Hey, Momma.
Can we talk for a bit? I know I might not have met you before, but oh how I wish that I could talk with you face-to-face. If I could, I would invite you over to my home. After you got your kiddos settled playing with my kids, I would tell you to come and sit down on my worn but comfy pleather couch. I would tell you to take off your shoes, grab a soft blanket, and relax. I would make you some coffee or tea, whichever sounds most comforting for your weary heart.
I would listen to everything on your mind, everything that keeps you up at night. I would listen to your struggles and your pain. I would want you to tell me it all. I would reassure you that I’m a safe place to share. Only a momma who has parented a child from trauma can truly understand what you’re going through:
Your frustrations.
Your desperation.
Your fears.
Your exhaustion trying to constantly figure out what your child’s underlying needs are.
Your feelings of never measuring up to fully meet his or her needs.
After you tell me everything, I would grab your hand, and tell you that you are not alone, sweet momma. Fostering or adopting a child from trauma can feel incredibly isolating, but you are not in this alone.
I would remind you that you have the Lord standing beside you and his Holy Spirit living inside you. You have his guidance, wisdom, and help when you just don’t know what to say or do. And you have others in the fostercare/adoption community who can help you stand up when you keep getting beaten down.
I would tell you that when you begin to feel like you’re a terrible mom who just can’t be everything you need to be, that you are doing an amazing job. Really, you are doing an incredible job. There are pieces of your child’s life missing from you. Pieces that you may never fully know or understand. You have guesses, at best, but you don’t know everything that happened to your child before he/she came to you and how all of those unknown pieces fit together.
But that’s okay, momma. The One who does know is the same One walking us through the valleys as we try to love our children with every ounce of love that we’ve got.
I know you are tired, sweet friend. Weary, even. Fighting the same battles everyday is exhausting. After refilling your mug, I would tell you with all earnestness that when you don’t feel like you can go on, turn to the Lord. Let him fill you with more grace, more compassion, more love. Let his spring of water fill every depleted reservoir.
Cling to the truth that your child is seeing Christ’s love in you in the most beautiful and practical way. Even when we blow it (because ALL of us do), your child sees how you model asking forgiveness which is a beautiful gift to him/her. He/she is seeing what unconditional love looks like. Your child knows more about God and his love because of how you love him/her.
I would beg you to please not give up, momma. We will reap a harvest one day if we keep doing good (Galatians 6:9). We may not see that harvest this year or next year or even in the next decade, but the Lord is working in our children’s hearts in ways that we cannot see.
Take a deep breath. Maybe two or three. And trust that he’s working behind the scenes.
After we finish talking, I would give you the most reassuring, comforting hug. I would look into your tear-stained eyes and tell you how very loved you are and what an incredible mom you are to your precious child. You’re providing love and safety and hope. God’s light is shining through you to your child and bringing light to places that have only known darkness and pain. You are this child’s momma, and while the struggles may be hard, you keep at it, day after day because your love for him/her is greater than any struggle. You are amazing, momma.
Before you left with your children, I would pray with you–that God would comfort you in your most desperate times, that he would give you peace when life feels out of control, and that he would remind you often that he is with you each step of the way.
I wish I could listen to you and remind you of all of these truths in person. I wish that I could give you that big hug. But since I can’t, know that I’m praying for you. I may not even know your name, but the Lord does. He knows all of your needs and your child’s needs, and he will give you everything you need to walk this journey.
Sending you all of the hugs and love from another mom in the trenches,
Jennifer