June Message From Helene
Dear Friends,
As Father's Day approaches, I have been thinking about the dads.
In the world of adoption, trauma, attachment, and healing, so much attention is often placed on the child's needs, the mother's role, the therapeutic process, the behaviors, the crises, and the day-to-day survival of the family. And all of that matters deeply.
But sometimes, quietly in the background, there is a dad who is showing up every day in ways that do not always get recognized.
This month, I want to pause and honor him.
I want to honor the adoptive dads, foster dads, stepdads, grandfathers, and father figures who are doing some of the hardest and most important work a man can do. I want to honor the dads who are helping children heal from wounds they did not cause. I want to honor the men who keep choosing connection, even when connection is not easily received.
Many of the children we love and serve have experienced early trauma, loss, rejection, neglect, abuse, abandonment, or multiple disruptions in relationships. Because of this, love may not feel safe to them at first. Closeness may feel threatening. Trust may feel impossible. A calm voice, a caring gesture, or a simple invitation to connect may be met with resistance, anger, fear, or rejection.
For dads, this can be especially painful.
Many adoptive fathers have heard things like, "You're not my real dad," or "I don't have to listen to you." Some have been pushed away again and again by the very child they are trying so hard to love. Some dads walk into the room and immediately become the target of a child's fear, anger, or control, not because of who they are, but because of what that child has lived through.
That is not easy.
It takes a great deal of strength to stay loving when your love is rejected. It takes patience to remain calm when a child is dysregulated. It takes humility to keep learning when traditional parenting does not work. It takes courage to come back after a hard moment and say, "I am still here. We are going to try again."
And that is exactly why dads matter so much.
A safe, steady father can offer an adopted child something deeply healing. He can become living proof that not all men leave. Not all men hurt. Not all men control. Not all men give up when things become difficult.
He can help rewrite a child's experience of what a father can be.
For a child with trauma and attachment wounds, a father's presence may be tested before it is trusted. A child may push him away to see if he will leave. A child may try to control him to see if he will become frightening. A child may reject his affection because needing someone has not been safe in the past.
This is where the healing work happens.
Not in one big dramatic moment, but in the repeated, ordinary moments of family life.
It happens when Dad lowers his voice instead of raising it.
It happens when he gives the child space but does not disappear.
It happens when he repairs after a hard interaction.
It happens when he keeps showing up for therapy, school meetings, family conversations, bedtime routines, and all the invisible moments that build safety over time.
It happens when he says, through his actions, "You do not have to be easy for me to love you."
That kind of fathering is powerful.
I also want to recognize that dads are not only supporting the child. They are often helping hold the entire family system together.
In families raising children with trauma and attachment challenges, stress can move through the home very quickly. One child's dysregulation can affect everyone. Parents become exhausted. Siblings may feel the tension. Marriages can feel strained. The home can begin to revolve around crisis, behaviors, and survival.
In those moments, many dads become stabilizers.
They step in when their spouse is worn out. They take the child for a walk or a drive. They help reset the tone in the house. They bring humor when everything feels too heavy. They protect family routines. They check on the other children. They sit beside their partner and say, "We are going to get through this."
Sometimes that support is quiet. Sometimes it is practical. Sometimes it is emotional. Sometimes it is simply staying steady when everything around them feels unsteady.
That matters.
It matters to the child. It matters to the spouse. It matters to the siblings. It matters to the whole family.
And I want to say something directly to the dads who may be reading this.
You may not always feel like you are making progress.
You may wonder if your child will ever truly trust you.
You may feel hurt by the rejection, even when you understand where it comes from.
You may feel unsure, tired, angry, sad, or alone at times.
You may grieve the version of fatherhood you thought you were going to have.
All of that is real.
And still, your presence matters more than you may know.
Every time you stay regulated when your child cannot, you are teaching safety.
Every time you come back and repair, you are teaching that relationships can survive hard moments.
Every time you remain kind and firm, you are teaching that love can have boundaries.
Every time you choose connection over control, you are helping your child experience something new.
You are part of the healing.
To the professionals reading this, I also want to offer a gentle reminder. Let's make sure we are seeing the dads in the room.
Let's invite their voices.
Let's ask how they are doing.
Let's not assume they are fine because they are quiet.
Let's recognize that fathers may carry grief, confusion, fear, and exhaustion too.
Let's encourage them, equip them, and include them as essential members of the healing team.
Adoptive dads need support. They need language for what they are experiencing. They need space to be honest. They need to know that feeling hurt does not make them weak, and needing help does not make them less capable.
This work asks a lot of fathers. It asks them to be strong, but also tender. Firm, but also flexible. Protective, but also emotionally available. Patient, but also honest about their own limits.
That is not easy work.
But it is holy work. Healing work. Family-building work.
So this Father's Day, I want to honor the dads who keep showing up.
The dads who sit outside the bedroom door because the child is not ready to let them in, but also should not have to feel alone.
The dads who drive to another appointment, another school meeting, another hard conversation.
The dads who apologize when they get it wrong.
The dads who celebrate the small wins that other people may not understand.
The dads who support their spouses when the day has been too much.
The dads who help siblings feel seen.
The dads who stay.
Please know this: your steadiness is not wasted. Your love is not invisible. Your presence is not small.
Even when a child cannot yet receive it, your love is helping create a new story.
A story where adults can be safe.
A story where men can be gentle.
A story where conflict does not mean abandonment.
A story where family means, "We are still here."
To every father and father figure walking this road with children from hard places, thank you.
Thank you for the strength no one sees.
Thank you for the repairs no one applauds.
Thank you for the patience it takes to love a child who is still learning how to be loved.
Thank you for helping hold your family together when the stress is high and the answers are not simple.
Thank you for being part of the healing.
At Parent Cooperative Community, we are dedicated to supporting adoptive families every step of the way. If you have any questions or need assistance, please reach out to us. Together, we can build loving and lasting family bonds. Contact us today to learn more!
