Brace yourselves: it’s going to get ranty!
We had a hard emotional day today, so to stop issues whirring about in my little whirligig head, I thought I’d listen to ‘Open Book’ on Radio 4 whilst I prepped tea. I love that programme. Usually.
I couldn’t even tell you what book they were discussing now. All I heard was a woman say something along the lines of ‘she was adopted, so she went to look for her real parents’.
I know, I know, deep breaths, adopter folk. Breathe in 2 3 4, and out 2 3 4. In… and out.
Better? No, I wasn’t either.
Maybe the speaker was well-meaning but naive. Maybe she knew exactly what she was saying. She used the phrase more than once. So who knows?
What I know, though, is as an adopter I am a real parent. Our children have birth parents, who they refer to as ‘old mum and dad’, and us. They have no contact with birth parents: sadly it would not be safe. We are their parents. We are real parents. We are actual, genuine, authentic, bona fide, pukka, legitimate, undeniable, certain & true parents.
Rant over, I’m off to do some real parenting.
I’ve blogged previously about not thinking in terms of ‘attachment’. It’s too big and too woolly. I find it easier to celebrate ‘connections’. The only problem is the connections with Bubble are few and far between at the moment.
At the weekend she initiated a conversation with me that didn’t involve her seeking sweets or telly once. Once. All weekend. I had a moment of hope on Saturday afternoon when she said ‘Mummy, you know when…’ but this was quickly dashed as the sentence progressed ‘ you said we could have some mints…’.
When we try to talk with Bubble she responds with one word answers, if at all. When we switch to talking to Squeak, Bubble interrupts constantly.
How on earth do you connect to a frightened anxious little girl who doesn’t trust anyone? Nothing we say or do is reaching her at the moment and this has been the case since her sister returned to foster care.
When we ask her to do something, she does something else. It is as if she is testing us as much as possible. When we don’t respond, or when we set a boundary, she takes it out on Squeak.
We’ve decided to separate the girls as much as possible to ensure Squeak’s safety. If they are in the same room one of us is with them.
We’ve also decided to minimise verbal input with Bubble in the hope that she will have more space for her own thoughts or just ‘being’. If it doesn’t work we’ll have to find another way through. Again.
It feels like crisis management. It’s horrible but we’re going to have to ride this latest storm. Hopefully Bubble will decide eventually that she wants connection with us. Until then we’re hunkering down.