Bonding & Attachment

In recent weeks I have been thinking a lot about different aspects of adoption and how far we have come over the last two years with the kids.  The start of the new school year has shown us that we now have a pretty solid routine in place as a family and are managing well between the everyday and the special occasions of life.  Don't get me wrong, parenting is still a challenge, but it feels like we're on a roll now, together, as a securely attached family.

When we adopted Rex, he was 28 months old.  He was angry, he was frustrated, he was aggressive.  He was physically strong and emotionally/socially neglected.  Between that and his multiple diagnoses, we have been told by several pediatric and developmental specialists that the way Rex attached to us is a near miracle.

Rex took to Craig right away.  They were buddies from the first day of our pick-up trip.  Rex enjoyed doing everything with his daddy and allowed physical closeness and comforting.  Craig must have spent hundreds of hours with Rex in the baby carrier.  The first night out of the orphanage, Rex fell asleep in Craig's arm, head on his chest.

Snuggled into the baby carrier in Yerevan

With me, attachment was a totally different story.  I was a woman and Rex had had some bad experiences with our particular gender, so he saved his worst behavior for me.  This encompassed anything from simply ignoring me to outright rejecting me to physically hurting me, for months.  When Craig went back to work after we returned from Armenia, Rex threw multiple rages every day, injuring himself and me.  When Craig came home from work each night, I became invisible to Rex.  But by some inexplicable and miraculous grace, I already loved my boy.  The 16 months it took us to bring him home from when we first saw his picture had prepared my heart and nothing that Rex was doing could stop it from overflowing with compassion, affection, and patience for my child.  Yes, I was exhausted and sad and hurt, but nothing could take away my love for Rex.

Rex has been home for 27 months.  Daddy is still his favorite person in the world, but I am now next on his list.  Rex sometimes still struggles to show his true feelings for me, but I know he loves me.  When I ask him for a kiss, I almost always get it.  When he needs to settle down, I am the one who can best help him calm.  At bedtime, Rex snuggles as close as he can to my body and pulls my arms around him, holding on for dear life.  It took a lot of effort from both of us to get to this point and we are still a work in progress, but I have no doubt that Rex knows Craig and me as his people, trusted and loved above all others, sought for comfort, for safety, for help.  We've staked our claims: he is ours and we are his.

Emilia came home at 25 months old.  She was malnourished, sickly, and weak.  She was withdrawn and frightened by almost everything.  The first months with Emilia were so hard.  She would not and could not make her needs known.  She would simply cry and we did not understand why.  Emilia could not sleep through the night and was up with us for several of the wee hours every night.  She refused most foods, but so badly needed the nutrition.  She could only be held and comforted in certain ways.  She was whiny, so very needy, and not very likable to me.   Those first six weeks I just went through the motions of parenting her.  I tried to meet her needs as joyfully as I could, but I did not ooey-gooey love her.

Emilia at about a week home

Things changed when we figured out Emilia's food allergies and her iron deficiency.  Addressing those issues altered not only her physical well-being, but also her mood.  Her true personality was finally able to shine through.  She was sleeping through the night and taking long midday naps.  She was eating all the nutritious purees I was preparing for her.  She started being more alert and less weepy.  Craig and I also felt better, more rested, more competent and confident in learning how to meet our daughter's needs which opened up our hearts for attachment.

It still took another year for Emilia to overcome most of the early trauma she had suffered.  Developmental progress was slow, her trust in us was slow, but her generally happy nature and sweet, lively personality made up for those hard-fought battles. I still remember one day sitting on the couch and Emilia coming voluntarily to be held. Not just held, but cradled like a baby, gazing up at me and settling into me.  A year earlier this would have been impossible for her to enjoy or even allow.  A milestone of attachment.

At almost two years home, Emilia still retains her overly, but not indiscriminately friendly approach to strangers, but I believe she relies most on Craig and me for all of her needs.  Like a typical (developmental) toddler, she isn't happy with us when she does not get her way and she vies for our attention.  She does not like to be away from us for too long and is always happy to see us after a separation.  She trusts us completely, so much so that she is willing to test the boundaries.  Emilia loves to cuddle and gives countless hugs and kisses to us each day.  As for Craig and me, Emilia is our daughter through and through.  Sometimes now we lie awake at night thinking and talking about her upcoming major surgery and making ourselves sick with worry that feels like an iron grip around our hearts.  If that's not the mark of true parenthood, I don't know what would be.

Attachment is an organic and ongoing process.  Attachments have to be nurtured to remain healthy and strong.  Attachment really is work; it involves conscious choices, patience, sometimes a thick skin to keep the insults and injuries in perspective, generosity of spirit, and countless, sustained acts of love, compassion, and affection.  I believe that our fearsome foursome will continue to grow closer and more secure with every passing day as we keep our minds and hearts dedicated to this most important aspect of being a family.