He loves me, he loves me not...

I've been thinking quite a bit about rejection lately. Specifically, the rejection of your adopted infant and/or toddler and the laundry list of emotions that follow. I had been safe in my he-prefers-me-to-all-others bubble for almost a year. E simply wanted me more than anyone else...I could do no wrong (of course, I still insist this is absolutely true). I have not stressed over his attachment the way I did with L. I'm sure much of this has to do with the fact that L was my first and thus I obsessed over EVERYTHING, but also L was just a different baby. She was friendly, warm, engaging, but it took a long time to really feel secure that she knew me. I remember frequently asking hubby, "Do you think she really knows I'm her mother?" To my darling better half, this became a "does my butt look big?" kind of question. No matter his answer, I wasn't satisfied. I read every possible book on attachment, found those dreadful checklists online and obsessed over every single bullet point. When did I stop fretting over L? I honestly cannot recall. Now she is a very verbal 4-year-old and tells me she loves me multiple times each day.

Almost from the moment I met my sweet little E he sought me over all others. I will always remember how shocked, astonished and pleased I was when we asked a favorite nanny to take a picture with him before we checked him out of the orphanage for good. If you look at the picture, the whole time he is whining, reaching out and leaning towards me. E's first year home was wonderful in the sense that I didn't really stress too much about his attachment because he always demanded to be with me, but challenging as well because I had never mothered such a needy child. His need to be constantly touching me is most often a lovely thing, but there have been (and still are) moments when I could scream for the need for some personal space. 

But this past week, my dear friends, HE rejected ME. What the what??!! We're moving into a Daddy phase, I suspect, and I'm surprised at how I'm reacting - I'm uncomfortable, uneasy, hurt, needy. I find myself trying waaaaay too hard to make him laugh or smile, just so I can have some tangible proof that my boy still loves me ("He likes me, he really likes me!"). Poor thing, I can just see the inner dialogue on his face when I get this way: "Geez. Why won't she just give me some personal space? A man can only take so many kisses."

What I cannot seem to explain to myself is that right now he has been like this with pretty much everyone as of late. E has some language delays and the frustration that he experienced just a month ago is now exponentially greater. He wants things, and I can't understand him. Lately the majority of our days go as follows:

Elijah: "Mama, baba." (gesturing vaguely)

Me: "What? Juice? Snack? Tree? Flower? Lion? I'm sorry honey, I don't know what 'baba' is."

Add in the fact that, with very few exceptions he calls everything "baba", no wonder he gets pissed. I try to consider also that I am the one with him the majority of the time. When Daddy is home, E still most frequently comes to me with requests & demands, thus Daddy isn't forced to engage in the "baba" dialogue of frustration.

But oh, the rejection! Why does it hurt so much? Why do I take the often arbitrary actions of a toddler to heart? When it happens, why do I get that pit-in-the-stomach feeling of insecurity in my mothering? In his attachment? I know this will pass...I know it for sure as I now have absolutely NO problems when L is angry with me (Lord knows that happens frequently enough). I know it's a good thing that he's lovin' on his Daddy so much, but golly, I wasn't ready. I wasn't prepared to let anyone into our exclusive little club. Hell, I didn't even know there was a club until E started inviting other people and jealousy reared its ugly head. My baby who really wasn't a baby for long is definitely not a baby now. He's starting to see more things, notice more people and the desire to interact with those things and people is growing. I realize now that as much as I've bitched about having to carry this gigantic boy everywhere, I'm now so very sad that he might be starting to give that up, and letting my insecurity dictate what it all means.