True Vine Tuesday: Grief is Part of the Story

In conversation, a friend recently made a comment that has stuck with me. She said, “The adoption and foster care community is such a community anchored in grief.” Before that comment I had an awareness of the grief. I recognized and felt the grief. It arrived once I put a face and name to a child halfway around the world who would become my daughter. As I prepared to adopt her, I began to love her. I loved her before I met her. That is when I began to grieve the separation from her. I grieved not knowing if she was being loved. I grieved not knowing the sound of her voice. I grieved not knowing what it felt like to hold her in my arms.      

Once we met her and began to care for her, my love for her grew. As we bonded, I began to try to see the situation from her eyes. I could see so much fear and confusion in her eyes. So much grief. Grief she could not yet name. Always there below the surface.  

Grief is a big part of adoption and foster care. Children in these spaces arrive here without any warning. They lose one family before they gain another. They lose a home, bed, familiar people, smells, sounds, and objects. Even babies adopted on the day of their birth cannot escape the trauma of losing their biological mother.    

Recognizing grief as part of parenting a child who is not biologically yours is an important part of this puzzle. You can’t out-love, out-parent, out-disciple grief. And you certainly can’t control when it enters a moment or how it is felt.    

I remember cleaning my kitchen as my children played in the next room. As I cleaned I felt a wave of love and thankfulness for my kids. A wave of grief immediately followed. It was as if a new understanding suddenly hit me as I recalled an earlier moment. That day at lunch, my daughter asked me if her siblings began as babies in my tummy. She also asked me if she began as a baby in someone else's tummy. As I answered her questions, I saw looks of understanding more of her story play across her little face. There was a moment as I spoke when she suddenly put her hand up. She wanted me to stop talking. The grief was too much to take in. Too much for her at that moment. The grief of realizing she lost one mother stopped her. She froze. I could see her taking in my words. After she sat for a moment, she decided that was all she was ready for right now. We sat quietly for a while. Sometimes, there just aren’t any words that will comfort. Presence and silence are needed.      

Something changes inside of you when you welcome a vulnerable child into your home. That world moves from out there somewhere, to making a difference in the life of one child, to being broken by the brokenness. In some instances that flips your reality upside down. The brokenness that began on the fringes has now moved into your home. That changes you. And nothing, I mean nothing, can prepare you for the grief that brings. Grief over children living through hard things. Grief that you are so grateful for this child who had to lose parents in order for you to now have the privilege of being his/her parent. Grief that this child that you now love more than you ever thought possible has a deep hurt you will never be able to heal. The veil is pulled back to show that love actually is not enough. We love to think it is. But, it’s not. Love absolutely does not heal all wounds.  

Thankfully, we have a God who knows all about grief. He experienced grief as a man on this earth. And He does not leave us in our grief. He moves towards us. He prays for us. He collects our tears. He suffered and died for our sins. And He continues to move towards us today. There is no grief too dark or deep for Him. He is the light in the darkness. And He calls us to be salt and light too. To move toward children who need protection. He calls us to embrace grief in His name. Because He is the one true God who conquered death and the grave.  

Learn more about True Vine, Pathway's Adoption and Foster Care Ministry, HERE.