relief.

Aaron and I were talking last week about how in many ways Matthew’s challenges aren’t any different because he’s adopted. Yes, we choose to adopt a child with a cleft lip and palate—we knew about surgeries and visits to Children’s Hospital and some follow up speech therapy to correct speech impacted by a cleft palate. But we had no idea our child would come with such significant social and language delays because of his time in the orphanage. It’s not something we signed up for.

Which is exactly how it must feel to have a biological child—or any child—whose delays come upon a parent suddenly or without warning.

So here we are. Yes, our boy has some delays. But he’s also so smart and continues to develop and grow, albeit at his own pace. And as his mama, I can choose to worry and wonder. I probably won’t be able to entirely stop wishing I was more—had more—knew more—for my boy. And I will feel the losses palpably—the loss of certainty about the future, the loss of being able to hear my boy speak my name right now, the loss of him chattering with his brother and sister or playing alongside a friend.



And I will always carry and feel deeply the losses he sustained early in his life—losses he had no control over (and neither did I). It all makes me incredibly sad, and sometimes a little mad too.

But what choice do I have now except to dig in and be the best mama I can be? Matthew needs me—not to change him but to love him. The changing and growing is all up to him. But one thing I know is true: We all grow and thrive better with love.


So instead of feeling guilty for all that I’m not, I’m going to try and choose to be grateful for all that I am—and glad my only job right now is just to be Matthew’s mama.

And to believe that is enough. 


1 comment:

  1. You can't be more than you are. All you can do is all you can do. And that is more than enough. What a lovely, honest, loving post. Thank you for sharing this new wisdom.

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