Insensitivity 101

Someone mentioned the other day that raising a newborn takes a lot of organization and time management. That helped explain why taking care of our new little guy is a lot more enjoyable and less stressful than I anticipated it would be. Those qualities come much more naturally to me than dealing gracefully with the ingratitude and disrespect of a young adult. But you wouldn't think the sensitivity required of me to recognize the needs of a speechless baby would evaporate when interacting with our pre-teen. That's exactly what happened a couple weeks ago though...

On Saturday, we celebrated the fourth anniversary of the day Angie's Bolivian adoption was finalized. We feasted on some of her favorites, steak, corn on the cob, and mouth-watering Sister Schubert rolls, outside on the deck on a beautiful evening. Angie was surprised and appreciative to have the spotlight on her again for a moment, when she's so often been sharing it with her baby brother recently.

The very next day was Mother's Day. Angie has just this past year started enjoying spoiling others on holidays. So much so that she went overboard shopping for me for Christmas and my birthday. For over a month she'd been saving her money for Mother's Day, and asking me what I wanted; unwittingly setting the expectation that she had plans. And although I honestly did not want her to spend a bunch of her precious little money on me, apparently I did want her to at least do something special, because when she couldn't even be bothered to make it down to join us for breakfast before church, or give me my normal kiss goodnight before bed, I was hurt.

The disappointment lingered and grew into resentment as Facebook overflowed with sweet gestures from children of all ages to their beloved mommas, and Angie showed no remorse for practically forgetting me completely. Ridiculously, I found myself more short-tempered with her over the next few days, but eventually, my insensitivity and dimwittedness dawned on me.

I really had no excuse for forgetting the complexities of holidays for adopted children, in light of the "adoption" celebration we'd had just the night before. But it took me nearly a week to remember how difficult, especially Mother's Day, can be for kiddos who don't know their mommas. When everyone else is cherishing the woman who gave them life and continues to sacrifice for them daily, adopted children are only reminded of the aching hole in their hearts where that mother should have been.

And this year had all the makings of Angie's hardest Mother's Day yet. Since the arrival of the new baby in our home, she's been thinking more and more about her own childhood. She desperately longs to know what she looked like when she was a baby herself. As she sees a loving biological family interact, she craves that natural ease and comfort that she never had. And all of this leads her to wonder more than ever who her mother was, why she had to give her up, and how she's doing now.

So, this Mother's Day, as my child neglected to pamper me, I was really the insensitive one. Holidays often make me aware of my selfishness, as I compare myself to others, and can't help but feel a sense of the entitlement I generally loathe. But this one was especially low for me, as I failed to mother my hurting child, waiting for her to mother me. I give you all license to whack me over the head next year, and remind me when I'm being a jerk. Thanks for letting me process through the ugly stuff I discover about myself here, you're welcome to hold me accountable to work on it. :)