Adoption and Faith Archives - Page 15 of 44

June 5, 2014May 16, 2022

But God {Summer Rewind}

So much of what’s communicated about the world of adoption can feel so fatalistic. Both the outside observer and the mom who is in the thick of it can share the same bleak perspective. One perceives trouble and the other lives it, daily. Anecdotes about the neighbor’s son who, post-adoption, traumatized his siblings, share equal weight with a mother’s desperate prayer requests for her child, whose countenance has iced-over since they brought her home. Rewind 10 years and any sort of bump in the pathway to the “normal” life intimidated me. My secret goal was to maintain an equilibrium in every way.

A good marriage, steady friendships, growing impact on the world, faithful-but-not-interrupted walk with God. None of these, in and of themselves, are wrong, of course. But, they couldn’t exist alongside my prayers for a unique intimacy with God. He let me share, however little, in His sufferings. Little did I know that what was in front of me would prepare me to administer healing to my daughter and walk alongside my son in his grief. My hiccups found me a Father, and they are teaching me to be a mother. Though I met with Jesus in the back-alley of life and found true safety outside of my “normal” life, I still carried those same expectations for normalcy over my children, who came to me through an anything-but-normal means. Residual fear of straying from the norm carried through to our first months and even year of absorbing Eden and Caleb into our fold. “Happy children” was my goal. The problem, unfortunately, being that I also prayed even before the first time I laid eyes on them, that they would know Him as Daddy. I’ve asked, almost daily, that they would know in their innermost being how high, wide, deep and long is His love. While happy is surely the fruit of a child who knows their Father loves them, there are years where that truth may have been called into question, for my little former-orphans. And, they cannot be erased. And, grief has surfaced in our home. The pain behind her eyes is unavoidable at times. Her grasps for the promise of security exposed behind weak attempts to disguise them. Is our love as temporal as the one she first knew? If the womb’s bond was broken by poverty, who can she trust?

The foundational fissures of a child, once abandoned, cannot be easily caulked. Even the early years are subject to a forever imprint. But God. Yes, but God. The same words I heard years ago about all those areas of “normal” being stretched thin, are the words I hear now. I found a flicker of light in the night, then, that set my whole heart on a different course. One breath of His changed everything. I was not made to simply endure, forever living by the scars I’d incurred along the way. I was made to conquer. To win. And the prize was the internal shifting of my heart that would never be taken away from me. I would never be the same again. My walk through the valley of the shadow of death marked my twenties and early thirties. My daughter found it at three and four. But, her scars will be her testimony. And, the imprint, a remainder mark of the sweet kiss of Jesus. I feel the ripples of loss in my home. When fear fills her eyes and insecurity leaks out, I inhale the abandonment too. She clasps her hands around my neck with a hold that craves promise, while expecting that one day this, too, will end. Her joy and zeal, overshadowed as of late, by tentativeness. By itself, it is bleak. It is fatalistic. There is reason to accept our children will be forever broken. “But God” echoes from my insides. I want to shout it in my home and let the hope of those words linger like a candle’s fragrance in winter over our responses to this vessel not-yet-fully-healed. She gets to find Him. Early. The darkness ignored by many but undeniable to her, begs a light. My little girl will see the goodness of God in the land of the living. And because I’d faulted in my marriage, my friendships, my impact, my ambitions, her road to Him is actually exciting for me. I know not just what is on the other side, but the Man she gets to meet along the way. And His grip around her tiny fingers offers her early admittance to safety.

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Sara is a wife to Nate and a mother of five whose birth canal bridged the expanse between the United States and Africa. After almost a decade of Christian life she was introduced to pain and perplexity and, ultimately, intimacy with Jesus. God met her and moved her when life stopped working. And out of the overflow of this perplexity, came her writing.You can read more of her writing at Every Bitter Thing Is Sweet.

June 3, 2014June 3, 2014

Two Years In {Madly In Love}

I stir – barely. Two dark eyes stare at me and a little voice whimpers – Mommy, I had a bad dream that I lost my family. I lift him up, pull him close and in a moment, back to sleep.

It’s morning, but dark. I’m aware that there’s a child next to me, sleeping deeply, body twitching. I don’t even remember who it is. So I reach over and find the head – oh, that coarse hair belongs to no one but him. And I stay in bed, hand on him, bodies close, hearing our inhales and exhales.

A while later and I’m looking at him, that dark brown back, shoulders incredibly broad and strong, made for throwing and catching. And my thoughts catch up to me, and I’m taken back by my feelings, because I realize I’m madly in love.

Madly in love? See, love is a verb – and for nearly two years, two LONG years, I’ve been doing agape love. DOING love, and feeling grief. Doing love, and feeling exhaustion. DOING love and feeling hopelessness.

Agape love may be a verb, but madly in love, storge, is a feeling. And I was feeling it.

It’s that feeling I’ve felt with my infants, when I wanted to drench myself in their beauty and sweet scent, when I couldn’t snap enough pictures or share enough stories. But when rocking, a hug and a good-night kiss is met with snarls of THAT WAS TOO SHORT and then an hour of mad screaming, love is negate of feeling but instead pure obedience, unconditional, agape, following Christ, attempting to love as He loved, and and feeling my deep ineptitude the entire time.

I’ve wanted to adopt all my life, and I naively thought I would be able to mother children not born to me because of the affection I felt towards children who weren’t mine, how I could agape difficult campers during my many years at Royal Family Kids Camp. And I felt affection for him from the moment I met him, how could I not? But initial affection is not enough to carry a Mother through when it’s your son’s birthday and you wake up excited to celebrate him and he wakes up spitting in your face.

But it was that day, a month or two ago where I tenderly responded to defiance with You act so tough all the time but you’re just a little boy who needs his Mommy. His body softened, face perplexed, not knowing what to think. Up until now his Mom had felt threatened by those torrents of anger, by the non-stop arguing.

And then that night after an hour of non-stop arguing and I found those dark steeled eyes and I ask a sincere question: I wonder if right now you just need a bottle? He melts, literally collapses his body into mine, walls down now.

And in this past month he has come more and more to me – for affection, for hugs. Even when he’s angry I’ve noticed that he is willing to melt into my arms to calm himself down. Our nap time snuggles are long and sincere. And one nap as he fell into REM twitching I thought about my infants and how I would peel away from them once they were in REM sleep. And I realize we are both experiencing redemption – I am experiencing delight and joy in my son and he is feeling safe in his mothers’ arms – something we both had lost.

Joe comments how much this son loves me. And I realize – madly in love takes two – WE are madly in love. He storges me, and I storge him. Now as lovers do, madly in love is a feeling that ebbs and flows. He’s still a difficult child. I still lose my my patience.

I think these stories are crucial for adoptive parents to share. I think there is a great deal of pressure to have a “positive adoption story.” But the pain must be shared to give parents hope who are experiencing homelessness. And there are many, many more despairing adoptive parents than most people could ever imagine. But redemption is real, and praise God, it happens.

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Jenny was just 15 when she felt God’s call to spend her life with foster care and adoption. Shortly thereafter, she started working for Royal Family Kids’ Camp and did so for the next 10 years, even asking her then boyfriend to join her at camp. Her vision became a shared vision and she married her best friend Joe in 2002. By 2012 they had two children ages 4 and 6 and were planning on fostering babies and toddlers. But instead God brought a sibling group, ages 1, 3 and 5 into their lives and made it clear that they were to adopt them. Her professional background in Child Development and Early Intervention has made her passionate about forming healthy attachment relationships with her children and helping them heal from trauma. Her personal blog has been her way to seek God’s heart along the journey and you can read at lifewiththebrackmans.blogspot.com

May 23, 2014August 19, 2014

Family Is More Than Blood

Before we adopted for the first time, I had only a vague idea about “orphans”. I knew they existed in damp countries where townspeople wearing shades of brown and gray stood in line for bread rations. I pictured dark-skinned babies with distended tummies and Chinese orphanage rooms lined with rickety cribs.

Not in a million years did I picture faces that would one day form my family.

One of the magical things about adoption is that God always knows. It doesn’t come as a surprise to Him. His walls are lined with family pictures that would take our breath away if we were to get just a glimpse. We think the one hanging on our wall is it. We think we know things, or that our family is already complete. But we don’t even know the half of it.

Fifteen years ago, I daydreamed about knobby-kneed, fair-skinned kids with sticking-out ears and (fingers crossed!) Cory’s blue eyes. But God had already decided something better for me.

Our family grew, and I forget sometimes that we don’t share blood. We share time and space, a history that is whole enough to carry us home. We share laughs and germs and rants and prayers. We are a family.

And still, we grow.

This afternoon I rushed between dinner prep and homework when the front door opened and Robert and his best friend Fernando tumbled in, all long limbs and pierced tongues. They sat at the island for not nearly long enough and somewhere in between their stories and nonsense, Fernando referred to Cory as “Dad”. Oh, I saw this one coming. It made me smile.

Because family is so much more than blood. And no one was meant to be alone.

The needle draws us together, pulls us near, and with every stitch, we’re closer to what we were always meant to be. And with every stitch, our love grows, covering us and all the ones left standing cold around us until the shivering stops and we know that what we are together is real.

I can’t say for sure that you’re meant to adopt. But chances are, you’re meant to be impacted by adoption. In one way or another, I believe you’re meant to see that what the world calls brokenness can be a thing of sure beauty, adorned in the best possible ways, unexpected and entirely holy.

It could be a niece, a nephew, a grandchild, a godchild. Maybe your best friend will adopt, or your neighbor.

Maybe you’re not as close to “done” as you thought.

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Shannan Martin believes the turns in life that look like failure are often holy gifts, a lesson she chooses to embrace after the bones of her comfy farmgirl life were shattered and rebuilt from the toes up. Together, Shannan and her family sold their dream farmhouse, moved to a disadvantaged area in the city, and adopted a 19-year old felon. Nothing could have prepared her for the joy she would discover as her family began to live the simple, messy, complicated life they were created to live. In walking beside the forgotten and broken and seeing first-hand the ways she so cleanly identified with both, Shannan’s faith was plucked from the mud. She and her jail-chaplain husband now live on the wrong side of the tracks with their four children. She blogs often at Flower Patch Farmgirl.

May 21, 2014May 20, 2014

Turning the corner.

So I think I am finally turning the corner with my son.

We have made it through that 1st year…

you know, the one where you are just trying to keep your head above water.

The one where you just try to figure out how to function as a family of “plus one”.

The one where you are usually delving into uncharted waters of special needs, and loss, and trauma;
all the while trying to also fix supper
and maybe get your other kids
…oh, that’s right I have other kids too
to softball practice on time.

Yeah, that year.

We made it through that one.

And now, we have even made it 3/4 of the way through that 2nd year…

you know, the one where you finally feel like you can see glimpses of the “real” them.

The one where you actually begin to stop doubting your survival.

The one where you begin to see real, honest attachment taking place.

Finally, some light at the end of the tunnel.

That’s where we find ourselves right now.
And it’s such a beautiful, encouraging place to be.

Such little things, but absolutely some of my most precious memories.

-The other day, as I was dropping him off at school, I was suddenly prompted to lean over and give him a kiss goodbye. Well, he planted me one right on the lips and skipped off like he has been doing it everyday. No excessive giggling, no awkwardness just honest affection.

-We were leaving the ball field the other night, and he ran up beside me to take my hand. Just wanted to hold it as we walked to the car. Wasn’t trying to be manipulative-again, honest affection.

-This letter for Mother’s Day. Scribbled down at the ball field one night while doodling on some paper. The third sentence just makes me cry puddles of tears. For him to know…

These moments envelope me from head to toe.
I don’t even really know what to say about it.
It’s almost like wooing or courting someone in a prearranged marriage.
Goodness! You KNOW those first signs that it’s working are so fulfilling!
Well, it may be silly, but that’s the only thing I can think to compare it to.

I’ve never experienced anything like it and I will take all the hard just for these most precious moments. It’s absolutely worth every mile walked, and worth all the miles we still have yet before us.

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Anna Lokey and her husband Shaun have four girls (one from China) and FINALLY a boy (also from China). She’s a normal mom, living a life for God, raising a family that does the same, homeschooling, and trying to keep up with everyone’s schedules. She says, “If I can get my kids to school and gymnastics on time and then fix a real meal for dinner, it’s been a good day!” You can read more about them and their anything but LoKEY life on her blog www.anythingbutlokey.com.

May 20, 2014May 20, 2014

Once Upon a Time Until Forever {Part Two}

There’s a new picture hanging in my kitchen today, a new masterpiece to our mixed media gallery, hanging between Olaf magnets and a flyer from school.

Yesterday was her last Chinese class of the year. Little dark-haired people skitted around the room while soft-spoken Lao Shi tried to shepherd their bodies with seemingly swelling energy. Typically, one of us sits in her class and typically tries to read despite the reason why we’re there. But, with the senioritis that suspiciously attacked even these preschoolers, I was needed.

Lao Shi had brought photocopies for the children to complete and staple together as memory books of the year. Way over the heads of children who can barely write their own names, most of them were scribbling and distracted and alternating between singing Liang Zhi Lao Hu and Let it Go. Lydia clutched a red pen in her little fingers, firmly held it motionless over the ABOUT ME page before her and swung her feet with gusto below her. As the teacher tried to help other kids, I pulled up to her desk to help her, filling in the blanks with the words she supplied to me.

My age: 5.

Where I was born: China.

My parents: Mommy and Daddy.

Brothers & Sisters: Ashlyn, Drew and Evan.

Pets: Mojo and Bebo.

My picture:

Okay, Lydia. Go ahead. You draw a picture of yourself there.

Pressing hard on the page, she drew her typical person—a round circle for a head, an oval torso, stick arms and legs, eyes and a smile, and some hair around the head. But, then she started intensely working on that torso. I thought she was intent on giving herself a dress that matched the one she was wearing. I watched until she put the pen down with contentment.

That’s a big belly and inside that is a baby that was beautiful called Yue Yue that became Lydia.

It was not a dress she was intensely drawing, it was herself in the womb of her first mother. I smiled and waited for her and for the lump in my throat to dissipate a little. While I waited, she picked up the pen again and went back to her drawing, this time drawing a little body on the chest of the stick figure that was her China mommy.

A doctor helped me to come out of her belly because that’s what doctors do.

Is that your China mommy holding you?

Yup….I don’t know her name.

I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know her name either. I wish we did….

No one stopped to listen. No one there sat with me and marveled at all this little 5 year old girl is processing when she is told to complete a picture appropriate for the title ABOUT ME. This little moment just blended into the energy of the room and class went on without a notice of another step in the journey of a little girl and the woman who is her second mother.

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Kelly has a passion for supporting adoptive families, specifically to encourage parents to be intentional and understand their own hearts more clearly as they seek to care for their hearts of their children. Kelly has a Master’s degree in counseling and has been working with adoptive families since she and her husband Mark founded the The Sparrow Fund. Married to Mark since 1998, they have 3 biological children and 1 daughter who was adopted as a toddler from China in 2010. You can learn more about their adoption story, how they’ve been changed by the experience of adoption, and what life for them looks like on Kelly’s personal blog, My Overthinking.

May 19, 2014

Once Upon a Time Until Forever

We were just snuggling up in my favorite chair to read together. A few pages into some silly old book about the Jetsons that she dug out from the shelf, I found myself skipping words and wondering how long I’d be sitting there killing time. She joined me in corporate loss of interest and shuffled through a stack of books to find another, landing on one about adoption that I don’t even like and have kept only as an example. Great. I had this book in my own stack of books next to my desk, not with her books, but she found it and now wanted to read it. I decided reading an in-the-moment edited version was better than the message that could be sent if I said no. And so I read, moving quickly, changing words as we went, and closing the cover in record time.

She didn’t seem affected and just nestled in under my arm and chit chatted about seemingly silly things. Sandwiched between observations about the cats and requests for the iPad, she threw this one in with a big smile on her face:

Tell me the story of when I came out of someone’s belly.

You mean your China mommy’s belly?

Yeah, I want to hear the story. Start with Once upon a time…ok?

While Mark was sleeping on the other side of the world, the place where her story began, here I was facing perhaps the most challenging request she’s ever made of me. Sitting comfortably in my favorite chair on the prettiest day of spring yet and being asked to tell my daughter her own story is infinitely harder than all her midnight requests for more water waking me from a sound sleep put together.

I looked right into her eyes, brushing her hair from her forehead and I told her her story, starting with “Once upon a time” just as she had requested. She smiled the whole time as I told her things I know because I just know like how her China mommy’s belly grew and grew and how she felt her kick and twirl inside her because I bet she was a little monkey even then. I moved to what I know universally to the little we know more specifically, giving her what I felt like her little 5-year-old heart needed. She added in a few details she knew herself that she has learned along the way as I’ve looked for opportunities for openness, and I affirmed her as she did.

Oh yes, the lady with a ponytail walked into the room holding you and your eyes were so big and I thought at that moment that I was looking at the most beautiful baby in the whole world.

She told me to keep going when I thought I was finished, urging me to continue until I took that story right up to today, summing up several years in a few sentences that included things like moving from a crib to a big girl bed and then another bed as we made the playroom into her new bedroom. At a loss of something more to say when we got to present day, I paused and wondered if I should tack on a The End or something but feeling like it just wouldn’t be the right words. Instead, she nestled in closer and smiled even bigger and ended my story of her story herself

And they all lived happily ever after.

And, then we just sat for a while, the quiet interrupted occasionally by another funny observation about a stuffed turtle toy or the marble tower she was going to build until she jumped up and bounded onto the next thing.

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May 16, 2014May 16, 2014

Chatting with My 25 Year Old Self

When I was 25, my husband and I had been married for almost two years. It seemed like the perfect time to add children to our family. Little did I know the journey we were going to experience…

If my 25 year old self was sitting in front of me I would hand her a sweet and salty snack and cut right to the chase.

Your journey to becoming a mom is not going to be easy. You have a plan, but God has a different one for your family. You are going to cry a lot (even more than you already do) and have many ups and downs.

You will take more pregnancy tests than any one person should ever take. You will be consumed with wondering whether or not this month will be the month you finally see a positive result.

You will avoid certain people because every time they see you they will ask, “So when are you two going to start having kids?” Every. Time.

You will go to a fertility specialist to get answers and discover that there really are no answers…something they like to call unexplained infertility.

After two failed IUI cycles you will realize that God is calling you to wait. This will be one of the hardest parts of your journey. As you wait, women all around you will be getting pregnant. You will want so desperately to be happy for them, but on the inside, you will be a mess.

God will start putting a desire for adoption in your heart, but once again, there will be more waiting. Your husband will not be ready.

But hold on, 25 year old Abby. There is hope. Lots of hope coming your way.

You will look back on all of those tears that you shed and be so thankful. Those tears will bring you to your knees and draw you closer to your heavenly Father than ever before. Your faith will be tested and you will learn that He is good. Always.

Although the desire to become pregnant may never go away, God will miraculously take away the deep sadness of not getting pregnant and allow you to truly celebrate when others announce, “I’m pregnant!”

People are going to ask your husband, “When are you going to start a family?” and you’re going to get to hear him say, “I already have family.” It will melt your heart and make you love him even more.

And that sweet husband of yours? He will come around and say out of the blue one day, “Let’s adopt.”

You will begin the adoption journey with lots of excitement, lots of questions and a bit of fear, but you will have complete peace knowing that this is exactly the path God wants you to take.

Expectant moms will choose you and unchoose you, try to scam you and rightfully change their minds, but once again, you will have peace. It will be hard and you will wish you could be at the finish line, but you will have peace.

And then I would cut right to the chase again because I wouldn’t be able to handle it anymore and a would whip out this picture.

You would say, “This isn’t what I pictured.” and I would say, “Isn’t it so much better?!?!?!” You would agree…I’m sure of it.

I would tell you the stories of how God used two brave women to bring these two precious boys into our family. You would be amazed at God’s faithfulness and His creativity in writing these stories.

We would probably sit in silence for a bit with you trying to wrap your head around all that I just said.

With tears in your eyes, you would ask for the picture, hold it against your heart and say, “I’m coming for you boys. It’s going to be a long wait, but by the looks of things, you’re worth it.”

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Abby and her college sweetheart husband Wes began the journey of domestic adoption in 2009. Blessed with a {more than they had planned but oh so thankful for it} open adoption experience, they were able to witness the birth of their first child Max in the summer of 2010. Little brother Sam joined their team in September of 2012. You can read their story at Akers of Love.

May 12, 2014June 11, 2018

Wrestling

I’m a rule follower. I’m usually not that interested in blazing a trail or forging a new path. I like tried-and-true. I like safe. Perhaps I feel like if I follow a set rule or the “right” way the outcome will be guaranteed. Guaranteed to be positive, productive, and pleasant. Who doesn’t like pleasant, right?

So, I’ve done my fair share of reading. I should clarify, I am not a reader of novels and quality literature. I really wish I was, but I’m not. But, I do read helpful how-to books. Books about how to grow spiritually, parent successfully, and nurture effectively.

I’m also surrounded by friends and family whose input an opinions I value. Honest, God-following, straight-shooting, encouraging, wise people. I’m not afraid to admit when I don’t know something or need to grow in an area, and I’m quick to seek out the wisdom and experience of others.

But, what I’m really looking for in all of that is a rule. A “right” way of doing things. The right way. Because if I can figure out the one right answer to whatever challenge or decision I am facing, I will be guaranteed to like the results.

The only problem is, as much as I really, really want there to be one. right. answer. There usually isn’t.

What works for you, might not work for me.

What worked for one of my children, may not for the other.

Which makes this whole parenting gig challenging, to say the least. Besides the typical decisions of parenting, there are questions and decisions about what my children – biological and adopted – need to grow into emotionally healthy, spiritually strong people. And as they grow, the questions and decisions change. In parenting, instead of a to-do list where things are crossed off leaving you with a feeling of accomplishment, one decision or question often leads to another.

Does she need more time with me?

How can I encourage bonding in a way that she will connect with?

Are her outbursts a normal phase or is she working through something adoption related?

How will my two daughters with two very different adoption stories feel about their story?

When is it appropriate to share each detail of their story? When are they ready?

Is she too attached to me? Is it healthy attachment?

How do I encourage our bio daughter who feels left out being the only one not adopted?

Big questions. Big decisions. No real “right” answers. No one rule to follow to guarantee results. Just a wrestling.

Wrestling with the options, the experts’ opinions, the input of wise counsel and the prayers to my Heavenly Father to guide me. To guide me in some clear and unmistakable way, please. And while there have been times when He has done so, I find that more often than not I am left to wrestle.

Wrestle with the options and choices and decisions. We wrestle with the what as well as the why. We wrestle with Him.

“Then Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him until daybreak.” Genesis 32:24

“…your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel; for you have struggled with God and with men and have prevailed.”
Genesis 32:28

“…he wrestled with the angel and prevailed; He wept and
sought His favor.”
Hosea 12:4

However, wrestling is never wasted.

I believe God actually wants us to wrestle. Wrestle with decisions and wrestle with Him. He doesn’t spell out every right answer to every question we face. You just have to look at all the Christian denominations there are to see that people interpret his Word in different ways, all wrestling with what it means to follow Christ. We want black and white, but often we feel like we find a lot of gray, and so we wrestle. We want clear explanations to the struggles we face, and so we wrestle.

It is in the wrestling that we develop a closer relationship with God. There is a closeness – an intimacy – necessary in wrestling. It can also be messy. It is a struggle that brings us near to God and strengthens our faith, changing us as He touches the parts of our character that need shaping.

So, while I still want one right answer to each parenting and attachment question, I’m often times left to wrestle. Wrestle with the choices set before me and wrestle with God, yearning to hear His voice and see his leading. And in the end, praying to be strengthened in the process.

I’m not sure that my desire for the Book of Right Answers will ever go away, my list of questions, concerns and decisions about my children sure isn’t. But, I am growing in my appreciation of the growth and intimacy that comes from the wrestling.

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18 years in the classroom as a teacher was easy compared to parenting three little ones at home full-time. Through their three daughters, God has revealed Himself most clearly to Stephanie and her husband Matthew. He not only worked a miracle in giving them their biological daughter, He continued to show Himself in mighty ways throughout adoption journeys in China and Bhutan that were anything but normal. Nowadays she enjoys encouraging and connecting with other adoptive families through speaking and her work on the leadership team of “We Are Grafted In”. You can read more about their family on their personal blog We Are Family.

May 9, 2014May 10, 2014

Hurt and Healing and God’s Goodness

I’ve said before that we always knew we’d adopt if God was willing. We didn’t know when or how or where from, but it was in both of our hearts and we really hoped it’d become a reality.

We’d always wanted a big family. We were so excited with the birth of our firstborn, there was no question about going for number two. My pregnancy was easy, his birth was quick, and taking care of him was honestly delightful. We’d hoped for our kids to be two years apart, and that was the plan. Our plan. God’s was different. (That’s usually the way it goes, I am starting to learn.)

Baby number two didn’t come so easily. I worried, I talked to my doctor (more than once), I fretted and fussed and was disappointed a lot. When people asked when we wanted to have another, I silently felt heartbroken, wondering if it would ever happen.
After a lot of prayer and endless conversations, we thought maybe this was God nudging us to start the adoption process. It had always been on our hearts, after all. But was it the right time?

One night I was listening to my iPod, feeling particularly sorry for myself when The Valley Song by Jars of Clay started playing.

You have led me to the sadness
I have carried this pain
On a back bruised, nearly broken
I’m crying out to you

I will sing of Your mercy
That leads me through valleys of sorrow
To rivers of joy

When death like a Gypsy
Comes to steal what I love
I will still look to the heavens
I will still seek your face

But I fear you aren’t listening
Because there are no words
Just the stillness and the hunger
For a faith that assures

And though the pain is an ocean
Tossing us around, around, around
You have calmed greater waters
Higher mountains have come down

Every word resounded in my soul. I was in sorrow, and while I knew God was there, I wasn’t sure He was listening. But I knew I needed to wait on Him, on His plan. Then the next song started playing. Give Me Your Eyes by Brandon Heath. I knew it wasn’t coincidence.

Give me Your eyes for just one second
Give me Your eyes so I can see
Everything that I keep missing
Give me Your love for humanity
Give me Your arms for the broken-hearted
The ones that are far beyond my reach
Give me Your heart for the ones forgotten
Give me Your eyes so I can see

It was time. Time for adoption and looking beyond myself, and realizing that if I would stop planning everything and just let go and trust, it was going to work out.

Turns out, it was going to work out beyond my wildest imagination.

Carina’s boys in 2011 when the post was written

10177944_10152353751740729_6751337547588395296_n — Carina’s children today

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We are a family of 7: 5 kids – 3 biological and 2 adopted. Adoption has always been on our hearts, hopeful that it’d be part of our story. We’re so blessed to say that it is, and has changed us forever. We love our children more than we’d imagined possible and can’t wait to see what is in store for the future! Carina blogs at Lovely Little Whimsy.

May 7, 2014May 10, 2014

The Other Side

I’ve had this post swirling around in my head for almost two months now, but simply haven’t been able to find the time or energy to figure out exactly how to write it. You see, as an adoptive mom, it’s very important to me to protect my children’s stories in the best way I can. I try to be very intentional about what I do or don’t share with the world. Along the way, I’ve made many mistakes with this, sharing too much I think, so I’ve gone back and forth about whether or not I should write this post at all. BUT, when it comes down to it, I’ve always seen this blog as a way to connect with others going through a similar journey. I’ve been fortunate to “meet” people who say our story has been a big part of what led them to adopt. I’ve also been on the other end of that where I’ve “stumbled” upon someone’s blog and God spoke directly to my heart through their words. That being said, if what I have to say can help ease some other adoptive mama’s mind and heart or make them feel less alone then it will be worth it.

There was such an intense longing with Gideon’s adoption. We had been through years of infertility, lost our precious baby, and had to fight so very hard to become his mama and baba. The moment they walked him into the room, my whole world became instantly brighter. I fell head over heels in love with him long before that moment, but it was instantly intensified to a place I didn’t even know existed. And that love has just continued to grow from each day going forward. He IS my heart.

This time has been, well….different. We entered into this adoption process in quite a different way. We felt God nudging our hearts when we’d only been home with Gideon for about 6 months. I thought, “NO WAY!” It is too soon! But when it came down to it, we knew that in our life, when God says GO, we would say YES! I wrestled with that choice constantly thinking that maybe Gideon didn’t have enough time with just us. Maybe I didn’t have enough time with just him, but we knew it was what we were supposed to do.

When we were presented with Bishop’s file, VERY QUICKLY, I felt panic, but Ryan fell instantly in love. We had 72 hours to make our decision and we took it down to the last hour. Fear was paralyzing me, but I didn’t want fear to be my deciding factor. Through lots of intense prayer and talking it through with one another, we knew God was saying he was ours. Even after making that decision though it took me several months to feel a connection to him. I realize some people may read to this point and start thinking how awful of a person I must be. If you’re already thinking that, I warn you to just stop reading now because it gets worse.

I’d read stories about adoptive parents not feeling connected to their child for quite some time even after having them in their arms and to be really honest I judged them harshly. Not out loud, but in my mind I thought how terrible. How could you possibly feel that way!?

Well, let me tell you something. I was about to learn my lesson. After a VERY long wait to get all of the necessary paperwork to bring Bishop home, there was a mama bear fight that grew in me. I cried many times at the injustice of stupid paperwork being what kept me from holding my boy in my arms and getting him out of his current circumstances. I really feel that God used that time to grow my connection to him. Looking back, I am so grateful for that time. So when the big day came I was anxious to finally see his face and hold him in my arms. I couldn’t wait to get there. I was nervous about what changes it would bring for all involved. I was scared of how Gideon would react. But I was excited to see his face. I was excited he would finally be ours forever.

We walked into that room and saw him and when they placed him in my arms I felt….

nothing.

Hold on, this couldn’t be right. This was a child I had fought for for almost a year. He was my son. He was Gideon’s little brother. We had prayed for him and waited for this very moment for what felt like forever. How could I feel this way!?

As he cried and thrashed to try to get away from me, the stranger he was looking at with his fearful eyes, all I could think was no no no no no! This isn’t right. What have we done? I didn’t feel compassion or the feeling that I wanted to calm and comfort him. I wanted to hand him back to his nanny whom he obviously loved and run far far away. In the long 45 minutes it took to get him to calm down, I was frozen. I literally didn’t know what to do. So I just did what I did with Gideon, hoping it would snap me back into reality so I could be what he needed in that moment. I sang Jesus Loves Me to him and held him close, but it didn’t work. So, I walked him to a different room and sat down with him in my arms. I kept looking at his face, those eyes that were searching for something in mine to tell him he was going to be okay, but it wasn’t there. My sweet Gideon came over and brought him his bear and rubbed his head saying the words he should’ve heard from his Mama, “It’s okay Bishop. It’s okay.” I just held Gideon close and cried with Bishop. The tears were for the sweetness in my compassionate child who knew what to do when his Mama didn’t, but they were also for all the times I harshly judged others for feeling exactly as I did in that very moment.

I went through the motions from that minute forward…holding him, rocking him, feeding him, bathing him, changing him, until it was bedtime that night. It was then, with my parents and husband, that I was finally able to let it all out. I just sobbed and said what a horrible person I felt like for feeling this way. I prayed that it was just the shock of everything changing so quickly. I got on my adoption boards that I belong to and bravely put it all out there, hoping I wasn’t the only one. Some of the ladies instantly added me to a Safe Haven group where I learned that about 90% of adoptive parents feel exactly like I did. A dear friend said something I will always remember…”Adoption is beautiful and it is redemption, but it is not natural so why would you expect it to feel natural. Give yourself grace.”

Even after knowing I wasn’t the only one to ever not love their child right away, I still felt like something was wrong with me. I mean, I didn’t feel at all like this with Gideon. Well, through my social workers and other adoptive families, I learned that my experience with Gideon is actually the exception. I am so grateful for what we instantly shared. I guess I naively assumed it would be the same with Bishop.

I asked a dear friend of mine if I should write about this because, like I said, I never want to share something that could potentially be detrimental for my children to read. So, I figured I would wait. Surely in a few days, I will get to the other side of this and feel differently. I just knew that would be the case. Well, the days turned into weeks and weeks and weeks. I was still “faking it til I made it”. I knew enough to know that Love is an intentional choice. Once you go through the motions long enough, surely the feelings will follow. Well, what I’ve learned is sometimes that takes a very long time. But that’s okay. I was, immaturely, indulging in my dislike, instead of CHOOSING love regardless of his behavior. I see how this could definitely put a distaste for me in your mouth, but I’m trying to keep it real in the interest of hoping to help other mamas. Do yourself a favor and try your best to pull out of that funk as soon as you possibly can. Your kids deserve it, but so do you. And if you can’t do it yourself, seek help. Contact me if you have no one else to help you.

We have been VERY fortunate to have a few friends who have very intentionally been walking on this journey with us, literally day by day. They know there are many things they CAN’T help us with, but there are things they can do like coming over to spend a morning just carrying the burden with me, grabbing some groceries for us when they are shopping for themselves, bringing us dinner on a rough day, among other things. Having this help has been instrumental in helping me number one…remain sane and number two…pulling myself out of the yuck! So if you are not being offered this help, please ask someone for it!

Let me be clear, even through all of the trauma Bishop is experiencing (that which I will not discuss on the blog in detail) there really is nothing unlovable about him. He is funny and sweet and kind(when he wants to be). He is as deserving of my love as Gideon was from the beginning.

We have been a family for almost two months. Things are slowly changing. I have more patience for his challenging behavior. I find myself smiling at something he has done or just his pure cuteness. I talk more lovingly about him and the sweet and funny things he does. I want to be the last face he sees on his surgery day and the first face he sees when he wakes up. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I spend lots of time kissing him on his cute little cleft lips and hugging him and walking around with him strapped to me in the Ergo. We dance together and laugh together and act silly together.

We LOVE together.

And the best part is…

I’m not faking it anymore.

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Melissa has been married to her amazing husband, Ryan, for almost five years. In a story that only our faithful and incredible God could write, they were led to bringing home their two sons, Gideon (home since December 2012) and Bishop (home since February 2014), via China’s Special Needs Program. Melissa spends her days at home loving up her two boys. It is the most challenging thing she has ever done, but, without a doubt, the most rewarding. Melissa has a deep desire to share the TRUTH about adoption, good, bad and ugly with other adoptive mamas. She uses her blog, You Were Born In Our Hearts, to do just that. Go check it out!

Blog

Category: Adoption and Faith

But God {Summer Rewind}

Two Years In {Madly In Love}

Family Is More Than Blood

Turning the corner.

Once Upon a Time Until Forever {Part Two}

Once Upon a Time Until Forever

Chatting with My 25 Year Old Self

Wrestling

Hurt and Healing and God’s Goodness

The Other Side