Imagine for a moment…
You have met the person you’ve dreamed about all your
life. He has every quality that you desire in a spouse. You
plan for the wedding, enjoying every free moment with your fiancée.
You love his touch, his smell, the way he looks into your eyes.
For the first time in your life, you understand what is meant
by “soul mate,” for this person understands you
in a way that no one else does. Your heart beats in rhythm with
his. Your emotions are intimately tied to his every joy, his
every sorrow.
The wedding comes. It is a happy celebration,
but the best part is that you are finally the wife of this wonderful
man. You fall asleep that night, exhausted from the day’s
events, but relaxed and joyful in the knowledge that you are
next to the person who loves you more than anyone in the world…the
person who will be with you for the rest of your life. The next
morning you wake up, nestled in your partner’s arms. You
open your eyes and immediately look for his face. But it’s
not him! You are in the arms of another man. You recoil in horror.
Who is this man?
Where is your beloved?
You ask questions of the new man, but it quickly becomes apparent
that he doesn’t understand you. You search every room
in the house, calling and calling for your husband. The new
guy follows you around, trying to hug you, pat you on the back.
. .even trying to stroke your arm, acting like everything is
okay. But you know that nothing is okay. Your beloved is gone.
Where is he? Will he return? When? What has happened to him?
Weeks pass. You cry and cry over the loss of your beloved. Sometimes
you ache silently, in shock over what has happened. The new
guy tries to comfort you. You appreciate his attempts, but he
doesn’t speak your language-either verbally or emotionally.
He doesn’t seem to realize the terrible thing that has
happened...that your sweetheart is gone.
You find it difficult to sleep. The new guy tries
to comfort you at bedtime with soft words and gentle touches,
but you avoid him, preferring to sleep alone, away from him
and any intimate words or contact. Months later, you still ache
for your beloved, but gradually you are learning to trust this
new guy. He’s finally learned that you like your coffee
black, not doctored up with cream and sugar. Although you still
don’t understand his bedtime songs, you like the lilt
of his voice and take some comfort in it. More time passes.
One morning, you wake up to find a full suitcase sitting next
to the front door. You try to ask him about it, but he just
takes you by the hand and leads you to the car. You drive and
drive and drive. Nothing is familiar. Where are you? Where is
he taking you?
You pull up to a large building. He leads you
to an elevator and up to a room filled with people. Many are
crying. Some are ecstatic with joy. You are confused. And worried.
The man leads you over to the corner. Another man opens his
arms and sweeps you up in an embrace. He rubs your back and
kisses your cheeks, obviously thrilled to see you. You are anything
but thrilled to see him. Who in the world is he? Where is your
beloved? You reach for the man who brought you, but he just
smiles (although he seems to be tearing up, which concerns you),
pats you on the back, and puts your hand in the hands of the
new guy. The new guy picks up your suitcase and leads you to
the door. The familiar face starts openly crying, waving and
waving as the elevator doors close on you and the new guy. The
new guy drives you to an airport and you follow him, not knowing
what else to do. Sometimes you cry, but then the new guy tries
to make you smile, so you grin back, wanting to “get along.”
You board a plane. The flight is long. You sleep a lot, wanting
to mentally escape from the situation.
Hours later, the plane touches down. The new guy
is very excited and leads you into the airport where dozens
of people are there to greet you. Light bulbs flash as your
photo is taken again and again. The new guy takes you to another
guy who hugs you. Who is this one? You smile at him. Then you
are taken to another man who pats your back and kisses your
cheek. Then yet another fellow gives you a big hug and messes
your hair. Finally, someone (which guy is this?) pulls you into
his arms with the biggest hug you’ve ever had. He kisses
you all over your cheeks and croons to you in some language
you’ve never heard before.
He leads you to a car and drives you to another location. Everything
here looks different. The climate is not what you’re used
to. The smells are strange. Nothing tastes familiar, except
for the black coffee. You wonder if someone told him that you
like your coffee black. You find it nearly impossible to sleep.
Sometimes you lie in bed for hours, staring into the blackness,
furious with your husband for leaving you, yet aching from the
loss. The new guy checks on you. He seems concerned and tries
to comfort you with soft words and a mug of warm milk. You turn
away, pretending to go to asleep.
People come to the house. You can feel the anxiety start to
bubble over as you look into the faces of all the new people.
You tightly grasp the new guy’s hand. He pulls you closer.
People smile and nudge one other, marveling at how quickly you’ve
fallen in love. Strangers reach for you, wanting to be a part
of the happiness. Each time a man hugs you, you wonder if he
will be the one to take you away. Just in case, you keep your
suitcase packed and ready. Although the man at this house is
nice and you’re hanging on for dear life, you’ve
learned from experience that men come and go, so you just wait
in expectation for the next one to come along.
Each morning, the new guy hands you a cup of coffee and looks
at you expectantly. A couple of times the pain and anger for
your husband is so great that you lash out, sending hot coffee
across the room, causing the new guy to yelp in pain. He just
looks at you, bewildered. But most of the time you calmly take
the cup. You give him a smile. And wait. And wait. And wait.
How would each of us handle all these changes?
How would this impact us for the rest of our lives?
©2006 Cynthia Hockman-Chupp. Cynthia is an adoptive parent,
teacher, and writer who has learned the most about parenting
from her children. She operates a website with Heidi Louella,
another adoptive parent and teacher, called www.A4everFamily.org with great information for families that are dealing with
the challenges of attachment in young children.
Her analogy is courtesy of Dr. Kali Miller, an attachment therapist.
This article appeared in the book Adoption Parenting: Creating
a Toolbox, Building Connections. Used by permission.
Want to see more great information like this article?
Click here to find other adoptive parenting resources.
Please contact Carrie
Kitze for information on obtaining reprints of this article
for pre and post adoption kits and seminars.
