What does grief look like at 4?

Many people have asked us how Adi is doing. We have been honest in our answer when we say, “He is doing really well.” This does not mean that grief does not exist. Adi spent four and a half years with his birth parents. He had a routine, he had familiar and he has been thrown into a whole new family, in a whole new state and is no longer an only child. Adding to that, Adi has autism therefore his responses are not always appropriate to the situation. This has been traumatic and yet for the most part, Adi is happy. He calls us mommy and daddy. He seeks us out, asks us to fulfill his needs, he allows us to comfort him, and he knows that this is home.

However, there are moments that Adi forgets that his name is now Wood, which is confusing. He gets upset and angry if we do not understand what he wants. He pushes and hits when he gets mad at being told, “No.” The hardest is at night. The grief and confusion is strongest at this time.
Since bringing Adi home, he has come to our bed after only a couple of hours of sleep. When he arrives at Brian’s side, he is visibly upset and must be up against one of us for the rest of the night. All night, he thrashes, whimpers and reaches out to touch our faces. This week, I decided it was time to tackle bedtime. Brian and I have traded off nights sleeping with him since we brought him home. We miss a good night’s sleep and Adi needs to develop a healthy sleeping pattern as well.
Anna Beth is at camp this week so I pulled the mattress off the top bunk (AB has been sleeping in Adi’s room so she could be close) and laid it on the floor beside his bed. Each night, he wakes, I am already there to calm him, lay next to him on the floor and reassure him that Mommy is not leaving. He will always lay back down and we repeat this several times a night.

Folks, this is the part that my heart breaks... My son will wake in a panic, from a dead sleep and start to cry. He has said, “Mommy, when we get done doing all these things, we can go back?” “Mommy, you still here?” “Mommy, tell me what I have to do so we can go back.”
I lay there on the floor and hold his hand till my arm goes numb. I weep and pray over his heart after he goes back to sleep. Each time he wakes, I tell him that I will not leave him. That I will be here every time he wakes. It crushes me to hear the fear in his voice BUT each time he wakes and I am there, I gain more of his trust. He calms faster and settles back down to sleep faster. He is spontaneously telling me that he loves me now. We are making baby steps towards healing.

I am struck with how inadequate I am to walk Adi through this. I see how selfish my heart is as I witness his grief. Many days I am weary and just want this child to stop touching my face every few seconds. But then I see those brown eyes full of uncertainty and I realize that this is what God has called me to do. Just love him…Let him see Jesus through my responses. Adi has no frame of reference to Jesus other than what we show him. It is mine and Brian’s responsibility to teach him grace. This is not something he has experienced in the past. This little guy is wrapping his fingers around my heart and teaching me how to love fully.

“Because the God who said, Out of darkness light shall shine, is the One who shined in our hearts to illuminate the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in earthen vessels that the excellency of the power may be of God and not out of us.”—2 Corinthians 4:6-7