The most beautiful girl I had ever laid eyes on was now my daughter, Amilia Degenesh Bailey. You can read more about our picture perfect adoption story here. Her nannies lovingly called her, Konjo, meaning beautiful, and were smitten with her contagious personality. While most of the other babies at the orphanage where severely malnourished and plaugued will illness, our daughter was the picture of health and happiness. She weighed a whopping 11 pounds at nine months, compared to the other seven-pound babies her age. Ringworm was the only parasite she was dealing with, and that quickly went away once home and treated. Our new daughter was the picture of health, beauty, and happiness.
As stated in part on of our adoption story,
“We were on top of the mountain!
But, we all know what comes after the mountain top.
The valley.
Ladies, no person I talked to, or book I read, prepared me for the next year of my life and the struggles I would have becoming an adoptive mother. As high as the mountain was, so low the valley.”
We arrived home on my 30th birthday, and while severely jet lagged, we were over the moon! After the initial hellos, cake, and welcome home party, we quickly handed our new little one off to Grandma, so we could get a much needed eight hours of sleep. The next morning, we piled into the car, and headed home to Duluth. The few days, while busy and exhausting, continued to be a honeymoon for my new daughter and me.
Then, routine came. My husband Nathanael went back to work, and I was home with four children ages 4, 3, 2, and 9 months.
Before I go any further, I need you to know this. One of my highest values is authenticity and honesty, so that is what you are always going to get from me. PERIOD. I will share the ugly and broken parts of my life with you. I do so in hopes that you will trust me, learn from my mistakes, and be encouraged that you are not alone. I am not ashamed to also admit that I have a desire to influence others. I don’t want to change you, but I desperately want you live in the fullness of what you are meant to be. I deeply love you mama’s.
Now, onto being honest.
Admittedly, one of my greatest downfalls is the ugly kind of PRIDE. I don’t like to ask for help, and I am certain and sure that I can handle most situations. Raising three boys, four and under, was a lot to handle. But in my opinion, I was knocking it out of the park. My kids were eating veggies, pooping on the potty, and sleeping through the night at 12 weeks. I was super mom.
Looking back now, I see that I had set myself up for disaster. Not only had we experienced a mountaintop adoption experience, but I had also elevated myself to the “Supermom” status. At the base of mountains are valleys, and pride comes before the fall.
The fall, mama’s, was painful and ugly. I was undone and at the lowest point in my life thusfar. I was not attaching to my new daughter. She was a mystery to me. When I tried to explain my despair and depression to close friends, I was unable to find words. Honestly, the only one who I felt heard me, was God.
My picture perfect daughter had also unraveled. She took her cues from my lousy behavior and anger. Crying constantly, I was unable to settle her down. It was as if an emotional, irrational teenage girl was living in the body of my one-year old. The only time she was content, was when sleeping. Most days, I would leave her in her crib crying. I could not console her, and I quickly grew weary of trying. And honestly, with my anger rising, I knew she would be safe there. This went on for weeks and then months.
What was wrong with me that I couldn’t attach to my new adopted daughter?
At that time, I did not have the insight or emotional energy to try and figure out why. I was barely surviving.
I remember one moment in time with crystal clear clarity.
Once again, Amilia was crying unconsolably in her crib. Unknown to me, my 4 and 3-year old boys had let the dog out, and he was now running around the neighborhood causing trouble. As I ran out the door with my older boys to chase the dog, I realized I had no idea where my 2-year was. We called him “Silent Sammy” because he never made any noise, but he was constantly moving and into something. The dog became the least of my priorities, as I started to search Sammy. I finally found him in the garage, clinging to the top of a six foot ladder! He was quietly whimpering (probably because he had been there a good while and had grown weary) and bleeding. I quickly snatched him up, and ran out to the yard to find my boys. At this point, who really cares about the lost dog. I was met by our wonderful neighbor who told me the two older boys were running around the streets looking for our dog.
Boys, ages four and three, were running the streets without supervision.
My two-year old was tramatized and bleeding.
My baby had been crying in the crib for over an hour.
And, oh yeah, and the dog was lost.
I honestly don’t remember what happened next. I must have found the kids, dog, and taken care of my bleeding Sam. I do remember calling my husband at work though. I quickly re-told the story to him, in hopes that he would drop everything and come home. At that moment I didn’t really need physical help, but I was emotionally DEAD. Looking back on it, I should have told him that I needed him to take me to the mental ward. I was losing my mind and in despair. I had placed my value in my “supermom” status, and I was clearly failing.
My despair went on for a good six months before I came to this realization. My greatest efforts to attach and love my adopted daughter were falling desperately short. My pride and failure had paralyzed me. One day, many months in, as I was headed once again to her bedroom on a mission to stop her incessant crying, I asked for help. Honestly, I don’t remember asking for help before this point. My pride had blinded me, and didn’t want to admit I couldn’t love her on my own. It was a simple prayer.
God, help me to love her, because I can’t do it on my own.
From that moment on, things changed. I came face to face with the reality of where my pride had taken me, and I asked earnestly for God’s help daily. Attachment didn’t come overnight. Honestly, it took until she was at least two before it seemed healthy. Along with asking for help, I fought hard to embrace humility. Before this point, I didn’t realize how my pride ruled me. Ladies; be strong, be courageous, and be bold! Love those babies with all you have and be confident. But don’t be full of pride. Don’t think that you are better than others are. Also, don’t judge them.
I learned the hard way. I told myself that I was awesome, that I was supermom, and that I was doing a better job than you.
Shame on me. Please, please forgive me.
Now mamas, if you are on the other side of the plate, and embrace self dis-trust and lack of confidence, listen up. Don’t believe the lies that you are failing, and that you are not enough. You, are enough. Both pride and self-distrust are lies, and they will paralyze us if we believe them.
Growing our family through adoption not only brought me the most loving, sweet and sassy daughter, but it also taught me humility. I am tearful, and my heart overflows with gratitude. I love my daughter so!
