We dipped our wish in tepid tears,
and laid it on the early years.
The wounds of heart and soul so far
have branded this one with a scar.
It ran and hid beneath the skin,
and we are left to wondering.
Oh God, let not our tears go dry,
nor let us fail to catch her eye.
Send us your embroidered cloths,
your wishes dipped in our own thoughts.
Then lay them, will you, warm and moist
upon her scar, our healing voice.
They are ours. They are Barrett’s. We signed all the papers, lots of them. Yet sometimes I wonder if the agency left out something, some attachment that we didn’t sign. Those of you who have adopted children out of chaotic situations know what I mean. Attachment. Every human being is designed for attachment; emotional, physical, and mental. We heard about this issue common in adoptions. Barbara researched ‘attachment’ to the enth degree. But the realities of living with a detached child are stretching to say the least. Her mother instincts would and will not let her relent in the pursuit of brooding over her children, biological or adoptive. It is the real and raw stuff of motherhood. Often I stand beside her with no words to help. Continued prayers to Jehovah Rapha, the God who heals, rise from our worn, weary hearts. We slouch mystified at how these scars manifest over and over again as Barbara has given words, hugs, and discipline in hopes of change. We know it is not the child’s fault and pleads for grace and mercy are pulled from the deepest pockets of our hearts. A mother’s heart is the most resilient muscle on earth, yet if there was a test to the edge of resilience it is a child of detachment. Ask any mother of adoption with children hiding these scars.
My prayer, our prayer, is the poem above. It is for adoptive families, especially a prayer hug for the mothers of adoption.