She Took the Words Right Out of My Brain!

I received Jack in my arms on August 15, we arrived home in Baltimore on August 26, and since about August 29 I have felt terrible about feeling terrible about feeling lonely and isolated (and no those two things are not the same).  This morning, however, I was reminded yet again that I shouldn't feel this way about feeling this way because it is perfectly normal and totally expected for a mother with a recently adopted preschooler.

Yet still, over the past two months I have guarded my feelings (yes, really!), censored my words (yes, again) and basically shied away from stating the bone-marrow reaching deep down emotions I’ve felt because I was afraid I would come off as a bad mother.  That the many people who only know me because they knew Jack back when he was Jim at New Hope or Maria’s Big House would think I was awful and wonder if Jack coming to live in my care was a mistake.  Afraid all the caring, loving adoptive parents I know would see me as some horrible monster who at times doesn’t even want to deal with her own child who has way more issues to deal with than she could ever imagine and every reason in the world to have them.  Afraid that our social worker would somehow stumble upon my blog or get wind of a Facebook post or somehow hack my email, tap my phone or bug my freezer door and decide that I am obviously unfit as a mother and write a bad report for the CCCWA in China making our adoption agency want to yank Jack back out of our care.  Honestly – these things have truly crossed the divide of my cerebral cortex.  Okay, maybe not the listening device in the freezer thing, but more of the rest than you want to believe.

And so I have lived in the shadows, trying to put my best foot forward and hide behind my brave front – saying all the right things and professing God’s faithfulness.  And again, today I was reminded that I am not going through anything unusual or unexpected.  Everything I am feeling is totally normal and could have been predicted.  And I cannot tell you how completely freeing that moment of revelation was.  I’m back to thinking perhaps people will think I’m crazy again now, by the way, but in a much more limited scope…  And all of this because a blogger named Jen Hatmaker took the words I’ve been wrestling with right out of my brain and posted them on her blog.  There they are – all of the thoughts that have been floating around up there in that cerebral cortex place waiting for me to file a flight plane so they could land on a sheet of paper or appear on my computer screen – posted on a website (http://jenhatmaker.com/blog.htm) right under the title “How to Be the Village” just waiting for me, and for you, to read them.

So, go… Right now… Go read them.  What are you waiting for?  I just told you all my thoughts are there.  Why are you not clicking over?  Oh, you want me to finish these thoughts first?  Okay, I can understand that, but when I am done here you had better head over to the Hatmaker world and check out what I’m talking about because it is rather quite amazing.  But for now, I will get back on topic…

Recently I started an email to the many family members whom we will see on our Tennessee Thanksgiving trip trying to explain what I, no what Jack, need from them to stay emotionally healthy while meeting a gazillion new people at once.  I was struggling a bit with what I really wanted to say because I didn’t want to offend anybody.  I want all of Jack’s cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents to have the time of their life getting to know this newest member of our family, but I also want Jack to bond securely to Mom and to sisters amidst an onslaught of new faces too.   And, honestly, it is really hard to explain to people what your newly adopted child has been through, is working on, has accomplished  and needs to avoid without letting them in on the great secret of how just plain hard post-travel adoption life really is.  And that’s when all those I-can’t-say-that thoughts start swirling around again.  But then I read Mrs. Hatmaker’s blog and realized all those things in my head – they’re okay.  Anyone not living in my house may have no clue how much screaming and crying and fit throwing has gone on around here over the last 60 days, not to mention all of the emotional outburst from Jack too, but that doesn’t make them any less part of our current situation and I am not the only adoptive mom dealing with this stuff.

I believe my absolute favorite part of the “How to Be the Village” blog is the following (and I hope Mrs. Hatmaker doesn’t mind me sharing…):

For the next few months, do not assume the transition is easy. For 95% of us, it so is not. And this isn’t because our family is dysfunctional or our kids are lemons, but because this phase is so very hard on everyone. I can’t tell you how difficult it was to constantly hear: “You must be so happy!” and “Is life just so awesome now that they’re here??” and “Your family seems just perfect now!” I wanted that to be true so deeply, but I had no idea how to tell you that our home was actually a Trauma Center.

Do not act shocked if we tell you how hard the early stages are. Do not assume adoption was a mistake. Do not worry we have ruined our lives. Do not talk behind our backs about how terribly we’re doing and how you’re worried that we are suicidal. Do not ask thinly veiled questions implying that we are obviously doing something very, very wrong. Do not say things like, “I was so afraid it was going to be like this” or “Our other friends didn’t seem to have these issues at all.” Just let us struggle. Be our friends in the mess of it. We’ll get better.

You see, for the past two months life around here has been pretty messy.  I’ve blamed a lot of that on deployment often wondering why this time has been so much more draining than the other three but I think a lot of that blame has truly been misdirected.  Life is hard because adoption is HARD.  I totally understand where Mrs. Hatmaker is coming from.  There is nothing wrong with me and there is nothing wrong with Jack, but the combining of these two forces takes a lot of energy and the God’s honest truth is that for many of these past 60 days Jack's processes of adjusting and bonding have literally sucked the life right out of me.

I stopped posting on Jack’s blog for the reason I stated, that it was created to document our Journey to Jack and now that he is home the story is his to tell, but I also stopped posting because most days I simply had absolutely nothing positive to post.  I was exhausted.  Emotionally drained.  Frustrated with having the same battles about the same things all day long and into the night.  Ready to scream if he whined one more time and at my wit’s end about how to get Jack to talk to me instead of staring like a deer caught in a car’s headlights.  

For weeks I could not leave the house without him having a complete meltdown. And I still cannot leave him with a neighbor even for a doctor's appointment without the same.  I’ve been aggravated, agitated, frustrated, flustered, louder than I should be, meaner than I need to be, and just plain at a loss for what to try next.  I have dealt with tantrums, whining, quitting without trying, full-blown infant crying, blank stares, blatant defiance, refusal to sleep, peeing on the floor and spilt milk and that just covers Monday.  I’ve been in tears to my neighbors, vented passive aggressively on Facebook, sent out email cries for help, tried to find books to inspire me, requested prayers for patience, sent up prayers for salvation, cursed Yogurt Mountain for not delivering, and fallen asleep wondering what in all the world God was thinking because I simply cannot do this anymore.

I have had to teach Jack to use words and not whining.  Helped him transition from Chinese to English.  Trained him in the fine art of saying “NO” to both the dog and his sisters.  Forced him to stand up for himself when his two-year-old sister wants to hit him or take away a toy that he was playing with first.  We’ve gotten past asking for food only to waste it.  We’ve conquered the fear of toothbrushes that make noise.  We’ve killed intestinal parasites, visited the vampire lab more than once and the collected stool samples two too many times.  We’ve fought many a battle about sleeping at resting time and not sleeping to avoid socialization.  And today we navigated our way through our first someone-else-just-got-toys-for-their-birthday emotional rollercoaster.  And those are only the things I can remember at 12:30 a.m.

Because you see, life here is really not all the fun most of the time.  The girls are doing great.  They love Jack and they are really taking things in stride, but they’ve given up a lot because we simply don’t do much right now and a whole lot of Mom's time has been tied up with redirecting Jack.  And with Daddy gone activity opportunities are even more limited.  But I have not heard one of them truly complain.  Bicker about stupid stuff, yes.  Put up a fight against Mom and her wishes, of course.  But they are really troopers.  And even when I am sure they think I have completely lost my mind – because listening to your mother have an entire 5 minute conversation in broken English will do that for you – they have hung in there and backed me up with holding the standard attainably high for Jack in all areas.  But the truth stands - life here just ain't much fun most days. 

So, what about all that other stuff that I’ve been sharing so far?  Believe me none of that is fake.  I have never said or written a word that I don’t believe.  God truly is my rock, most days my faith is the only thing that gets me through, and my prayer life right now is incredible!  I really am a true underdog.  But all this other stuff is going on too – hiding right under the surface, camouflaged some days better than the rest, but there 24/7.  And as freeing as reading “How to Be the Village” was for me today, I am sure that all of that freedom will be lost once again when Jack's next tantrum hits or the whining begins again so please, feel free to remind me and feel free to ask how things are.  I’ll try not to bore you and I’ll try to keep my venting to a minimum, but as Mrs. Hatmaker says...

If I thought the waiting stage was hard, it does not even hold the barest candle to what comes after the airport. Not. The. Barest. Candle. Never have I felt so isolated and petrified. Never have I been so overwhelmed and exhausted. We need you after the airport way more than we ever needed you before.

and...

Please bring some community to our doorstep. Bring friendship back into our lives. Bring adult conversation and laughter. And bring an expensive bottle of wine.

Okay, not the wine since I won’t drink it, but frozen yogurt is always an option.  =)

Now go read her blog – it is definitely worth the five minutes of your time it will cost and she is way more prolific than I am.  

I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.  Philippians 1:3-6

The LORD Himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.  Deuteronomy 31:8

Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air.  1 Corinthians 9:25-26

Ode to the Deployment Mom

“My heart aches for the families and friends of the group that deployed from my hometown this weekend. To know that pain of saying goodbye, holding on as tight as you can that one last time, with that fear of ‘could this be the last hug and kiss from them I ever get’, ringing in your head. Holding in the scream of PLEASE DON'T Go! Now begins the second part...freaking out every time the phone or doorbell rings, not watching the news, counting the days. It sucks to be left behind, being strong, acting strong, living the day to day with only half of your heart. God Bless you all. Safe travels and safe return!”

A few days ago I started working on this blog, jotting down ideas for my list as they came to me, thinking that maybe someday I would actually get around to finishing it and getting something posted.  Then, about a day later, a friend of mine posted the above quote as her status on Facebook and I realized that I needed to get this done.  There are people out there who need to read what I’ve been brainstorming and who need to know that they are not alone - deployment moms who need those of you who are not currently in deployment mode to understand where they are coming from.  So, here it is – for better or for worse, for clarity or confusion – my Ode to the Deployment Mom. 

One of the most critical pieces of military family life truly is deployment.  Whether a soldier is going away for 6 weeks, 3 months, a year, or more, the job he or she does is important and necessary, heroic and sacrificial, but separating a family is never good.  It’s hard.  And it is certainly not for sissies.  Moms who are mommy-ing in the midst of such a time are in a place far different than the rest of the world simply by nature of the beast. 

Now, as a quick sidebar, I want to be very clear here from the beginning - I do not write any of this blog as a way to complain.  That is not my intention at all.  For all of its many downsides, I truly believe that deployment is a necessary evil.  My husband has a very important job and it is very important that he do it, but in order for him to do it effectively he needs to be where the bad guys are.  So, as much as I would like to have him home for a quaint family dinner every night of every year, I much more desire for the bad guys to stay far away so that my family can have that family dinner safe within the confines of our richly blessed nation.  And, for good and bad, that means Daddy must go somewhere else to do his job.  Yuck for us now, but well worth the price in the long run.

So, here is the deal.  In order for my husband to do his job, he must travel far away for long periods of time.  That leaves me with new orders for my job.  While Daddy is away in the capacity of 24/7 soldier, Mommy’s role changes too.  Once the hugs are given, the last kisses planted, and the bus rolls away, Deployment Mom steps up to the plate and that is a far different creature than regular Everyday Mom.  Deployment Mom has unique challenges and different hurdles to avoid.  She is difficult to pin down as she puts up strong walls around her emotions and hard to read as she paints a smile on her face no matter how the day is really going.  She is cautious with her children, proactive against disappointments rather than reactive due to poor planning, and she can out-plan anyone when it comes to providing meals, rides, activities, and necessary doctor’s appointments for her crew.  But at the heart of all of this, she is very much a lone wolf in her world and she simply needs to know that someone cares and understands that life during a deployment is not like “normal” life.  She just wants someone to truthfully say, “I get it.” 

So that is why I am writing.  For me?  Maybe - I’ve always honestly stated that my writing is mainly my own form of therapy, but I’d like to think for other Deployment Moms too.  When you aren’t in the middle of it, or have never lived through a deployment situation, it is easy to overlook the subtleties of the task or see what is expertly masked.  Most Deployment Moms stand proudly in their ability and desire to serve boldly and hold down the fort at home so that their soldier has one less thing to worry about, but that often means not letting others know the deep dark secrets hiding in the shadows.  So, for those reasons, I have put together a list of characteristics of the typical Deployment Mom as I know her.  There is no hidden agenda here - this is not a cry for help, nor a guilt trip or a list of complaints.  It is merely a list of what deployment life can be like so that those walking through it can see that they are not the only ones experiencing these things and perhaps just one of you reading this will be better prepared to reach out for help and/or to support a Deployment Mom in your life.

The Deployment Mom…

*I stand tall at deployment ceremonies and departures, holding back my true emotions, so that my children will remember what Daddy did that day rather than remember me crying.

*I have a star in my dining room window out of respect for military tradition and loyalty to my husband.

*I cry whenever I hear the Star Spangled Banner and wonder why others do not.

*I sometimes wait for days after an “event” to know if my husband is okay and wasn’t in harm’s way.

*I often wish someone would come take my kids for the day and then feel bad for wishing this because many moms do the single-parent thing all the time

*I stay up late at night because deployment insomnia makes the couch more appealing than a half-empty bed.

*I wait until my children are all seated at the table and eating before I duck around a corner or dart upstairs to cry about feeling overwhelmed or beat down.

*I sleep on my husband’s side of the bed with his pillow because it makes the room feel less empty.

*My children go for days at a time without the opporunity to talk to their father.

*I find it uncomfortable to accept help from others because I know there are other deployment families who need it far more than I do, but I find great joy in delivering a dinner to another family because I know how much it can mean.

*I don’t watch the news because it only breeds worry.

*I have a conscious contingency plan for how I will live, work and provide for my family if my husband does not return from work alive.  

*My children get more excited about the “ringing” sound of Skype than any movie, TV show or toy.

*I get immediately and immensely offended when people flippantly joke about terrorists, wounded soldiers or war in general.

*I don’t need to wonder who today’s heroes are because they are my husband, his coworkers and my neighbors.

*I take no Family Time for granted.

*I have children who sleep with Daddy-dolls and Flat Daddies to help keep the sadness away.

*I take my own car to oil changes, mow my own yard, shovel my own snow, de-ice my own sidewalk, fix my own appliances and kill my own spiders.

*I go to obstetrician appointments alone and wonder if Daddy will be home for the delivery.

*I post photos of every family activity on Facebook not so much for friends but so my husband can be a part.

*I get jealous when other couples have date night, and then feel petty for feeling jealous.

*The hours of my day fly by at the speed of light, but the days on my calendar seem to pass at a snail’s pace.

*I have great empathy for full-time single mothers who are on their own for more than just my calendar-counted days and yet I often feel like I’m the only one doing this.

*I spend a great deal of time praying for safety and protection, safe returns and family reunions.

*I take my children with me wherever I go unless I hire a sitter because there is no one else at home to watch them.

*I do not have the ability to run out late at night for that item I forgot, the last minute school supply, or another gallon of milk.

*I miss half of what’s happening at church each week because I am the only one there to tell my children to sit down, stop talking, clean up a mess, etc.

*I’ve become quite adept at responding to the question, “How are you doing?” with a pleasant upbeat answer even when I feel like I’d rather crawl back into bed for a month.

*I support my husband in his mission 100% and will give my all to keep the home front strong so that he does not feel the need to worry about us.

*I don’t want your pity - I am not suffering, I am doing my job.  BUT I do want your friendship and I covet your support because my job can get very lonely sometimes.

So, there you have it.  Is it a complete list?  No, I’m sure it’s not - I will probably think of 100 more things in just the next day or so.  And does everything here apply to every Deployment Mom?  Well, of course not, everyone’s situation is different.  But hopefully it gives at least a glimpse of the world in which Deployment Moms live.  We are a strong breed, you know.  Tougher than nails and ready for the challenge, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t women and we aren’t human beings.  So, think of those around you.  Who do you know that could benefit from your reading this list?  And who do you not know that you could reach out to and serve?  

Trust me, there are military families all over this country, and there are Deployment Moms in every state.  Don’t let the quiet ones fall between the cracks , those are the ones who need you the most.  Take it from me, I know.  I was her.  It took coming to a military base and living among other military women to realize just how alone I had been through our first three deployments.  I didn’t ask for help because I felt I had no one to ask and usually felt guilty for even wanting to.  So, do me a favor.  Find her.  Find that Deployment Mom who is all alone.  Do what it takes, ask around, read between lines, follow the breadcrumbs… challenge yourself right now to make a difference in just one Deployment Mom’s life.  You will not regret it and you could literally change the course of an entire year of her life.   

And to anyone reading this who currently is a Deployment Mom, I leave you with this final quote.  May it bring you a bit of peace and a small smile knowing that although the hours can seem long, the minutes at the end make it all worth it.

“But now I can accept that during some hours of a deployment, you are not required to be fully self-actualized.  During some of the hours of a deployment, you are allowed to just get through.  And while you’re just getting through, you keep reminding yourself that sometimes all of the traffic lights will be green.  And sometimes you will rock a crying baby to sleep at your breast.  And sometimes you will wake with rain on the window and your love in your arms and it won’t be your turn for deployment anymore.  Get through the hours.  And the happy minutes will come.”  The Homefront Club, Jacey Eckhart, page 76