I remember a friend who had adopted talking about three kinds of loss in adoption.  Children grieve the loss of their first parents and families.  The first parents grieve the loss of their child.  Adoptive parents grieve the loss of their child’s earlier life that they were not part of.  In my case, my decision to adopt made me grieve my own mother who I could not share my experience with.  I ached that she could not see her grandson and help take care of him—and me.  It turns out loss comes with grieving.  I have since learned that there are even more kinds of losses*.

I just did not know what that loss and grief would look like for my child.  Was my Precious Boy thinking about ‘Mommy’ and ‘Daddy’ when he looked like he was daydreaming?  Sometimes he shared memories like rescuing Mommy in a forest.  My son used to tell his teacher that he could not do his work because he was thinking about Mommy and Daddy.  She would say my take 2 minutes to think about them and then go back to work.  (Ugh!) Even though his first parents were not with us physically, the idea of them was always present. 

Nighttime was the hardest.  Grief showed up just in time for bed.  Getting ready for bed took a long time. His slow pace was so frustrating. I was so worn out and tired after working all day.  At one point I had to tag in a friend to help.   I think now those were my son’s ways to avoid going to bed and being alone.

Once we got to the bedroom, we could never read enough stories.  Then there were rituals to keep the monsters away.  The closet door had to be shut. The door to his room had to be open at a right angle. The mirror had to be covered, and nightlights in place. Darkness was so scary to my Precious Boy! 

Once he got in bed, he would say he missed his first parents. He would repeat “I miss Mommy and Daddy” over and over and over again.  Sometimes he would cry and cry.  It seemed like an endless loop until he got tired and fell sleep. 

My heart ached to see him in pain. I seemed like there was nothing I could do.  I tried talking, but he had no words.  A few times I asked if he could say anything to Mommy and Daddy, what would he like to say?  Nothing.  What can I do to help?  Nothing. Feeling powerless to help my child was the hardest. 

Who knows what he was afraid of?  Did something happen?  A psychologist friend pointed out that nighttime is a time of separation.  It could be a reminder of loss and separation.  The same friend pointed out that at least he wanted stay connected.  I got a colorful string for each of us to hold and help us stay connected when I went to my bed.

Grief reminds me of a fire in a fireplace.  Sometimes it is roaring. Other times the fire dies down to a few embers that at any moment flare up.  I am just glad we can be with each other through our grieving.  I am thankful for my community for help and guidance. I also think about my son’s first parents and how they must feel.

*Check out “Seven Core Issues in Adoption” by Sharon Kaplan Roszia and Deborah Silverstein to learn more about loss in adoption.

Bea Hopewell

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