All things are possible. Pass the word.

Imagine a world where a child suddenly find herself separated from all familiar sounds, smells, movements, voices, comforts - where whatever she has counted on for security is abruptly taken from her and she can't do anything about it. Maybe she is kidnapped, or taken prisoner by invading armies. Maybe she is forced to migrate to another country because of ethnic cleansing or becomes separated from her home in a flood or an earthquake. Maybe some idiot drops a bomb. Maybe her mother disappears and she doesn't know who will take care of her.... Maybe she is adopted.

Such things happen. Being resilient, humans survive. Recovery movements abound. We learn to make lemonade from lemons. As e.e. cummings said, "Great miracles are possible. It's a miracle we don't all melt in our bathtubs." So if a child were separated from her first life and survived, we can imagine that she might find a way to go forward and make a new life. The question is, What would be the logical outcome of experiencing this crisis for the individual? Would such an experience increase one's sensitivity about taking risks?

Sensitivity to Risk

It seems to us logical that being thrust into a survival situation may result in the development of an individual with a tremendous need for control. If a person has reason to feel that the world is dangerous and out of control, the outcome might be a lust for control - a need to control other people or to want to control something that seems wild - in order to counteract and heal the feelings of powerlessness one felt as a child. It seems natural enough to us that, after a profound loss, taking risks would seem to have unusually high stakes. One might become an ultra-cautious person who holds on to people, resources, and attention; or the opposite, becoming someone who seeks out risky situations to prove and reprove an ability to survive. Though apparently contradictory, these two patterns are on the same continuum.

Not everyone would respond to loss in the same way, of course. What we are suggesting is only that, for those who have suffered profound loss, situations involving risks are likely seldom to be taken for taken for granted. The responses may vary, but they are likely to come from the same source, a reaction against the pain of loss. If once burned, you may learn either to avoid fires or to become a fire-fighter - but you likely won't ignore the smell of smoke. If you see yourself with an uncommon probability of losing things (health, financial security, emotional security), you may either practice means of self-protection or move toward your fear, facing loss on purpose in order to master the fears and wrest the control from them. Perhaps you will become a sky-diver or a professional gambler or a stock broker.

It's hypothesized that many children who are separated from their birth parents in adoption have this experience of loss either at the moment of birth or at some other pre-verbal moment. The experience is visceral; the need to make the transition is essential. Those who experience loss at a young age don't have the ability to talk about it, but they have the language of their behavior, if only we can see it. Here's a story about a family of six - mother, father, and four children - who were joined through adoption; it's the story of what happened when the family decided to move across country, a highly emotional risk situation for everyone concerned. As you read, notice the behavior.

The Family Move

It was July, hot, even at night, and they didn't have air conditioning. By the third day of the trip, the station wagon smelled like the inside of a picnic cooler after the sandwiches turned funky. The mother and Jay, the 17-year-old son, took turns driving the wagon while the two younger kids argued in the back. The oldest daughter was finishing her term at college and would be joining the family later. The father drove alone in the VW with only the family cats for company. The cats, understanding the situation, hid under the seats, coming out only when a need for air or water threatened survival

The mother would have preferred hiding under a seat herself. She had taken off her wedding ring when they first hit Nevada because her fingers were so swollen, and now it had vanished from the universe. Her kids were making her nuts. They were so loud. It was so hot! Why couldn't they get along? If Susan, their oldest daughter, were traveling with them, it would be easier. Even though they had all planned this move together, the mother felt she was abandoning her child with every passing mile. All she wanted was to close her eyes against a clean white pillow.

The father just wanted to get there.

Jay hated everybody. He'd have to go to a new school for his senior year, man. It wasn't fair. He held his stomach. When he wasn't driving he sat in cold silence, throwing tight wads of paper into the ashtray. He wouldn't say a word more than he had to, not to any of them. The only one who understood was Susan. She'd told him she couldn't believe the family was moving away without her, even if she was away at college.

Lynn wouldn't keep her face or hands inside the car. "Sit back in your seat or close the window," her mother screamed. "No! I can't breathe," Lynn shouted, bursting into tears. She was afraid there wasn't enough air to go around. She needed to get hers.

Josh punched Lynn. "Stop hitting your sister!" his mother screamed. "Stupid brat," Josh said to Lynn. He wouldn't let her get away with it. "Stupid brat!" As soon as he could, he'd run away and go back to Ohio. "I hate California!" he yelled.

Welcome to the family move. Aren't you glad this is not your family? Wouldn't anybody be having a hard time in this scene? Does it matter that all the children were adopted? Yes and yes.

Recognizing Normal Behavior

Separating is inherently painful, but it is also intrinsic to living. Most of us, whether we are ten, seventeen, or forty-two, have a hard time with leave-taking, and endings are often times of sadness. But if a life crisis has taught us that saying good-bye means our lives will never be the same again, the stakes of leave-taking are higher for us than for others and will provoke a stronger larger emotional response. As Dr. Joyce Maguire Pavao states in "Normative Crises in the Development of the Adoptive Family," "although all families and individuals [face emotional challenges], the special circumstances that adoption creates add issues and complexity to the process. These issues are normal and healthy under the circumstances. Crises can even lead to transformation."

So what. Even if we are convinced that it makes sense for our families to interact with intensity when the core issues of separation and loss arise in life, what can we do about it? We can't protect our children from changes, and they will never be immune to emotional risk. So: don't protect them - prepare them.

Don't protect. Prepare.

Many of life's ordinary events will raise the emotional stakes for a family joined through adoption. It might be a family move, a change of schools, travel, or any situation that involves physical risk or that demands trust and confidence in the face of the unfamiliar and unproven. For families created through adoption, it makes sense to plan certain events with a little extra care, anticipating the strong emotional responses these events may generate; such planning can normalize difficult experiences and encourage productive interactions among family members.

So before getting into the car with the kids, the cats, and all their earthly belongings, it might have helped this family to gather around their kitchen table and talk about the trip: not just what they would do and see, but about how it might feel. "We will be hot and tired and it will feel like we're never going to get there. What kinds of things are likely to happen when we all feel like that? Well, when Mom gets tired and cranky; she loses important things. Dad speeds. He's going to want to keep driving no matter what, and he'll be mad if we want pit-stops. Jay won't talk. Josh will fight with Lynn. Lynn will cry. OK. What can we do about it?" Every family member will have ideas about how to deal with the situation (although Josh's suggestion to have Lynn ride in the trunk might not be such a good one). The useful thing is to reframe those patterns, reminding everybody involved that, under the circumstances, lots of emotion can be expected. Since it's normal, and anticipated, the family can handle it. In those difficult moments of emotional reactivity, maybe everybody can realize, "Oh yeah, here we go," rather than "This is out of control; get me out of here."

Anticipating everybody's reactions can also help minimize the "ripple effect," in which anxiety spreads from one member of the family to another, stirring up each member's tendency to react strongly to such events. Although planning for its challenges won't make the car trip any shorter (or get those cats out from under the back seat), by identifying our family's "hot button" issues and anticipating their likely interactions, we can put those difficult circumstances to better use.

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