Grieving, Part 2

When you adopt an older child, you'll most likely read a mountain of books about grieving. Everyone in the adoption world tries to prepare you for it, but yet it still can somehow take you by surprise. This is just exactly what happened to us. Maybe it was because our honeymoon period was so long. Or maybe because it was so blissful. It's hard to say. But when September rolled around, and the SuSu we knew so well started slipping away, I felt my heart breaking into a million pieces. All the fears that I had tucked away in the back of my mind began coming to life before my own eyes. Our faith that had carried us so far with our SuSu was shaken to its very core.

Even though I knew that what was unfolding before us was probably the beginning of our SuSu's grief, nothing can really prepare you for the experience. We watched our usually sunny, silly, happy little girl become sullen and angry. We would hear crying out at night and would run over to find her thrashing around in her bed, unable to be consoled. She became easily tearful and started rocking again, something we hadn't seen since the first weeks home from China. Her mood swings were dramatic and frequent, and we found our once predictable SuSu to be a total mystery. It was frightening and heartbreaking and overwhelming for me as her Mommy to witness the changes.

The one thing that never thankfully never changed was that, from time to time, we saw glimpses of the old SuSu. The one who still loved to be held and snuggled and gave plenty of kisses and "i love you's". I felt that, on some level, she and I were still very much attatched to each other. This tiny bit of hope is what I held onto in our darkest hours. This is what got me through.

As a Mommy, it's nearly impossible to separate yourself from your child. Adopted or biological, you love them to bits. They become a part of you. You feel their hurts. You feel their fears. And I knew that our SuSu was hurting deeply. That she was remembering times and places and people that meant something precious to her. I'm convinced, more than ever, that our SuSu had a foster family in China, as did so many of the children in Wuxi. Some families were able to find their children's foster families, although we never were. But our SuSu cries out for someone in the night who she misses dearly. Someone who I'm quite certain loved and adored our SuSu in much the same way that we do. How I wish we had a name or a face. Because this is piece of the puzzle that would give us so many answers. And give our SuSu so much peace.

During the fall, as our SuSu cycled up and down, crying one moment, angrily throwing a toy across the room the next, and then giggling and being silly 2 mintues later, I felt myself slipping away right along with her. As much as I knew in my mind that I needed to stay strong, it's easier than one might think to get lost in your child's grieving. My wake up call finally came one nite, in the midst of many tears and a long conversation with my ever patient Prince Charming. Thank goodness he could see things a bit more clearly than I did, and he knew exactly what was happening waaaay before I came to him a complete basketcase:)

We talked forever that night and finally I could put into words all the emotions that had been building up inside of me for months. At the core of it all, I realized that I was afraid. Deeply afraid. I was afraid of losing her. Losing the beautiful Susu I had come to love and cherish. I was watching her slip away from me, and I felt completely helpless to bring her back. There's nothing more frightening as a parent to feel as if you're losing touch with your child. But that's exactly what was happening. I couldn't reach her. She was walking a journey that was beyond my understanding. The people, the places, the experiences that she was grieving for were complete mysteries to me. Because although she would openly show her tears, she would rarely talk to me about what was happening in her mind. How I longed for just the smallest glimpse into her memories. How I wished she would say a name or talk about a place. But she didn't. She just grieved.

I asked God over and over how to reach her. How do I help heal my baby when my own heart's shattering into pieces? What a blessing how our heavenly Father works. Because somehow He always knows how to show us things in ways we least expect. He gave me hope that night. And peace. Peace about where we were. Where our SuSu was. And is. That we were just exactly where He knew we would be. That's the wonderful thing about Him. He already knew where we were heading before we ever got there. Maybe it wasn't where He wanted us to be, but He wasn't surprised in the least when I cried out to Him that night. He had been waiting. All along, He had been waiting.

When we all woke up the next morning, from the outside it might have appeared that nothing had changed. But on the inside, everything was quite different. The fears that had stolen my joy were fading. I had peace. For the first time in a long time, I had peace. I knew that our SuSu's grieving was far from being over. That the difficult behaviors that had nearly put me over the edge would probably soon display themselves again. And again. But I would be different. I would be a Mommy who wasn't gripped by fears, but a Mommy filled with peace. Not all the answers. But peace. And the reassurance from Him that, in time, the answers would come.

It isn't easy in the least to surrender our SuSu to Him. The human part of me wants this phase to be over yesterday! But,I'm learning to accept the reality of just how long this journey really is. That what seems like an eternity to us is really just a blink of an eye to Him. Our baby's grieving may go on for many more tommorrows. I have no say or control over how she grieves or how long it will last. But I have a hope. A hope that deep inside our wounded child is our happy, joyous, beloved SuSu.
That although I can't see it happening, I can trust that healing is happening. Day by day, her heart is becoming whole again.

Thankfully, Mommy isn't spiraling along on the roller coaster quite so much these days. Not to say that I won't find myself in that place again one day soon. You never can tell, on this journey, just where your heart will take you. And as for our SuSu, she continues to grieve. We're not seeing the anger quite as much as the sadness and tears. The holidays have been a bit overhwhelming for her, as excited as she is about a visit from Santa next week. We still see many, many moments of pure joy and happiness in her eyes and this does Mommy's heart so much good. She's in there. I see her. Just waiting to blossom and shine again. I love you, my sweet SuSu. I love you to bits, Little One.