The Making of a Cocoon

Preface...Going into this season of Levi's adoption into our family we knew that there would be some challenges that are unique to such children, and frankly we didn't have for forsite to share the following before hand.  As you read the following post, please understand this is not a reactionary "post" due to events that have happened from one of you or anticipation of such events in the near future.  Instead, this is a response to watching the fragile heart of our sweet son beginning to be stretched beyond anything he has ever seen and us recognizing the role God has called us to in protecting this precious gift (Levi) as we walk with him through his highest of highs and lowest of lows.  In advance, thank you for your understanding and please know that we are available for any and all questions!!  We love you all.

According to www.cocoon.org (surely the most comprehensive and authoritative source on cocoons): 

       cocoon -  nothing more than a protective casing that is around an insect. This is made of either silk or some other similar fibrous material that is then spun around the the insect during their pupal stage, which is the life stage of an insect that is undergoing transformation.

Call to mind, for a moment, every picture, every word related to the essence of a baby.  Here's my list, off the cuff: first cries of breath being placed into an anxiously awaiting mother's arms; soothing with touch, nursing and movement; long mid-day, midnight stares into little eyes; stroking cheeks; sensing intuitively the need of every cry; hours asleep in mama's, daddy's arms; a belly full with perfect nutrients - sleep following shortly thereafter; waiting for the first smile and smiling back so overcome with shared joy.  Really, the list could go on and on - mine only covers a few moments of the first days with baby.  The list would grow extensively through toddlerhood.  

Now, erase most all of that from your mind...except for the baby.  What happens to a baby without that list?  Is that list just for the enjoyment of the mother? Or is something profound happening within a child amidst all of those moments?  Is some need met when that baby is touched? Rocked to sleep? Nursed when hungry? Held close when cold? Changed when wet? Gaze met with smiling eyes? 

Research shows that deprivation and harm suffered early in life impact all the ways that a child develops - coordination, ability to learn, social skills, size and even the neurochemical pathways in the brain (just to name a few). 

Little ones stop crying because no one is coming.  They start rocking their own bodies to sleep.  As the days turn into months and months into years they develop ways to cope.  They are hardened.  They are calloused.  People come and people go. The child learns not to expect that adult to come back tomorrow.  As toddlers they fall down and scrape their knees and do not cry.  Saturday Levi flipped off his bicycle into a bush and barely uttered a sob. Bravery? Not when you know his story.  They seek to control their little corner because their world is out of control.  Levi colors pictures with unbelievable precision and goes into major meltdown when his sister scribbles all over her page.  Gifted artist? Sadly, no. 

So, now the beautiful thing of adoption has happened.  And this little one has been swept up into the arms of a family who wants to love him and provide for all of his needs.  But, language barrier or not, this is a foreign idea to him.  Only the most basic of physical needs have previously been met and that by a caretaker seeing to the needs of a dozen other children as well.  He does not know what it means for someone to come running when his bicycle flips over.  He has not cuddled on the couch while reading a book.  He has not chosen which food to eat. He does not know the love of mommy and daddy who will not leave him.  And one might think all of this would be a welcoming relief to him, but it is not.  It is different and it is scary.  To accept it, to let these people in, means vulnerability.  It means unlearning the coping.  It means depending on someone else...being bonded to them. It means learning how to trust.  

And that takes a long, long time.  It requires focused consistency of providing for his needs...physical and emotional.  It requires a constant observation for that small opening where he might let one in.  It requires faithfulness when you are allowed in.  Faithfulness to guard that little heart so that it will open again, maybe a slightly larger opening next time.  And therefore, it requires protection from the outside world which is ever changing.  It requires a cocoon.  

Here is where we need your help, understanding and grace.  We love you dearly.  We want our son to love you dearly.  But you have not been placed in his life to be his parents...to be the ones who will always be there, the ones entrusted to prepare him to be a part of this world and more importantly entrusted to disciple him in the love of Jesus Christ.  Just like we would never dream of attempting to fulfill that role in your children's life you must understand that that is exactly what is at risk if we allow you to be a caretaker or a provider.  If you begin connecting with Levi - providing for his needs, comforting him when he is hurt, giving instruction or redirection, showering him with affection, playing with him...we send a mixed message about who his first and foremost providers are.  And then you leave and he is all the more confused and perhaps shut down because of it.  

This is hard to understand.  We don't understand it much more than you.  Thankfully the Holy Spirit provides wisdom and discernment as this thing unfolds before us.  

We share this now, not to hurt your feelings.  We want to open a window for you to see what's really going on here.  Adoption is more than providing for a child's physical needs.    We want to you to know that Levi is vulnerable.  He is scared and he is confused.  And we are his protectors.  So we're building a cocoon.  We don't know how long this incubation time will last.  But we trust the Lord to reveal that.  And please, believe us when we say there is nothing that we personally would love more than to invite you each over for a meal, to be with you, to share this journey with you, to share Levi with you.  But we can't, not yet.  And here are some specifics of what that looks like: 

• Please don't drop by the house - call or text first.  And know that at this point, having visitors in the house is not going well.  As the days progress we may be able to meet in a public place (like a park). 
• If you are bringing a meal, thank you! We know the exciting thing about bringing a meal is getting to meet the new arrival.  But we may ask you to leave the food on the front porch at this point.  
• We can't stay in the house all the time (my walls aren't padded!) so we will be out and about in a few public places- we'd love to say hi.  But please approach slowly and engage me in a conversation first.  If I introduce you to Levi you can take that as your cue to greet him but please use discretion in how interactive you are with him. 
•  Don't be offended if we abruptly end a conversation or leave a gathering.  We'll probably text or call you later to explain and apologize but just know that there have and probably will continue to be moments when we suddenly realize we're not able to guard Levi's heart and we need to pull back.  Don't take it personally. 

I absolutely love this quote - I'm certain they designed it to be inspiring - from the Cocoon website:

"This is a very interesting process because it has oftentimes been said that the most beautiful butterflies have actually emerged from the ugliest Cocoons. For this reason, many people consider the process of the Cocoon to be a miracle of nature itself."

We don't know what we're doing.  We're not following some kind of daily post-adoption manual.  We've got a bunch of people who have walked this path before us whose stories we've gleaned from.  We've got a Lamp unto our feet.  And we've got Grace.  And we're leaning heavy on those last two. 

Thank you for your love and support and thank you in advance for understanding these difficult words. 

Love,

Andrew & Robin