Just Like Mama

Marlie has been having trouble lately with the fact that she just doesn’t look like her Mama. She is always trying to find ways to match me, but it’s difficult to accomplish beyond clothing. For a year, she’s been asking for a purple streak in her hair like mine. For a year, I’ve been saying no.

But, with the increasing frustration she’s had lately over our differences in appearance, I’ve been re-thinking it. Still on the fence, it was Marshall who changed my mind. He was all for Marlie getting a purple streak, telling me, “It’s just hair!” And, he’s right. And, I started to think, if this simple gesture will help her bridge the gap between our physical differences, it will be worth it. But, before I told her yes, I consulted with her African American hair stylist and with my hair stylist (who does my purple streak) to make sure it would be safe to do on a child so young. They both assured me it would be just fine to do. It would change the texture slightly and require more conditioner than the rest of her hair but otherwise be fine.

Soooooo… I came home and told Marlie we could give her a purple streak in her hair. To say she was excited is an understatement. She was elated. It was just before Christmas when we told her she could get it done, and she would ask almost daily when she was getting her purple hair. Finally, I made an appointment for her to get her hair done today.

This week, she was counting down the day until her appointment. She kept informing her big brothers she had an “appointment” to get her purple hair. Last night, she was excited to go to bed and go to sleep early so today would come sooner. This morning she couldn’t wait to get to the hair salon. And while I gave her the option of picking the location of the purple streak, I was unsurprised that she chose to have it in the same place, same side as I have mine.

Here is her “before” picture.

In order for the purple to show up on her hair, they had to first bleach her hair. They have to do the same thing to my hair as well.

Then Marlie had to spend some time under the heat lamp while her hair lightened. I wisely brought along an iPad to help her pass the time.

Surprise! Marlie has “yellow” hair!!! She thought it was so silly.

Now, time to apply the purple!

Then she got her hair blown dry and flat ironed. While the purple was still soaking in her hair, I had my hair washed and blown straight as well, so she and I would both have “flat” hair together. As soon as her hair was finished and I took her out of the salon chair, she hugged me tightly and thanked me for letting her have purple hair. Once we got home, Daddy wanted to take some pictures outside with his fancy camera.

Some people might judge me for letting her do this. Heck, a few years ago, I would’ve judged someone for coloring their young child’s hair. But, having seen Marlie increasingly struggle with our differences in appearances and knowing how much this small gesture means to her… I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. Of course there are some lines I won’t cross, like chemically straightening her hair or coloring the entire thing, but when it comes to a purple streak… it’s just hair.

________________________________________

Julie

Julie is a Christian, stay-at-home, biological and adoptive mother of three (one bio child, one domestic adoption, and one international adoption from Ethiopia). She lives in Los Angeles, CA with her husband of 14 years. She’s a former recreational therapist, avid reader, and blogger. And, she loves purple more than you.

When Does It Become Reality?

When you write the first check.

When you notarize the first document.

When you see “You have been approved to adopt one child from the following convention country: China”

When you hear the phone ring.

When you see her face.

When you read “Your LOA has arrived” in the subject line of an email from your adoption agency.

When you say, “I have four children.”

When you paint a dresser.

When you glance in the back of your minivan, see three kids, and actually panic because you thought you forgot someone, only to realize that the fourth isn’t here yet.

When you sign a document written in Chinese that says her name and asks you “do you accept?”

Yes.

Yes.

We.

Do.

When you see her face.

When you start making packing lists.

When you buy bedding with pink ladybugs and purple butterflies.

When you purchase her FIRST pair of shoes.

When your children draw six stick people (2 big, 4 little) in their pictures of their family.

When you start purchasing things for the trip.

When you try on that long forgotten, never thought you would use again, baby carrier.

When you see her face.

now, waiting for travel approval to bring home their little girl.

________________________________________

Deb Migneault

Deb has been married to her husband, Steve, for 10 years. They have been blessed with four children, ages 8, 6, 4 and 1. The littlest is still waiting for them in Henan Province, China. Deb and Steve hope to be traveling to China in February 2011 to bring their youngest blessing home to her family. You can follow their journey to China, as well as their ups, downs, giggles, tears, and chaos of their family here.

Collision of Two Cultures

One year ago, two worlds collided in Eastern China as a 13-year-old boy met his American parents for the first time. What was to follow would be a dance of sorts, some missed footing, some stepping on toes, loss of rhythm…and finally, a year later, a harmonious blend of steps we call life.

To say it’s been ‘a year’ is an understatement. Our son didn’t know a single word of English and had resolved that the rest of the world would learn Chinese in order to communicate with him. Unfortunately, his years in foster care had come with challenges and a high price, education being one, but far more important were the emotional and developmental gaps caused by neglect. He had no concept of family or permanency, or a desire to learn.

We, his parents, knew this transition wouldn’t be easy, but we really had no idea just how difficult it would be. It was just different than we had imagined. We long to be the hands and feet of the Lord as we answer His call to the ‘impossible’, yet we are surprised when the pain comes. We somehow think we are immune to the struggles as we carry our cross daily, but that is directly contradictory to His Word. He doesn’t promise comfort or ease; He promises faithfulness, hope and restoration!

I had never home schooled before, until last year. I had no idea where to begin, but for the advice of wonderful friends who have home schooled and/or adopted older children. I’m certain I learned as much as my son, including the fact I could actually enjoy teaching a child who speaks English and has half a desire to learn. The two of us were so out of sync. I couldn’t figure out why he didn’t want to learn, and he couldn’t figure out why he needed to! Ultimately, the most important lesson was how to be a family. We often forewent reading or math to focus on our relationship.

He struggled for control and would do whatever he could to manipulate circumstances to get what he wanted. He also learned it’s rather difficult to remain self-absorbed with seven siblings. He tried to isolate himself, but mostly because that’s what he’d been taught, to stay out of the way. Being alone was his safe place. We struggled with the sadness of all the rotten things he’d been through and the overwhelming changes yet to come. We worked hard to maintain structure and routine because it seemed the most beneficial setting.

We were caught off guard by his season of grief. It just didn’t look the way we thought it would. He was not only overwhelmed by his new world; he was overcome by nameless emotions. Once we realized he was grieving, we were able to help him cope and extend the compassion he needed.

We often felt incompetent in our ability to parent. Our son wouldn’t tell us if he was sick, happy, sad, angry or tired. Mostly because he didn’t know! He was completely detached from his emotions. He certainly couldn’t name them, and he was impulsive at expressing them.

We learned that consistency is key. We found it necessary to ‘walk the walk.’ No wavering allowed. And, Mom and Dad are a force to be reckoned with.

We also saw grace in a new light. The need for undeserved favor has been more prevalent than ever in our home. Our oldest son even observed that abundant grace is a necessity from here on out.

And then there are all the tests and the doctors, not seeking ‘why’ so much as ‘where to go from here.’

We were told that non-English speaking kids will typically have conversational language at six months. Not so in our case. We thought we’d never learn to communicate. And, in this journey, I have learned that communication is key to relationship. And without a relationship, I simply had another teenager in my home who had strange food choices and sleep habits. I desperately wanted to relate to my son.

And, gradually, layer by layer the rotten past began to peel away and the witty personality began to surface. Gradually, he learned to love and to receive the love of his imperfect parents. Gradually, he began to act like a brother. Gradually, his confidence blossomed, and we discovered he’s pretty good at math and fits right in with his seventh grade peers. Gradually, he expressed a love for music which has landed him in the percussion section of the band. Gradually, he regained his interest in fitness, and though he may not understand all the rules, he’s willing to work hard to learn how to play basketball. Gradually, he has learned that his parents love him enough to put up a fight when the thing he really wants to do is not in his best interest. Gradually, he is realizing that his siblings are pretty awesome, contrary to his initial idea that he didn’t need any of them. Gradually, he is learning that his family trusts a heavenly Father who extends boundless grace, mercy and love to the unfathomable point of dying so we can live.

In a way it’s hard to believe a year has passed, but in some respects it seems like a lifetime. We have learned enough to last a lifetime…and we are looking forward to a lifetime of living out what we’re still learning and dancing to the rhythm of our new song.

________________________________________

Connie Johnson

Connie and Clayton Johnson and their family live in Oklahoma. Coming to faith later in life (Clayton at age 40 and Connie at age 36), they surrendered to missions soon after accepting Christ but had no idea that would mean six trips to China…and back. They have eight children and are presently in the process of adopting their ninth. Connie hopes to encourage families who feel less than qualified to adopt and families who are burdened for older children and children with medical special needs outside their comfort zone. God does not expect us to come to Him perfectly equipped for His purposes, only perfectly willing. Visit their blog here.

Plastic Surgery

The most emotionally painful loss I have faced has been the death of my grandmother. She was and is “who I want to be when I grow up.” That is the best way I can describe my admiration and love for her. She was strong, physically and emotionally. She believed in God and loved to serve Him. She was always busy, yet always had time for anyone in need.?? As a child I “knew” I was her very favorite grandchild. This of course was not true, but she had this special way of loving that made me feel totally special and adored. If I felt that treasured, I had to be her favorite, right? ??My brother and I spent some time with my grandparents each summer – without our parents. That created many good memories. They would take us for an overnight in their camper at a local lake. Those camping memories are certainly what sparked my desire to camp with my family. In fact, after her death, my dad shared a portion of his inheritance with our family. We used that money to buy our first camper. As an adult, I was lucky enough to live within a few hours of her. Since I was a stay-at-home mom, I was able to visit often. The times I had with her and my children were precious. My grandmother adored children, especially babies. She and my grandpa were both battling cancer when my daughter, Brenna, was born. So, it was extremely important to me to bring my baby to visit as soon as possible after her birth. I will never forget my dear Grandma sitting on the floor at the age of 81, in the midst of battling cancer, eagerly struggling with the buckles on my infant daughter’s car seat. I had brought the baby into the house first and then went back to the vehicle to unload my older three children. Waiting for me to unstrap the baby would have taken too long, so my determined Grandma got down on the floor to get to her newest great-granddaughter.?? As my grandma

Pei’s Momma

Each week seems to bring about a new surprise in the grief and attachment area. Pei seems to be grieving a bit this past week. No trigger, just a bit sad and far away.

It is in the midst of our after-dinner routine that Pei decides to have a meltdown. I really do not think much about it. She is two and occasionally will cry and call my name . . . repeatedly. So, I lean down and ask her what is wrong. And, that is when it happened. She pulled away from me while she was still calling momma.

OUCH!

At that point I realized it was her foster mom that she was calling for not me.

I would be lying if I said that it did not hurt a little bit, but it was like a lightbulb went on in my head. She has done so well with us that I really thought that she was moving past the grief.

But I was wrong.

Since we have been home from China, we have not shown her any photos of her foster family. I thought that we should wait a bit and let her settle in a bit more. So, after this, I decided it was time. I cannot even begin to imagine what is going on in her little mind and heart. The only momma that she has ever know and loved was there one day and gone the next.

So, the next day, I pull up a photo of Pei and her foster mom. I think I held my breath until I saw her reaction. She looked at it and smiled. So, I am thinking, “Okay, you can breath now!” I pointed at Pei and said “Who is that?” and she said “Pei Pei.” Next , I pointed to the foster momma and said “Who is that?” and she answered “Momma”.

[Insert a sigh ]

I have to say it felt like someone had kicked the air out of me. But, worse than that, my heart just broke for her.

So, then I pointed to my chest and said “Who am I?” At that very moment, that little girl came over to me and wrapped her arms around my legs and sweetly said “My Momma.”

[insert a really happy sigh]

So, there you have it. My beautiful daughter has three mommas.

She has her birth mother who held and loved her for 4 days before she picked a place to leave her where she knew she would be found.

Next, she has her foster mom in China who was not afraid to love Pei, knowing that she too would have to give her away. But, despite that, she loved and cared for her like her mother.

And last, she has me, her final and forever momma. I am the one who gets to reap the benefits and sacrifices of the first two mommas. I get the greatest gift of all – Pei as my forever daughter.

So, one day, when she asks about her life story, I will tell her that she was so special that God gave her three mommas to love her.

As we sat down for Thanksgiving dinner this year, I could not help but think back to last year. When we awoke on Thanksgiving day 2009, we received an email that we had received our preapproval for Pei. Along with that PA, we received some updated photos. I honestly was scared to death! It was so real at that point; we truly had found our little girl.

Now, that same little girl is sitting right beside me. I cannot help but watch her and think how last year, I could only dream about her. Now, she is sitting as close as she can possibly get to me, meowing like a baby kitty. I cannot help but feel so thankful that my baby girl is finally home.

________________________________________

Nicole Settle

In 2008, we walked into an orphanage in Russia, and our lives were forever changed. The blessing that adoption has brought to our lives is amazing. As Ava spent her first birthday in a Russian hospital, a beautiful baby girl was born in China and destined to be our daughter. In August 2010, we became a family of six!

Browsing Blogs

I was browsing blogs Sunday night and came across a post from a mom who is waiting to bring home her child. She talked about a recent training and how there had been so much “scare” info – things that they might well expect for their adopted child…..

struggles with attachment
struggles with school
struggles with siblings
struggles with self-image
struggles with health issues
and on and on.

I went right on down the list and was able to check off every single one.

Before we adopted – even while we were in process and I was reading everything I could find – I still had the notion that the only really “scary” issue that might come out of our adoption would be a RAD diagnosis. I read stories of families struggling with RAD and believed that it would be the rarity and that I didn’t need to educate myself too much because chances are we wouldn’t need it. It would only be those really traumatized kids who would be at risk – abused, witnessing war, living alone on the streets, etc. Our kids – coming from African orphanages (where I let myself believe that kids were cuddled and doted on and hugged and rocked and carried) would be at low risk.

Wrong. First, they aren’t low risk – trauma is trauma, and my kids have experienced plenty. Second, RAD isn’t all there is. There is definitely the rest of the list to consider. And, RAD isn’t just RAD – it’s on an attachment continuum. No adopted child comes home “attached” to his new parents, and there is no way to anticipate how far or how fast they might move forward on that continuum.

And this is what it looks like…

My daughter – who probably had one of the easiest “adjustments” of the children I know still melts down about once every six weeks – this weekend, dissolving into a rage that lasted an hour. This is the kind of rage that she really can’t even seem to see or hear through. She seems to lose all of her faculties and can only rage until she’s spent.

My son still can’t hug me without being reminded to “put your arms around me and squeeze” except on the rare occasion when he is copying a sibling or performing. I do get genuine hugs here and there – about one every six weeks. Last night, I did the “put your arms around me and squeeze” routine while he held himself stiff as a board and then he trotted over and gave dad a real hug.

My daughter will always struggle with learning. It will never come easy to her, and she’ll arrive at each stage three to four years later than a typical child. She is about to turn nine and is just starting to read four-letter-words. She has just started to count by 5’s (which we have been working on for about 18 months now).

My son has impulse control issues that spike with any change in environment, with any anticipaton of change in environment, with any extra environmental stimuli. He loses the ability to thoughtfully maintain control of his mouth and body. And, it is work to get that control back.

My daughter still sneaks food on occasion (but not any longer in the middle of the night, as far as we can tell).

My son considers himself on equal footing with me and resents being parented.

My daughter has had three years of speech therapy and still cannot form full sentences or articulate clearly.

My son couldn’t name one child that he’d spent over two years living in an orphanage with. No special friend. No sweet baby. Not one name. It still takes him a couple of months before he can name kids in his class.

And on and on.

And, it’s all completely explainable and understandable. And, it still gets under my skin all the time. And, I still have to self-talk every day. And, I still fail all of the time. And, I still fall into the trap of thinking that these are behaviors that they are “choosing.”

I sometimes forget in the moment (or long stretches of moments) that their neurological development was hindered and interrupted and that the ramifications of that are life-long. We can parent therapeutically; we can do our best with nutritional helps; we can read; we can educate others; we can anticipate bumps and prepare ourselves; and, we can see improvement. We can even forget for a few days here and there that there are any struggles. But, the underlying issues are there.

When we reached Avi’s one-year Happy Home Day, I cried. A month later, I had my first prescription for anti-depressants. I had thought we just needed to give ourselves a year for things to “settle.” While I was crying, Greg said “we need four years – he needs as long with us as he had before us.” And, it’s true. Each year has brought significant progress in his comfortability with family life. Our relationship and our days are far easier than they were at that one year mark. We have more strategies in place. We generally know when things are “off” and what we can do to help get back on track. But, it is still hard work – subtle work but constant. I still do it wrong so much of the time. And, I now know that four years isn’t the mark. Getting him into an adulthood where he can experience healthy relationships is the goal. And, I know it’s a long road to get there.

I love adoption. I love seeing waiting children join families. It’s really my passion. But, I know that it can be a hard, hard road. And, I know that it takes years of commitment and work. I know that it changes the shape of a family. It changes the shape of a mom (and I’m not just talking about my twelve Avi pounds which are finally gone!).

But, I also know that the work and committment aren’t wasted. Avi may always struggle with relationships. He may always be uneasy if he isn’t controlling every situation. He may never want to hug his mom. But, it is so clear to us that Avi would not have entered adulthood with anything even close to the ability to form relationships without being in a family.

And, everyday, I get to see the areas where we have moved forward, where we have grown, where we are successful.

It’s not wasted work. It’s slow progress. It’s uphill. It’s wearying. It’s life-changing. It’s soul-challenging. But not, not, not wasted.

________________________________________

Jennifer Isaac

Jennifer Isaac lives in Colorado with her husband and four children, two of whom were adopted from African countries, both with medical needs. She is passionate about medical needs adoption and runs From HIV to Home, a nonprofit that aims to provide education and support to families adopting children with HIV. She blogs here.

When?

A few months after bringing Matthew home from Korea, I began my search. After a while, I thought that things were supposed to be perfect between us, and they weren

Parenting Backwards

Raising a child from birth to adulthood seems like a cycle of teaching attachment and then teaching how to let go. First, you try to get a newborn to attach to a breast for feeding then after a few months, a few years for some, you ween them off of the breast and onto a bottle. The process starts all over again. Attach to the bottle then ween to a sippy cup and so on. Just think about it: we use things to comfort and nourish and soothe our children just so later on we can teach them that they will have to grow up and move on from them. A blankie, a pacifier, a crib, a toy, a home, etc. It’s a cycle of teaching them to attach and let go because that is what life is all about.

Well, parenting an adopted child feels completely opposite of that to me. I feel like I am having to parent backwards. Instead of teaching Jaydn to attach and let go, I am trying to teach her to let go and attach, let go of her defense mechanisms and the tools she has been using to survive her almost animalistic institutionalized life up until now and attach to us at the heart level, let go of her fears of abandonment and sense of self-sufficiency and attach to us, her loving family who she can trust and feel safe with because we aren’t going anywhere.

It is really hard to parent this way after years of doing it the other way. Call me selfish, but I enjoy the times when Jaxon and Jovie are playing in the other room while I do my quiet time or dishes or whatever I need to do for a little while. I have taught them to trust a babysitter or a Sunday school teacher so that Nathan and I can have a date, or I can enjoy worship with our church body. Teaching even toddler-aged kids to let go has its perks! But, parenting backwards is a conscious sacrifice of those perks. With Jaydn on my lap 24/7, I can only catch bits of the sermon between feeding her crackers or keeping an eye on her as she destroys my notes with a pen. Nathan and I don’t go on dates. Dishes, quiet times, and whatever else I need to do will just have to wait until she is asleep at night. And, to be honest, by then, I’m too tired, so it simply doesn’t get done.

Another example is last night. We went to a worship and music ministry party. We couldn’t get a babysitter because it’s too early in Jaydn’s development to leave her with anyone else so Nathan and I drove separately just in case I would need to leave because of the kids. So, as Nathan wandered around meeting and greeting people he will be working so closely with in the coming years, I sat on a couch with a 40lb 2-year-old squishing my face at an almost painful strength, knotting my hair with her forceful fingers, and then jerking herself backwards at random times with brut force almost breaking my arms as I attempt to catch her each time. A sweet new friend offered to watch her for a minute while I ventured to the chocolate fountain, and I jumped at the chance. “OH! YES! Kid freedom!,” I thought to myself. I returned from the other room a few minutes later, knowing I wasn’t really “supposed” to do that, but Lord knows I needed it (both the break and the chocolate-covered fruit). Then, it was back to my lap she came. I kept thinking about how the other two kids were upstairs, entertaining themselves, and what a gift that truly had become to me as one tired mommy. I went upstairs to join them and sat on the floor while Jaydn would get up long enough to grab a toy and then plop onto my lap again. The process of her seeing me as different than every other woman in the room is an arduous one.

Please know that I am not complaining. Actually, I am learning out loud. I am learning how to parent someone who has no experiential reason to trust/love me. I am learning how to walk through every painful door of her self-sufficiency and place Christ’s redemption story there. I am not Jaydn’s mommy because I had to be. I chose this role out of obedience to God’s command through Scripture. So, as in all things I experience in my life where I feel ill-equipped and unable, I believe that God has placed me here to be more reliant on Him. I know He can parent forwards, backwards, upwards, downwards, sideways and upside down–He is The Everlasting Father. My prayer is that through all of this, He will also teach me how to let go (and let God) and teach Jaydn how to attach.

________________________________________

Bethany Gaddis

I have been married going on 8 years to a worship pastor, a rock star, and the most involved and intentional dad I have ever seen! Together, we have the privilege of parenting three amazing children (Jaxon- 5 1/2, Jovie, 2 1/2, and Jaydn 2). Jaydn recently came to us through adoption from Uganda, Africa. We just moved to Little Rock, Arkansas, but I am a west coast girl at heart. I enjoy photography, adventure recreation, and teaching high-school students about the most important decision they could ever make: to follow Jesus.

She’s ours

Dear Mum, Dad, brothers and sisters:

I’m very happy to hear from you and receive your pictures. I love all the toys you send to me. Thank you Mum and Dad. Hope to see you soon as possible. I’ve been working hard with English. When we meet each other, we can make simple conversation.I hope to get a electronic dictionary which can help me to study English easily. I’ve been dreaming of becoming a member of your family and start a new life in the States. In the end, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Miss all of you, Mum, Dad, Brothers, Sisters.

I can’t even begin to tell you all the emotions I am feeling right now. The idea of this beautiful teenager living in my home. My daughter, who we don’t know. But, there is something about this adoption that goes beyond my understanding. The Lord bound us together; this is His plan.

I’m not foolish. I understand all the risks, all the issues that can occur. But, I see a joy in her that I did not see before. The first photos we saw early spring 2009, when we were still waiting for Asher to come home. She

The Sparrow Fund
124 Third Avenue
Phoenixville PA 19460
Email Us
Copyright 2024 The Sparrow Fund. All rights reserved.
An approved 501(c)(3) charitable nonprofit organization.