My View from the Back Seat of Adoption

I’m sitting alone in the back seat of a van called “Adoption.”

For many years,  I was either driving or in the passenger seat, but now, in my
“golden years,” I’m in the back, listening to front-seat conversations of forty-something adopted and foster kids who are dealing with adoption’s complexities.

They’re discovering what I discovered at their age….that being adopted or surviving foster placements hurts like hell and that there are complexities that must be faced if one wants to come out whole and healthy on the other side.

The primal wound that Nancy Verrier articulately describes is all too familiar, for they live it 24/7. Some are waking from a deep sleep, like the late Betty Jean Lifton described.  Some are flailing around and can’t see anything good about adoption.

Yes, it’s normal fare as an adoptee or foster kid to experience:

  • Having two sets of parents (or more, with multiple placements)
  • Identity–who in heck am I?
  • Reunions–facing someone you’re related to but have no relationship with
  • Numbness–being transferred to home after foster home
  • DNA–learning where your life began here on earth and being shocked and disappointed
  • Rejection–suffering what no adoptee or foster kid should ever have to suffer

My fellow-adopted and foster kids are struggling, like a caterpillar, undergoing a metamorphosis in it’s chyrsalis.

The Beautiful Metamorphosis of an Adoptee and Foster Child
This chrysalis is indicative of an adoptee undergoing a tremendous change. For the caterpillar within, it’s painful and the poor caterpillar can see no end to it. But there is a beautiful ending, which Sherrie points out to struggling fellow adoptees.

As a senior in the adoption arena, I want to communicate this thought that prompted me to write this blog…

IT WON’T ALWAYS HURT THIS BAD.

I promise!

YOU WILL MAKE IT.

Hope for Adoptees and Foster Kids Is Coming After Hard Places
Adoptees and foster kids will emerge from the chyrsalis of suffering as a beautiful butterfly. Even when they can’t hope for a positive outcome, it is there and in time, they will emerge from their hard places and see it.

Take it from this old adoptee!

Just as the caterpillar changes into a beautiful butterfly, so will you.

You really will.

Take heart.

I love you!

See the incredible emergence of the butterfly here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gt-5lS9hJFA.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

14 Replies to “My View from the Back Seat of Adoption”

  1. Sherrie, your words are a gift to me! I have five, all adopted. My oldest two struggle deeply. It shows up in their choices, in anger, mental struggles, etc. I would give ANYTHING to take away their pain, to reassure them of who they are and that they are loved and cherished but I know my words are not enough. My deepest longing is for them to be free. I am clinging to your promise that they will not always hurt this bad! Bless you for using your voice to shine light into the darkness!

  2. This is so hopeful. The trauma of those early years haunts my children. Their trauma grips them in ways I can’t see. It hurts them in ways I can’t protect them from. This piece gives me some hope.

  3. Thank you Sherri. I am very hopeful after this post for my 28 year old daughter and her children, 4 of whom are adopted. I keep watching her choices made through pain; she’s always hoping this “next” choice will bring happiness, will fill this wound. God isn’t finished yet, and I need to keep loving her through the process. Grateful to hear this process is true.

  4. As an adoptive Momma of 4 kids out of foster care this was helps give me hope. I know they have so many hurts and so many unanswered questions. I continue to pray for healing for them and knowing that they are beautiful and wonderfully made. I enjoy our time now and know one day they will be wonderful adults.

  5. Oh, YES. Thank you for this encouraging, and honest, post, Sherrie. Adoption does hurt but there is hope for healing on the other side of the muck we need to wade through in order to come to terms with our own story. Keep walking. Keep slogging. Those old wounds still surface from time to time, but it does for sure get better. I join Sherrie in promising that to be true.

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