Expectations and the Eskista

"At one point I thought that everyone should adopt a child.  It was something that everybody could do.  All they had to do was open up their homes and hearts and let a kid in.  But I don't really hold those same views today.  I don't think that everybody should do it.  You have an idealistic view of adoption, then as you go along the details of that view are filled in." Chris Ward, Girl, Adopted

"Girl, Adopted" is the story of an adolescent adopted Ethiopian girl coming of age and finding herself in rural Arkansas.  But it's also the story of a father and mother coming to terms with their unrealistic expectations about adoption.  I won't hide that I'm probably a bit prejudiced against people who think they've been called by God to adopt, and these parents never seemed to quite shake their savior complex.  But even if I think it's naive (and maybe a bit dangerous) to think that "opening up your heart and homes" is all you need, I still have some sympathy.  These parent's unrealistic expectations aren't mine, but I've had to come to terms with some of my own.

Before Aberash came to our home, Sue and I had numerous conversations about the realities of attachment we - and especially me - were likely to face.  Her age, her family situation, the different cultural mores of Ethiopia - we talked about it all.  And I didn't just talk about them.  I thought about them, digested them, turned them around in my head over and over.  No matter how many times I ran through the possibilities, the answers my brain formed were always the same.  If Aberash had a hard time attaching to me my response would be to love her.  I would love her, and show her that she was safe with me.  No matter how hard the attachment was, or how long it took.

Then Aberash came to our home, and these assertions pretty much fell to shit.  The first few months Aberash spent a lot of time pushing me away.  She spent some time pushing us ALL away, but I think I got it the worst.  And as a whole, I didn't react well.  I got hurt.  A lot.  I would snap angrily.  Stomp away.  Or just withdraw in sullen silence.  And the anger and resentment spiraled, with Sue and I getting in several fights and Taidgh withdrawing to his room.  I could make excuses for this - this was obviously a new challenging time for all of us, and we were all exhausted.  But I think a big part of the blame falls on my expectations.  I expected Aberash to love me, and I expected she would show that love and I would feel that love the same way I had with Taidgh.  Yes, I realize that sounds naive and self-centered.  The best way I can explain it is to say it was always the logical, rational part of my brain that had the conversations about attachment.  But when Aberash is cold and distant with me, the logical, rational part of my brain is usually the last to respond.

In many great ways, Aberash is a child who defies expectations.  Over and over again people have asked, "she's been here how long?" amazed at how quickly she has learned the language, made new friends, and just settled in.  And she and I have come so far in this short period of time.  She can be open and generous with her affection, and I treasure every hug, kiss, and "I love you."  Perhaps more importantly, there are times when we are just comfortable with one another, in the way that only people who are close to one another can be.  But our reality also includes periods of time - sometimes running for a week or two - where Aberash just doesn't seem to like me very much.  My "I love yous" are met with stony silence.  She'll run away if I try to hug or kiss her.  Everything I do seems to frustrate her, or make her angry. She tells me - over and over - of all the people she'd like to be doing things with, and I can't help but fill in her unspoken "other than you."  Even my high-fives are left hanging, as if even that level of touch is too much.  I've definitely gotten better at accepting these times.  I'm not confused about which one of us is the parent, and I want Aberash to see me as loving, comfortable and safe.  But I think maybe I had the expectations I had because I needed to have them.  Because Aberash's rejection gets all tangled up in my own issues, and cuts me almost to the core.  And maybe even worse, I don't know what to expect from here.  Will the cycle of push/pull diminish, or get worse?  Will I get better at handling it?

We are coming off a bad couple of weeks, and Aberash - though still somewhat tumultuous with her moods - has become more comfortable and affectionate yet again.  But I haven't felt better about this, more unsettled about the challenges I continue to face with our "off" times.  Then, while I'm sitting at my work, Sue sends me a video.  Aberash's teacher has been incorporating some lessons about other cultures, and she had asked if Aberash would be willing to share some of what she knew about Ethiopia.  The video shows Aberash, an Ethiopian scarf tied around her waist, dancing the eskista.  She is the center of attention, surrounded by her classmates.  It's the kind of thing that would make many people cringe with self consciousness.  But the natural easy rhythm of her eskista is the same I saw in Ethiopia, and she has a huge smile on her face.  I burst into tears.

I don't believe that love is all that you need to be a parent.  Parenting - all parenting - is complex and full of uncertainty, and sometimes you need real strength to make it through.  What strikes me as a difference between biological and adoptive parenting, however, is the amount of uncertainty that is about your relationship, and what you mean to one another.  And while I grapple with what I mean to Aberash, she is certainly grappling with so much more.  What does she mean to me?  To her mother and brother?  Where does she belong?  And what is her place in this school, this town, this culture?

Aberash teaching me the eskista.  I'm not that bad.  Not that good, either.  

I do have the strength to get through this uncertainty, and I will show her that through anything and everything, she can count on me to be comfortable and safe.  I think she needs this.  I know she deserves this.  And I know I want to give it to her.  The love I have for this beautiful habesha goes all the way to my core.  And I think I can learn from her.  Because with all she shoulders, Aberash might need to deal with her questions by withdrawing from time to time and testing the boundaries of our relationship.  But more often than not the way she responds to all the questions and complexity and uncertainty is like dancing the eskista - with a natural, easy rhythm, and a huge smile on her face.