Hold On For One More Day

Writing this blog about stress is really stressing me out.  I wanted to find a way to share how relaxed and easy my visit was with the man-child, but one look in his eyes and I could see a life of worry.  Worry about doing the right thing, worry about being flexible, worry about worry.  It was so evident.

His worry made me worry which made the grandfather worry, which resulted in all of us worrying.  The big eyes, filled with concern, and somewhat frozen face is also a reminder of my mom's last days.  So there was worry enough for both the living and the dead.

While the trip was good, it brought up a lot of issues of how to find ease when anxiety is the fourth member of the family.  We talked, we exercised, we ate, we sat in silence, and still the tension was the elephant in the room.  We worried about personal space, personal values, social justice, global warming, environmental degradation, creating community.  All worries that can keep the most engaged adult awake, not usually the 13-year old.

However, during these moments, what was also present was an outpouring of communication both verbal and non-verbal.  A look, a touch, the face in the rear-view mirror.  It all said something.

After three days, I had hoped that the tightly clenched fists and wide expressive eyes would soften.  That the physical body would melt from rigidity just a bit.  That an exhale would open the lungs.  That he could smile being with me.

And then  . . .

For an interesting read on anxiety, check out this piece in the NY Times Magazine by Daniel Smith.

Parental love on day 4,165 - the brain's anniversary gift

I am very interested in the intersections of science and parenting.  Most specifically, how the brain impacts our relationships.  In a recent NY Times Opinion piece by Diane Ackerman, "The Brain on Love" she notes that "all relationships change the brain, but more important are the intimate bonds that foster or fail us, altering the delicate circuits that shape memories, emotions and that ultimate souvenir, the self."

This got me thinking about neurobiology connections between mother and adopted child.  For far too many years, I always kept in the back of mind the thought, "does my son really see me as his mom?"  We adopted him when he was 2 years old and so many formative aspects of who he was were already developed.  While he knows I love him, in those deep and primal moments of crisis, does he instinctively attach to me as his mother and protector?  I wondered about this from day one, and it plagued me until just recently.

A gift was delivered, similar to his arrival.  Out of the blue, with a boat-load of baggage and pain, and what may be seen as a small moment throw away moment, you would have missed it.  As you know, the connection to my child did not happen in utero with our DNA printed on one another.  However, it has developed with him as we communicated with our eyes, face, and voice once he came into my life.

It never crosses my mind that I need to make up the time we were not in each others lives.  From conception to birth and then along the rocky road until he came into my arms.  For each of the 4,165 days that we have been together, we have worked on establishing new neural wiring.

As any parent of a child will tell you there are genetic influences, and then there is the rest of the stew.  Drs. Daniel J. Siegel and Allan N. Schore Researchers at UCLA have made strong connections to tease out that it is not that care giving that changes genes and the subsequent impact on the child, it actually influences how genes express themselves as the child grows and develops.  At a recent conference at UCLA the researchers spoke about how "feeling felt" influences not only our choices for romantic partners, but that it  also impacts other areas of the child in studies that measure mental health, happiness, longevity, etc.  "Supportive relationships point to the most robust predictor of these positive attributes in our lives across the life span."  The key here is supportive.

So what was the gift you ask and how do I think that neurobiology has a role.  I was watching a movie with the boy, when a character said, "Your mother sacrificed everything for you to be safe." I secretly hoped that this line would not a point of interest in my boy, as I walk with the insecurity of our maternal-child bond more than I wish to admit.  Then, my boy turns to me and says, "Just like you, you do that for me."

What I would have given for a fMRI of that moment.  However, while I now know that this connection could be seen in his brain--it came from his heart.  All the more of a gift.

Becoming a man . . . mazel tov

What does that even mean?  Is it the physical appearance when a child morphs into an adult?  Is it by thoughts, deeds, actions, words?  Is it the first time when the peach-fuzz turns to whiskers and are ripe for removal?  It is the confluence of all of these and then some.

Recently, my man-child walked through the door of mechanical exfoliating the child-fuzz that has been part of his face since he was young.  This very banal and commonplace ritual sparks the immediate loss of childhood for me in a way that rattles my bones.

Compared to other first rituals such as losing teeth, a first kiss, losing virginity, it is all weighted the same in my eyes.  They are steps along the road to adulthood that I am so ill prepared for.  I think that this is so hard because he is my only, my one, and also I have struggled with confidence that he feels the same way about me.

However, with the loss of the soft fuzzy hair came an understanding that I have been longing for.  He does see me as his only and his one.

While the stress of separation and homesickness has caused him to feel many emotions, he wrote with clarity about his connection to me--his mother.  He knows and feels the depths of my love and commitment to him; he feels the unconditional love and acceptance; he has a safety net when times get tough; and is secure to make mistakes without rejection and judgement.  It is what we all wish for with our children and mine was able to express it to me.

As we walk along the path from child to man and the bumps punch the air out of our lungs, it is good to  feel the exhale as if it is our first breath of life.


If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And which is more; you'll be a Man, my son!
If  . . .  Rudyard Kipling