Oh yeah, she's adopted

The other day I was talking to a friend about Hannah and some of her separation anxiety she has been having. My friend mentioned "It must be really hard for you with her being adopted. You have no idea what kind of anxiety or psychological issues that run in her family."

My first thought: Oh yeah, she's adopted.

That's right. For a moment I forgot she was adopted.

It happens more often than you would think. There are many times I actually forget Hannah is adopted.

She's so much like us that I focus on the features she has of "ours" such as Mark's skin color, Mark's nose, Mark's eyes, my hair, my behavioral mechanisms, etc. She is such a "mini me" that I forget that she actually doesn't have my DNA or Mark's. It's honestly hard to believe sometimes. I look at her reactions and mannerisms, and I find myself comparing her to Mark or myself.

So often I find myself saying "She must have gotten that from her dad" or "Yep, that's a Gustafson thing" or "She's totally a Wondra"...and I don't even think about it.

Yes, she's adopted.....but sometimes it's just plain hard to remember that.

Being your child's voice

I don't remember but when I was in kindergarten, my parents were faced with a tough decision with me.

I was extremely quiet and shy. I didn't say hardly two words to the teacher. This brought on the concern that there was something wrong with me and I needed special classes. The school board members called my parents in, sat them in the middle of a circle and literally surrounded them and put pressure on them to agree to these special classes.

My parents knew there was nothing wrong with me and insisted I was just quiet. While I didn't talk too much at home, I did talk more than at school. My parents knew that going to a strange new school wasn't what I needed. My mom once told me that while I couldn't express what was going on, they knew they were my parents and they had to be my voice.

They stood up for me. They knew what was best.

I recently also had to be my daughter's voice.

We thought her being in pre-K at a Christian school was a "God thing". We thought there couldn't be a more perfect situation for her. She knew the teacher very well and a couple of the kids.

While it did go well for a couple weeks, things started going downhill. She started crying at school for me. It got to be more and more. While in some situations she was just fine, in other situations, she seemed to get a bit overwhelmed and start crying for me.

It seemed everyone seemed to have different observations. No one, especially Mark and I, knew what was going on. We couldn't pinpoint exactly what was triggering these crying episodes. But we knew it was affecting not only her but the other students in the class.

I would go and pick her up and in the milliseconds before she saw me, I could see her. She looked so sad--so very sad. I knew that wasn't my girl. As soon as she saw me, she would burst into tears and run to me, clinging to me.

It would literally break my heart.

We tried going a couple days for just half days but that didn't work.

Then last Friday, she was in a complete panic about going to school when she woke up in the morning and so upset about going. I just couldn't send her. I couldn't force her.

During all this, I heard so many well-intentioned advice from people saying "She needs to get used to it", "You guys need this" (some form of care while I work), "Many kids go to school or daycare", "She needs to be a big girl", "She'll get adjusted, just be tough and firm".

While I knew in my heart people were right, I kept hearing a voice telling me "Just because you need this, doesn't mean it's the best thing for Hannah".

You see, it wasn't just the school days. It was affecting her every day life. She always had to be near me. She would wake up in a panic during the night, screaming "I want to go home!" or "I want my mommy!"---things she never did before. She would cry even at other people's houses that she normally was very comfortable with.

Suddenly, our smiling, happy, little girl was so anxious and scared about everything. It seemed we took one step forward and 5 steps back.

She couldn't tell me what exactly was going on. While she gave us some clues, we still don't know exactly what was going on.

But we knew that what we needed wasn't necessarily the best for Hannah.

So despite what many people suggested we do, we decided to take her out of pre-K, take a break and possibly try after Christmas.

Making that decision was hard. After all, it did seem like a perfect situation. She has the best teacher, wonderful students, a Christian atmosphere and we needed some kind of care anyway for her. What could be better? Why would God put this situation in front of us if it wasn't right for Hannah?

The answer is we have no idea.

I don't know if we made the right decision or not. That's the beauty of parenthood. You make decisions that may be the right ones or the wrong ones and you make a lot of decisions.

We are lucky that we have time in our corner. She is only 3 and it may just be the simple answer that she just isn't ready for school and time is what she needs. If it was 2 years down the road, it would be different but we have time and for that I praise God.

For now, we're focusing on getting our sweet, happy, independent Hannah back. We're slowly working on building her confidence again as it took quite a hit. But I know we'll get there.

And I know one day, I'll be able to share this story with Hannah, just like my parents shared their story. She'll know we did what we thought was best for her despite what so many people said. And just like my parents, they didn't know if they were making the right decision but went with their instincts and tried to be my voice.

My parents have taught me many things, but most of all, they've taught me that they always have their children's best interests at heart. They make mistakes, make the wrong decisions, make the right decisions and learn from all of life's circumstances.

We don't know if we made the right decision or not but we do know we have Hannah's best interests at heart and we love her more than anything and want her to be successful, happy and love school.

We'll get there. This is just a little bump in the road.