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How It’s Going, Really

It’s been a very difficult week. I had written a blog post several days ago which I decided not to post. Too raw. Too honest. Too much in the emotion of the moment. And, I was not in the mood to be misunderstood, criticized, or told I hadn’t read the right adoption books. It was the right decision. Several days later, I am feeling better, more hopeful, less exhausted. Always good to “feel better.” Then again, feelings can be rather unreliable.

For a couple of days this week, my house was filled with the screams and cries of a small, angry, 14-month-old Chinese boy. I don’t know if he was sick, tired, grieving, or all three. But, I know I could not make him happy, try as I might. I am not unfamiliar with this frustration, this inability to satisfy my offspring. There was a time in recent years when my older daughter and I struggled and fought daily. She cried and whined. I yelled and punished. We got nowhere. There were days I honestly did not like her, and I was sure the feeling was mutual. Now, more than a year later, our relationship is marked by sweet tenderness and great affection. All that to say, I did not become a parent so I could make my kids happy all the time, though it’s nice when it happens. And to quote my husband, “I did not adopt this boy so I could win any popularity contests.” Presently, our younger daughter is, to say the least, a challenge. She was majorly ticked off that we left her for 2 weeks and then came home with a new baby. She is getting into all sorts of mischief, one episode of which necessitated a call to poison control. I fear she is turning my hair grey. (Sigh.) There are moments I do not like her much. But, we have 2 years of history, not counting the 9 months she grew inside me. We are attached. We are bonded. I am crazy about her, mischief and tantrums and all.

So it’s hard not to feel horrible that a few days of inexplicable screaming from Jiushu sent me to the dark place it did. I want to delight in him. I want to feel love for him. I do not want to feel like I’m babysitting or watching a child in the church nursery.

Last night, our friends came over with their four (biological) children. I shared a bit with the mom about how things are going and later felt the need to apologize for maybe sounding too negative. She responded wisely and beautifully:

No need for sorrys. This is a huge life-changing thing you have done, and it is okay for it to be this way. This relatively short season of getting to know each other, adapt, and grow your love for each other is your womb time. With a biological kid, for moms it is very passive and generally automatic. Yet deep connections are formed. They make the stress of a newborn doable despite it being very hard to assimilate a little life to a whole new world. You just get to do womb time with Jiushu on the outside with two-way opinions and outsiders looking on. But, I have every confidence that a new life will be birthed out of this time. So nourish physically, provide a protective, comforting, and safe environment, and allow time for unseen connections to bind your hearts together. It’s gonna happen…

I read (and reread) a few blog posts this morning which strengthened my resolve to be transparent and honest. Here’s one post in which a mom shares openly about her panic just after being matched with the boy they would eventually adopt…a fantastic testimony. And the comments on her original post encouraged me as much as the actual post! Statements like these:

When you get home you may regret your decision to adopt…you might even feel like you made the biggest mistake! But that this is normal and to be expected.

Don’t try to analyze/evaluate how you are feeling at every given moment. Just go with it and know that bonding takes time – like months and years, not days or weeks.

I think that adoption is a terrifying thing. It is part of the emotion that makes us lean in to God. Begging Him for His strength and clarity. Thanks for being vulnerable in posting this. People need to talk about these feelings more…I think these feelings come to almost everyone at some point in their adoption journey.

Whoa.

So, if I don’t expect Jiushu to fully attach to us in a matter of days or weeks, might it also take a bit longer for us to attach to him in a way that feels warm and genuine?

I want to bring my fear and weakness to the feet of Jesus, letting Him refine me and clothe me in His strength. I am selfish. He gives generously. I get agitated. He is slow to anger. I am confused and clueless. He is perfect wisdom. I make mistakes. His grace covers me. My love is weak. His love is oh-so-strong. And because I am His, I have access to all that He is.

Which means this little family of mine–every one of us–is going to be just fine.

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Jerusha Staggs

Jerusha has been married to Vince for 9 years. A former high school math teacher, she now stays home with and home schools her four children–ages 6, 4, 2, and 1. Their youngest son was adopted from China (Jiangsu province) in May 2011. Jerusha and Vince are worship leaders and are passionate about experiencing the presence of God as an everyday reality–even in the midst of diaper blowouts and chaos management. Read more about how it’s going on Jerusha’s blog.

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Staking My Claim

I know I have been absent. I have thought of writing this post 100 times, and yet I haven’t. Until today. Today is the day that I am claiming it.

Over the past year and half, I have felt like a snowball rolling down hill. Picking up crud along the way. I’ve been rolling FAST, too fast. I haven’t been able to enjoy the ride very much for worrying about getting THERE.

You see, since we have adopted Lilly, I have been playing catch up. Catch up on attachment, catch up on socialization, catch up on education, catch up in language development, catch up on speech, catch up on cleft surgeries, catch up on immunizations, catch up on bonding. CATCH UP, quick, we have to CATCH UP. Are you overwhelmed yet? Because I am.

I haven’t posted much about Lilly’s last surgery. The bone graft. Third surgery in a year. Just about everything that could have went wrong did. Even requiring a second surgery (which is the 4th surgery) in a year to fix a freak occurrence from the 3rd surgery. It’s A LOT.

Then, there is school. She does okay, but we aren’t caught up. We are working on that. Attachment. Its always been difficult. Just when I think I have it all figured out, some new things come rearing their ugly heads. And speech. She has made so much progress but still lacks in areas.

On top of all the catch up I have been dealing with, the death of my precious grandmother (who died unexpectedly on the day Lilly had the 3rd surgery), my oldest going to college, my middle going to high school, another adoption, etc. I could go on but I think you get the point. Not fun stuff.

Through all this, it finally occurred to me. LET IT GO. I don’t HAVE to play catch up anymore. EVERYTHING is not important right now. Right now, I need to love this girl where she is and stop trying to change her to fit the mold that I think she should fit. There is no way that I can catch up for 5 years of lost time over night. Why did I not realize that before? I only have to do what I HAVE to do. The rest will come in time.

Time opens every door.

I’m staking my claim. I will not worry anymore about getting this child ahead. I will love her where she is planted, and watch her bloom. I will love her the same if she NEVER gets caught up. I want to enjoy more and worry less. It feels good actually, like I just shed a very heavy coat. I will prioritiz,e and we will have small nibbles at life, in manageable pieces, not trying to eat the whole pie at one time.

I just have to love her where she is. That’s all. Its that simple.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. . . And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

1 Corinthians 13:4-13

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Leslee Dockery

Leslee lives in North Carolina with her husband and three children, 19, 15, and 7. Her youngest daughter was adopted from China 2 years ago. They are currently getting ready to travel to adopt their fourth child, a 5-year-old boy from China. You are welcome to follow along on their blog. Leslee is passionate about older child adoption and glad to help anyone who has questions. “Walking in faith through our adoptions has been the hardest

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Tangled

We are HUGE fans of the movie Tangled.

But I have to be honest, the night we saw it in the theater, Rob and I both had a reaction to it. Not the giggly, happy one. No. It was a sadness, and I now know it was God preparing us for something important.

We are in the midst of celebrating four wonderful years with sweet Hannah. Last week we celebrated the day Hannah became formally, fully, no-looking-back, no worries,

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Searing Loss

It all started in the car. Georgia was chattering away as the trees whizzed past outside. “I spy with my yittle brown eye…a shoe!” Yes, she does not quite have the art of it down but loves to say that over and over. Next, Parker piped up, “Mama, if I was born in your tummy, why are my eyes a different color?”

Me: “You did grow in my tummy, and your eyes are a mixture of Daddy and Mama and your eyes are bluish green, a little of both of us…”

Parker: “Georgia and Ravenna have brown eyes. Don’t they, Mama?”

Me: “Yes, just like their birth mamas and daddies, beautiful deep brown eyes.”

Parker: “But, you are their real Mama, right?”

Me: “You bet I am, forever and ever!”

There was a pause and then from the back of the car, eyes filled with tears.

Ravenna said, “My birthmom is my real Mama.”

Me (deep breath and praying for wisdom): “You are right both of us are very real.”

Ravenna: “But, my birthmom is my REAL mom…you are just my new mom.”

Again with the deep breathing…

Me: “Honey, I love you so much, and your birthmom and I are both a part of your story, and you get to choose what you call us. I’m happy to be your new mom. You are such a gift in my life.”

Then, up pops Georgia, “I spy with my yittle brown eye…my shirt!” and soon all three were playing eye spy and giggling. But, for the rest of the day, she called me “Mother” instead of Mama. It took everything in me to not start up the conversation again, to defend myself, to explain why I should be her real mama…but, truthfully, I am her mama but so is her birthmom, both intertwined, both just as important, and I don’t get to choose. It is important that I do not choose, but that I walk alongside and allow her to go where she needs to go. I love her more than I need to be first in her life…but that doesn’t mean that it is not hard.

Later that night, tucking her under all the pink softness of her blankies I saw deep pools of grief in her eyes.

Ravenna: “Mama…will I ever see her?”

Me (also in tears): “With all my heart I hope so.”

For awhile she just rested her head on my chest and let the tears fall then…

Ravenna: “Mama, is she safe?”

Me: “I know that we can pray for her safety, and God is with her just like he was with you while you waited for us to come.”

Ravenna: “What did you pray for?” (through deep sobs)

Me: “I would go in your room and pray every day, holding your stuffed animals and praying that God would hold you in safe arms, that He would whisper in your ears that you were loved and that you were so precious and wanted, that He would make the time go quickly until we could be together…”

Then she rolled onto my chest, wrapped her legs around me and bawled and bawled, hot tears soaking my clothes.

“I just want to see her…I want my birthmama…I want my birthmama…I want my birthmama.”

Until she just lay there cuddled as close as she could possibly get, laying curled on every inch of me, my lips pressed into her silken dark hair…silently praying and whispering how very much I love her, how beyond precious she is to me…how I will love her forever. All the while, Georgia, on the other bed is saying, “Nenna and Mama stick together like paper and glue, like paper and glue Nenna Mama always!”….and finally she let go and curled up to be tucked in and whispered, “I love you” as I gave her one final kiss.

And then, I curled up in Doug’s arms and wept, sort of because it hurt to be the “new” mama but mainly for the hurt in my little girl, for the searing pain that I cannot take away, for the fact that she is 7 and should have no deeper care than what kind of ice cream to get or what playground to play at. Because I would give anything to meet her birthmom too. Because I cannot promise that we will ever find her, I cannot promise that the pain will ever go away…because I just love her so much. My tender, deep, searching little girl.

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted

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In Their Parents Image…or Not

My husband and I teach Sunday school for first and second graders at our church. Until recently, our daughter was in the kindergarten room which uses the same lesson as our group. Earlier this summer, we were teaching the kids about people being made in the image of God. The lesson included this discussion question:

My husband and I talked about our dislike of this question, given that both of our children are adopted. We debated whether or not to mention our concern to the children

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Wondering

I pray for you often. I wonder when I walk the streets if you are the one. Are you the one I sat by at lunch today or passed at the market? I wonder if you are the shadow outside my window peeking in or the noise I hear in the bushes at night? I wonder if I haven

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In Love With Adoption

Had one of those sweet conversations with my boys last night. The kind that make you all warm and fuzzy about being a parent. It was bed time and I was impatiently telling them to turn off the light, stop talking, get under the covers, no more drinks, when Keaton asked me a question. Now, he very well could have been stalling; it worked.

He said, “Mom which one of us kids do you like the best. I know you love us all, but which one do you like?” I very much wanted to say I like you all the exact same now go to sleep so I could run into my own bed and start reading my book or flip on the TV. But, I decided to take a deep breath and explore what he was really asking me. So, I told the boys that I have so many things I like about each of them, but I would share one thing about each of them tonight. And, we began. And, in case I don’t tell them enough I will put them here in cyber-print…

Keaton, one thing I love about you is that you were my first child. You taught me how to love like a Mommy.

Kayden, one thing I love about you is that I see so much of your father in you and it reminds me why I love him so much.

Laney, one thing I love about you is you were my first daughter and have been so fun, girly, and full of life.

And, Macy…

Keaton interrupted me and said, “I know what it is you love about Macy, Mom. You love that she is adopted. Right?”

My instinct was to jump on that and say I would love Macy if she wasn’t adopted, and I don’t love her differently than you because she is adopted, and you are no less special to me because you aren’t adopted, and ask them do you love Macy any differently than your other siblings? and so on…But again, I was still and listened.

He went on, “because you are in love with adoption, Mom, and you have been ever since we brought Macy home.” Kayden jumped in and said, “because we are all adopted Mom if we choose to love God.”

And, there it was. They said these things with such admiration and clarity that I was humbled. I hadn’t signed them up for an Adoption 101 class, hadn’t made them read a book about it or write a paper, or even made them sit down and talk to me. God was revealing Himself to my boys through me. Through my love for adoption. I was about as giddy as a mommy can be.

And the truth is I am in love with adoption. Sure, I love what it brought to our family in Macy. Sure I go crazy about orphans and figuring out what I can do to help God set them in families. But more than that, I love what adoption has taught me about God. I don’t know anyone else’s story, just my own, so I can only speak for myself. My adoption story isn’t about becoming a mommy to Macy. That was a miracle and a gift, but my adoption story is that God used this time in my life to draw me to Himself. My adoption story included a loss of one of those gifts. A death. And that makes it all the more life changing for me. Because in Gaby’s death, Macy’s twin sister, not the concept of it, but her literal physical death, those last 20 minutes with her on this earth, I experienced the physical presence of God in a way that I have never before in life. I felt the eternal. And, I am forever changed.

This year, I have moved from being a lifelong Christian who God blessed through normal life. I was all high and mighty about my faith and that it could never be rocked no matter what. When in all reality, He had never let anything come into my life to test that. Now, I am someone who saw and experienced pain and hurt that I believe God could have prevented and stopped but chose not to. And, I am okay. I love Him. I believe in Him. I trust Him. And, I still believe that He couldn’t take or do anything that would change my faith in Him. The ONLY way that I can say those things is through His strength and power.

Praise the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! Through Christ, God has blessed us with every spiritual blessing that heaven has to offer. Before the creation of the world, he chose us through Christ to be holy and perfect in his presence. Because of his love he had already decided to adopt us through Jesus Christ. He freely chose to do this so that the kindness he had given us in his dear Son would be praised and given glory. Ephesians 1:3-6

Macy, one thing I love about you is that you were my first glimpse into the miracle of adoption.

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Shelley Brown

Shelley has been married to her best friend, Gabe, for 11 years. They have 5 children–3 the old-fashioned way: Keaton (9), Kayden (6), and Laney (4). Their family adopted twin girls, Macy (1) and Gaby in 2010. After fighting for 7 months with Hypoplastic Right Heart Syndrome, Gaby is now in heaven with Jesus. Shelley is a preschool director of a Christian school part-time and Gabe works for a Christian insurance company providing insurance for Missions trips. Their family enjoys the adventure God has them on and is always looking to follow Him and give Him glory in all things. Check out their family blog.

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Hearts Connected

As we walked along the paths to the play yard, in search of our daughter, it was never far from our minds that this was our last day with her. Her groupa was already headed outside, but once we caught up with them and called her name, a moment unfolded that I hope to never forget.

We called her name, she turned, spotted us and her face lit up like the sun itself. Her whole entire countenance changed as she began running toward us. As soon as I saw her face shining, I got down on her level and received her into my embrace. My heart was full.

Our play time together was just like any other day, but we were treasuring every moment. I felt like Mary in Luke 2:19:

But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.

As we played, it was clear she had learned over the days to anticipate our every move. She would get to the top of the slide and wait, slightly lifting her arms, expecting one of us to come up behind her, slipping our arms under hers, enfold her into our embrace, count to three in Russian and then slide down in glee.

When we would begin to climb the stairs, one of her hands used the rail, the other stuck out in anticipation of the filling with our bigger, stronger one to help her up.

She would sit on the swing sideways and quietly listened as I told her of her new family and sung to her. Sometimes she

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A Review and Giveaway: Secret Daughter

I have some friends I’d like you to meet – Kavita, Jasu, Somer, Krishnan, and Asha. I met them here at the beach on vacation; I’ve only known them for a few days. As much as I’d like to speak to them and allow you to do the same, we can’t; they are alive only in a well painted portrait of words. But, they’ve spoken to me.

There aren’t many books in which I find myself drawn in some way to all the characters. Maybe one or two resonate with me, not all. Shilpi Somaya Gowda’s