But you asked for it, part 2

A comment on yesterday's post has me thinking about this phrase again. I had a vague feeling that I had written on this topic before, so I did a quick search, and sure enough I had. Having read though it, I still agree with everything I wrote six years ago. You can read the first post, But You Asked For It, with the link I added. I also realize that I wrote it in 2015, which is one year before we brought home R. and Y., and I find I have some more to say. [I also need to add that I write this on behalf of the many hurting adoptive parents out there who have heard this phrase too many times. Personally, no one has ever dared to say it to me.]

First let's talk about the phrase itself. This is one of my top five worst things you can say to an adoptive parent. It is right up there with, "Where is her real mom?" or "Are they real siblings? No, really. You know what I mean." or "Why did their mom give them away?" or "How much did you pay for her?" These are pretty egregious and I hope I don't have to explain why. Sadly, they are also comments that most conspicuously adoptive families have heard in some variation or another. But while these are very bad things to say, "But you asked for it," is horrible in a different way. This is because it is rarely said by a stranger or acquaintance as the others are, but instead is often said by friends and family members. That makes it hurt just that much more. 

The trouble is that on some level it is true, adoptive parents do voluntarily bring a child into their family who might have greater needs than many children. You don't accidentally adopt a child. Every step... and there are many... is another chance to stop the process. Every form, every certification, every bit of information about the child in question is a chance to say, "Um, this actually seems too hard. I think we're going to pack it up here and go live our lives." And some potential adoptive parents do make this choice. If the idea of having a child with unknown needs is too frightening, then it is probably just as well before the actual child arrives on the scene. But others of us take a day or two to ponder the newest bit of information, the next step, and find ourselves continuing to pay fees and complete forms. This is the only way in which we 'asked for it'. 

You see, because we are actually adopting a child and not a diagnosis. Most of us are often (especially if this isn't our first rodeo) more than well aware of all the potential ways things can go wrong. Among them are unknown diagnoses from mild to catastrophic, the potential for the effects of severe trauma, and files which do not come close to describing the actual child. No one asks for worst-case scenarios, unexpected diagnoses, debilitating past trauma. We know it is possible, but we continue to hope for the best... both for the child and ourselves.

No one tells a biological parent that 'they asked for it'. Well, unless they have more than the standard number of children, then it's thrown about all over the place. But how is having a biological child any different from adopting one in this case. There are no guarantees either way. Do I need to say it again? There are absolutely no guarantees in parenting of any sort. At any point in your parenting journey something related to your child, regardless of how that child joined your family, can knock you for a loop. No one asks for this except for making the decision to become a parent.

But I think the reason this phrase becomes so terribly hurtful on the lips of family and friends is that it shows on some silent level what that person really thinks of the family to whom they are saying it. It implies that the parent made a bad decision, a mistake, that they should have known better and counted the cost a little more carefully. If that person is going to run willy-nilly into such a obvious mistake, then how can they expect to ask for, much less receive, any sympathy or support. It is a blatant devaluing of the child in question. It exposes a belief that children are commodities, with only "good" ones deserving homes. Certainly not the children who struggle or have been hurt or have extensive medical needs. And about the parents, it says that they only people really deserving of sympathy or help are those who make rational and appropriate decisions. It is kicking a person when they are down. 

And let's not sugar coat how terribly difficult it can be to raise and love and help some children to heal. Some medical issues just do not resolve or are degenerative. This is a hard and lonely road to care for children such as these. It is hard, BUT THEY ARE WORTH IT. They are not less human; they are just as valuable as any able bodied or emotionally healthy person. And every single last one of them deserves to be a part of a family. It is hard. They are worth it. 

So yes, some of us did ask for it. We asked to bring a child into our family who desperately needed a mother and father. People to love them and cheer for them and advocate for them and give them a home and security. That is what we asked to do. And just because we voluntarily brought these children into our homes does not mean that we do not also get tired and frustrated and scared and lonely and at the edge of our tether. We need to be able to freely share these feelings with our friends. We need their support as much as our children need ours. These children are not some punishment for our poor decisions, but are significant parts of our families and we love them. Lend a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, a bar (or 10) of chocolate to eat, and a cup of coffee to keep us awake when we need it. As the commentor on yesterday's post said, what she was looking for was some little glimmer of hope in order to keep going. Offer hope.

[R. slept until 4am this morning and then was able to go back to sleep when we brought her to our room. She has been up and down today, but more times than not I have been able to help her regulate slightly. It's not great, but it's something.]