Finding Strength in Unexpected Moments
Easter Sunday was my youngest's 5th birthday. The day was already a parenting marathon, with my eldest spinning out of control—likely from birthday excitement overload. As we headed to a celebratory lunch, something happened that I had mentally prepared for but never actually expected.
We pulled off the interstate ramp when my oldest suddenly pointed to a man holding a sign by the roadside and said, "That's my bio dad."
My heart stopped. Cold tingles ran down my arms. In all the years he's lived with us, through countless encounters with people experiencing homelessness, never once had these words been spoken.
I immediately shifted into what I call my "executive coach mode"—asking open-ended questions and creating a safe conversational space within our car. But here's what surprised me most: while the moment was jarring, I wasn't unprepared. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I had rehearsed this exact scenario, knowing there was always a possibility our paths might cross in just this way.
My fight-or-flight response remained surprisingly calm because I had practiced this mental drill before. Still, the following 24 hours felt like moving through a fog—my body processing what my mind had already accepted.
For my son? His trauma response kicked in differently. He quickly filed it under "things that really didn't happen"—a protective mechanism that research shows is common among children who've experienced early adversity. Studies indicate that children who've faced significant trauma often develop specific coping mechanisms, including emotional avoidance and compartmentalization, to manage overwhelming experiences.
His story is personal—his to share when and if he chooses. Unfortunately, he once trusted a fellow sixth-grader with pieces of his history, only to have it weaponized against him. The cruelty of children targeting adoption as an insecurity reflects a painful truth about human nature: we often aim for the most vulnerable spot.
I never envisioned living in what's now called a "modern family"—siblings living in different households, adults collaborating to maintain those vital connections. Yet here we are, and there's a surprising beauty in this complex tapestry we've woven together.
Would I change parts of this story if I could? Absolutely. No child should experience abuse or neglect. But these difficult chapters have ultimately guided my children to where they needed to be to grow and thrive.
One remarkable thing I've noticed: when our son first arrived, he was small for his age—a combination of factors including ADHD medication and early life stress. Research consistently shows how chronic stress and trauma can affect physical development, including growth patterns and immune function. But now? He's topping the growth charts, physical evidence of how profoundly safety and stability can transform a child's entire being.
Living in survival mode changes you. The research is clear that adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) can significantly impact brain development and stress response systems. But the research also shows something equally powerful: resilience can be built, attachment can be repaired, and with the right support, our children can not just survive their histories—they can transcend them.
That day at the interstate off-ramp wasn't in any parenting handbook I've read. But sometimes our most profound moments of parenting happen precisely where the roadmap ends.
