I had some fears going into the adoption process that I’ll say out loud here so that if you have them or know people who have them, you can at least say you’re not alone.
First fear: Can I raise a daughter? I grew up with two brothers. I had two sons. The only females in my life on any kind of closely-tied relational level were my mom and my wife. I wasn’t sure I could do it. I’m still not sure – we haven’t gotten to the puberty-stage yet. Stay tuned.
Second (and bigger) fear: Can I love my daughter the way I love my sons? I was there when my sons were born. I literally saw them take their first breath. In moments, I knew their APGAR score and was holding their swaddled bodies, singing over them, praying over them, and letting their mom kiss them when I wasn’t. That wasn’t the case for my daughter.
Two things changed my fear. The first were two pictures.
Picture 1: We were sitting in bed one night when the email dinged on my wife’s computer. We had sent over a care package with snacks and clothes and a pillow with our pictures on it. In an email, we got a picture of our daughter holding the pillow. I was done. In an instantaneous moment of divine heart surgery, I knew she was mine, and I was ready to go get her. We cried when we saw…
Picture 2: We got our daughter’s file of all the things she had recorded since being found. Included in that was her finding photo. I’m choked up right now just thinking about it. I’ll not post it here for reasons I will not explain, but I know what she looked like at a few days old (or a few weeks old, we’re not exactly sure when it was taken). I didn’t get to hold her then but I am holding her now. This morning she came down the stairs and into my arms, jammies wrinkled from a long, solid night of sleep and hair looking about the same. She’s mine.
And that leads to the second thing that changed my fear. This thought hit me (and continues to do so): there’s a difference between being her father and being her dad. It’s not just semantics for me. She’s not mine, but she is. She’s not from me but she’s a part of me. She’s not my flesh, but I’d give my life for her. She’s my daughter. I may not be the guy who is responsible for her being in the world, but I am the guy who is responsible for her. And gladly. I may not be her father, but I am her dad.
But that’s just me thinking thoughts…
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Trent Henderson
Trent is the husband of the amazing Ginny and father to the thoughtful Jack, adventurous Sam, and hilarious Ruthie Mei. He also serves as pastor to the saints of Heritage Park Baptist Church near NASA in Houston. He tries to say something worthwhile in his preaching and at his blog. Feel free to go check it out.
Originally published on her blog February 22, 2011…
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Today is Caden’s second birthday…and his first birthday at home. I feel like I should write a post commemorating the occasion, but I’m really torn on how to do that. Birthdays are a celebration. Hats, streamers, noise makers, cake, and confetti. But, today, I have tears.
Becoming Caden’s mother changed me in a way that I never expected. While he is such a joy and delight…truly a person to celebrate…I find myself grieving. I grieve the 21 months that I wasn’t his Mommy. I grieve the fact that I don’t know what happened two years ago today. There is an entire story surrounding his birth that I’m not privy to. I didn’t hear his first cries, and I didn’t feel the wonder a mother feels when she looks at her newborn child for the first time. I grieve that “loss.” And I grieve for the woman who DID hear his first cries, but gave him up four days later in an act of desperation that I can’t even begin to wrap my mind around. I grieve that Andrew wasn’t there for “Gotcha” and won’t meet his son until three months after homecoming. I grieve that Caden is losing his ties to the Chinese culture.
And yet…I rejoice in my son in a way I never expected. Already having three children, I expected #4 to be pretty much routine. It’s anything but. Everyday, I stand in awe of the work God did when he brought Caden into our family. I still can’t grasp the wonder of it. Everytime he hugs my neck or reaches his little arms out for me to hold him, I am filled with a million emotions and worry that my heart can’t contain them all. While the joy and sheer radiance of the moment fills me to the brim, I also feel very sorry for the “unknown Chinese mother” that’s missing out on those sweet moments. I don’t know the circumstances surrounding Caden’s birth, and I know nothing of his birth family other than their basic geographic location. But I love the woman who brought my son into this world. I’m thankful for her sacrifice. I wish I could swing by and pick her up on our way to lunch today…celebrating in the miracle of our son with his favorite steamed dumplings.
I expected to board a plane bound for the US and leave China…only my heart never did. Part of it remains with a family in a rural part of China’s most populated province. Part of it remains in an orphanage not too far from that rural location. Part of it remains with the college student I met while attending church in Guangzhou. I have Chinese artwork in my home, a Chinese bracelet on my wrist, and a Chinese boy on my lap. And I don’t know what to do with it all. Pieces of China here, part of my heart there. Dreams of bringing more Chinese children into our home, dreams of being the hands and feet of Christ to the people of China.
When I left the US bound for China, I knew exactly who I was and exactly what I wanted. The only part of China my heart was longing and aching for was supposed to come home with me on an IH3 visa. But I can’t love him without loving the land of his birth…the people of his birth country…and the children waiting just like he once was. And I’m learning that loving a once-orphan from a foreign land brings with it a heaviness that I don’t know how to manage. So many of my priorities have changed, and yet so many haven’t.
Two years ago, a little boy was born in China. Four days later he became an orphan. Just over two months ago, he became a beloved son. He is now a US Citizen with a great belly laugh that is developing a fluency in English. Becoming his Mommy shattered my heart and turned my world upside down in the most incredible way possible, and now I’m experiencing a rebirth of my own….
We turn not older with years, but newer every day.
–Emily Dickinson
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Tara Anderson
Tara Anderson began a journey of grace over 20 years ago when she walked the aisle of a little country church and gave her heart to Jesus. She is a stay-at-home mother of four, the youngest of whom was adopted through the China Waiting Child Program in November 2010. Not too long ago, Tara knew exactly who she was and exactly what she wanted out of life…but now she’s just trying to figure out who God intends her to be, and what He wants from her. You can get better acquainted with Tara on her personal blog, Following Our Leader.
Today, Lily got on her shoes and went to the back door to go play outside. She does this often, but usually comes back inside or just stands on the porch when no one wants to go outside with her. However today, when I opened the door for her she proceeded to walk out on the back porch, crawl out the doggy door (Girl #3 taught her this trick…sooo much faster than opening the door), and go in the backyard to play by herself.
This may not sound like much but this is a REALLY BIG deal!
Lily is a different kind of adopted child than what I expected. Maybe her behavior is more typical than what I think, but it is just different than what I expected. I believe this is why, for some time, I felt thrown for a loop.
I was in a stance prepared for other tactics than what I received. And though the behaviors have been understandable and typical, I was taken off guard.
I was prepared for a bold, demanding, clingy orphanage child. Instead, we have a gentle, insecure, sometimes aloof, foster home girl.
Now, don’t misunderstand. She is PERFECT for our family! Funny, vibrant, and silly as all get out!! What I am speaking of are the typical behaviors that are seen in adoptive children. The obstacles you face as an adoptive parent trying to ease this child into a secure, forever family environment. These are not necessarily her personality traits.
When she walked to that door and went out to play, pride swelled in me as if my child had just hit a homerun with the bases loaded. The biggest grin broke out across my face! And all she did was something other children do all the time and try to do from the moment they can walk.
This one act said, “This is my house. I live here. If I want to go outside and play, I can because I have equal ownership of this place!”
It was an awesome moment!
We are taking little steps all the time. She still won’t get up out of her bed on her own at nap time or in the morning but we are working on it. Unless she sees Girl #3 do it, she just doesn’t have the guts to just get up and come find me when she wakes. She just lays there and moans until someone comes to get her. It’s okay though, we are going to get there! One sweet day at a time.
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Anna Lokey
Anna Lokey and her husband Shaun have been married 11 years. They have the joyful privilege of parenting four little girls. Three biological (Zoe-8, Hazel-5, Sophie-3) and the fourth, Lily (age 2), recently adopted from China. Anna is a homeschool mom trying everyday to bring up their girls in a loving, Jesus-centered home! She and her husband help lead worship at their church and serve in the children’s ministries. Anna enjoys reading, working out, and playing pretend with her girls. You can read more about them and their Anything but LoKEY life on her blog!
I never in all my dreams imagined their relationship being this complete. This strong. When we ventured into the journey of adoption, we uttered the words “a sister for Masyn” often. Never did I dream how completely Eme would fulfill that role.
Eme doesn’t do anything half way. She jumps in full force and doesn’t look back. I should take a few lessons from her. Or at least take notes when watching her in action. It is no different in this role of little sister. She takes it quite seriously, I think.
She might lead you to believe that she’s opinionated and independent, but truth be told, she is a follower. When led by the right person.
And Masyn. I often wondered how she would feel about losing the position of “baby” in our family. It still amazes me that she simply stepped aside, welcomed this new person into our home, shared all of her things, and never once complained. Her love was immediate. What an amazing illustration of Christ’s love for us.
She is nurturing. She leads with a tender heart and a soft hand. In any new situation, she is quick to grab Eme’s hand and lead the way. When Eme’s insecurities creep in without anyone else noticing, Masyn is there to comfort and protect.
I have often wondered if Eme would feel left out. If the mother/daughter bond between Masyn and I would be so strong that she would have a hard time fitting in.
Now, my thoughts are shifting. I am wondering if perhaps I will be the one on the outside.
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Lindy Gregg
Kent and Lindy have been married for 10 years and have three biological children (two sons ages 8 and 6 and a daughter who is four) and our newest addition, Eme, who is 2
I always knew you liked him. I did. I saw it when you smiled at him. I saw it when your eyes lit up when he entered the room and how your first giggle was for him. It has always been there. But, it was too hard for him to see.
From the beginning, you would go to him freely. No fussing. At all. It’s just that you always kept your eyes on me. You’d squawk when I left your sight. You’d squeal when I returned. You kept track of my every move, even while he held or entertained you. And, at first, he was fine with it because it was subtle and everything was new
On the flight home, your fondness for me grew to a definite preference. You only wanted to be by me, on me, with me. The first weeks home were a blur of survival for all of us, and I knew that having you close to me was key in helping you feel safe and secure. We kept your routine predictable, outings to a minimum, and put you in the wrap anytime we went out. It made you feel safe and happy and solidified your bond…with me.
Your preference for me was undeniable, and he began to feel left out. He wanted to bond with you and experience affection instead of rejection. Seeing you reach for me time and time again was hurtful and took its toll. I still saw the way you smiled at him and were excited to see him, but he was beginning to get frustrated. He understood, but it hurt.
However, being who he is, he never gave up. He continued to reach out for you, spend time with you, care for you, be silly with you, comfort you, hold you, bathe you, and feed you…while you reached for me. The smiles and giggles I saw you give him were often overshadowed by your whining for me. But, you are his daughter, and he knew it would come…eventually.
Then, as if someone flipped a switch, things began to change. The whining and reaching for me lessened, making the smiles and giggles you gave him more obvious. You began to run full tilt to the door when he came home from work. You squealed as he “chased” you, urging him to keep doing it. You smiled at him just to get his attention. He noticed and soaked it up.
Over the past month, I’ve had a front row seat to watching the love between you two blossom and grow. My heart swells as I watch you run full speed to greet him at the door. As you lean out of my arms and into his. As you bring him book after book to read to you and then walk backwards until you plop into his lap settling your head against his chest. As you giggle and play peek-a-boo with him in your highchair. As your whole body wiggles in celebration when he comes to pick you up from nursery.
You see, he’s waited a very long time for you to return his affections. He’d have waited indefinitely, but I’m so glad he didn’t have to. I’m so glad you two are forging your own love story through silly rituals and goofy games. I don’t even mind when you prefer him over me.
I always knew you liked him and that the love would come. I’m just so glad that he’s beginning to know now, too.
He’s waited a long time to be your Daddy.
Love,
Mommy
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Stephanie
Stephanie has been married to Matthew for over 5 years. She
I dropped ‘my’ little boys off for their visit with their parents and their 2 year old sister. I watched the joy in their mom and dad’s eyes as they hugged the boys and talked with them. I saw their sister smile excitedly as we drove up, and I watched as LM leaned into his mommy’s arms, giving her a big hug.
As I watched them walk away together I thought, they need to be together. I want them to make it. I want this family to be restored. To know the joy of family. To ultimately know the joy of Jesus.
And I felt so peaceful watching them.
Two hours later, I pulled back in to pick up the boys and as I hugged them and loved on them, I thought, “No. How could I ever give them back? I love them so dearly. They have become part of our family.”
And yet we have to live with the expectation that they are going back home. We live with the reality that most likely, we will be saying goodbye.
My heart says one thing one minute and then another the next. But I’m so thankful that I don’t have to trust my heart, I trust the ONE who never changes. I trust Him with my heart and with my kids’ hearts. Each one.
Originally published on her blog on September 25th, 2010….
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I woke up last night–okay, let me rephrase–Trevor woke me up last night at 2:00 with a bad dream. I quickly got him back to bed, tucked in tight, listening to Christmas music (his choice–good boy!), and went back to bed.
I was still awake at 3:30 when Jay Henry came in after having a nightmare.
I simply could not turn my brain off.
I truly feel like I’m failing Emebet. In every way possible. We make it through each day. But we are not moving forward. Every word, behavior, action, gesture and complaint from her cause me to react poorly. Even if it’s nothing extreme or purposeful, my immediate response and feeling is dislike. I do not like her. I do not like her being here. And I make her know it. This is not always the case, but often.
This has created a huge conflict in me. Why in the world do I act this way? How can my love for my biological kids be real and genuine, if I can treat another child so differently and with contempt? Why, when I am constantly praying and asking God to change our circumstances, do I go right back to these wordly, selfish actions? I know that my actions towards her cause her behaviors. I have no doubt about it. But it seems impossible to change my feelings. And we all know that it is so hard to act one way when you feel the exact opposite. I have always worn my emotions on my sleeve, and Kent can clearly verify that I cannot hide anything.
But last night, as I lay awake, praying for God to change this in me, my thought process changed a little. I turned the tables, and played my own devil’s advocate for our situation. If I were the one in a new home with new people and a family that was already established, and I was treated the way that I treat her, how could I possibly feel loved, cherished, important, or equal?
I absolutely wouldn’t. I would feel sorrow. Pain. Loss. And I, like her, would respond with defiance and anger. She is acting exactly like I am.
We are both experiencing pain. We have both experienced loss. We are both living in the midst of sorrow. And neither one of us is handling it well.
Immediately upon returning home, we were convinced that she needed rules and structure, which we quickly put in place. In doing so, I think we skipped over the part where we needed to love, love, love. Unconditionally and without reserve. No rules. No expectations of her. We seem to still be in that place. Expecting so much (partly because she is so capable). Giving so little.
My thoughts then went beyond that.
Most of you know what a scary beginning we had with Masyn. Almost losing your child creates gratitude that is huge. Deep down, she holds a special place that no one else can, because I know how close we came to not having her. She is my precious, precious girl who causes tears often because I am overwhelmed with love for her. Completely overwhelmed. It is really hard, then, to add in a child who creates the exact opposite feelings.
So after putting myself in Eme’s place last night, I put Masyn in Eme’s place and tried to imagine her losing us, her family. I then imagined the pain, terror, and uncertainty that she would face being relocated to another country where she didn’t speak the language, and never seeing her sweet brothers again.
And then I tried to invision her being placed in a home where she had a new mom who disliked her, and couldn’t see her for the amazing little girl that she is. And where she was yelled at all the time just because she was different than their existing daughter. And where she was not loved on in the midst of her grief and adjustment, but was told to stop crying because it was annoying.
This completely broke my heart. I would be devastated to know that my daughter were in such a place. I would be heartbroken that this little girl, who was so amazingly special to us, was being treated indifferently in what was supposed to be her new “family.”
I spent much of the rest of my “awake” time asking God to forgive me–yet-again–and to help me, every moment, shower Eme with love. I want to create an environment of security for her. I want her to know that she is loved, just like the others. That she is special. That we want her here. I want my behaviors towards her to be so different than what they have been. Mostly, I want my heart to want her here. I don’t want it to be fake. I want it to be genuine.
Today has been good. Her behaviors are still present, but my reaction to them is different. I am calm and loving in my responses. I am hugging and kissing on her any time I get the chance. I am trying to look at her through different eyes.
I know our struggles aren’t magically over by any means. But getting back to that place of surrender is key. God can’t change me when I’m being stubborn and closed-minded, and I have been living in that place. Bitterness has crept in and taken up residence. Last night, lying in my bed while the rest of the house slept, I wrestled with God, and He returned me to the place where He needs and wants me to be. Completely dependent. Completely reliant.
Hopeful.
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Lindy Gregg
Kent and Lindy have been married for 10 years and have three biological children (two sons ages 8 and 6 and a daughter who is four) and our newest addition, Eme, who is 2
Ellie's card for her classmates for Valentine's Day
Naturally, given the holiday we just celebrated, my thoughts have gravitated to the subject of love. It’s such a basic human need, but one I took for granted in many ways until Ellie became our daughter. Most of you who visit our blog are aware of the state of social deprivation in which we found her. I cannot let my thoughts drift to what her life was like in the 18 months before we met her — it’s too painful. This weekend, my parents were at a retreat in Durres (Albania) and met an individual who tried to volunteer at Ellie’s orphanage about a decade before Ellie came to reside there. This individual reported that the caregivers strongly discouraged her efforts to come and hold babies because “it made their job too much work” — the babies would come to expect to be held. Our visit this past summer reminded me what a bleak place it really was. So quiet. Too quiet.
2 months before she was referred to us
Before I knew Ellie, I didn’t think about the fact that giving and receiving love is a skill that must be learned and practiced. Much like one masters skills best when training starts early in life (I think of skills like learning languages, playing instruments, training for figure skating, etc.), learning about love begins at day one! To start learning about love later is so much harder when one is bruised, scarred, weakened, and handicapped from a starvation of love and affection.
While Ellie has made great gains in learning how to appropriately give and receive love (for instance, we’ve moved past last year’s struggle to restrain her indiscriminate and inappropriate affection towards strangers), she still carries deep-seated needs that are not immediately obvious to those who don’t spend time with her on a daily basis. It can be exhausting to us when at age 5 and a half she still relies on us to do many things for her that her peers can do for themselves. Things like going to sleep on her own, sleeping through the night in her own bed, dressing and undressing herself, brushing her teeth, combing her hair, using the bathroom independently (though she has begun to make strides here since Christmas, thank you Lord!), and even feeding herself sometimes. While this is tiring, I remind myself that for her, a deep need is being met when we care for her in these most basic ways.
When I think about how she came into our lives, I’m left with no doubt of God’s intricate work to weave our family together in His way and in His timing. He knew she needed to be raised in a family with two work-from-home parents where she could find the stability and security she desperately needed! (As her communication has developed, we have learned how great is her fear of abandonment still, which breaks our hearts). Then, in His perfect timing, he brought Reni into our home. Sweet Reni who came to us in a more emotionally healthy, secure state, so his needs and hers didn’t conflict (yet in spite of his wonderful care at the orphanage — you can still see the difference a family makes, even in him). Ellie is learning how to love her brother — and while that is mostly being expressed in a smothering, hovering kind of way, we can honestly tell people that she does not express any feelings of jealousy towards Reni (she has acted out a few times when meeting new people and he gets a lot more attention just for being the cute baby he is, but her behavior doesn’t seem abnormal). We are really proud of her and thoroughly enjoy witnessing their interactions (most of the time 🙂 ).
Ellie’s needs are not as obvious as Reni’s and it is sometimes easy to forget. Of course there are certain things we would never expect of Reni because he lacks legs, yet because Ellie’s needs are not obvious, it is a battle not to place unrealistic expectations on her but to remember special ways to nurture and accommodate her while training her to one day lead an independent life. We got a powerful reminder this weekend when she received a special gift from Nonna and PaPa for Valentine’s day.
Both children received special books that have the text read to them when each page is turned, but in the prerecorded voices of Nonna and PaPa. On the very last page, Mom Waggoner concludes Ellie’s book with, “Nonna loves you, Ellie!” Over the last couple of days, we have frequently found Ellie holding the book and opening and closing it to that last page just so she can hear, “Nonna loves you, Ellie!” At which point, her face breaks into a smile. Words of affirmation are her love language! It has served as a reminder that she doesn’t get tired of being hugged and kissed and reminded that she is cherished.
Likewise after waiting 28 months for Ellie to call me “Mommy,” I still don’t tire of hearing her calls or receiving her hugs and kisses. When we’re alone together, she will often tell me, “I love you, Mommy. I don’t love Daddy, I love you.” I know she adores her daddy, but I think she’s just trying to tell me that I mean a lot to her in a special way.
So when Ellie comes to our room at 3AM to crawl in bed, we don’t turn her away (though it often means that Daddy walks down the hall to sleep in her room). And when she makes progress in becoming more independent (like putting on her jeans this Sunday all by herself, minus snapping the snap), we heap praise on her and tell her how proud of her we are.
Loving Ellie has been easy and loving Ellie has been hard. Through it we have learned (and continue to learn) about a love from our heavenly Father who patiently nurtures us, waits for us to receive His love, and longs to hear us express our love to Him. Parenting Ellie has reminded us that loving and trusting God has to be learned too. We bring our own wounds and hurts to the relationship, but if we listen carefully to the Book He has given us, we can hear God say on every page “I love you child!”
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Cydil Waggoner
Cydil has been married to her husband and teammate, Nathan, for 11 years. They have two adopted children, Elisona (5) and Reni (18 months), both adopted from Albania. Their family lives at and runs a missions student center on a Christian college campus in the Bluegrass of Kentucky. They love their work, sharing their passion for missions and adoption with university students. In her
