Life as MommyMo

Thursday, May 07, 2009


That would be the sound of the other shoe dropping on our idyllic adjustment to life as a family of four. Don't get me wrong. I am happier than I thought I would be. I find myself less stressed parenting two children than I did just one somehow (admittedly, this could be the absence of work responsibilities right now) and am happily devoting my days to Baby Max's every whim.


Remember when I said we had set some sort of adjustment to the new life record? While his achievement in switching to Eastern Daylight Time remains a commendable feat, poor Baby Max is definitely still trying to figure out what his new life means.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. The trauma that any child adopted in this fashion and at this age goes through is unfathomable to me. He woke up on April 21 in Korea, ready to go about his typical day, and found himself whisked off to the agency office, handed to a strange man, taken to an airport, placed on three different airline flights and then passed off again to people who look and sound nothing like anything he's ever known. I'm almost 35 and can't imagine how I'd react to such upheaval. In that respect, Max and Sam are both stronger people than I can probably ever hope to be.

So... back at the ranch. Max is a happy, sweet, snuggly little guy who, most of the time genuinely seems to like his new family and all of the antics that he's happy to sit back and quietly witness. When it comes time to sleep, though, a switch gets flipped and his grieving kicks in again. It's been convincingly explained to me that he's probably at a point where he realizes this situation isn't changing, that he likes us and thinks he can trust us, but he's perhaps a bit fearful of drifting off to sleep. In his little mind, who knows what could happens while he's sleeping?

We are just doing our best to comfort him, letting him guide us as to what he needs. Luckily, he's pretty much a textbook baby from what we can tell. He eats, poops, and plays at regular intervals. He is happy as can be when he's awake. He fusses when awake only very quietly and when there's a genuine need. When it's met, he's immediately happy again. We couldn't ask for a better transition in that respect. At night, he seems to need Rob's attention, which we attribute to his being back to work during the day. He's decided that he knows my role, it would seem, but he still needs reassurance as to when and how Rob takes care of him.

Given the serene, almost Zen-like child he's proven to be so far, I'm confident this, too, shall pass. It still breaks my heart to see him grieve, but I remind myself that it's because he was well-loved in Korea and that in time, he'll continue to find security as a Becker.