She Doesn’t Call Me Mom…

 

My daughter doesn't call me Mom.

There's a brutality in that that doesn't seem to fade. Because it's not just a name. If it was just a name I'd be okay with it...with not being Mom. But it's so much more, and in this season of life, my heart is seemingly constantly being broken in the wake of a daughter who does not want me to be her mother. 

I have held in secret deep hurts and brokenness in the life of my teenager's adoption. Partly because it's not only my story, but hers as well. But this year has been so very heavy...and I have so often felt so very alone in that heaviness. Who understands the rejection of RAD? Of ODD? Of ADHD? Of Adoption? Of a child who is so very loving and kind to everyone except their mom?

I've read post after post of mothers, of fathers, of siblings, of children who have faced or are facing the exact life we are living, and they a balm to my weary soul. Comfort in the knowledge that we are not alone...that I am not alone. And so in the spirit of this blog being a place where others can feel less alone...in the hope of of that...I am choosing to share this part of my story.

There are so many nights I have lain awake in the aftermath of an extremely verbally aggressive tantrum that lasted for hours. Hours that I have spent behind my locked bedroom door as my child has pounded against the door screaming at me. Days that have been held completely hostage by my child who's only thought is that I must lose and she must win...in ways that make no logical sense and punish us both severely. Days upon days that my daughter could not be in my presence because her hatred and anger was too much for either of us to handle.

There's been endless therapies and programs and prayers in the hopes of just a chance at healing. There have been threats and broken promises...police calls and ER visits...all in the pursuit of a help that she does not want nor think she needs.

Teenage rebellion has met with childhood trauma and formed a perfect storm of dysfunctional beliefs that I cannot break through.

My daughter's heart is broken...and I cannot fix it just by loving her. 

And that is a "wonder" that is holding our worlds apart...so very far apart from each other.

My daughter doesn't call me Mom...and she so often wishes I was simply not her mom.

But...I AM her mom. And for that I find myself created for such a time as this.

Created to love a daughter who does not want to love me.

Created to forgive a daughter who quite often abuses me.

Created to forge a path for her healing that she viscerally resents.

Created to forsake regrets and to embrace her as she is not as I wish she could be.

Created to breathe in the hope of the gospel and to breath out the mercy of a Savior.

All to save her...

...all to save her.

Created for such a moment as this. 

"Mom" will be written on my heart far longer than she'll ever refused to say it. I have given birth to death before...I am still determined to believe in hope.

In the greatest love story every written there was the deepest rejection and betrayal. There is nothing new under this sun...nothing new in our story. 

I do not know where our story will lead us to. I do not know if my child will eventually choose to walk away from her life with me. I do not know if she will choose healing and healthy coping skills. I do not know if our life will ever be enough.

But what I do know is this:

My daughter is wholly known and wholly loved by God...and she was His far before she was ever mine...I will "consider the lillies".

I am enough... and I do not need to be perfect...I need to be receptive.

I am her mother. Full stop. 

She may never to call me Mom...but I will choose to be that for every breathe of my life...

...all to save her.