One thing continues to weigh heavily on our minds as we move forward with the process. It concerns our one previous attempt at parenting, which ended in disaster.
We had been married about 3 years, and were about 25 or 26 years old at the time. A younger relative was having problems with her single father, and we decided to try to intervene. We offered to take her in and see if we could better handle things, but in our hubris we made some critical errors in judgment.
The first was that we were 25 or 26 years old and jumping into a parenting relationship with a 13 year old girl. The second was that we were naively unaware of all the ways in which a 13 year old girl from the backwaters of Ohio could get herself into trouble in a suburb of Detroit. More experienced parents might have noticed that she was essentially starved for affection/attention, and known that she would immediately seek such things from friends and boys, or at least known that it was a really good possibility.
What followed was an 8-month stretch of virtually continuous contact with school authorities, police officers, random property owners, and other parents. Perhaps most disconcerting of all was the indifference displayed by that last group. We'd try to engage her friends' parents on what they were doing, and those parents would just give us a "kids will be kids" answer and laugh it off.
At the end of the period, we'd made arrangements to move to another suburb where we could get into a house instead of an apartment. We figured it would be good for her to have a change of scenery, but we were rapidly approaching our wits' end. We took a load of stuff to the new house, about 45 minutes away, and when we returned we found that she and her friends had kicked in the door to the apartment ("I forgot my key") and proceeded to put all sorts of holes in the drywall. My $1000 security deposit was as good as gone, and I realized that if 8 months with us hadn't taught her even the minimum amount of respect for the property of others, nothing we could do was likely to communicate that lesson.
It was a rough decision, and a rough trip back to Ohio, but we wound up handing her off to another relative who thought (also wrongly) that she could do better. Eventually the girl wound up in foster care with a family who apparently specialized in taming wild animals. For the time that she spent there, we mostly heard good reports of how well she was doing, with only the occasional report of more craziness (like jumping out of a 2nd-story window in an attempt to run away). But it seemed like every time she got out among "normal" folks like family members, she immediately felt a need to dial it up to Eleven.
I became convinced for some time after that there was no creature on earth quite as evil and malicious as a 13 year old girl. I still have moments of panic when I consider that we might have the same situation all over again, because there are no guarantees. I get a little impatient when folks give me the "you never know what you're getting when you adopt" speech, as though I'm all starry-eyed about the prospects. Believe me, I know how badly it can go. I desperately hope that it doesn't (again). But I'm doing it anyway.
She's 27 or something like that now. She's got a boy of her own, who appears to be a hyperactive terror. I don't know if it's just in the genes or what. We're still in contact with her (going to visit this summer, in fact), and she has expressed regret that she didn't realize sooner just how much we were all trying to help her, in our own flawed ways. When we told her of the adoption plan, she had the most honest reaction I've ever heard: "didn't you learn your lesson with me?"
I'm a different person than I was 14 years ago. I have far less of a temper. I'm more at peace with myself. I've experienced a re-conversion to Christianity. I'm a fair bit more philosophical and self-controlled in a whole lot of ways.
I consider myself to have failed her in three important respects. The first is that I did not fully understand or appreciate who she was before I offered to take her in. I have a habit of expecting people to be their best, even when they are not. I find that expecting good things from someone improves my interactions with them over expecting bad things. It leaves me open to more injury, but I've never seen value in treating someone as a criminal -- you can live in your past, or you can live in spite of it, and I for one am here to help you do the latter. But it would have been nice if I had taken the time to really understand what I was dealing with so that I didn't expect too much too soon.
The second way that I failed her had to do with my parenting "technique", which largely involved a lot of yelling. I wanted her to be a good kid, and I had good times with her when she was, but when she screwed up, my only "skill" was yelling about it in an attempt to scare it out of her. I realize now that I was an idiot, and I'm actually looking forward to the parenting classes the State requires me to take. I'm depending on them to teach me some actual parenting skills.
The third way that I failed her was in finally giving up on her. This is honestly the only one that I'm ashamed of. The first two can be chalked up to judgment, in the mode of the old saying that good judgment comes from experience, and experience comes from bad judgment. I can't help that I didn't have experience then, and it's unrealistic for me to expect my past self to have had some. I've got some now, and I'm better for it.
But I'm still ashamed of the fact that I gave up on her. I'm sure I sent her a message that said she wasn't worth my time, and I can't imagine what that must have done. I also realize that it's entirely possible the foster family was the only place where she had any chance to "succeed", but it doesn't change the fact that I quit before I'd really exhausted every avenue. I've resolved to do no such thing this time around.
I became a parent for the first time when I was 44 years old. My daughter is four now.
ReplyDeleteI grew up with two parents in the home, but my father was physically and emotionally abusive. We lived in fear of him. Because of that, I never wanted to have kids, I was afraid I'd continue that cycle. I was certain I had too much baggage to pass on.
I was divorced from my first wife in 1993. Her sister is a mess and had kids. At one point we almost took on a very similar situation to the one you describe. I doubt I'd have done any better. I was 29 at the time and in the Army. I would have tried to solve the problem with discipline, I'm sure. Discipline of course is important, very important, but not in the way I thought then.
I was terrified in all the months before my daughter was born. I was grimly determined to do my very best, but I must admit, I didn't look forward to a bundle of joy, I looked at it like a tough task - but I would bear down and do my duty.
To my delight and surprise, I found out that the greatest thing in my life had just happened. I also found out that I was good at the parenting thing - what a shocker! My patience doesn't wear out very often, I can think before I act, and my thoughts are guided by love. When I have to give discipline (we don't spank, grab, or hit, ever) it truly hurts me worse than it hurts her, which leads me to seek other ways to teach the lesson I need to teach.
Of course, being a parent means that every day is a job interview or a test, so success today doesn't mean I won't fail tomorrow.
One more thing. You're too hard on yourself. You didn't fail that girl. You took her in and tried to help her. That the middle aged man you are today sees another way to handle it is no indictment of the younger less experienced man you were then.
Reading your writing over the last couple of years, and seeing the soul searching in this blog entry, I have no doubt you'll find things much different this time around, regardless of what kind of kids you end up having. That's another important piece btw - kids are people too, not clay we can shape how they like. Sometiems there's nothing you can do - they have to do it themselves or not.
Good luck with your adoption. You're going to be fine.
dross from ingo
Fletch,
ReplyDeleteSeems to me your first bout of parenting was like entering the ring with a heavyweight champion of rebellious teenagers.
You didn't get to raise her, instinctively get to know her personality, shape her morals, or any of that during her formative early years. You simply got thrown into parenting having a child with an obviously troubled past. It is understandable that things went the way they did.
Don't be down on yourself about it. Perhaps, as you mentioned, things would have only gotten worse had she not found the other foster family who was equipped and ready to deal with her.
Those 8 months were all part of the greater plan. You had that experience to teach you some lessons that have obviously stuck with you for years. She probably learned something from it too, and her time with you was a stepping stone toward her more permanent foster home.
Foster kids are, more often than not, going to have some hangups from their situations, which could include abuse and neglect. I think it is reasonable to say that foster-care is about parenting as well as psychologically healing the child. Hopefully if you get to them early enough so that your efforts will have the maximum effect.
Its a noble thing you are doing. Be brave; remember that they can smell your fear. You must adapt, improvise, overcome. :D
And good luck.
rambone from ingo