Saturday 27 June 2015

Filling the Cup

In my head today, I was really judging someone for being so negative when nothing was really so bad in their life. My speech (still just inside my head) was getting pretty eloquent and self-righteous, when in a moment of clarity, I decided to apply the same critique to myself for a moment. It wasn't very comfortable.

Here are the bare facts of the past few days:

1. Cupcake had a head injury
2. I've been out without Cupcake approximately 5 times in 12 months (all "after bedtime")
3. I'm feeling tired and a bit isolated

But I could, with total honesty, put those things into this context:

Cupcake's head appears to be perfectly fine today; we had a great GP consultation that was really reassuring, and even though monitoring her overnight was physically gruelling, it is a genuinely tiny price to pay for the peace of mind that she is safe and well.

There were a lot of people who agreed to be in my semi-official support network before I adopted, but I've struggled to ask for help from them. Really, the only person who can change that is me, and I need to swallow some pride and accept that for now, I need to ask for favours from people without being able to offer much in return. These people are good people, and they will have known it would be like that when they offered. I have been a bit of an idiot.

The cup is as full as I choose to see it. Brimfull of friends, happy memories, potential joys, and hands to hold if I need them.


Tuesday 23 June 2015

Low-hanging fruit

A year ago I wouldn't have been brave enough to go picking fruit with Cupcake. (This seems like a natural and sensible point to explain that I'll be calling my little girl Cupcake in these posts. Doubtless when she's older she will find that unbearably saccharine and laughable, but remind me to tell her then that it could have been a LOT worse. Mini Tart? Well quite - I thought not.)

Anyway, fruit picking. Why would that take courage? Well, I didn't trust myself to be able to cope with Cupcake's possible ... what shall I call them? Anxiety attacks almost, if a three year old can have those. I wanted so badly to know I could comfort her, contain her fears, make her world feel safe. But I wasn't sure, and she knew it. I learned more and more of her triggers, and slowly she showed me what helped her.

We went fruit picking today. It was great. It was quiet (most people still in school or work, or perhaps not trusting the breeze pushing dark clouds across the sky). Cupcake, as predicted, was very taken with the idea of carrying her own little "basket" and marched straight off to fill it. She turned out to be an asset in spotting ripe prime berries, as the ones at her eye level would be overlooked by most adult pickers, being around their knee-height.



Here are just a few of the things that would have sent Cupcake into a spiral of genuine fear previously: wide open spaces, doing something new, touching a gooseberry, eating a strawberry, being more than a few steps away from me... I could go on.

Here's what bothered her today: a musical carousel (and she still decided to have a go on it, after watching for a few minutes to check it out). She alternated between striding and running up the grass between the fruit bushes, she ate far more strawberries than she carried home, she got a bit grumpy when I called to her to stay within sight...I loved it. Now, what am I going to do with all the gooseberries?

Monday 22 June 2015

Begin at the beginning

Many times every day, I wonder about our beginnings. How important are they, our very early days? Days we have no control over, days when we are at our most vulnerable, days we won't remember.

On the road preparing for adoption, there was time to read and read and read. Early brain development, the effect of pre-natal trauma, the impact of neglect and the possibility of healing... It's all fascinating when it's still abstract. And then suddenly, very suddenly, it's not a set of floating concepts any more. Those ideas are firmly tethered to a tiny body sleeping fitfully in the newly decorated child's bedroom, and the vulnerability takes my breath away.

 
The sheer vastness of the courage it takes for this child to put her hand in mine... that moment of touch is a privilege. She has absolutely no idea how precious she is.