Parts 6 and 7 of the story continue with some of the details of our first adopted child's life. We adopted Heather when she was six years old. We first met her on January 16, 1999. She passed away in a car accident - still chasing her dreams - on January 16, 2011. She lives on through her story.
The Rest of the
Middle of the Beginning: Heather’s
Life
When Heather was
younger, we spent countless hours having long talks on my bed. She had a huge
gaping hole in her heart. She had
this strong, impossible to ignore feeling that she had been abandoned by her
birth family and the one failed adoption and all the families in between. She felt unloved. Unworthy. Like she was too much trouble for
anyone to endure.
She also had
questions about whether she had ever been physically or sexually abused. She had no specific memories, but she
was so young she didn’t expect that she would remember anything. Over the years, lots of experience with
other sexually abused children in our family led us to believe that her conduct
was consistent with a history of sexual abuse. But the adoption records weren’t
clear about the time or circumstances – just vague allegations. I had read her adoption file and asked
lots of questions during the adoption process, but no one had any clear
answers. So we were just left with
the thoughts. These thoughts
haunted her for most of her life.
We did know that
she lived with her birth mom and dad for the first 15 months of her life. Her mom eventually was placed in a
mental hospital for the seriously mentally disturbed where she stayed for many
years, but the adoption records gave us no diagnosis. Nonetheless, I think it
is fairly safe to assume that if Heather’s birth mom was mentally ill enough to
be institutionalized for a long period of time, it is unlikely that she was
capable of providing for Heather’s basic needs in a way that we could say was
normal during those 15 months.
In between,
Heather lived with at least five other families –mostly family members who
attempted to keep her in the family.
But in each home, there was a problem. Another child was too jealous of her. The family wasn’t really prepared
emotionally or financially to raise another child for the long-term. Heather was too challenging. Her
grandmother adored her but she was too old to raise her. Family conflict in the extended family
was disruptive. It wasn’t a lack
of love for Heather that caused the problems, but nothing was ever quite right.
Heather’s
memories of those moves from house to house are conflicted. She had some very specific memories of
certain incidents that she attributed to her leaving. In every case, regardless of the actual reason, Heather
somehow believed that she was abandoned and unloved because she did something
really bad that caused her to be sent away.
Heather was not a
model child and it’s natural for her to assume she was to blame. Having talked to most of her family over
the years, no one ever said it was because Heather was a bad kid. But that’s what Heather always thought
- she was bad and they didn’t love her enough to keep her. Those thoughts consumed her most of her
life – until her 18th birthday, when she and I took a trip to visit
her birth family – primarily so that she could ask the tough questions she had
always needed answers to. That was the first trip back for a visit that seemed
to give her some much-needed resolution to her internal conflict. She
discovered that she was loved and there was a place for her in her birth
family.
We also know a
little about the first adoption, which was disrupted following a psychiatric
evaluation after a few short weeks.
I never spoke to the psychiatrist, but the first adoptive mom told me
that he had diagnosed Heather with Attachment Disorder, which is the diagnosis
given for children who are so abused or neglected in their first three years of
life that they fail to form a human bond with anyone. They never learn to trust. And for many, that failure to trust lasts a lifetime.
The
psychiatrist’s prognosis was grim.
He said that children with Attachment Disorder are the kind of kids that
grow up setting fires, hurting people and animals, and eventually committing
murder. He was serious. His words
were compounded by a made for television movie called “Child of Rage” based on
a true story of a six-year-old girl with Attachment Disorder that did horrible
things to her adoptive family without remorse or the appearance of a
conscious. The movie was also
about the then new idea of “holding therapy” which was designed to recreate the
child’s early life and teach the child to trust. His recommendation to the adoptive parents was to get rid of
Heather as soon as possible.
And they
did. I don’t blame them for
following the advice of the psychiatrist.
They were young and inexperienced.
They had no children. They
were taking the advice of a seemingly well-meaning professional. It seemed logical to listen to a man
who told you that if you kept this child, your world would become a living
hell.
I doubt that when
they decided to adopt, they thought they were signing up for that. They were looking for a child to love
and lavish. I’m guessing they
thought love would be enough. They
were enamored by this adorable little blue-eyed girl who knew exactly what to
do and say to make someone fall in love with her.
Often, kids with
Attachment Disorder develop wonderful coping skills and appear on the surface
to be loving, lovable, happy children that will seemingly go to anyone – even a
total stranger. But this is simply a tool for survival. A way to meet their immediate needs for
food, clothing, shelter and human contact without actually being in
relationship with anyone.
The reality is
that these kids believe that the only people that can be trusted are
themselves. But many don’t even
trust themselves over time. Without trust, there can be no real relationship.
And that becomes the core of all future manifestations of the problems in their
lives.
We most often
hear about Attachment Disorder because of International Adoptions. Before people really understood this
Disorder, foreign orphanages had so little money and so many children that
babies were rarely held. Bottles
were attached to ropes strung across the bed. Cries went unanswered by human touch. Babies were left to themselves. God said it wasn’t good for humans to
be without others of their kind.
And you can see the truth in that when you see the consequences that
occur when innocent, precious little babies are left alone.
It seems like the
solution would be simple. Place
that same little child into the loving arms of a mom and dad who desperately
want to be this child’s parents and all will be well. And for some, that is
possible – especially if they are still in the life-stage where they are
formulating their beliefs about trust and human relationships. Experts say that this happens before
age 3, but I really don’t know.
God is bigger than an age limit.
But he did create us in a certain way and so many times, the outcomes
are predictable.
If only love were
enough. But it usually isn’t. The
love of parents is not enough. Can
never be enough. Because this child
doesn’t know how to accept love.
This child doesn’t know how to give real love. Everything is a façade. A way to “act” to get needs met. In a weird sort of way – kids like Heather learn to do and
say and be whoever they need to be at any given moment – but it is for the
purpose of getting something. Not
for the sake of the relationship.
I’m not an expert
in Attachment Disorder. I’m not
here to give you a clinical definition and clinical answers. I speak simply as a parent of an
adopted child who was said to have suffered from it. Over the years, I read and learned what I could. But mostly, I just engaged in life with
my child, knowing that an inability to trust was at the core of all her
problems - regardless of the
cause.
So, this couples’
dreams was turned upside down by her prognosis. They contacted the adoption agency that placed Heather and
told the agency they couldn’t keep her.
They wanted her out of their house immediately. After all, they had already seen signs
that the psychiatrist was right.
Heather held their beloved cat too tightly. She wasn’t gentle enough. She screamed from nightmares. They had caught her in lies. She intentionally destroyed things that were important to
the adoptive mom and then pretended to have no idea how it happened. Heather remembered all that and told me
about it many times.
The truth is,
Heather was not the right child for this family. And God knew that.
But that didn’t stop Heather from feeling abandoned once again. From feeling like one more family
couldn’t handle her and didn’t love her enough to keep trying.
I didn’t tell
Heather what the psychiatrist said about her until she was about 15 and we
began reading her adoption records, which contained some of her psychiatric
evaluation. She knew the diagnosis
when she was six, but not what the psychiatrist said she would do. Truthfully, I didn’t think it would
help and I didn’t want to give her any ideas or expectations!
Looking back, the
first night Heather was at our house, we let all four girls sleep on our
bedroom floor so that we could all be together. The next morning, we woke to find that our entire front yard
had been burned in a brush fire.
Apparently, the fire trucks had even come and put it out. None of us woke up through any of
it.
I never suspected
Heather because she was in our room with us and I usually hear everything and
everyone in my mommy sleep. Not to
mention, she had only been in the house for a few hours before going to bed and
didn’t know where anything was kept.
We certainly didn’t have matches accessible to her. But there was never any explanation for
the fire.
It didn’t occur
to me until just a few years ago that Heather could have done that. Fire starting can be a problem in
children with Attachment Disorder.
I never asked her and I will never know now. But thinking back, I wonder if I had thought she started
that fire, would I have fallen into the trap of believing she was too dangerous
to be around my other kids? I
think God protected me from that thought.
It seems so obvious now to believe that Heather was the logical person
to blame, but it totally evaded me then. Thanks God.
Come to think of
it, God always protected our family from what we didn’t need to know. I don’t know how, but the kids
especially, knew nothing they didn’t need to know – even if they were sitting
in the room while it happened or while we were talking about it.
So, I’m not here
to cast blame on Heather’s birth family or the first family that tried to adopt
Heather or any of the families in between. That isn’t my job and it won’t make one bit of difference in
the outcome. My only job was to
try to understand what might have happened so that we could try to figure out
how Heather could learn to trust.
I’m not sure we ever fully succeeded in that quest.
Sometimes, our long conversations led to short-term relief from her
misery, but nothing permanent. I
knew that her only hope was in her relationship with God. As she got older, I knew that
relationship needed to be with Him.
Directly. I frequently told her that the hole in her heart could only be
filled by Him, but she kept trying to fill it with me or some other
person. And we weren’t good
enough. We would never be good
enough to make her truly happy.
She hated when I said that.
When I realized
that I didn’t have many more answers for Heather. When I knew that I had filled
her with Truth – even though she couldn’t quite grasp it all. I knew it was time. I had nothing new left to offer, so I
urged her to engage more fully in her relationship with God.
Part 7 continues Heather's story. I will post it immediately following this entry.
