Don't expect, suggest.

The last day of my adoption leave is before me, and all in all, it was a good time. The time off really didn't feel like time off--but I'd heard that raising a kid is hard work and I guess it's true.

My leave culminated in a five-day trip to South Dakota, where Rose and I had never been. I realize I'm doing this blog a major disservice to gloss over adoption day. I will go back and give that important day, July 19, 2011, all the credit and glory it deserves. I promise.

In the meantime, I need to mentally unpack the past five days. It's been emotional from the first day through the last minute. Before I become brutally honest, I'll post some of the optimistic, rose colored photos for those who prefer to dawn those glasses.

I actually snuck this photo before Rose realized it, hence, she doesn't have a scowl on her face.

To entice Rose into goofy vacation pictures, we attempted several ourselves. It failed, but we got some cute pics regardless.

A bird taking refuge from the heat in Custer Park and the bison doing what bison do best.

 

OK, so the fantasy ends there.

The picture below says it all. Notice who's missing? Yep, the same child who we thought and expected would be elated over a vacation refused to be in any pictures, was a moody teenager most of the time, mean other times, and defiant other times.

While sitting in a cafe in half-way to the Black Hills, where Rose refused to let Mike play a connect the dots game with us, it hit me like a load of bricks, this isn't the family I've dreamed of. I watched a family across from us. A mom, dad toddler and infant. Jealousy and anger filled me. Sure, they looked exhausted. Their toddler was needy. Yet, they were glued together by genetics lacking from our little family. I've got to keep that jealousy at bay though.  I knew this wasn't going to be like that.

We pushed onward despite my frustration, and by the third day nearly turned back when Rose refused to move away from a steep hill edge because her new shows were "slip proof." It sounds laughable, but I could just picture her trying out these shoes magical qualities and falling right off a cliff.

There were pleasing moments--watching Mike teach Rose to swim in the hotel pool each night, for example. Watching her face light up as she made a pressed penny at Wall Drug--which she'd never done before. Those moments feel all too few and far in between right now.

Tonight she had another anxiety attack resulting in extreme defiance, forcing us to leave the pizza place before our dinner arrived. She and I had a productive talk once she'd calmed down. She cried admitting she didn't know why she acted out or how to stop it. My heart breaks for the behavior she'll have to unlearn and brain chemistry she'll need to overcome. I believe her.

I just hope my heart can withstand her fury because at this moment, I am an exhausted shell of a human being unsure of any of this but very much certain we aren't raising a child but healing one. Pray for me.