(Happy Birthday)²

Fifteen years ago today, we got a phone call telling us that these two were born - five weeks early.

We hopped in our van and drove through the night to Waco, TX, to meet our new children.  We didn't get to see them right away because they were in NICU, but we did get meet their wonderful mom for the first time.  When we did get the opportunity to see the twins, they were adorable, and they still are. 

Aidan & Emily, I love you both so much!  You add so much fun and excitement to our family.  It is a privilege to be your mom, and I am so proud of the wonderful young man and young lady you are becoming!

Happy 15th birthday!

Like A Machine Gun

September 2 marked the beginning of birthday season here at our house, and now the birthdays come rapid fire like a machine gun.  So, you will all forgive me for being a day late in wishing Zo-Bug a happy 8th birthday!

The little Zo-ster is EIGHT!  How did that happen?  Second grade?!

Zoe, you add so much laughter and life to our house!  I am so thankful to be your mama!!

Now I Have Two!

I have two adult children!!!  I'm not quite sure how that happened, but it did!

Eighteen years ago today, a teeny, tiny baby was born prematurely.  It was Labor Day - how appropriate!  We wouldn't know about this baby, all hooked up to wires and tubes in the NICU, for another eleven days. On Sept. 13 I received a phone call from our social worker, "I know you are not done with your homestudy, but...there's been a baby girl born...."

Eighteen years later I can still remember that phone call! 

Ten days later, Nina was released from the hospital and came home to be our daughter.  From our first contact with the adoption agency until we brought Nina home was six months.  That was God!  Domestic adoptions rarely occur that quickly.

I can't really put into words how much I love this girl!  That's God, too, btw. Those of you that have known us for many years, know that Nina was not one of those "easy to raise" children.  I'm not being mean in saying that, just factual.  She will readily admit to this now.  When she was younger we used to be terrified of her teen years, fearing that she would be in utter rebellion by this time.  Truth.

But God - being rich in mercy to her and to us - kept her from making really bad choices, he kept our relationship with her intact through much conflict, and He eventually called her to himself, to become his daughter. 

So Nina, on your eighteenth birthday, I want you to know that I love you. I love you, not for what you do or don't do, but for WHO you are.  I so enjoy YOU!  It is a privilege to be your mom!

Broken Hearts, Broken Chairs

If you've been to our house in the last six years and spent any time in our kitchen, you've seen the sad state of our kitchen chairs.  It is usually one of the first things that people notice when they walk in the kitchen.  Frequently, someone will ask, "What happened to the chairs?" A question that I have become quite skilled at NOT answering.  I'm quite good at pretending I didn't hear something, if I have to be!

Now that we are remodeling the kitchen, we will soon have new (unbroken chairs), and I have decided it is a good time to tell, "What happened to the chairs?"

In the adoption world, there is a fine line between sharing too much and not sharing enough.  Share too much, and you violate your child's privacy. Don't share enough and you leave others in the adoption community feeling like they are the only ones who are dealing with these things. It's a balancing act I try to perform to the best of my ability.  Those of you with children struggling with attachment are going to really understand this post. For those of you not exposed to attachment issues, I want to give you a small glimpse of what life is like for some of us.

Every one of those damaged chairs represents the results of the damage done to a child's heart.  My child's heart.  Some children who are adopted transition smoothly into their new life without a wrinkle, but MOST children struggle at some point, in some way.  The older a child was when he was adopted, the greater the struggle usually is.  Sadly, the default self-defense mechanism for some of these kids is violence.  The trigger that sets them off might be as minor as not liking what's for breakfast.  In our case, the violence frequently started with kitchen chairs hitting the floor.

So, "What happened to the chairs?" They were violently broken by and angry, hurt child.

Broken-hearted children break chairs....

BUT, there is hope and healing.  It has been at least six months since a chair has hit the floor.  It has been so long that we are going to get new chairs.  I had a long talk with my chair-breaking child.  I praised him for the incredible growth in self-control he has shown in not throwing chairs.  I told him that I am confident that that is all behind him now, so confident that I want him to pick out our new chairs.  He is VERY anxious to get those new chairs because they won't just be new chairs, they will be a new chapter in his life.

This May Hurt

How many times have I had to put my children through pain for their own good?  When Molly was younger she got a really large splinter in the bottom of her foot.  After a few days, it became apparent that she would need to have a doctor remove it.  It had become quite painful and infected.  The doctor would need to make a cut in the bottom of her foot, so they would need to numb the area first.  I watched as the doctor took a large needle and stuck it several times into the bottom of Molly's foot.  She cried.  My heart almost broke watching Molly go through that pain, yet I knew it had to be done.  The splinter had to be removed, and this was the best way to do it.

As a mother, my heart is inexorably bound to the hearts of my children.  I am more concerned for them than I am my own next breath.  As hard as it was to watch my children go through painful experiences as young children, it is infinitely more painful to watch or wonder about the painful experience they have yet to face.  This has been my struggle for the past year, or so.  I want to protect my kids; I want to orchestrate their future; I want to keep them from the difficulties of growing up, and I can't.  I can't see beyond the next turn, so I certainly lack the ability to know what is best for them.

I do believe that God loves my children with an intense and consuming love, and I do believe that he holds their future in his hand.  The struggle I have can best be summed up on this C. S. Lewis quote -

"What do people mean when they say 'I am not afraid of God because I know He is good?' Have they never been to a dentist?....We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be."

And so, I wonder how painful the best is going to be for my kids. Sometimes it keeps me up at night. I wish I could say that I am always "trusting God" for my children's future, but that would be a lie.  I can say that I am fighting a battle of faith to trust God for my children's future, but it is a battle!

So, I cling to verses like Jeremiah 29:11, "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

And I listen to songs like this -




And I fight the battle to have more faith, knowing that their loving heavenly Father will only allow them pain that is for their good.

That Question

I went to Sam's Club this morning with my three little ones. Since I usually have an abundance of babysitters at home, I don't frequently go out with all three little ones anymore.  As I was leaving the store, the woman checking our receipt asked THAT question.  One of those questions, that adoptive families get ALL the time, but I haven't heard in awhile...."So, you're babysitting today?"

After a brief pause where I had to process what she just said, I responded with a smile, "No, they're mine," and left.  Of course, on the walk to the car and the ride home I had to field questions like, "Why did she ask that?" and "Is she racist?" from my kids.

Now, there are a couple ways to spin her question:

1. Adoption isn't on her radar when she sees a white mom with black kids.
2. The kids look too close in age to all be siblings.
3.  I look too old to have kids that young.

Well, no matter which option you choose, it's not very pleasant.

There was a time, when my older five were little (5,3,2,newborn, newborn) that I considered having "Yes! They're all mine!" tattooed on my forehead, to cut down on the awkward questions and even more awkward staring.  I haven't thought about it in many years though...I'd like to think it's because people have stopped staring, but maybe I've just become oblivious to the gawking.

Oh, and there was that time on our way to Alabama last year when a gentleman asked if we were taking the children from the local Baptist Children's Home on an outing.... (*this is where I mentally  slap myself on the forehead and suppress a scream*)

Anyway, most of the time, I think graciously about people asking these awkward question, but I thought I'd put this out here as a public service announcement....when you see a family where the kids don't look like the parent, please let adoption at least wander through your thoughts.  Or, when you see a mom (or dad) with a boatload of little kids, instead of asking if they do daycare, offer to help them in some way...or just smile....

Carry on....

Six Years

Six years ago today, we landed in Minneapolis with Marcus and Zoe, having just taken them from warm and beautiful Ethiopia into the frozen tundra we call home.  The 20+ hour flight and the submersion into a completely foreign environment was quite a shock for them both, I am sure.  Marcus spoke almost no English.  We spoke even less Amharic. We made do, and somehow managed to muddle through those weeks and months that followed.

Time marches on, and now I can look back on six entire years of our journey with Marcus and Zoe.  I would be an utter liar if I told you it has all been a bed of roses.  I would be just as much a liar if I told you it has been awful.  Truthfully, it's been both.

Life is messy.
Life is hard.
Life is glorious and beautiful.

You get it all rolled up in one package.

Anyway, we are so thankful that God brought Marcus and Zoe to our family.  They bless us in so many ways, big and little.  We are so excited to see how much they've overcome and how much they've grown.  We look forward to seeing all that God has for them and for us in the future.

The very first picture we ever saw of our future son and daughter

It didn't take Zoe long to adjust :-)

Marcus sporting his new winter clothing.  He had probably never worn so many layers in his life!

Cute as can be!

And Now, The Rest of the Story

About two weeks ago, I wrote a post about our miscarriages and subsequent adoption.  It has been one of my most widely read posts.  There were really two stories in that post, but I only gave a small glimpse into the second one - the one about Nina's first mom, Rebekah.  When Rebekah read the post, she felt lead to share her story as well.  I was thrilled!

Rebekah is far more than Nina's first mom to us, she is indeed part of our family, and we love her dearly.  I am honored that she is willing to share her story with us her.  Without further ado, here is the rest of the story....

 I am a very private person by nature. I have never shared this story in written form and most of my friends and family only know parts of it; however, when Barb posted a blog recently, I felt prompted to share. This is by no means a complete account of my thoughts, actions, and the happenings surrounding my experience.

Barb’s blog post the other day was a story about loss and a gift. She posted the link to her Facebook and commented that the blog was really about two stories. I agreed with her and commented the same thing when I shared her post on my Facebook. Since then, I’ve thought about it a lot…this story is the second of two stories, but they’re part of one plan – God’s plan.

I turned 19 years old in the summer of 1995. I was arguing with God about the happenings in my life thus far. I say arguing, but it was more like war. I was angry and I refused to obey Him (although I wanted to sometimes). I absolutely would not give up control of my life. I knew God and I was a believer.

I made a promise to God in December of 1995 and I broke that promise at my first opportunity –the end of January 1996. I was a couple months along when I realized that I was pregnant. It was scary and strange and miraculous and amazing. I couldn’t believe it! The only thing that I knew for sure at that time was that God’s plan for my child was to be adopted. It wasn’t a decision that I came to by weighing the pros and cons and so on and so forth. It was a sure thing; I just knew it. I can justify my decision by giving you my circumstances: I was in a relationship that would not last, I worked at minimum wage and my child would be raised on welfare, I had so many issues to work through, etc., I really could go on. But the point is that my child would not have been raised in the way that I would want my child/ren to be raised.

I quickly had to figure out what I wanted in a family. In some ways it was like trying to look into my future to decide how I wanted my life to eventually turn out. What did I prefer? What did I value? What thing was more important than another thing? Those were some very difficult questions for me. I was completely self-centered and hadn’t thought much about how my life would affect anyone else’s life, yet God was giving me a life to take care of. I didn’t care much about my own life and was fine staying in an angry relationship with God, but I wasn’t going to mess up someone else’s life! I always say that I wasn’t ready to raise a child and a child was not ready to be raised by me.

I was nearing the end of my pregnancy when I went to a private adoption agency. I filled out some paperwork and met a woman caseworker. I don’t remember all of the details of our meeting but I do remember discussing what I preferred in a family. I was pretty focused on what I was looking for and since this decision mattered forever, I wasn’t going to settle. I flipped through several files of families, but none were my child’s family. I was a bit disappointed because my expectation was that I was going to find the family for my soon-to-be-born little girl immediately upon my arrival in their office. Our appointment time was almost over and I must have looked disappointed because the caseworker started asking more detailed questions about my criteria for the family. Then she asked, “Can you wait for a minute? I think I might have the family for you. Their approval process isn’t quite finished yet, but I can give you their profile.” I said yes, of course. I don’t remember if I brought any other profiles home with me that day, but theirs is the only one that mattered.

 My daughter was born seven weeks before she was due. The doctors couldn’t give me a real reason why, only speculations. She wasn’t breathing when she was born and then she stayed in the NICU for three weeks and one day after her birth. I never worried about whether she would be alright. I trusted God and His plan for my daughter.

The day that my little girl went home with the family God chose for her was certainly the hardest day of my life. I tried to be strong and not cry. That didn’t work out at all. I cried constantly for the entire two weeks afterward. I took comfort in knowing that this was God’s plan and He was the one who was taking care of my child. Otherwise, I can’t imagine how I would have gotten through it. I didn’t know Barb's family, but they had the one person who I loved more than myself. The loss was painful and difficult, although it was for the best.

 Almost 18 years have gone by since my daughter went home with her family. I wanted a family that would be open to updating me on my daughter’s life by sending pictures and letters. Over the years, they have done that and more, and I can easily say now that they are more than my daughter’s family; they are my family, too. They are a blessing in my life that would not be here, had it not been for my loss. This experience has continued to give me peace and comfort in knowing that even when we aren’t obeying Him or are wondering why we have had to suffer through something, God always has His plan, and it’s a better one than ours.

A Story For You To Think About

This is not a political blog.  This is not an "issues" blog.  This is just MY blog.  There is a blog I follow entitled "I Write What I Like."  I like that!  I write what I like, as well!

Today, I am going to share two true stories.  I am not going to tell you what to think about these stories.  That's up to you.  I just spent an hour trying to teach high school biology students how to think for themselves and not just regurgitate facts.  I'm assuming that my blog readers are at least as capable as my high school science students in this matter.

The first story begins a little over eighteen years ago....

I was married and had a two year old son.  We wanted to have a second child.  I became pregnant in June, 1995 but suffered a miscarriage seven weeks into the pregnancy.  Another pregnancy followed that fall, but it quickly ended in miscarriage, as well.  We were grief stricken.  Would we ever be able to carry another child to term?  We just didn't know.  The doctors, though compassionate, were unable to give an answer to the "whys" or "what ifs" beyond giving us statistical data. 

We started talking about adoption.  It had always been our plan to adopt, but we thought we would have our biological kids first and then adopt. Still hoping for a successful pregnancy, we didn't start the adoption process.

In January, 1996, I found myself pregnant yet again.  I was scared spitless!  I went in to my doctor's appointment at nine weeks gestation and held my breath while they tried to find the baby's heartbeat....there it was!  The beating of a little heart. That heartbeat brought my chance of miscarriage down significantly.  I was due in September.

Three weeks later, I went in for an ultrasound, which my doctor agreed to do to calm my nerves about the pregnancy.  As I lay there on the table, the nurse looked and looked for that heartbeat, but it wasn't there.  Sometime between nine weeks and twelve weeks my baby had died.  I declined the offer to do a D & C, and opted to let my body take care of "getting rid of the baby" on its own.

This is when I was given a most wonderful gift from my heavenly Father.

About a week or two later, I finally miscarried my baby.  Only this wasn't a "normal" miscarriage in one sense.  Although the baby had been dead for a time before it came out, the amniotic sac had remained intact.  Because of this, my baby had not started to deteriorate, but remained intact as well.  My miscarriage began with my "water breaking" and I "delivered" a very teeny, tiny baby.  God allowed me to hold my little, itty bitty baby in the palm of my hand and marvel at the little arms and legs.  It clearly was a little baby - maybe an inch long.

That's my story.

Unbeknownst to me, another story was happening at the same time as mine. It also involved a pregnancy.  A young, single woman found out she was pregnant.  She made the brave, gut-wrenching decision to carry her baby to term and place it up for adoption.  Her situation was definitely not ideal.  Her baby was born seven weeks premature in September of 1996, the same month my baby had been due.  She followed through with her adoption plan, and we were blessed with our first daughter.

Overwhelmed

I'm feeling very overwhelmed this morning, but not in the usual despairing sort of way.  I am overwhelmed at God's faithfulness to me.

Those that know me well may have heard me say in the past, "If my children turn out to love Jesus and are a blessing to others it will be in spite of me not because of me."  I meant it.  Quite literally.  It was not just some religiousy thing to say, and it was not fishing for compliments.  I am a VERY flawed individual, and I am a very flawed parent.

Today, as I reflected on my three older kids, I can only give praise to God for what wonderful, Jesus-loving people they are.  I am quite amazed.  I was certain that I would ruin them!  Seriously!  They are not perfect, but they love Jesus.  They are giving, fun individuals.  I couldn't be happier!

So, thank you, Jesus, for doing your amazing work in them, in me, and in our family.  Thank you for redeeming my flawed efforts and my blatant failures and making something beautiful out of them!

The Cost of Adoption

Since we've done this adoption thing a few times, people frequently ask us questions about adopting.  Sometimes they're just curious, but often they are interested in adopting themselves.  They want to know "how it all works."

One question that comes up frequently is, "How much does adoption cost?"  Pretty straightforward question...or is it?  I could (and sometimes do) give a dollar amount.  Let's see, domestically it costs about $15,000 to $30,000.  Internationally it costs upward of $25,000.  It's expensive!

Usually, I leave my answer at that.  This week however, I have been reflecting on REAL cost of adopting.

"How much does adoption cost?"

It will cost you your life.

The dollar amounts above no longer look like much when put in proper perspective.  The checks written out to finance your adoption are the easiest, least painful cost you will pay.

I'm not anti-adoption.  I LOVE adoption!  I am very pro-adoption!!  I am also very pro-truth!  No one is benefited when something is promoted in ignorance.  No one.

So what do I mean by "it will cost you your life?"  Well, all parenting costs you your life in some sense.  Once you become a parent, you will learn to die to your selfish desires.  You will give up sleep.  You will give up hobbies.  You will give up a clean house.  The list goes on and on.

When you adopt, you may have to add to the "normal" list.  You may give up being understood by most other parents.  You may give up your vacation because you need to pay for therapy for your child.  You may give up time alone with your spouse because you can't leave your kids with a babysitter.  You may give up being loved back by a child you love.  You may give up being safe in your own home.

Does adoption always cost those things?  No, of course not.  Does it sometimes cost that much?  Yes, and sometimes much more.

Is it worth the price you pay?  Absolutely.  It may not always FEEL worth it, but it IS most definitely worth it.

"Truly, truly I say to you, unless a grain of what falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit."  - Jesus (John 12:24)

How Do You Know?

I had one of my children ask me the other day, "How do you know there really is a God?"

I tried to explain to him that I had "seen" God.  Seen him in his answers to my prayers, seen him in Creation, seen him in the works He's done in my life....  Not much of this was sinking in to Dear Child, as he was in a funk/rage at the time.

Then it occurred to me, I knew God was real every time my child threw a massive fit and I responded kindly.  When I've been spat upon and looked lovingly back.  When I've been kicked and not struck back, but instead offered loving kind words.  I know God is real because I am not capable of doing those things!  I am a short-tempered, impatient, self-centered person, by nature.  I am.  I'm not being self-depricating, I'm telling the truth.

Every time I respond lovingly to unjustified abuse, that's Jesus living in and through me.  I SEE him, and it occurred to me, that is how my child will learn to SEE him.  So, every one of these fits we endure, every outburst of anger/fear on my child's part, is an OPPORTUNITY for God to make himself real to my child.

It hit me right in the chest, that my resentment over these outbursts should be changed to thankfulness because each one represents an opportunity to be the hands and feet of Jesus to my child.

I wish I succeeded more than I fail at this, but it's hard.  I'm human.

As the late Rich Mullins sang, "It's hard to turn the other cheek, hard to bless when others curse you, oh, it's hard to be a man of peace, oh it's hard, so hard, hard to be like Jesus."

Truly, that I succeed EVER is, quite literally, divine intervention!

In Need of Encouragement?

I'm pretty much always in need of encouragement, and yesterday it came in the form of this newsletter article.  It was written by an adoptive mom named Stacy Manning who started an organization to help adoptive parents persevere and maintain their hope during the difficult path of parenting children from hard places.

If you want to know more about Stacy and why she does what she does you can find that here.  She has written a book, Adoptive Parent, Intentional Parent, and she has a website, To Have Hope, as well. She is committed, as I am, to encouraging others on this adoption journey - only she apparently has a lot more energy than I do since all I do is blog!  Maybe she consumes more coffee....

Anyway, grad a cup of coffee (because that makes everything better) and have a good read..

I Was Thinking...

This month Hope Connections is celebrating our second anniversary! What a ride these last two years have been. Every day we reached out to family after family doing our best to ensure they did not feel alone and that they knew there was HOPE! So much has been accomplished, yet there is so much more left to do…the number of hurting families is staggering.

It has become more evident to me that we as intentional adoptive parents need to fight to put a face on what it really means to live the life we do. We need to be transparent-not angry-while we live our journey. We need to educate EVERYONE we meet about the implications trauma and abandonment have on children-expelling the myth that children will simply “get-over” their pasts because they are so resilient. We need to hold our government, adoption professionals, educational bodies and medical personnel accountable to acknowledge that the mental/emotional issues our children come strapped with are often times paralyzing to entire family units. They need to integrate that knowledge more realistically into the definition of “best for the child” policy making. Adoption regulations must have more focus on what impact adopting a child with these deficits could have on both the child and the existing family unit. Finally, medical professionals must be somehow held accountable to consider and act on the fact that children can and do have mental/emotional issues, especially those who have suffered trauma. Yes, it feels like an up-hill battle, but I think it is time to start the climb...together.

So, as we move into our third year here at Hope Connections…I know very well that my passion and energy will continue to be to support as many families as possible--we must stick together! We must support one another, we must reach our hand out so that none of us feels alone. I hope that you all will walk alongside me in this endeavor. Be open and honest; you will be surprised what a gift you can be to that parent who still blames themselves or who has lost sight of any hope.

Hey, you are in the line of saving lives….you can do it!

Stacy

Suffering

I posted a quote on suffering on Facebook yesterday, but since not all my blog buddies are Facebook friends, I thought I would put it out here as well.  Actually, I'm going to put a little more of it here because it is all just so good!!

The quote comes from our pastor Jason Meyer who is teaching on 2 Corinthians 1 right now.

Christians do not glorify suffering. It is hard and it hurts. We don’t minimize it as if we are fake and stoic. We acknowledge that it hurts. We praise God in the midst of suffering when God shows up in our suffering. We see more of God so we praise him more. The praise is sometimes more raw. When you come face to face with your powerlessness and your inability to rescue yourself from suffering, you are positioned for a life of praise.

When you come to the end of your rope and then God comes with might, his deliverance will elicit praise. It is so important that Paul who suffered much could live a life of praise. Suffering did not make him sullen. It made him sing louder. The song came from a deeper place—it was not shallow praise, but deep praise.

Some of us are in danger of not being worshippers because we are not in touch with our weakness. Sometimes people feel pressure in the church to act like they have it altogether. Let me be frank. If you act like you always have it altogether, then you make praise impossible because you act as though you don’t need to be delivered—you act like you have arrived and don’t need grace or God anymore. How do can you urge someone to praise God with you and enjoy his deliverance if you act like you never needed it in the first place? Being in touch with your weakness and your need for deliverance, primes the pump for praise to come when the deliverance comes!

Honestly, I find this to be so incredibly true in my experience.  Pastor Jason, who is also an adoptive parent, talks specifically about the suffering that adoptive parents experience as they walk their kids through the difficult times - suffering that is not temporary or alleviated in a short amount of time, but is chronic.

Let me give you one more example of redemptive suffering that is perennial. We are going to have an adoption choir Sunday night. Many parents counted not only the physical cost, but also the ongoing emotional cost of bringing brokenness into their families. They heard it as a calling. And they said “yes” to what has become some perennial joys and pains—a pointed life of sorrowful yet always rejoicing. We can support them and pray for them.

I cannot begin to tell you how thankful I am for a pastor who "gets it."  Who doesn't dismiss the trials of parenting a hurt child, but doesn't paint a picture of doom and gloom either.  Who doesn't place adoptive parents on  a pedestal, but doesn't pretend that their lives are just like everyone else's.

On that note, I am so very thankful for the many friends I have with whom I can be real.  Because of the public nature of this blog, I withhold many details.  While wanting to be authentic and real, I am also keenly aware of my children's right to privacy.  I always share truthfully, but I don't share all.

A shout of thanks to those who do know "all we go through," and support us through it.  I love you more than I can say!!

The Face of Fear

What does a child do when they are afraid?  Seems like an easy question to answer, doesn't it?  Let's see.  Some of the possible options might be: scream, hide, run to Mom or Dad.  Kids do all those things on a regular basis.  If they see a snake or spider, they might scream in the hope of scaring away the critter. What if they're afraid of something they can't see?  Seems like the standard response is to run to Mom & Dad.  How many times has a parent awoke to a terrified child beside their bed?  The child goes to the source of protection and comfort.  The one or two people that they've learned to trust to take care of them.

Now, consider for a moment, what does a child do when he's scared and he doesn't believe he can trust anyone?

Then fear becomes much more than an emotion that can be calmed by another's presence.  For a child to face their fears believing they are all alone; it becomes debilitating.  It becomes terrifying beyond all measure.  What does a child do then?  Well, unfortunately and all to frequently, they lash out, much like a cornered animal.  In their mind, they are fighting for survival.

Chris is away in New York for a few days.  No big deal to most of us (not that we don't miss you sweetie, we do), we know he'll be home in a couple days and all is well.  So, when Marcus started having a difficult time controlling his emotions yesterday, I didn't immediately put two-and-two together.  I did wonder why on earth chairs were getting thrown when we hadn't had to deal with that sort of behavior in awhile.

Then, I went to my chiropractor this morning and while I was getting a massage, it came up that the massage therapist is an adult adoptee from Russia.  Talking with her helped me to see the connection between the anger issues Marcus was dealing with and the fact that Chris was gone.

When I got home and talked to Marcus it came out that he truly was afraid that Chris was not going to come back from New York - EVER.  What the other kids and I take as a no-brainer, Marcus struggles mightily to believe.  Being the problem-solving mommy that I am, I suggested to Marcus that when he is afraid of something it would be better for him to come to me and say, "I'm afraid of________," than to throw chairs and household objects at me.  To which he replied, "I CAN'T!!!!"

He can't share that with me because he doesn't trust me.  Over five years of consistent love and care, and he still can't bring himself to trust me enough with his fear.  Breaks my heart.  But we continue on...loving, caring and praying for healing in his little heart.

Today, the story has a good ending, in that after we identified the fear, we were able to take some steps to help assure him that his fear is unfounded, and that Daddy really does love him and will not desert him.  After that, not surprisingly, happy, sweet Marcus is back.

Five Years

In some ways the time has flown by, and in other ways it has crawled.  Either way, we are so happy that five years ago today we brought Marcus and Zoe home to the frozen wasteland of Minnesota.

The first pictures we ever saw of them (sometime around November 2007)

The first time we met them in person.

Sometime during our first week at home.  It didn't take Zoe long to fall in love with Snickers.

The Cost

Chris & I are getting away this weekend for some much needed couple-time.  I can't tell you the last time we spent more than a few hours away from the kids.  We're not doing anything fancy, just going to the cabin for some peace and quiet, and no running water.  Kind of like camping, except with a bed to sleep in...and electricity...and wifi.  Okay, it's not too much like camping at all.  The price is right - free.

Just because there is no monetary expense for this little time away, there is a cost.  The cost we are paying is challenging behavior from our child that still doesn't trust us yet.  The cost I pay for getting a weekend away with my hubby is temper tantrums over math problems, temper tantrums over dishes, temper tantrums over just about anything.  I'd rather pay $1000 than have to deal with this (just being honest here), but $1000 isn't going to fix the problem.  Patience, time, love, reassurance - those will help to stem the tide of the emotional meltdowns, and those are costly things that money can't buy.

It will all be worth it, I just look forward to getting through this next day and a half!

More Realism

I'm pro-adoption.  You may have figured that out already, but I just thought I should put that out there.  That said, I am NOT about leading people to believe that adopting is a bowl of cherries with all the pits removed.  It's not...at least not in this house.

This post is primarily for those who are considering adoption.  Today, I am all about giving those thinking about adopting a dose of reality.  Not to discourage, but to inform.  You do nobody a service by adopting with your eyes shut tight.

Here's what "dealing with adoption" looked like in our house this morning.  Some of the children were eating breakfast when Zoe began to talk about Ethiopia, specifically what her mom & dad looked like.  She was 18 months when we got her, she has no real recollection of her Ethiopian parents, but we can speculate.  She was thoroughly enjoying this conversation.

Two chairs down sat Marcus, initially participating in the conversation, and then suddenly very quiet.  Even in the midst of getting breakfast on the table, I could see the brain ticking in his little head and the sadness starting to creep across his face.  I asked a few questions; he gave a few answers.  I gave him a big hug, and we went on with breakfast.

Fast forward an hour to school time, it quickly became apparent that the musings in his mind from the morning were still there, and he was ready to hate on the world.  Even simple tasks like checking his addition problems were overwhelming to him, resulting in emotional and angry breakdowns.  My efforts to teach him his writing lesson resulted in yelling and throwing of books (by him, not me).  Even I could see that this wasn't about school, and it wasn't about math or writing.  This was about grief and loss and unresolved anger and hurt...that happened to take the form of a really rough morning at school.

The reality of an adoptive parent's life is that they need to know this type of thing may be coming, and they need to realistically ask themselves are they ready to deal with it.

What's Your Name?

I read a CNN article this afternoon about what names are popular right now.  No big surprise that Barbara doesn't make the top 10, or even top100 these days!  That's not what caught my eye, though.  I read this quote, and it got me thinking...

Giving a child a name is perhaps the most personal decision a mother and father ever make. It is an act of absolute freedom. The government can't tell you what to name your child, your employers or extended family can't force your hand -- coming up with a name is a parent's first and biggest choice.

It struck me for one simple reason, we did not name several of our kids.  Their names were chosen by their birth families, their families asked us to keep the names, and we did.  It was a gift granted to them that we have never regretted giving.

Just Stop Moving!

I've been at this parenting thing for awhile now, but I still learn a thing or two almost every day.  It helps that each of my kids is so unique and different from the rest.  Just when I figure out how to deal with one child, the next one comes along and requires a complete reboot and turn-around on my part.

Anyways...I'm currently teaching Zoe to read.  This has been a very satisfying experience with some of my kids and a VERY exasperating experience with others.  Zoe's about middle-of-the-road.  She's a smart little cookie, but she has a VERY hard time sitting still.  As in, she moves almost constantly.

After each word, she flips over (we do our reading lessons on my bed because my bedroom has a door...that can be shut...and locked, if necessary, to keep out all the other little bodies that want my attention during reading lesson).  Anyway, she flips over after EVERY word.  Kind of hard for her to comprehend a sentence when she reads (flip) one (flip) word (flip) and (flip) then (flip) flips (flip) over (flip).

Now some of you might be thinking, "Why don't you just have her sit up and do her reading?"  Good idea!  Tried it.  Then she wasn't flipping over, she was twisting and turning - different movement, equally disruptive.

A couple weeks ago, I decided to try something.  When we started reading lesson, I just gently placed my hand on her back.  Lo and behold, she laid still and did her whole lesson.  NO, I was not holding her down! Tempting, but I wasn't!   I just had my hand resting upon her back.  Seriously, just the touch of my hand caused her to lay still.

I was intrigued.  Maybe it was just a fluke on that day, so I tried it every day since, and every day it works.  I've tried it when she is squirming on the couch when I'm reading to her.  I set my hand on her leg and BAM, she stops squirming.

Now, maybe you all have known this for years, and I'm late in coming to this realization (if so, thanks for sharing your knowledge with me!), but if not and you have a squirmy child; give it a try!

I don't know why it works, but for Zoe it does.