In the trying times we learn
Treasures
Since the first night we were with Mia, we noticed a sweet and slightly sad behavior at bedtime. In order to fall asleep she first needs to hug close to her chest a little treasure. Her treasure is always something that has become important, valuable to her on that day.
It can be anything.
The first night it was a container of playdoh.
The second night it was a cup with milk…she never drank the milk she just NEEDED to possess the cup.
It doesn
Letting Go of Expectations
No one ever promised us that adopting our children would be a simple thing. I didn’t expect to whisk Silas into the mix and then just go about my happy business.
I knew it would be really, really hard.
For like six months.
And then it would be sort of hard for another six.
Then we might have a few bad days over the next six months.
Then we’d be home free.
We’d be in “regular parenting” territory then, which is never a slice of pie. It always requires effort and attention. It can be frustrating sometimes, exhausting often. But the dark, bruisey days would be over.
We’ve had Silas with us for 19 months. My extremely generous timeline for unfavorable behavior has expired, and we’re still registering a solid Month Ten. At least this week.
It’s been one of those weeks that used to find me feeling bullied and defeated, but now, after much practice, I simply feel bone-tired. It has worried me, the way I’ve learned to compartmentalize. It has concerned me at times, the way my patience grips the very edge with its fingernails.
This adoption thing? It can be lonely business. It’s hard to find the kind of everyday support that I crave, not because people in my life are unwilling to offer, but simply because it’s different.
When these hard weeks come, I sometimes feel judged. She should be doing things differently. I feel inadequate. I’m tired of screwing up. I feel defensive. He’s had a difficult life. I feel exasperated. What will it take for him to start to understand how this stuff works? I feel rejected. My kid doesn’t love me.
I feel all of those things, at times. They are my knee socks, my jeans, my gray T. I wear them well. They fit just right, at this point and they’re surprisingly comfortable.
But then I pull on my love for my child. I zip certainty up to my chin. I ball up my hands and shove them into Promise.
I walk in the sunny-day truth that I often know the right thing and choose the wrong anyway. I do not always obey the very first time. I shove and kick when I’m scared, or when I think my idea was better.
And still, just as I love my angel-lashed boy, I am loved.
I could never have known for sure what this journey would look like or how it would feel. I might have run screaming for the hills had I understood that it would be this hard this long. That is the thought that threatens to break me. I might have turned my back on one of the blessings of my life. I might have missed the moment where he turns to me and says, “I lu yew Mommy”. I would have missed stifling a laugh when he looks up at me and says all mean and sassy, “I tickle yew”. (He finally understands that “I spanka yo bottom” wasn’t working for him, so he improvises now.)
So, I’m learning to let go a little. I’ll not take personal the days where he wakes up spitting mad at me and the world, because these days come in waves. I’ll ride it out knowing that maybe tomorrow, or next Monday, he’ll smile straight into my heart and giggle me through my day.
Every day is a step in the right direction, even when it’s hard.
Every day is a chance to remember that God honors this work. He honors it full. He cheers us on, reminds us that the dark days move faster if you dance a little.
Every day is one more opportunity for grace – for all of us.
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Shannan Martin is an ordinary girl who searches for and finds beauty in the everyday. She’s the wife of a man who thinks all of her jokes are funny and who regularly indulges her late-night, thinking-out-loud ponderings. They have three funny shorties, Calvin, Ruby, and Silas, who came to them across rivers and oceans. Together, they are embarking on a fresh adventure and are confident that God will meet them there. And though they no longer live on the farm, life remains a heaped-up pile of blessings, and Shannan will forever remain a Farmgirl at heart. She has blogged for three years; come take a look.
The Waiting Room
I am home.
Lots of You Asked for It, So Here You Go
Ok….like 5 people asked for it.
But since I am a stay at home mom and interact with exactly no one most days during the day
5 people is like a lot.
So here you go
my thoughts on older child adoption.
The question of how we “do” older child adoption
how the intricacies of that play out in our home
how their adjustment is
quite honestly sets me back a bit.
When asked about “Older child adoption” I have to wait for that “older child/hard to place” label that used to define them rise up from the recesses of my brain and come back into my frontal lobe….errr…cerebral cortex?…..I dunno….so that I can remember
because I truly don’t look at them as “older children”.
They just fit.
They fit perfectly into our family.
I don’t know that it is harder.
I don’t know that it is easier than adopting younger kids & cute squishy lil babies.
It’s just
well
different.
In the beginning in China it was fabulous.
They were old enough to somewhat have a grasp on what was happening.
All 3 came right to us.
(other than Joshua apparently thinking he was going to live in Italy….sorry buddy)
There were
No tantrums.
No tears.
Just pure
adrenaline induced
excitement.
For them
for us
we were one big group of really, really excited people.
Yet, ironically, if anything illustrates the udder brokenness of these orphans
it is that moment
because really,
children should not be that excited to be handed to
and walk off
with perfect strangers.
But they somehow know.
They know that what is to come
love
life
hope
a future
food
a bed
warmth
simply must be better than what they have now.
Because when I try to picture my biological children being handed over to strangers at the age of 7
and the definite opposite reaction that they would have
it illustrates just how big a void these kids sitting in those orphanages have.
There is nothing like a family.
There is
no
thing
like a family.
Practically, older kids just aren’t as needy in the physical sense and since we were far beyond diapers and nap times this worked well for us.
They could walk, go to the bathroom, understand that it was time for bed, shower, dinner.
(Man I am SO good at charades now. If anyone ever wants to play, let me know. I’ll kick your butt.)
This I knew was a key to our families successful transition.
These kids were in the same phase of life that we were already in so the adjustment on our part was minimal. (Not to trivialize adoption itself but in this specific context(as it pertains to age) it was a minimal impact.)
I think had we chosen to go back down baby lane it would have been much more difficult (for us).
We just weren’t there.
Our hearts weren’t there.
Our sports filled evenings and weekends weren’t there.
Our older kids weren’t there.
I knew how to do 7 year’s old.
Our youngest 5 are all within a 21 month block of time.
The twins are 6 minutes apart.
Push em out, push em out, waaaaaayyy out!
Sorry, that was a throwback to my brief cheer-leading days in high school.
But I digress…
Jacob is 14 months younger than the twins.
Joshua is 3 months younger than Jacob.
Joey is 4 months younger than Joshua.
If we could do anything,
we could do the 6-8 year old age range.
I knew what their maturity level was, what would appeal to them, how to speak to them.
We were there.
Granted, some of it may have been lost in translation but I think the message is this…
Kids are kids.
Red, yellow, black and white they, at their core, are kids.
Obviously
Experiences will color that,
Trauma will cover that,
Abandonment will change that,
Institutionalization will harm that
but somehow I could see right through all of that muck and mire
and I could see that underneath it all
there was a little boys heart.
I didn’t know how long it would take to unearth.
I didn’t know the hardships would come along
I didn’t know how much pain was in the process
but the heart
the heart is there
it’s just waiting.
It’s the uncovering of all of the “stuff” that comes along with adopting older kids that is where the challenge can rise up
and
smack
you
in
the
face.
So though I don’t change diapers
or warm bottles
or wake up for 3am feedings
and I don’t hurry home for nap time
I fight a battle that is larger than myself.
A battle that will consume them
if it weren’t for love.
So yes.
It’s hard.
I do sleep all night
They do go to school all day
but I have to be ever mindful that though their neediness doesn’t lie in the physical sense
there are still 3 little hearts under my roof that are still in a state of mending.
Because not only do I have my own parenting wisdom, tips, techniques and training to impart on them,
I am simultaneously un-parenting all of the bad habits, harsh words, and lack of love that they endured when I wasn’t there.
Have you ever tried un-parenting and parenting at the same time?
It’s ummmm……fun?
Nope.
Pretty sure that’s not the word I am looking for.
It’s not just “Hey buddy, this is how we do this.”
It’s “Hey buddy, I know that was how things were done before and I’m sorry that happened, ~ hug ~ hug~ but here’s why that’s not ok. Now let me show you what we do. ~ teach. train. model. ~ hug ~
Then it’s “Good job! I knew you could do it!” ~ hug~
All whilst speaking Chinglish and having about 50% of what you are telling them get lost in translation.
Repeat.
8,000 times a day.
They will be 14 years old before we ever even break even.
They will be 14 before their time in our family becomes longer than their days spent in an orphanage.
This is a marathon.
I am not who I used to be.
My patience is bigger
My heart is heavier
My joy is tempered.
Just like a normal marathon
it’s exhausting.
It takes an inordinate amount of energy
of patience
of love
of patience
of patience
of teaching
of training
of patience
of love
to bring these kids out of the darkness.
And if I’m being honest….
it.
empties.
me.
And if I’m being more honester. (yep I know, not a word)
it’s the reason I haven’t been blogging.
It takes SO much to be continually pouring love, encouragement, discipline, and training into these kids that I often find myself
empty.
And most days
when the sun has set
when 7 sleepy heads are happily snoring on their pillows
I have nothing left to give.
Are we happy?
Yep.
Would we do it again?
No doubt, yes.
Is it the hardest thing I have ever done?
A
b
s
l
u
t
e
l
y
Are there moments when I think to myself,
“Am I being punked?”
7 boys? Seriously?
Totally.
I vastly underestimated the amount of life training that they would need at their age.
Things like
A stove is hot.
You knock on the door before you walk into people’s houses, you can’t just walk in.
Seatbelts.
Walk on the sidewalk, not in the street.
Kindly do not remove the food from your plate that you don’t care for and place a big blob of it directly on the table.
Don’t walk down the hallway from your room to the bathroom stark neked. You’re 8.
Small things of course.
But when each and every moment,
each and every action
each and every transition
requires explanation it takes awhile to get the hang of that.
Rather…
it took me awhile to get the hang of that.
But last I checked my goal isn’t to take up residence on Easy Street,
I think that is a crowded, overpopulated neighborhood.
go.
serve
love.
be more like HIM
It’s what I want to do.
It’s where I want to live.
So is older child adoption really more difficult?
I don’t know.
It’s just
different.
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Sonia and her husband John are an Air Force family with 7 boys. She stays at home part time and spends the other part of her time shopping at Stuff-Mart buying large quantities of food to feed said boys. Sonia’s hobbies include cooking, cooking, cooking more, cleaning, cooking, and cleaning bathrooms. They are navigating their way through life attempting to glorify God in all that they do — follow the journey here.
His Hand in Mine
One of my favorite things about being a mom of little ones is the feeling of their hand in mine.
For me, it expresses trust, protection, connection. . . . It tells the world . . . we belong together. I”m not sure I”d really thought about that until we adopted our son.
Last week, we were walking on a sidewalk
. . . nobody near us
. . . he reached up
. . . and put his hand in mine
. . . for the first time
. . . in 17 months.
Baby steps on the long road of attachment.
Grateful.
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Amy and her husband David have been married for 22 years and are the parents of 4 kids–three bio children ages 16, 14, and 10 and their youngest who is 5. They have been home from Ethiopia with him for 18 months. Adoption was on both of their hearts for many years. They took the plunge to move forward with adoption after realizing that all of their reasons for not doing it had nothing to do with the calling they believed they had from God. These past 18 months, however, have been beyond difficult. Each day continues to be a struggle, yet they cling to the hope that healing is happening and will continue to as they learn to parent their youngest child in brand new ways. Amy is an occassional blogger and can be found at www.ourtable4six.blogspot.com.
I’m Not Enough
It turns out I am not enough to fix my kids. I don
Bonding Over A Bucket
How We’re Doing, Really
This is a question I get all the time. “Everything sounds great, but how are you really doing?!” So today, right now, I’m going to spare you the “oh, good – we’re doing really good” answer, and give you the real deal. Raw and unabridged.
Because the truth is, we are doing good. Really good. But there is so, so much more to it than that.
The last 2+ months have been hard. They’ve been messy. They’ve been exhausting. They’ve been confusing. Any new mommy & daddy would say the same thing – newborn or otherwise. But bringing a 3 year old into a brand new family is different. Not harder or easier – just different. Carter came with an established personality – a muddy past – and an attachment to….well – no one, really.
I think I was naive to think that after we got home, if we just got that boy some love and some healthy food that we’d be on the road to success. In part, this is true.
Huge difference, right?!
We have seen the difference that a little lovin’ makes – and it’s huge. Monumental. But this 3 year old boy needs more than a little love and veggies.
Like discipline. How do you discipline someone you’re trying desperately to attach to? Very carefully. Being a preschool teacher for 7 years – I have all they keys to unlock the mysterious mind of a difficult preschooler. I know just what to say and just how to handle the most out-of-control child. And on top of that, they would love me in return. But Carter is different. He is fragile. Don’t let his healthy figure and cute smile fool you. He is fragile. He is trying to explore his world. His new world. He is working out, in his mind, all the exciting – intriguing – incredible things around him. And when I see his mind working, and the gears are turning – it’s hard for me to step in and say ‘NO!’. I do say no-no. Often. But each time, I wonder if that’s really what’s best. I know – he needs to learn discipline – and he does understand no-no. But this kid is just walking around, enjoying life. Totally sucking the marrow out of it. And we’re telling him ‘no-no’.
Sometimes, Carter gets a gentle hand tap. Enter, Christmas tree (so stinkin’ glad it’s gone!). And I know he needs that little slap, but as I’m doing it, I can’t help but wonder who has done it in the past. Not on his hands – but on his face, head, back…? And again, I wonder if that’s really what’s best.
See what I mean? Messy.
We are go-ers. Always on the go. It’s our nature. Being-doing-seeing-going is in our blood, somehow. But as a family who just brought home a 3 year old, ‘going’ should not be part of our daily activities. In fact – instead of being-doing-seeing-going, we should be sitting-listening-quieting-holding. It’s easier said than done, trust us. After spending 30+ days in a tiny apartment in Ukraine, we were ready to hit the ground running the day we got home. And we couldn’t. Then, after a week of staying home – we were ready to get back to our old being-doing-seeing-going ways. A tip to those of you about to embark on this incredible journey: When you think your child is ready for xyz, wait another week. When you think you’re ready for xyz, wait another 2 weeks. Once you let that person snuggle your baby, or you start running errands with your child, or whatever – it’s really, really hard to get it back. It’s nearly impossible to go back and say ‘you’re snuggling too much’ or to tell yourself ‘the errands can wait until later’ – because it’s already been done – so what can the harm be in doing it more?!
See what I mean? Exhausting. Confusing. This is the reality of adoption. I don’t ever want to make this journey look easy. It’s not.
That’s not to say that it’s not good. That it’s not incredible. Amazing. Rewarding. Because of course, it is all of those things. But it’s not easy.
So, as I’m sitting here enjoying my coffee – rambling on about attachment….my sweet boy is laughing big belly laughs in his highchair, enjoying the last bits of breakfast. Please, don’t misunderstand. We are so abundantly blessed. Incredibly happy. But don’t think for a second that this is a piece of cake.
It’s tough stuff – this adoption journey. But so, so worth it.
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I’m a daughter of the Most High God – wife to the most incredible, Godly man I know – and, as of two months ago, a proud mama to a 3 year old boy with Down syndrome. When Jake & I married 5 years ago, we planned on chasing after the typical American Dream. We’re so grateful that God got a hold of us – shook us up a bit – and then spoke to us, loud & clear. I’m learning to step back, say ‘yes’ to God, and allow Him to pen our life story. I enjoy writing about our life – our son – parenting a child with special needs – adoption – and other random tidbits on our family blog.
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Are you interested in becoming a family for a little one with Down Syndrome? This little girl is hoping her family finds her soon. Email to be connected with the adoption agency who has her file.