I'm in uncharted territory here.
Pain.
That's not new. but this kind is. waves of it washing over me.
I have spent hours in a basket with a pillow cradling my phone with tears of "I can't do this" streaming over the words of my heart. I can't. Truly; and I haven't.
And that was just living with a child with Reactive Attachment Disorder (RADs). My now 9 year old soon-to-be-if-I-can-survive-him son is like being water-boarded with bad behavior. Everyone in the house is recoiling. It's a different kind of discomfort. The kind that is in your home from the time you wake up until the time you go to bed and follows everyone around. The kind you can't run from (I've tried), pray away, or ignore. It.sucks. Living with a child so broken his only goal is to break you back. Where does one draw the line? I've drawn it a million times. I simply cannot reconcile quitting on him. I am so thankful that the Bible outlines love as being long suffering, patient, kind. Not warm and fuzzy feel good. Love can suck sometimes. Pretty sure it sucked being beaten, mocked, and nailed to a cross.
sigh.
And then the phone rings. It's the first night of my Hero's long awaited blissful vacation. DHS has an almost 2 year old with allergies and a 5 year old with autism...could we take them? I cradled the phone as I asked OA and was ready to not sleep from guilt over saying no when my Hero says, "Yes, how could we not?".
{Let's pause. This is a man who is at wit's end with "the one" child's behavior who is about to start his vacation who said NEVER to adopting...much less...fostering...yeah...him!}
We scurry around...toddler proof the house...OA goes to the store and buys diapers and sippy cups and toys and what-ever-else kids love...oh...and a Thomas the Train...because he is that amazing (boy...autism...sigh).
When the workers finally got the kids to us I was completely disturbed by how horrific the baby's skin looked. She looked like a burn victim due to her allergies. And she was so tiny and still on a bottle and formula. It was awful. And then I met Spider-Man. It was true love at first sight. He has J-bob's old joy and enthusiasm for life. It instantly transported me back to when my babies were babies. {My God...I would give anything for one day with each of them just one more time as babies. sigh.}
He calls me Superwoman...and thinks I'm "awesome". He and his sister have breathed so much love and joy and healing back into our home. I asked my Hero why he thought it was so simple and easy with MORE and he said: I think you've wanted a baby for so long...and now you have one...
My heart is in knots. They had court today and have a family member willing to step up and watch them. I met the mom and dad(s) today. I hugged the mom. I gave her my phone number. I felt my heart wretch as we pulled away with her screaming baby in my van while she collapsed upon the steering wheel of her truck.
Why do parents have to make bad choices? My 7 year old came to me with tears in her eyes and asked the same thing.
sigh sigh sigh SIGH
So I try to find my way around this new kind of pain. I'm thinking much like running...I better learn to dance with it...make it count...because I cannot think of a better way to spend my tears than over the precious lives of children God loans to me. Tonight, I am a family of 8. Tomorrow...who knows...but as His mercy falls, I'll raise my hands to the God who gives...and takes away.
My Quivers
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Monday, October 22, 2012
Dude.
It's about time for a really good funny one, don't 'cha think?
Problem is...I'm not laughing. Today was awful. I'm tempted to list off all the things that have made this last week and a half...heck...month so very difficult but I fear it would pull any and everyone considering adopting an older child away from doing so.
And the bottom line is that we are making head-way. Which brings me to my issue. Head lice.
Dude.
I pride myself on being one with body functions. I have no problems admitting to perfect strangers that my tummy is not well yet my "turtles only swim in their home pond" if ya know what I mean? And if you don't...well...I could go into great detail but I won't because I am discovering that MANY people are squeamish when it comes to poop.
{Boogers...now that's another story and if you've never listened to the lady on Google-definitions say it and define them with your children...well...you're just missing out!}
But head lice. Can I just pause to say: DUDE?!?!
Ugh. So, my precious 13 year old informs me 4 weeks after living with us that she has lice. Apparently the former foster Mom had treated several others but never her. We would hope that our children would tell us that they had lice IMMEDIATELY, but I am thinking that she honestly may have been so worried about what we would think?? Who knows...all I know is that a few weeks ago at the end of the most INOPPORTUNE week, I was faced with one of my bigger fears: microscopic bugs that flipping lay eggs like glue and multiply like gang busters??? Hello!!!!! I immediately began washing everything in sight. Even the one set of curtains in the house got washed. I, the granola, even used chemicals...on almost everyone. I was so tired that I passed the research baton to my dear OA (yes, you hear blame in my tone). I was not told that after treating everyone twice and washing and spraying everything to INCLUDE the kitchen sink that I should check again within 10 days. Because apparently if you miss one nit, the dadgum thing comes back to haunt you worse than any boy groaning "red rum, red rum" and Jack Nicholson's crazy face...really.
So last week was one of the single busiest weeks of my life. And I'm a busy chic. And just when I thought I could kick my feet up and rest...a tummy bug blows in and...yep...my youngest informs me that HER head has been itching...like for a WEEK!?!?
Surely nit...not. UGH. Insert the biggest DUDE ever.
Not a happy camper. Homey isn't playing this time. I have done my research and short of shaving the girls' heads...which I'm still considering...I have purchased every possible chemical on the market. I'm a nit-picking-fool. And I shudder every single time.
I am pretty sure that I was the epitome of exhaustion today. I know that I was not fun-Mom. And yet, tomorrow morning the sun is going to rise (ugh). My children are going to greet me as if I were the most amazing Mama in the whole world. And His Mercies are new every single morning...whether I feel worthy or not. So tomorrow I will find my do-over. And I'll still have 222 loads of laundry to do and 2,222 nits to pick out, but I am praying that tomorrow I can choose joy and pause in the insanity and blast some silly music and dance around the house with my children (we will, of course, be spraying arousal cans full of chemicals...just in case).
And in the craziest of places...once again...I see His face. And thank Him profusely for the gift of laughter because today we had none...and it was heinous. I kid you nit.
Problem is...I'm not laughing. Today was awful. I'm tempted to list off all the things that have made this last week and a half...heck...month so very difficult but I fear it would pull any and everyone considering adopting an older child away from doing so.
And the bottom line is that we are making head-way. Which brings me to my issue. Head lice.
Dude.
I pride myself on being one with body functions. I have no problems admitting to perfect strangers that my tummy is not well yet my "turtles only swim in their home pond" if ya know what I mean? And if you don't...well...I could go into great detail but I won't because I am discovering that MANY people are squeamish when it comes to poop.
{Boogers...now that's another story and if you've never listened to the lady on Google-definitions say it and define them with your children...well...you're just missing out!}
But head lice. Can I just pause to say: DUDE?!?!
Ugh. So, my precious 13 year old informs me 4 weeks after living with us that she has lice. Apparently the former foster Mom had treated several others but never her. We would hope that our children would tell us that they had lice IMMEDIATELY, but I am thinking that she honestly may have been so worried about what we would think?? Who knows...all I know is that a few weeks ago at the end of the most INOPPORTUNE week, I was faced with one of my bigger fears: microscopic bugs that flipping lay eggs like glue and multiply like gang busters??? Hello!!!!! I immediately began washing everything in sight. Even the one set of curtains in the house got washed. I, the granola, even used chemicals...on almost everyone. I was so tired that I passed the research baton to my dear OA (yes, you hear blame in my tone). I was not told that after treating everyone twice and washing and spraying everything to INCLUDE the kitchen sink that I should check again within 10 days. Because apparently if you miss one nit, the dadgum thing comes back to haunt you worse than any boy groaning "red rum, red rum" and Jack Nicholson's crazy face...really.
So last week was one of the single busiest weeks of my life. And I'm a busy chic. And just when I thought I could kick my feet up and rest...a tummy bug blows in and...yep...my youngest informs me that HER head has been itching...like for a WEEK!?!?
Surely nit...not. UGH. Insert the biggest DUDE ever.
Not a happy camper. Homey isn't playing this time. I have done my research and short of shaving the girls' heads...which I'm still considering...I have purchased every possible chemical on the market. I'm a nit-picking-fool. And I shudder every single time.
I am pretty sure that I was the epitome of exhaustion today. I know that I was not fun-Mom. And yet, tomorrow morning the sun is going to rise (ugh). My children are going to greet me as if I were the most amazing Mama in the whole world. And His Mercies are new every single morning...whether I feel worthy or not. So tomorrow I will find my do-over. And I'll still have 222 loads of laundry to do and 2,222 nits to pick out, but I am praying that tomorrow I can choose joy and pause in the insanity and blast some silly music and dance around the house with my children (we will, of course, be spraying arousal cans full of chemicals...just in case).
And in the craziest of places...once again...I see His face. And thank Him profusely for the gift of laughter because today we had none...and it was heinous. I kid you nit.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
pain
Do you ever have something so heavy on your heart that your body literally begins to ache? the all-over-i-think-i-have-the-flu kind?
That's where I am right.now.
I am on night three of fitful sleep. We've entered this land called adoption, see, and it's a volatile place to be. One minute consists of the most tender of break throughs and the next minute an emotional or behavioral bomb explodes and leaves me to gather all the pieces of fragmented moments and words. I try to bandage all the bleeding feelings and pain and behaviors as quickly as possible, but it's not nearly as easy as in the examples given by experts in my books.
The thing about biological children is that you make all the mistakes before they are old enough to know or care...you've figured eachother's buttons out well enough to lovingly dance around the rough days (or you've earned the secure, healthy attachment that gives them this amazing ability to look right past and see the good-Mommy trapped within crazy-pms-tired-Mommy).
Adopted children? Mine are 8 and 13. There's no clouding over the bad-Mommy moments with them. And then the guilt sets in because you think you owe them perfection...as if my perfect-Mommying could undo all the pain and lack of Mommying they've experienced prior to our home...how short-sighted I can be.
There's the ticking time bomb right there. Before. It's easy to forget there even was a before...those blessed moments when everyone feels intact...together...attached. And then BAM...like autism slaps in the face...so are the realities that they've not always been there...and it physically begins to hurt. Because nothing that I do now or any day hereafter can take away what they've experienced in the past.
{Pausing a moment to praise God for redemption and restoration. It only took me 34 years to comprehend the magnitude of those gifts.}
We got a letter in the mail today from the State Police. They spelled the OA's name wrong and didn't bother to even have our correct address in the report...why I am surprised that they consider my children's "alleged" abuse "unfounded" is beside me? I literally skipped a breath. I shoulder the pain of all that letter represents to them across my entire body tonight. And the boy...the precious one with autism who also lived in that home...I cannot stop seeing his big eyes looking into mine when he asked if he could come with us, too?
Ugh. it's gut wrenching.
Tonight it isn't enough to "save" two. There are countless children in need of a forever home. This has been the hardest thing we've ever done, but MY GOD, that we would do MORE HARD things in His precious protection and will. May I never run from the uncomfortable again. May this only be the beginning. May He use our story to inspire more people to seek His will in adoption. I was angry for a day or two because I wanted to adopt a baby but He gave me older children...how humbled...how wrong...how small I feel tonight.
My babies sleep safely and contentedly in thier beds. They giggled and played and read themselves to sleep. My teenager prayed for the safety of her former foster brother...but even greater...she prayed for the heart of her former foster mother to be changed. May I walk in her example of love and forgiveness. And may that woman truly seek God's help and change her ways and may no other child ever be hurt in that home again.
As I fight the urge to be cynical and quote facts about abusers...I cling to Jesus's encouragement to be more like the children. How precious and easy their faith seems. How blessed and changed I am by my sweet, amazing 13 year old daughter. Sigh...the kindof sigh...that hurts.
That's where I am right.now.
I am on night three of fitful sleep. We've entered this land called adoption, see, and it's a volatile place to be. One minute consists of the most tender of break throughs and the next minute an emotional or behavioral bomb explodes and leaves me to gather all the pieces of fragmented moments and words. I try to bandage all the bleeding feelings and pain and behaviors as quickly as possible, but it's not nearly as easy as in the examples given by experts in my books.
The thing about biological children is that you make all the mistakes before they are old enough to know or care...you've figured eachother's buttons out well enough to lovingly dance around the rough days (or you've earned the secure, healthy attachment that gives them this amazing ability to look right past and see the good-Mommy trapped within crazy-pms-tired-Mommy).
Adopted children? Mine are 8 and 13. There's no clouding over the bad-Mommy moments with them. And then the guilt sets in because you think you owe them perfection...as if my perfect-Mommying could undo all the pain and lack of Mommying they've experienced prior to our home...how short-sighted I can be.
There's the ticking time bomb right there. Before. It's easy to forget there even was a before...those blessed moments when everyone feels intact...together...attached. And then BAM...like autism slaps in the face...so are the realities that they've not always been there...and it physically begins to hurt. Because nothing that I do now or any day hereafter can take away what they've experienced in the past.
{Pausing a moment to praise God for redemption and restoration. It only took me 34 years to comprehend the magnitude of those gifts.}
We got a letter in the mail today from the State Police. They spelled the OA's name wrong and didn't bother to even have our correct address in the report...why I am surprised that they consider my children's "alleged" abuse "unfounded" is beside me? I literally skipped a breath. I shoulder the pain of all that letter represents to them across my entire body tonight. And the boy...the precious one with autism who also lived in that home...I cannot stop seeing his big eyes looking into mine when he asked if he could come with us, too?
Ugh. it's gut wrenching.
Tonight it isn't enough to "save" two. There are countless children in need of a forever home. This has been the hardest thing we've ever done, but MY GOD, that we would do MORE HARD things in His precious protection and will. May I never run from the uncomfortable again. May this only be the beginning. May He use our story to inspire more people to seek His will in adoption. I was angry for a day or two because I wanted to adopt a baby but He gave me older children...how humbled...how wrong...how small I feel tonight.
My babies sleep safely and contentedly in thier beds. They giggled and played and read themselves to sleep. My teenager prayed for the safety of her former foster brother...but even greater...she prayed for the heart of her former foster mother to be changed. May I walk in her example of love and forgiveness. And may that woman truly seek God's help and change her ways and may no other child ever be hurt in that home again.
As I fight the urge to be cynical and quote facts about abusers...I cling to Jesus's encouragement to be more like the children. How precious and easy their faith seems. How blessed and changed I am by my sweet, amazing 13 year old daughter. Sigh...the kindof sigh...that hurts.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Here's my sign??
So, I must have a sign that is behind my back that others can read that I cannot see. My entire life I have seemed to invite everyone's comments and thoughts and opinions into my world. I do love people. I do value differences. I do struggle with boundaries and learning where and when and how to draw them.
It's been festering in me for a few years now, because I am learning that there is nothing "Godly" about me allowing people to sin against me and then causing me to sin against them in my anger and bitterness and resentment. Now that I have 4 children to fight for Spiritually, mentally, physically, and educationally, etc...ly, I have not the time nor the energy to entertain or invite rude, even if well-intentioned, comments.
Us weirdos must stick together...in the name of Jesus. Living IN the world but not OF the world gets exhausting. It hurts to feel so weird all the time. I even start to think I am wrong and feel my standards mentally slip until my Spirit snaps me back into focus.
So here are my boundaries about some things that keep coming up causing me to be literally red in the cheeks hours later. I am actually not even speaking this as much for me, as I am for the precious person(s) who may lack the INCREDIBLE support Soul-sisters that I have and is crying and feeling isolated and alone.
Something I will never apologize or intentionally compromise on is living a life based on what God has called ME (aka MY values are not a judgement of YOUR values) to do.
My biological children have not suffered in vain through this process, rather they are learning what it TRULY looks and feels like (painful sometimes) to pick up the cross and follow Him.
Likewise, I will not pity my adopted children to the point of compromise. They will survive being raised by a Mama who loves the Lord with all her heart, all her mind, and all her soul. It will NOT kill them to be welcomed into a family who home schools, doesn't want their teenagers to have i-phones, and doesn't cater to material possessions ESP when that "idol" becomes more important than people (and you can be this way without wearing Mom-jeans and puff painted sweatshirts)...and being orphans of the state most their lives they have probably never had any one take the time to teach that GODLY value.
I truly appreciate all who have expressed concerns to any and all of the above in the last several months. BUT, I'll raise my children the way God has called me. It is tiring enough worrying about my own. I have no idea how people find the time to "worry" about anyone else's...and if you have such vast amounts of time...there are millions of children without families in this world who would love to fill it!
It's been festering in me for a few years now, because I am learning that there is nothing "Godly" about me allowing people to sin against me and then causing me to sin against them in my anger and bitterness and resentment. Now that I have 4 children to fight for Spiritually, mentally, physically, and educationally, etc...ly, I have not the time nor the energy to entertain or invite rude, even if well-intentioned, comments.
Us weirdos must stick together...in the name of Jesus. Living IN the world but not OF the world gets exhausting. It hurts to feel so weird all the time. I even start to think I am wrong and feel my standards mentally slip until my Spirit snaps me back into focus.
So here are my boundaries about some things that keep coming up causing me to be literally red in the cheeks hours later. I am actually not even speaking this as much for me, as I am for the precious person(s) who may lack the INCREDIBLE support Soul-sisters that I have and is crying and feeling isolated and alone.
Something I will never apologize or intentionally compromise on is living a life based on what God has called ME (aka MY values are not a judgement of YOUR values) to do.
My biological children have not suffered in vain through this process, rather they are learning what it TRULY looks and feels like (painful sometimes) to pick up the cross and follow Him.
Likewise, I will not pity my adopted children to the point of compromise. They will survive being raised by a Mama who loves the Lord with all her heart, all her mind, and all her soul. It will NOT kill them to be welcomed into a family who home schools, doesn't want their teenagers to have i-phones, and doesn't cater to material possessions ESP when that "idol" becomes more important than people (and you can be this way without wearing Mom-jeans and puff painted sweatshirts)...and being orphans of the state most their lives they have probably never had any one take the time to teach that GODLY value.
I truly appreciate all who have expressed concerns to any and all of the above in the last several months. BUT, I'll raise my children the way God has called me. It is tiring enough worrying about my own. I have no idea how people find the time to "worry" about anyone else's...and if you have such vast amounts of time...there are millions of children without families in this world who would love to fill it!
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Spontaneous birth
I think there is supposed to be a DHS adoption style part 2? But it will have to be written by someone other than myself, because I doubt there's going to be much replication of our story.
After our home study was approved we jumped through what felt like about 1 million more hoops before we were given the blessed go-ahead to meet our children. We were instructed to not bring the Ninja or Mermaid because the possibilities of the kid's reaction to their adoption news were endless. It just so happened that the meeting was going to take place on OA's birthday. It was to transpire at their therapist's office and beyond that, we had no idea what to expect. We only knew that how the meeting went would determine the outcome for all future visits...no pressure...right?
I hardly remember any details about that drive...other than it seemed endless. The kiddos were scheduled to be there half an hour before us so that the therapist could introduce our family's album and letter to them. Plus, he wanted some time to run interference if they were upset (it is a total myth to think that every waiting child is elated with the idea of adoption...these children have been FORCED from their biological parent's lives and hurt by so many adults to include the system...why SHOULD they be excited?). To our dismay, they arrived late and our precious son-to-be held the door open for us as we walked in. We tried our best not to make eye contact and walked straight down the hall as if we were going somewhere else. We hid in the bathrooms until enough time had passed for us to go inside.
I know exactly what they were wearing. I know exactly where we were all sitting. "T" (our 13 year old) wouldn't even make eye contact yet "J" (our 8 year old) was clutching our photo album and grinning from ear to ear saying how happy he was and when could he start Martial Arts? My heart was pounding. I could see OA's face registering unfamiliar territory and it made me talk faster and faster because he is our rock and if he is faltering then I'm surely going to sink us. The therapist insisted that we go out of the sterile environment and get something to eat and meet back in an hour.
That was it...our big introduction. And then we were alone just the 4 of us in our truck in the middle of a city we regularly get lost in trying to decide where to eat. I immediately started asking questions trying to pull "T" out of her shell; I honestly have no idea which one it was, but she finally looked at me and started answering. I can still hear the new-ness of their voices. Hers so soft and tingly and his like melting wax. My ears fell in love instantly. "T" was like a fierce warrior...her face registers nothing unless she grants it permission. Her brother is the exact opposite...his face is more animated than Saturday morning cartoons. He cannot command a single part of his body to be still...the first few nights he even twitched in his sleep (I had to sleep on the floor beside his bed bc he was so scared...but that's jumping way ahead).
We decided on Chili's because that's the OA's territory and we got it to-go and went to the local book store. "T" loves to read. Right in the middle of the book store not even 20 minutes into our visit I stopped her and looked her straight in the eyes and asked, "What part about this adoption are you the most upset or scared about: giving up your school and friends or the fear of getting hurt again?" Right in the middle of the book store not even 20 minutes into our visit she looked me straight in the eyes and said, "I am NOT going to open myself up again to get hurt...I'm not going to let anyone in." I took a deep breath and blinked back those very rebellious tears and replied, "I didn't have a very good childhood and one time Jon told me that I could push as hard as I wanted but he was not going anywhere...and he didn't...and if you would please...please...just give us one chance...I promise that we will fight with all we have and never give up on you." Then the boys walked up and we just fell into position. Like we had always had each other---yet for some reason had been separated for a while.
When we got back to the therapist's office at some point the foster mom made a joke about the kids coming with us for the weekend. We immediately jumped on the idea and said we'd been asking for that very thing all along. The kids were begging in unison so the therapist pronounced it "divine intervention" and gave his blessings. Several phone calls and details and car rides later, we were on our way home...with 4 children in our truck. Happy birthday OA.
To say we were not prepared for them to come home with us is an understatement. Oh how I took for granted the luxury of letting laundry pile up and letting the fridge grow empty. I had planned to go grocery shopping while the OA took a nap when we got home...HA! Instead we were scrambling around Wal-Mart for food. "J" was a wild man. I am used to children holding my hands and staying near...just because...not so for him. He was off...like a light. I cannot count on one hand how many times OA and I looked at each other and said, "oh great, we are going to lose him on our FIRST night together". Of course, J-Bob was beside himself with worry. I mean...a child who wanders off??? That's SO NOT COOL in his book. "J" finally settled himself on the bottom of the cart with his legs stuck out and arms flung wide like superman. Really, we were THAT family that night at Wal-Mart.
We got everyone fed and eventually in bed. "J" was so terrified due to some horrible things he had been told. Those details must wait. But I eventually convinced him that those things would NEVER happen to him in our house, and I slept on our concrete floor by his bed. I have never before in my life seen a child sleep like that. He was even kicking the walls at some point in his sleep. May God forgive me for the anger I still cling tightly to towards his former foster family. Many things came out that weekend. They explained so much of what we were seeing in "J"'s behavior. The only words I can use to describe him are that he was like a caged wild animal who was finally let free. {My God. I pause to praise You for your incredible kindness and grace shown by giving us this precious child in need.} Sigh.
The whole weekend is a blur. I didn't sleep at all. I couldn't even shower unless OA was readily available to be the "referee" in the event that the inevitable dispute would arise. Sunday came along and it was time to pack bags and take them home. "J" woke from a nightmare and told me he was very sad he had to go home. I swore to him that I'd fight harder than I'd ever fought before to get him back with us as soon as possible. His eyes flickered hope for one second and then fell dim. My heart ripped in two.
I have failed to mention "T". She was simply amazing. I am quite sure that somehow she was born from us and sent somewhere else. She was so open and so transparent. There's so much I want to share but I feel like I need her permission. The whole family fell instantly in love with her. She didn't want to leave either, and I was shocked when she said she'd give up cheerleading and her school if she could just stay. My heart ripped again. How was I supposed to drive them home when they were already home???
This next part of the story is surreal. It is probably one of the hardest and most horrible moments I have ever had to endure as a Mom. "J" refused to get into the truck. He was kicking and screaming and crying that he didn't want to leave us. I was begging him to understand that we would see him next week (in the back of my mind I had already been formulating how badly I needed said week to game plan a survival guide for future weekends). It was an infantile cry that broke my heart (again). The whole family was crying except "T". But she was trying to comfort her brother...a side she rarely shows. It got so bad that we had to drop J-Bob and Mermaid off with a dear friend. I called someone who, next to God, has played the single most pivotal role in our story. She heard "J"'s cries and didn't stop making calls until she found someone who would listen. And once someone realized he was safe...he gave them plenty of things to listen to. There are a million details that simply cannot be shared. But, I can say that God is bigger than I ever dreamed because we were able to turn that truck around and go pick up J and M and go home...all 6 of us. And my heart babies are tucked snugly into their own beds as I type.
It hasn't been an easy few weeks. We haven't had a lot of "fun" moments. It's been exhausting and excruciating. Being a mother of 4 demands so much. I miss my husband's arms. I am having to share them with so many. I think that's the part that's thrown me the most (that I don't like sharing him 24-7). J-Bob and Mermaid have always been "Mama's kids"...but "T" is a "Daddy's girl" which is pushing Merci into becoming a "Daddy's girl" and Jaden is just floating along trying to make heads or tails of this brother whom doesn't understand rules. "J" is going to be a "Mama's boy" through and through, and I rue the day anyone ever tries to hurt me. I'm pretty sure he'd kill them...instantly. His love is that fierce. And that precious boy kept telling me how I needed to let HIM do things for ME because he owed it to me...sigh...I told him the only thing I want from him is good choices and for him to be a little boy...just be a child.
So at the end of a couple of very hard days, I sit in humbled amazement. That God would entrust my family with such a huge task. That I would be blessed enough to be frustrated by my teenager's "attitude" and my boy's bickering. Meanwhile, Mermaid is the blessed baby of the family who has somehow found herself in the perfect position to be loved and cherished by all...the constant calmer of the crazy people. That I would crave my husband's arms...his attention and affection...blessed alone time. I have been desperate and exhausted and angry and elated and frustrated and joyful...but I have never once felt empty. God is my strength...my refuge...in Him do I trust. Even when perspective alludes me...I can cling to His goodness...and rest in His mercies that are (oh thank You, God) new EVERY morning.
This is merely the beginning of our story. I sit in eager anticipation to see what God will write tomorrow. For tonight, I breathe in this moment of silence and kid breaths and thank Him for all He has done in our lives. I have never known a thankfulness like I know in this very moment.
After our home study was approved we jumped through what felt like about 1 million more hoops before we were given the blessed go-ahead to meet our children. We were instructed to not bring the Ninja or Mermaid because the possibilities of the kid's reaction to their adoption news were endless. It just so happened that the meeting was going to take place on OA's birthday. It was to transpire at their therapist's office and beyond that, we had no idea what to expect. We only knew that how the meeting went would determine the outcome for all future visits...no pressure...right?
I hardly remember any details about that drive...other than it seemed endless. The kiddos were scheduled to be there half an hour before us so that the therapist could introduce our family's album and letter to them. Plus, he wanted some time to run interference if they were upset (it is a total myth to think that every waiting child is elated with the idea of adoption...these children have been FORCED from their biological parent's lives and hurt by so many adults to include the system...why SHOULD they be excited?). To our dismay, they arrived late and our precious son-to-be held the door open for us as we walked in. We tried our best not to make eye contact and walked straight down the hall as if we were going somewhere else. We hid in the bathrooms until enough time had passed for us to go inside.
I know exactly what they were wearing. I know exactly where we were all sitting. "T" (our 13 year old) wouldn't even make eye contact yet "J" (our 8 year old) was clutching our photo album and grinning from ear to ear saying how happy he was and when could he start Martial Arts? My heart was pounding. I could see OA's face registering unfamiliar territory and it made me talk faster and faster because he is our rock and if he is faltering then I'm surely going to sink us. The therapist insisted that we go out of the sterile environment and get something to eat and meet back in an hour.
That was it...our big introduction. And then we were alone just the 4 of us in our truck in the middle of a city we regularly get lost in trying to decide where to eat. I immediately started asking questions trying to pull "T" out of her shell; I honestly have no idea which one it was, but she finally looked at me and started answering. I can still hear the new-ness of their voices. Hers so soft and tingly and his like melting wax. My ears fell in love instantly. "T" was like a fierce warrior...her face registers nothing unless she grants it permission. Her brother is the exact opposite...his face is more animated than Saturday morning cartoons. He cannot command a single part of his body to be still...the first few nights he even twitched in his sleep (I had to sleep on the floor beside his bed bc he was so scared...but that's jumping way ahead).
We decided on Chili's because that's the OA's territory and we got it to-go and went to the local book store. "T" loves to read. Right in the middle of the book store not even 20 minutes into our visit I stopped her and looked her straight in the eyes and asked, "What part about this adoption are you the most upset or scared about: giving up your school and friends or the fear of getting hurt again?" Right in the middle of the book store not even 20 minutes into our visit she looked me straight in the eyes and said, "I am NOT going to open myself up again to get hurt...I'm not going to let anyone in." I took a deep breath and blinked back those very rebellious tears and replied, "I didn't have a very good childhood and one time Jon told me that I could push as hard as I wanted but he was not going anywhere...and he didn't...and if you would please...please...just give us one chance...I promise that we will fight with all we have and never give up on you." Then the boys walked up and we just fell into position. Like we had always had each other---yet for some reason had been separated for a while.
When we got back to the therapist's office at some point the foster mom made a joke about the kids coming with us for the weekend. We immediately jumped on the idea and said we'd been asking for that very thing all along. The kids were begging in unison so the therapist pronounced it "divine intervention" and gave his blessings. Several phone calls and details and car rides later, we were on our way home...with 4 children in our truck. Happy birthday OA.
To say we were not prepared for them to come home with us is an understatement. Oh how I took for granted the luxury of letting laundry pile up and letting the fridge grow empty. I had planned to go grocery shopping while the OA took a nap when we got home...HA! Instead we were scrambling around Wal-Mart for food. "J" was a wild man. I am used to children holding my hands and staying near...just because...not so for him. He was off...like a light. I cannot count on one hand how many times OA and I looked at each other and said, "oh great, we are going to lose him on our FIRST night together". Of course, J-Bob was beside himself with worry. I mean...a child who wanders off??? That's SO NOT COOL in his book. "J" finally settled himself on the bottom of the cart with his legs stuck out and arms flung wide like superman. Really, we were THAT family that night at Wal-Mart.
We got everyone fed and eventually in bed. "J" was so terrified due to some horrible things he had been told. Those details must wait. But I eventually convinced him that those things would NEVER happen to him in our house, and I slept on our concrete floor by his bed. I have never before in my life seen a child sleep like that. He was even kicking the walls at some point in his sleep. May God forgive me for the anger I still cling tightly to towards his former foster family. Many things came out that weekend. They explained so much of what we were seeing in "J"'s behavior. The only words I can use to describe him are that he was like a caged wild animal who was finally let free. {My God. I pause to praise You for your incredible kindness and grace shown by giving us this precious child in need.} Sigh.
The whole weekend is a blur. I didn't sleep at all. I couldn't even shower unless OA was readily available to be the "referee" in the event that the inevitable dispute would arise. Sunday came along and it was time to pack bags and take them home. "J" woke from a nightmare and told me he was very sad he had to go home. I swore to him that I'd fight harder than I'd ever fought before to get him back with us as soon as possible. His eyes flickered hope for one second and then fell dim. My heart ripped in two.
I have failed to mention "T". She was simply amazing. I am quite sure that somehow she was born from us and sent somewhere else. She was so open and so transparent. There's so much I want to share but I feel like I need her permission. The whole family fell instantly in love with her. She didn't want to leave either, and I was shocked when she said she'd give up cheerleading and her school if she could just stay. My heart ripped again. How was I supposed to drive them home when they were already home???
This next part of the story is surreal. It is probably one of the hardest and most horrible moments I have ever had to endure as a Mom. "J" refused to get into the truck. He was kicking and screaming and crying that he didn't want to leave us. I was begging him to understand that we would see him next week (in the back of my mind I had already been formulating how badly I needed said week to game plan a survival guide for future weekends). It was an infantile cry that broke my heart (again). The whole family was crying except "T". But she was trying to comfort her brother...a side she rarely shows. It got so bad that we had to drop J-Bob and Mermaid off with a dear friend. I called someone who, next to God, has played the single most pivotal role in our story. She heard "J"'s cries and didn't stop making calls until she found someone who would listen. And once someone realized he was safe...he gave them plenty of things to listen to. There are a million details that simply cannot be shared. But, I can say that God is bigger than I ever dreamed because we were able to turn that truck around and go pick up J and M and go home...all 6 of us. And my heart babies are tucked snugly into their own beds as I type.
It hasn't been an easy few weeks. We haven't had a lot of "fun" moments. It's been exhausting and excruciating. Being a mother of 4 demands so much. I miss my husband's arms. I am having to share them with so many. I think that's the part that's thrown me the most (that I don't like sharing him 24-7). J-Bob and Mermaid have always been "Mama's kids"...but "T" is a "Daddy's girl" which is pushing Merci into becoming a "Daddy's girl" and Jaden is just floating along trying to make heads or tails of this brother whom doesn't understand rules. "J" is going to be a "Mama's boy" through and through, and I rue the day anyone ever tries to hurt me. I'm pretty sure he'd kill them...instantly. His love is that fierce. And that precious boy kept telling me how I needed to let HIM do things for ME because he owed it to me...sigh...I told him the only thing I want from him is good choices and for him to be a little boy...just be a child.
So at the end of a couple of very hard days, I sit in humbled amazement. That God would entrust my family with such a huge task. That I would be blessed enough to be frustrated by my teenager's "attitude" and my boy's bickering. Meanwhile, Mermaid is the blessed baby of the family who has somehow found herself in the perfect position to be loved and cherished by all...the constant calmer of the crazy people. That I would crave my husband's arms...his attention and affection...blessed alone time. I have been desperate and exhausted and angry and elated and frustrated and joyful...but I have never once felt empty. God is my strength...my refuge...in Him do I trust. Even when perspective alludes me...I can cling to His goodness...and rest in His mercies that are (oh thank You, God) new EVERY morning.
This is merely the beginning of our story. I sit in eager anticipation to see what God will write tomorrow. For tonight, I breathe in this moment of silence and kid breaths and thank Him for all He has done in our lives. I have never known a thankfulness like I know in this very moment.
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