Last weekend, I was driving on the freeway across state boarders at eight o’clock at night. My son was in the passenger seat, curled up asleep with his head on a pillow resting against the glass of the window. The light from his Nintendo Switch glowed on his face. I wish it weren’t only the moments he’s sleeping that I feel at peace. The last 10 months has had a lot of ups and a lot of downs. I honestly wasn’t sure at some points if we were going to make it to adoption. Now, closer to that date, I’m beginning to wonder what the next mile marker will be in our lives. It’s very clear that we won’t be going back. Long gone are the days of just my husband and I spending the nights alone on the couch. (We’re still alone on the couch, but now we can hear the shouting from our son’s bedroom upstairs.) I guess as time goes on, being able to measure our progress gets harder. When our son first moved in, he would hit himself over and over. That’s happening a lot less often. At first, he wouldn’t talk about his feelings at all. He’s gotten a little more comfortable in that regard. Last week the team of teachers at his school told him there was nothing left they could do for him. This week he started at a new school and has worked so hard to turn around his behaviors and actually try to do some academic work. I found it so hard to say “no” to my son at the beginning. For me, the mark had to be moved slowly, testing things, taking leaps at times and barely moving at others. Ten months in, I’m much more comfortable in this parenting role and less of a “friend” like I needed to be before. If I can move the mark for myself, I realized I could start moving the mark for my son too. I’m no longer content with him just going to school. I had to push to try and get him to go to school and also not get in trouble. Now I’m working on making sure he doesn’t get in trouble, and he also learns. It’s difficult and there is a lot of backsliding, but I have had to become accustomed to the knowledge that progress isn’t going to be consistent. By now I would like to be able to stand up on my soap box and declare that I know exactly what I’m doing. But I can’t and, frankly, maybe I never will. However, I can proudly and confidently say, “I’ve got this.” I don’t want to brag, but as I sit here writing these words, I’ve come to the realization that I CAN do this. You’d think, “geez, shouldn’t you have figured that out months ago?” But no. I’ve doubted myself time and time again, but now I know that I’m good at this parenting thing. I’m not perfect and I get things wrong, but I really know that I’m making a difference and that I can handle this. Why? Well because I’ve always been raising a child. At first it was myself, trying to fill in the emotional gaps that was left from my own trauma and learning how to grow. Then it was my husband, as I passed on the knowledge I had gained. I still make progress every day helping him figure out how to navigate the trials of mental health. Now, I’m a father and I help my son every day figure out how to be a better communicator and discover his emotions. I know that just because I’ve got a good handle on this parenting thing, that doesn’t mean everyone around me will be able to appropriately deal with my son’s behaviors and emotions. Honestly, my husband has been struggling for some time now, which has only made me dig my heels in the dirt deeper and make me want to be the last hope for this kid. I’ve got this. I’ve got this. I’ve got this. I’m not trying to convince myself. I’m not even trying to convince you. I honestly just have to keep telling myself that I can do it because I have been doing it and I have no plans on never NOT doing it. Just keep swimming, as Dory says. I’ve learned that perseverance has been my strong suit. It isn’t fun. It’s exhausting. However, the more of myself that I put into this family, the more that I can hope to endure with them. I’m trying to build a sturdy foundation on a rock that is very slippery and unstable. So, I’m moving the mark again today. I’ll move it again tomorrow. Inch by inch, my job is to make sure this child becomes the best version of the person he could be. Maybe the first school and teachers don’t work out. Maybe I have to constantly switch incentives. Hopefully just the knowledge that I’ll always be there for him will be enough to get him to that finish line. When adoption comes, we’ll just be rounding out year one. Seven years until graduation. I worry I won’t be able to reign him in even at fifteen or sixteen, so my time is limited. As I’m with my son every day, the good times are starting to outweigh the bad. I expect that the mistakes, the opportunities for growth and learning, and the number of times I ask myself “what the hell was he thinking” are still going to be plentiful. But if I continue to see my son grow and flourish as much as he has the past few months, then I know that I really do "got this." [email protected]
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Erick L. Graham WoodHello there! Archives
June 2023
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