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Wrestling With Angels
I heard a quote from Wrestling With an Angel: A Story of Love, Disablity and the Lessons of Grace. It went something like this, “I often hear people saying that God will never give me more than I can handle. But, this is not true. God often gives us more than we can handle. Alone. He will allow trials of all kinds in order to draw us to depend on Him.” It occurs to me too that trying times by definition are difficult by the mere fact that our strength and abilities come up short. We are brought to our knees. We are forced to rest at His feet and cry out that we are totally unable to handle this…alone. Only by His strength and the Truths we rest on and in will we be made strong enough to handle the curves of life.
I am standing today as a living testimony to this truth. After falling into the deep dark pit in which I found myself after our children came home, completely overwhelmed and overcome by the circumstances, I had no personal strength to draw from. There was nothing there. Even my reserves were tapped, and it was weeks, months of prayer and pleading (wrestling with an Angel) before I began the process of standing upright and strong in Him. I”ve said it before, and you know it”s true, just as I did, but adoption is hard work, harder than I ever thought it would be.
It”s also true that His mercies are new every morning and His strength is a renewing one. It”s more than a little scary to say but, in a way, in a singular way, I can honestly say that I”ve arrived. It took a year before I was the mother I thought my children would come home to, and it”s been another 5 months before I can say that I am standing strong and I really love those kids. It”s not that I didn”t love them before, for I can honestly say that I did love them. I loved them before I knew them. I loved them the moment I met them. I chose to continue loving them, over and over I chose, when things were really tough. But, truly, I think I wasn”t capable of really loving them until now. It”s visceral now. Not just a decision or something I knew in my head. My heart is now in the game, and it”s good. Really good.
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California native transplanted to Texas and loving it. Married to the man of my dreams for 18 years. Together, we have two homemade children fondly known as Big Fish 14 and Tuck Tuck 12 and three Ethiopian made: Lady-Bug and Twinkles, both 8 1/2 and Scout 7. Our adoption journey is miraculous. Our children came home to us in June of 2009, and, although the road has been bumpy, we wouldn”t change a thing and we are growing more and more in love everyday! You can follow their story here.
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I Think She Sometimes Dreams About Her
In the six months that our daughter Grace has been home from China, she has continued to bond beautifully with my husband, son, and me, in particular. Whenever she is sad, frustrated, scared, or lonely, she doesn’t hesitate one second to call out for me or run into my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck in a tight hug, and I thank God for the special priviledge of being able to reassure or cheer up my baby girl by simply holding her or looking into her eyes. While Grace can definitely be clingy at times, I am grateful she has bonded so well to her immediate family and grown enough in her security to begin branching out in acceptance of and affection for others.
But even with this incredible progress, moments of grief still occasionally surface. And during those (now rare) times, nothing I do seems to help. Such a moment happened yesterday during Grace’s nap. While she normally gets out of her bed and comes to find me if she feels scared or insecure, she woke up screaming and crying in bed. She was crying out for “Mommy,” but my face and embrace brought no comfort. In fact, they brought more anguish. Grace pushed me away, arched her back, pumped her fists, and screamed with agonizing cries of anger and deep sadness for at least 10 minutes before she would even let me touch her. All of these things are expressions of trauma and grief. And, given that Grace is such a strong and happy little girl, I sometimes forget what huge changes she endured in the first 16 months of her life. I sometimes forget that she was torn from a home and a foster family that she had grown to love for 10 months. When she cried out for “Mommy” yesterday and yet seemed even more agitated to see my face, I wondered if maybe she had dreamed about her foster mom. Consciously, she may not even remember China. But, she’s not so far removed from that part of her life that images would not surface during the mind’s vulnerable state of slumber.
There are typically triggers for regression in sleep, night terrors, grief, etc. If you have adopted or are planning to adopt, keep these in mind so you won’t be caught off guard (as I was yesterday):
- changes in routine
- overstimulation
- separation from parents
- introduction of new activities or experiences
- stressful circumstances like hospital visits or doctor’s appointments that may trigger preadoption memories
Grace experienced four of these factors over the last few days, so I’m not sure which one is to blame. Probably the combination of them all! The mind works in mysterious ways, so a child may respond very positively to a new experience and not be conscious of the effect on his or her brain. (You’ll find more details on this in adoption/attachment books.) So for example, I took Grace to Disney’s Princess Wishes on Ice. She had a blast! But, it was the largest crowd she’d ever seen. Add on the lights, music, skaters, and her beloved Mickey Mouse in “real life,” and her brain may have begun working overtime to process the excitement and stimulation of it all. Often, the brain copes as if it were under stress, and regressive behaviors or responses can result. The show may not have been at all what led to her naptime disruption, but I had to remind myself of the triggers so I don’t combine so many potential factors in the future as I mistakenly did this past week.
Truthfully, I hope Grace’s mind does hold onto a few images or memories from her life in China. It will eventually help her as she struggles to understand and build her identity. I can’t imagine having the first 16 months of my life be a black void… no pictures, no stories, no details of babyhood. But, it breaks this mommy’s heart to see her daughter wrestle with grief. Some comfort comes from knowing Grace feels loved. I feel certain she loves me. And, I am sure she sometimes misses her foster mother, even if it’s through vague and implicit memories. Moments like we had yesterday are very normal for adopted children. But, I pray everyday that the Lord will fill the dark areas in her mind and heart with light and redemptive love. And I hope she continues to dream.
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Kelley is a stay-at-home-mom living in Birmingham, Alabama with her husband Scott and their two toddlers (who are 10 months apart!). Carter is their miracle baby and biological son born in January 2008. Their daughter, Virginia Grace, was born in November 2008 and brought home from China through the miracle of adoption in April 2010. They are anxiously waiting to adopt and bring home their newest daughter, Caroline Liyun (age 11), from China in late spring of 2011. Kelley and Scott also have six babies in Heaven, lost through miscarriages, who never made it into their arms. Having finished seminary right before Carter’s birth, Kelley is now enjoying motherhood, freelance writing, and a bible teaching/speaking ministry for women. She enjoys documenting the trials and joys of family building, adoption, parenting, food allergies, and walking with the Lord on her blog
Being Our Girl
One of the great things about having older children who don’t live at home is they see us through fresh eyes. They know us extremely well, but they aren’t with us day after day.
Sweet Pea made an insightful comment last weekend that I’ve been turning over in my mind for days. For 3 1/2 years, Russ and I have been trying everything we possibly can to bring healing to Dimples’ broken heart, teach her to be a “family girl,” give her strategies for calming herself, and on and on. Sweet Pea observed that for the first time Dimples seems to be working with us – not just waiting for us to fix her or even resisting healing. She wants this for herself.
I realized that Sweet Pea is right. Dimples wants to be happy! She wants to be our girl! She wants affection and closeness! She wants to be attached to us!
Deborah, her therapist, challenged her to have a good month of positive behavior. This includes controlling negative behavior that has plagued us. Each night, when we mark the calendar with a small red star, her sense of confidence and mastery seem to increase. The sweetest thing is that when she successfully makes it through November, her special prize is lunch with Daddy.
I am hopeful…cautiously hopeful. I don’t know what it is that seems to be clicking. Is it therapy, time, a technique we’ve learned, school, rocking in the ugly chair, conquering food problems? There are so many variables, but I know without a doubt that it is flowing from God; He is the healer of broken hearts.
We are enjoying our little Dimples – there is love flowing back and forth – not just painful, grinding, effort.
I think we just might make it (imagine a deep sigh of relief right here).
If you are in the midst of deep trial with your adopted children, I want to encourage you to press on. We grow weary, scared, and hopeless, but I am here to say that it takes time, lots of time, for children from “hard places” to heal. Don’t give up too soon.
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Lisa Qualls has been married to her husband Russ for 26 years and is the mother of 11 children who came to her by both birth and adoption. As she winds her way through the challenges of attachment, trauma, healing, and life, she shares what she is learning in the hope of helping other families. She earnestly believes in the power of God to heal children”s broken hearts and is privileged to participate in that process with her own children. Her life is a journey filled with moderate successes and some brilliant failures, all covered by the grace of Jesus Christ. To learn more about Lisa and her family, please visit her blog, A Bushel and A Peck.
Adopting Older Children – What I Wish I Had Known
I have been doing a lot of thinking about our time in Ethiopia just over a year ago when we went to pick up our adopted son Elijah, who was 7 at the time, and our adopted daughter Sedaya, who was 4 at the time. In a lot of ways, things did not go very well. Our adoption agency had gone bankrupt, so we were traveling 4 months sooner than we had planned and were not prepared emotionally, financially, or in a practical sense. Due to the circumstances, my husband Mark was there for a week before I arrived, and he had a really hard time communicating with the kids, leaving all three of them frustrated. I was able to pick up Amharic (the language they spoke) much easier than Mark was, so that did help. But, I still did not know enough of the language to be able to really put the kids
Did They Ever Notice?
Miss A has been with us for about 4 months now. As time goes on, as I watch her playing and interacting, I find myself wondering, did they ever notice?
I mean, she spent 7.5 months in an orphanage being cared for by nannies. It was, as far as I can tell, a really good orphanage. We visited it and got a tour, and it was lovely–for an orphanage. It was clean and bright, and the directors and nannies were cheerful and welcoming and friendly. But, it was still an orphanage. She was still cared for by nannies. And that makes me wonder, did they ever notice?
Miss A likes to feel a blanket or burp cloth with her fingers as she drinks her bottle. Propped up in the crook of my leg so we can see each other face to face, her hands are in constant motion. Seeking out and then rubbing and feeling the piece of cloth. Did they ever notice this?
As her eyelids get droopier and droopier drinking her bottle, she will usually begin lifting the cloth to her face. Covering her eyes, then dropping it down, then bring it back up to her face. She will grab a corner and rub the side of her face as her eyelids close. Did they ever notice?
Should she finish the bottle before drifting off to sleep, she has been known to almost nibble on the fuzzy side of her blankie to fall asleep. Did they ever notice? And, if so, did they ever give her a soft cloth to feel as she drank her bottle?
We first noticed this in China. She would hold her shirt or my shirt as she drank her bottle. Then she would grab her bib or burpcloth. So, when we came home, I got out a blankie square with a silky side and a furry side. She loves it. Peeking in at her at night we will find her laying on it like a pillow. And, it sometimes makes me sad. Sad because I wonder what she did at night when she was (presumably) all alone in her bed with nothing to grasp or cuddle or snuggle.
In all likelihood, given what I know about orphanages, given that the nannies (caring though they be) are taking care of many children at a time, I know that they probably didn’t notice this quirk of Miss A. They didn’t have time to notice. They couldn’t notice.
Instead they had to focus on taking care of each child’s basic needs. Feeding, changing diapers, and sleeping. Straight forward caretaking. Judging from Miss A, they seem to have done a fantastic job of caring for her basic needs while in the orphanage. On Gotcha Day she was a well-fed, healthy, happy, clean, chubby cleft baby who had already been given her first surgery. Her basic needs were well met.
But, just getting your basic needs met isn’t what we were designed for. God created us to know Him and to be intimately known. And He sets the example for us–He knows His children intimately. He knows how many hairs we have on our head. He knows our deepest fears and struggles. He knows our gifts and talents. He knows what makes us laugh. He knows how we laugh. He knows our heart and soul and mind and spirit, for He created us. He notices it all.
There is so much more to be had than to just have your basic needs met. So, God places children in families with parents who, if they are intent on doing it, will know those children intimately. Through relationships and time and noticing we get to know one another intimately. Think of your closest friends, your spouses, your family. What makes those relationships so valuable is that each of those people knows you intimately. They can “read you like a book.” They know your quirks and your looks and your fears and your joys. And, isn’t that a comfort–to be known intimately?
This is what has brought me so much joy from being a mother. To spend every day with my daughters has given me the opportunity to know my girls intimately. Knowing that Miss E will probably need extra reassurance when she hears a loud car go roaring down our street. Knowing that Miss A likes to crawl around with a block in each hand. Noticing and knowing the little things, the looks, the cries, the giggles, the quirks. I love knowing–really knowing–my girls.
So, as I watch Miss A, as I study her expressions and movements and quirks, it makes me sad to realize that they probably couldn’t notice them. She had great basic care for the first 7.5 months of her life. And, for that, I am forever grateful. But, she didn’t have the care of a Mommy and Daddy. She didn’t have someone who took notice of how much she liked soft blankies and, in turn, made them available to her. She didn’t have someone who knew her intimately.
Now, she does.
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Stephanie has been married to Matthew for over 5 years. She
Dear Moms Like Me
I know; it
Invisible Milestones
My Yoke Is Easy?
Before He furnishes the abundant supply, we must first be made conscious of our emptiness, before he gives strength, we must be made to feel our weakness. Slow, painfully slow, are we to learn this lesson; and slower still to own our nothingness and take the place of helplessness before the Mighty One.
I love the above quote by A.W. Pink. That really is where I have been lately.
We have been wonderfully blessed with the addition of our new daughter into our family. She is a beautiful, kind, gentle, affectionate girl who is aware of others’ feelings and is sensitive to them. She is generous, funny, adaptable, and helpful and has a strong desire to fit in and do well in her new life situation.
So, it doesn’t really make sense to me that this should be difficult.
For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to add to our family through the miracle of adoption. I know that this stirring is something placed there by the Lord. Although I am smitten by the sweet babies waiting for a mommy’s arms to hold them and often long for those arms to be mine, it is the older waiting child who has really grabbed my heart; the ones that watch babies and younger children go home to forever families, knowing that they have little chance of that happening for them.
Before bringing Kayden home, I did lots of reading and research. I followed other families’ journeys as they brought their teens home. In my heart and mind, I was prepared!
And, truthfully, I am surprised by how hard it is.
It’s hard because even with all my preparation, our reality does not really meet my expectations.
After meeting our daughter a year before bringing her home and receiving information about her from others who had met her, I had created an image of who I thought she was. Now that we have brought her home, I realize that although my expectations were not unrealistic, they did not do a good job of describing who our daughter is.
I expected that like other children I had read about, she might have difficulty giving and receiving affection. I had imagined us cautiously showing her affection, starting with a small kiss on the head at bedtime and then marveling several months down the road when she had progressed to a place where we could give her a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek and tell her how much we love her.
Instead, our daughter is very affectionate, sometimes indiscriminately so. She will hug most people she meets in a social setting, even if they are not people we know well. She seeks out physical affection throughout the day and often will compete with the younger children for mine or with me for Paul’s. She wants tight embraces with full mouth kisses several times throughout the day. If Paul or I should sit on the sofa, we are like a magnet. For me, who tends to be less physically affectionate, this has been hard. With three small children who require a lot of physical affection, Kayden’s neediness in this area, and my own deep rooted character traits, I find myself struggling to meet the demands. I am unsure of where the balance lies and if and where there is a line that should be drawn. I do not want our daughter to ever feel any rejection from us, but I also want this to be an area in her life where she recognizes what is appropriate and what is not. I am finding out that this is a lot more difficult when your child is 13 rather than 4.
I knew the language barrier would be hard. I knew that Kayden would not learn as quickly as Levi did. I also knew that it would not be as easy to communicate through body language as it was with a smaller child. I expected that this would be quite frustrating to Kayden.
What I didn’t expect is how frustrating this would be to me. I didn’t realize how much time it would require to stop and explain conversations to her in ways that she could understand. I didn’t anticipate feeling so impatient when a concept that I think should be understood after a certain amount of time is not. I didn’t think it would be necessary for me to remind myself so many times throughout the day to be patient, to be kind, and to take the time to teach the idea or words again. I didn’t realize how helpless I would feel, seeing certain behaviors that I would like to work on, knowing that we do not yet possess the language to do that in any kind of helpful or constructive way.
I knew that there would be learned orphanage behavior that we would not want introduced to our younger children. I imagined myself facing each one with the intense compassion that I felt toward my daughter in all of my imaginings of her. I pictured myself dealing with each one constructively with a strong desire to help her work her way out of learned behaviors that were in no way her fault for having developed.
What I didn’t expect was to find myself feeling angry when those negative behaviors directly impact our younger children. I didn’t anticipate myself taking up such a strong defense on behalf of the children that I have already had opportunity to attach and bond so strongly to. I didn’t think that I would have to remind myself not to allow these feelings to show on the outside, that each child was mine, equally loved and committed to, and that my responses always need to reflect that. I never imagined myself having to be reminded to view my daughter with the compassion that I so strongly felt.
I knew that adding to our family and especially through an out of birth order adoption would change the dynamics in our home; after all, we had already done this once. When we brought Levi home, I loved watching our little girls adapt to this new situation. I loved watching them welcome Levi as their brother. I loved seeing the different character traits this brought out in each of them as they built their relationship with him.
I didn’t expect that this new experience would be so unlike our first. Bringing Kayden home has now changed these newly formed relationships between the three younger children. This is hard to see. There is a new level of sibling rivalry that has been brought about as the little ones compete for Kayden’s attention. With Kayden having a need to fit in and to be accepted, being the newest addition, these dynamics provide a perfect opportunity to bring out more negative character traits as she plays into this situation. As a mother with a strong sense of protectiveness for her little ones, it again brings about situations where I have to remind myself to not respond instinctively but to be fair to each child, recognizing that there is a history of learned behaviors that contribute to the ones that I now must deal with.
I expected that Kayden would have institutional delays and that she would probably act much different than her “real” age. I thought it would be endearing; and, it was…for a while.
I wasn’t prepared for how that would look on an emotional level or in social settings. Even though cognitively I know that she is delayed, and that this is expected, I find myself often expecting more, thinking she should respond in situations as a 13-year-old would or at least close to that. I didn’t anticipate that the behaviors that we would be dealing with would be very much like the ones we are dealing with in the smaller children and just how frustrated this would make me “feel.”
I do not share any of this to bring discouragement to anyone in the process or who might be considering the adoption of an older child. I also hope that I do not reflect a complaining attitude or any regrets. I do not have any. Our daughter is an incredible blessing to our family who, in spite of all of the challenges, adds joy to our lives.
Parenting is hard work. Parenting a child who has faced rejection and hurts that most of us are unable to comprehend is even harder. Each of these children is in need of a love that is often beyond what we are able to give. They need a level of commitment that is unbreakable and parents who are willing to work through the unique challenges that their adoptions will bring.
I have received an incredible amount of help on this journey through Karen Purvis’ book The Connected Child: Bring Hope and Healing to Your Adoptive Family and especially through the accompanying Bible study. In the introduction to this study, we are reminded that it is our strongest human desire to belong and that our goal as parents should not only be to bring about right behavioral responses but to have our children involved in connected relationships. The goal of achieving desired behavior in our children and particularly in Kayden would not be so difficult. She really does have a strong desire to please us. A goal of achieving desired behavior while developing in her a strong sense of connectedness and belonging is a much more lofty goal. It is one that requires a much more concentrated effort.
As her parents, we must be willing and able to do that hard work. A lot of the time, I feel incredibly inadequate.
I was given a beautiful reminder the other day when a visiting pastor to our church spoke on Matthew 11:28-30. He first recounted to us how Jesus as a carpenter would have had the distinct job of fashioning farming implements, including yokes. He told us how each yoke would be fashioned to be a perfect fit for the oxen that it was designed for. If used properly, this yoke would then make the work easier and the oxen would more effectively accomplish the task that was required of it. If the oxen chose to fight against the yoke, regardless of it’s perfect design, it would cause chafing and discomfort.
What a beautiful picture of the perfect design of our own life experiences. If we will allow them to work in the way that they are intended, rather than struggling against them, the Lord can work more effectively in and through us to accomplish His purposes for our lives.
I needed this reminder last week as I struggled with guilt and condemnation at my own shortcomings. I needed to be reminded that the Lord is not surprised at any of the ugliness that remains deeply rooted in my own character; rather, He has fashioned this current situation to help bring forth the fruit or godly character that he desires to see there in its stead. How I pray that I will learn to fully cooperate with Him, allowing Him to change me into the wife, mother, and friend that He wants me to be.
Trying to do the Lord’s work in your own strength is the most confusing, exhausting, and tedious of all work. But when you are filled with the Holy Spirit, then the ministry of Jesus just flows out of you. –Corrie Ten Boom
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Lori and her husband, Paul live in Northern MN where they are raising 6 of
I Don’t Love You Today, Maybe Tomorrow…
Me: What did Daddy say?
Ping: Ping no throw books.
Me: Right, and what did Ping do?
Ping: Yes throw book.
Me: Did Ping listen to Daddy?
Ping: No.
Me: Is Daddy happy or sad that you did not listen.
Ping: Daddy no happy.
Me: So will Ping listen to Daddy?
Ping: Yes.
Me: Thank you. Daddy loves you, Ping.
Ping: I no love Daddy.
Me: That is okay. But, I still love you.
Ping: I no love Daddy.
Me: That is okay. But, Daddy still loves Ping.
Ping: I no say I love Daddy today.
Me: Maybe tomorrow?
Ping: Yes. Ping love Daddy tomorrow.
Me: That’s great. I still love you today though and tomorrow.
Ping: No today. Tomorrow, I love Daddy.
Me: Okay, good night, baby. I love you.
I would have to say that once the initial punched-in-the-gut feeling wore off, this made me so very happy! I was thrilled that my daughter said she “no love” me (more on that at the end of the post).
Ah, the joys of parenthood! It is not for the faint or the weak or those who get queasy at the sight of blood. That’s for sure. Having your child tell you they don’t love you is one thing, thinking they believe it is something else.