Tragedy and Blessing

Dear Parent,

Some years back, my eighteen-year-old daughter came back home again after living off and on her own for several years. She was eight months pregnant—the second pregnancy in two years.  Her first baby died just after birth at twenty-seven weeks—tragedy and blessing.

Within twenty-four hours my at the time 16-year-old son had regressed five years. Overnight our hundred pound dog had become an over stimulated, barking nightmare (not that he was Mr. Calm Dog before.)  My daughter has always been quite a force of nature—tragedy and blessing.

Honestly, I counted down the days until she turned 18 so I could release her to her own recognizance and legally let her fly.  I know that doesn't sound terribly loving, but it was. She had demanded to be free since the age of 3. Finally, the time arrived—tragedy and blessing

A few days into her return, she cried on my shoulder wishing she could have done it differently, blaming herself for her childhood choices.  I was able to hold her and tell her again about her early years and how they impacted her ability to receive love and accept mothering. She told me how scared she was that she will do the same thing to her baby.  I was scared, too. There is a socio-psychological term called multigenerational transmission process. We pass things along, one generation to the next, unless there is an intervening factor—tragedy and blessing.

I remember thinking, could I be the intervening factor for her?  That wasn't in my plan. Isn't it strange how plans change in mysterious ways? I love that girl so much. Still, I had to hold boundaries with her. She will always need my love and my structure to help her be the woman and mother she wants desperately to be. My heart was aching for her. My heart was aching for myself and the rest of my family who feel all the twists and turns of loving an attachment challenged child—tragedy and blessing.

She ended up only living with us for a short time. Boundaries were set, she crossed them.  I had every intention to be therapeutic with her, as always. There was playfulness, silliness, and humor. There was an abundance of love. She was ready to take some in—tragedy and blessing.

Oh, yes, hope was, and still is my middle name.

Love matters,

Ce

P.S. To join a vibrant post-adoption parenting community, check out Love Matters Parenting Society. For an easy to read parent pick me up, get Ce's book, Drowning With My Hair On Fire: Insanity Relief For Adoptive Parents. And, did you know Ce has a new podcast? Yep, you can subscribe to it here: Unmuted Love With Ce Eshelman.