1, 2,3....School. Getting Them the Help They Need

Fall has arrived and with it, the next school challenges. Many of our FRUA parents have already had your first back-to-school nights. Many of you may be hearing about new issues, or addressing learning or behavior challenges that came out last school year, only to subside over the summer and return with the advent of the new school-year routine. Which brings me to #3:

 #3 Get them the help they need....It doesn't take an expert to tell us that our kids can be complicated and they don't come with instruction manuals. Just when we've got one problem figured out, something else can pop up.  With each challenge we had, we tried to get the help needed at the time. That's what we parents do; get them the help they need  as we go, to help them reach their potential, whatever level that may be.

Many of you may be facing your first IEP meetings for your children.  For the first few years, we found it helpful, as FRUA-Wisconsin parents, to accompany each other to those meetings and continued that with FRUA-Colorado parent support. Not only did it give us a person on our side to take notes during those tense meetings, but it provided confirmation of our points. Often the other FRUA parent could second the things we had to say about the environments from which our children had come and the typical behaviors of post-institutionalized children. They could support our suggestions for classroom or instructional needs. (Note to parents: I learned NEVER to advocate as something only my child needed...a sure way to get shot down. Instead Ilearned the language of  "this could help the whole classroom learn better." Or..."this suggestion could help all the children understand the concept better."). I didn't shy away from saying I'd put in parent volunteer time, either.  My chosen location: the study library - an hour or two a week. As a working mom, I knew those hours were more beneficial to my kids than lunch out and it let my daughter see that I supported her perseverance.

Not all the issues we confronted were connected; sometimes we had three things going at once. We'd try to figure out what was going on and which issue to address first. Usually the safety things came first. Sometimes those we consulted didn't agree. Or because of the IEP, we found that the school could only provide support for a secondary issue because that's where the funding is these days. We kept plugging away. But here's the thing we can loose sight of while trying to get our kids the help they need. We're the experts – the ones who know our kids better than anyone else with initials behind their names. If you think something isn't right...change something, pursue answers, persist. Don't wait, because our kids surely don't.

So as we bring you the third of the three things that every adoptive parents needs to practice...for the days when it all just seems to be too much....just remember. Its' 1...2...3... love them, stop helicoptering and get them the help they need to reach their potential.

Here's to a successful school year for all our FRUA children,

Jan Wondra

Vice Chair

National Board of Directors

Families for Russian and Ukrainian Adoption

Mothering a Motherless Child.

As the mother of an adopted child, it took years for me to understand what it is like to be a motherless child. When I did, I understood a lot more about my daughter and even more about the role we adoptive mothers fill in helping our children get on in this world. So this Mother's Day, a moment to consider our own mothers. It's been four years since the last Mother's Day I spent with my Mother.

There was that small matter of living 1,500 miles apart and the fact that the special day falls during what must surely be one of the busiest month of the year for mothers. What with school projects and field trips and final concerts, busy soccer seasons, exams, Memorial Day and graduations all crammed into a few weeks, we mothers can get that crazed look in our eyes trying to juggle everything. That year I managed to board a plane with my leg practically in traction, three broken bones between my knee and my ankle; netting me a first class seat because I couldn't bend my leg.

While my son had already moved on to college and international adventures, I hated being away from my then, 16-year-old daughter; the first Mother's Day that we hadn't shared since we brought her home from Russia. But I longed to sit at my Mother's table and talk with her over cups of coffee and fresh-baked cookies. I longed to be mothered. Our regular phone calls and rare (at least on my part) letters just did not fill the void. Only time with her would do it.

As it turns out, it was her last Mother's Day. She died quite suddenly the following August. Having lost my father four years earlier, I expected to grieve, recover and move on. I did not expect the waves of grief, the unrelenting emptiness, the heavy spot in my chest,which felt as though someone had ripped out my heart. I certainly did not expect, at my age, to feel so lonely, so defenseless, so abandoned. Then one day came the shock of truth: “So this is what a motherless child feels like.”

With that simple truth, I understood in the most profound way the depth of hurt, the primal loss, that our adoptive children can experience, even as we give them love and everything else we believe they need. I can only speak for me, but my connection to my mother was the basis for understanding who I am. If a grown woman can experience such grief, how much more overwhelming is it for a child who cannot even articulate the intense emotions of loss engendered by her background. No wonder her grief came out in so many other ways. Beginning with the hilarity generated at her first sleep-over, when at age six, our daughter announced to her little friends that “I wasn't born, I was adopted,” our daughter progressed through the typical stages of questions about her heritage and her birth mother.

Like so many of our preteens and teens, she stewed for months before she got up the courage to ask; when she turned 18, would we help her try to find her birth mother? In a single moment I knew she was owed reassurance; “Yes, of course, we can try when you want to.” But the other part of me had been crushed. I was her mother! Me! And I had waited so long for her. Now, years later, the topic has not yet concerned her again. No search has begun. Since providing her with the assurance she needed, she has lived into the love offered and for now, has moved past the motherless child stage. So have I. Happy Mothers' Day!

Jan Wondra,
Vice chair, FRUA National Board of Directors

Father's Have Their Own Ways of Loving and Helping Our Children

As Father’s Day approaches each year, I generally find myself debating whether to take my husband out for brunch or buy him another electronic device to add to his gadget inventory – or both! This Father’s Day, however, I found myself contemplating how differently mothers and fathers parent their children, and how I see those different parenting styles play out among the adoptive families I know through FRUA.

My husband and I became parents with the birth of our older son. Like many husbands, mine struggled to carve out his parenting role with an infant who was almost completely dependent on me. As our son grew and weaned from nursing, he and my husband slowly began developing his relationship. In short order, my husband and son developed a wonderful relationship - they adored each other!

When we adopted our son Connor, both my husband and I had reevaluate our parenting styles to connect with our new baby. In the early days, it was all about affection and food, so we could both interact with Connor in these arenas. Having seen few if any men, however, Connor was initially afraid of my husband and routinely covered his eyes when my husband entered the room. I can’t imagine how emotionally difficult this initial rejection must have been for my husband. But he and Connor worked through it and eventually they developed a loving relationship.

Over the years, Connor struggled with childhood apraxia of speech – leaving him largely unable to speak until around age 6 – and was eventually diagnosed with Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder and Pervasive Development Disorder-Not Otherwise Specified. A child with these diagnoses is necessarily more challenging to parent that a neuro-typical child. More importantly, they demanded that my husband and I develop new and different parenting skills.

Like many adoptive mothers I know, I’d spent years reading everything I could get my hands on about raising internationally adopted, post-institutionalized children. So when presented with Connor’s challenges, I immediately began reading all kinds of books and studies on apraxia, FASD, and PDD-NOS. I spoke with doctors, professionals, and practitioners. I attended conferences and seminars. Most importantly, I consulted with mothers, lots of mothers.

My husband, on the other hand, did none of those things. Lacking a community of adoptive fathers to tap into, my husband’s ability to parent Connor’s many challenges did not develop apace and, in fact, fell behind as my competence and confidence grew. Over time, I became expert in understanding and dealing with my son’s challenges while my husband struggled. Over time, I became increasingly angry at my husband, feeling that he’d punted his responsibility to raise a neurologically atypical child.

Recently, I had an epiphany. I realized that my husband hadn’t punted his responsibility as a parent to Connor. No, he didn’t read all the stuff I read. And no, he didn’t spend hours on line with other fathers dissecting his son’s behaviors and therapies. But, as different from mine as they were, I couldn’t overlook his contributions to our son. My husband takes our son on subway rides to the airport on weekend mornings to watch planes take off and land. Much to my utter horror, he takes Connor on the roof to help hang holiday lights. He pushes Connor to test his limits in situations where I would jump in to “rescue” him. In many ways, my husband teaches Connor self-confidence by not treating him as if he were impaired.

I suspect other over-achieving mothers harbor secret (or not so secret) resentment toward their husbands, who may parent very differently than they, themselves, do. So this Father’s Day, I realize it’s long overdue that I acknowledge the gifts of love and time my husband gives to both our sons. My gift to my husband, this and every future Father’s Day, is to appreciate that he’s a wonderful father.

Sue Gainor
Chair
National Board of Directors
Families for Russian and Ukrainian Adoption
Hope, Help and Community for Adoptive Families
www.frua.org
chair@frua.org