The other day in church, we heard a message that really impacted me and also caused me to fight back the tears. One of our pastors brought his beautiful young daughter with him as he shared that she was “my daughter.” He talked about how significant was the fact that she was his – not just “a daughter but my daughter.” He then related this to our relationship with Jesus – for those who know Him personally – He is not just Lord. He is my Lord. He is not only Savior of the World, He is my Savior.
As He talked, I couldn’t help but think of children all across the U.S. who have no one to call them “mine.” The tears welled up in my eyes as I thought of the desperate prayers prayed by those who feel so alone. So many children – hundreds of thousands – who want nothing more then a family to love them.
It is a hard thing to grasp – hundreds of thousands – but let me tell you about one.
A man in his early fourties shared his story on video. He talked about how he grew up in foster care and eventually aged out of the system, never to be adopted. Against all odds, he became very successful, ran a nonprofit, and helped many people in his similar situation. But as a grown man, he still carried a deep wound. “I just wonder,” he said into the camera, “after all that I’ve accomplished, after all that I’ve done, who wouldn’t be proud to call me son now?”
There are children dying inside – children in your community and mine. Some who need forever families. Some who need foster families to walk with them for a time. They need you, and they need me. During this Christmas season, let’s not forget those who are alone. While we’re celebrating with our families, let’s pray for those who desperately long for a family.
Will you consider becoming a family to a child? Or would you consider opening your doors and coming alongside another family in need? Will you be available to learn more? To be exposed to the need? To walk through one door?
_______________________________
Jami Kaeb
Jami Kaeb is wife to Clint and together they have six children (four of whom were adopted). After having her eyes opened to the overwhelming needs of those in the foster care system, she began a journey that ultimately led her to found The Forgotten Initiative (TFI). TFI equips and supports
I watched the sun and clouds shadow the mountain as the morning rose up from the night. Praying as I watched for the clouds to stand aside so that I could see it all. But, not to see the mountain this time, covered with oaks, pines, and cedars. This morning I longed to see passed the clouds of uncertainty.
It was his words that triggered it all, his remembering days of loneliness and the days he cried alone in a Ugandan orphanage. And though he is only 5 years old, his words spoke a volume full when he said to his new mother, “I was crying and you weren’t there.” I remember Psalm 68:6: “God sets the lonely in families, he leads out the prisoners with singing.” But, a secret that I never knew before is that He causes a family to be lonely for the ones He plans to set among them.
And I feel the words stirring me. And the question pressing hard on my heart, “Is someone crying and I am not there?” And do they know that I am crying for them, too?
But those pesky clouds; always descending on me, always blocking my view of His will. Causing me to look through the mist and wonder what it is I exactly saw before, back when it was lightening clear? And I imagined that Mary wondered too. She was full of the Spirit’s plans for her, full of this divine DNA stretching at her abdomen, reminding her daily that she was set on a course beyond her own imagination. But surely people looked at her and wondered if she was “one of those kind of girls”; a shame, a disgrace. And Joseph might have thought so, if not for a dream. Did she always believe that she carried the Liberating King in her womb and at what moment was she seen as fully legitimate in all the eyes around her?
And I long to feel legitimate here in my little cabin, sitting at my computer, watching for the bread crumbs to continue to drop and lead me inch by inch on this journey of adoption to it’s glorious conclusion. You may be carrying a dream as well, something uniquely your own, birthed deep inside your heart/womb. No, not as grand as Mary’s, but His plan anyway, and all those hours and mornings before all is fulfilled we wake up and go about living with the “life” growing in us, affecting our choices and behaviors, our thoughts and our plans. And I suppose the temptation to be afraid, or to doubt the plan doesn’t change it, just steals the joy from the journey–just lays a wedge between us and Him.
So here in the black and white I speak softly. With the black and white keys I peck out a confession to the bright white screen. “I feel like a mother full with child, but such a strange gestation it is! Because if I am to hold my offspring in my arms, I must follow a path of uncertainty, filled with questions, with governments, with forms, with deadlines, and with astonishing price tags. This journey, already taken by others, has sometimes ended in failures, heavy financial losses, disappointments, yet also with great success. I feel my abdomen stretching and I pray to see it all through to the end.”
And to my cry to feel “legitimate” as a prospective adoptive parent to dark skinned beauties far away and across an ocean—he seemed to answer me with 10,000 God “yes-es”. He took away a bit of the “shame” of not knowing how a girl like me, and an already full family like ours could even begin to afford an impossibility like this. All of the the “yes-es” were in the form of dollars and each one provided by way of the new job that the “man of this house” secured just a short while back; a company reimbursable grant for adoptions for up to 2 children and up to $10,000. They were 10,000 reasons to keep trying, to keep praying for miracles, to keep hoping for more.
So during this gestation period where fear sometimes grips, and uncertainty sometimes clouds my view, but where hope keeps pulling me up and forward I am asking Him for more “yes-es”.
_______________________________
Rhonda Drain
I’m Rhonda and I live in a house full of “menfolk” on a small hobby farm in the Ozarks. My husband and I have been married for 22 years and have four sons ranging in age from 12 to 21. I tiptoed into the land of blogs in the spring of this year after immersing myself into the stories of some amazing people and writers that were willing to share their lives in very generous, sacrificial, and honest ways on their personal blogs. Most were telling of the miraculous ways in which they entered the realm of adoption and followed it to a life changing conclusion. My family felt the call of adoption tugging at our hearts and I wanted communicate about it as well. I am yet amazed by the people that I have met through this new venue and hope to always follow their example of sharing from a heart of gratitude and ambition to encourage others along the way.
From excitement for sure, but mostly because of the unknown that awaits us.
Our lives are about to forever change.
I check the luggage again.
Check a few more things off of my list.
Try to keep all my kids” “stuff” together for the flight. (Why is it that sippy cups are always around when you don”t need them, but as soon as you are ready to walk out the door it”s as if they have grown legs and disappeared!)
Weigh the luggage again.
Sit.
Think.
Worry (just a little;).
Nauseous.
Is it the pregnancy? Possibly.
It”s the unknown again.
It”s the built-up excitement.
It”s the overwhelming thought of having 3 children in the air with us for hours on end.
It”s the overwhelming realization that we are going to be going from 3 to 4 in just a matter of time now…and then from 4 to 5 shortly after…WHAT WAS GOD THINKING?!
Then the questions start circulating.
Will she be scared?
Will she scream to go back to the familiar arms of the Aunties who have loved her since she was just a few months old?
Will she beg to be placed back in her familiar bed, in a crammed room with dozens of other children, instead of her cot next to her new sister?
Will she want to call me mommy?
This is going to be GREAT!
Finally, on our way!
It seems as though we”ve been waiting forever!
All the other stories I”ve read have the families home within 5-6 weeks.
I can TOTALLY do this!
Oh gosh…nauseous…
I can”t do this!
Check the list again.
Check the luggage again.
Sit.
Adoption is such a foreign, strange, beautiful thing.
Adoption.
She isn”t ours. She WILL BE ours. She IS ours.
What if I accidentally make her feel singled out because I”m loving on her too much? What will the other kids think? What if I don”t love her enough? How DO you love a child who wasn”t with you and then IS…
Only three more hours until we leave for the airport.
Repeat above scenario a half-dozen more times…
October 2010
Up until now this is all I”ve known.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
But now…
Summer 2012
now I know SO MUCH MORE!
I know her favorite color is orange. I know that she wants LONG hair. I know she loves high heels. I know that everything in her past happened “last night”. I know that when she says “another one” it comes out as “zchuwuzchuone” and it is the CUTEST thing ever! I know she loves to be the one in charge during imaginative play. Her siblings have deemed her queen of the fairies and can make (or NOT make) any one of them a fairy at any given time. I know she is dangerously allergic to fire ants. I know she doesn”t like carrots. I know she loves to be read to. I know that she adores her big sister, handles her oldest brother, plays so sweet with her middle brother and absolutely LOVES her baby brother. I know she can buckle herself into her car seat…when she wants to, ha! I know she has a hefty set of lungs!:)
I know lots of things about my girl. MY girl.
As I think back about all the uncertainty that awaited us this day last year I still get butterflies of nervousness in my stomach. I get that tinge of desperation in my gut. I get those feelings of inadequacy swimming around in my head.
If only I would have known then what I know now. The process, the set backs, the seemingly impossible…but would I really be where I am now?
Without the “this time last year”s we couldn”t have the NOW!
And the NOW is what I am SO grateful for, today!
Alethia, We are no longer “on our way to bringing you home”. You ARE home, baby! Love forever and always, Mommy
____________________________
Tasha Via
Tasha is a mom of 5. She takes pride in finally figuring out a good routine to this new “normal”, but then the kids wake up and reality really begins! She is madly in love with the worship pastor at her church and proudly calls him her baby”s daddy. She is learning to become still in this life so addicted to instant gratification. She is still becoming who God is calling her to be…She likes cleaning and organizing the house, rearranging furniture to confuse her family, sneaking cuddles from her boys, trying to fix the girls hair without a fight, eating butterfingers, and blogging about her family.
There is something that I think many of us suffer from…the “disease” of comparing ourselves to others.
This can happen in ANY arena…
Your body.
Your intelligence.
Your beauty.
Your income.
Your reading list.
Your Facebook account.
Your vehicle.
Your education.
Your clothing.
Your speech.
Your children.
Your spouse.
Your checkbook.
Your parenting.
Your ability to hold it together.
Your decorating.
Your sewing.
Your cooking.
…and many more. (the list is endless, isn’t it?)
Satan absolutely loves to get us going about, well, really anything! He cares not how he misguides our hearts, just THAT he gets our hearts off track.
Remember what Scripture says about him? “The thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy…” John 10:10
He’s out for blood, baby. Not just to irritate you.
I used to struggle greatly with how my body compared to others. Now? It’s all about how good of a mother I am. …Or, actually APPEAR to be.
Since coming home from Africa with a former-orphan, I have been literally SWAMPED by my youngest three children’s needs.
And honestly, there ain’t a lot of hope that they are going to suddenly care about MY state of mind anytime soon. Toddlers, well, they are pretty much selfishness defined.
So the new area that Satan has tempted me with is watching other families via blogs and how they are “doing.” I’ve listened to the lie that they are all doing better than I am.
I would be a fool to assume that anyone missed me blogging, so I’ll just say it. I’ve written very few entries lately. I’ve had no ability to blog about my holiday decorations, cute ideas I had or new family traditions we installed this year. In fact, we didn’t travel for the first time EVER over the holidays because the needs of our newest family member dictated such.
Not a single article of new clothing. Nobody matched in church last Christmas.
I thought about how it was his first Christmas home and I should blog about it…but when the time came he was running a fever of over 102 and cried his way through Christmas morning. Blogworthy? Oh I don’t think so.
My reality is: our house is messy and laundry is a continuous and never-done chore. I can’t talk on the phone because I get mobbed by loud children who much of the time are fussing at each other. I tidy a room and the Littles untidy it again. Didn’t I just vacuum that? Yes, yes I did, but someone has spilled the pretzel crumbs all over it. Someone comes to me crying. Someone else needs help with homework. Another child comes to me asking for love. (And yes, this is literally the verbiage used this morning by Darrah Kate, “Mommy, I t’ink I need sum wuv.”) So I stop, kiss, solve problems, advise, listen and love. All the while the messes continue to whirl at breakneck speed. Not many craft projects are taking place.
I’ve had to stop following particular blogs that paint life with a well-groomed brush. I find myself looking at them and scouring them for faults. “Is their house REALLY that clutter free?!” “How does she think of all these ideas?” “How have they gotten their newly adopted children to attach so quickly?” “How can they afford that?” “They went where to serve whom?” “Matching outfits? Really?!” And I come back to my own life feeling like I don’t measure up.
I’ve come to the realization that my dear Savior was pierced for this transgression. He was killed because of this sin of comparison. This is NOT how He wants me to live! I am not to live under a cloud of heaviness because I simply cannot keep up with [insert name of bloggy super mom here]! No! He wants my eyes where? Where again?
On Him.
Check it out. I think He’s talking to ME!
“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us. We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith.” Hebrews 12:1-2
Two things: “And let us run with endurance the race God has set before US.” I don’t have to run your race. Or her race. I need only to run mine.
Ah. That’s nice. And quite freeing too.
The second thing comes in verse 4. Get a load of this:
“After all, you have not yet given your lives in yours struggle against sin.”
Gulp. Did you read that just now???
I haven’t YET given my life in the struggle against sin. Wow. I’m not fully sure of what that verse means, but I can be sure that it means that I’m not done battling against the powerful force of sin. And that I haven’t yet gone the distance in my effort to be free from it.
I have noticed that I can carry my carefully balanced load in an acceptable manner…until the unexpected comes along and demands my attention elsewhere. Like a house of cards it all crumbles and I am filled with intensity, stress and [gulp] yell at my children because of the stress I am under. I have learned that no matter what other people may be able to add to their plates, I cannot compare and must simply say no. I need to take on less so I am available for my children more. This is my race.
The process of saying no has been good for me. (You might try it!) I am forced to examine my worth in the eyes of Jesus again. It’s not how MUCH I do, for how many people or how much money I raise for worthy causes. It’s about doing what He asks me to do.
For now, that’s simply to focus on the adjustment and attachment of our dear child from Uganda. Helping my other young children adjust to our new family and address the needs of each person with great care. It doesn’t matter if other people agree or even understand. I just need to obey.
Sew matching outfits? Bake cutesy treats for the class at school? Volunteer at the nearby nursing home? Lead a Bible study? Assist with my child’s team? Great ideas. But right now, I’ve just gotta run MY race.
And for now, those just aren’t in my path.
________________________________________
Amy Shaw
Amy is a vivacious lover of life. Married to her best friend, Brian, for over 16 years she is the mother of 9 children. 4 are biological, another 3 biological who ran ahead to Jesus, 1 adopted from Uganda and 1 more waiting for her in China.
What would have helped you the most in the early weeks and months of adding a child to your family through adoption or foster care? If somebody had asked you, “What can I do to help?” and you were able to answer anything at all with no shame, guilt, or concern about whether they really would want to do it, what would it have been?
This is what you answered:
Bring Food
Many of you stated that having meals delivered allowed more time to focus on all of your children, but also gave you some contact with “the outside world.” It does not have to be dinner, as somebody said, even bringing cut-up fruit would help. Someone else mentioned having dinner brought by friends who then shared the meal and spent the evening with them. One person wrote that when they adopted a baby, friends brought meals, but when they adopted an older child people assumed it wasn’t as demanding and didn’t bring meals. I think we can safely say that every adopting/foster family will be blessed by meals.
We don’t need to make this complicated – simple food is a blessing. I remember a friend bringing us “Breakfast in a Bag,” a gift bag filled with yogurts, juice boxes, muffins and other little treats. Gift cards for take-out were also mentioned – a great idea. After one of our babies was born, a friend brought us Kentucky Fried Chicken and another ordered pizza to be delivered – what a treat that was! Cookie dough ready to be baked, homemade soup or spaghetti sauce, a frozen lasagna, will all be welcomed.
Provide Household Help
Several of you wrote that you needed help with laundry and cleaning. I know we all have a hard time letting people see our mess, but I for one, find it very hard to relax if my house is too messy and chaotic. A friend grabbing the vacuum or folding laundry while we visited was a big help. I had a friend once pick up all of our kids’ dirty laundry, take it home, and return it clean, dry and folded. A group of friends might want to go together to hire regular cleaning help for the first few months after new children join a family, or create a cleaning team themselves.
Along those lines, a number of years ago I was very sick and needed treatments that were an all day event. One day a friend came to my house while I was at the clinic, put new, clean flannel sheets on my bed, washed my other set, and cleaned my house with my older children. I came home and crawled into a clean bed with new sheets and it was pretty much one of the best gifts I’ve ever received. That was nearly nine years ago and I’ve never forgotten it. Friend, if you read this, thank you once again.
Run Errands
Picking things up at the store, or driving children to sports practices and appointments was also mentioned as a great help. If you are already out and about, or if you can add a child or two to the crowd in your car, you will make a big difference for a family adjusting to life with new children. The first year my girls were in school, a friend drove them home every day which not only simplified my life, but relieved my mind. As our little ones grow older, we forget how difficult it is to buckle multiple kids into car seats in order to pick up one child from an event. Waking kids from naps to take an older child to a practice is even worse. This is a great kindness if you are somebody who is already in the car and happy to run a quick errand for a friend with a new child.
Provide Babysitting or Respite
Many of you said that babysitting would have helped, even if it was just somebody being with the kids while you took a nap. Some said they needed help with their other kids while they took new children to multiple appointments. Others said they needed care for their new children while they gave some attention to their original crew. Of course, it all depends upon the unique needs for the family, but this seems to be a need for most families. Weekends are particularly difficult for Dimples, the lack of structure that she enjoys at school just doesn’t transfer to a long Saturday stretching before her. We try to fill her days, but one of the greatest gifts we receive are friends who invite her over for a few hours, or even all day. This Saturday when I’m in Denver, she has big plans with our youth pastor and his wife and she is already looking forward to it.
Respite is a great need for families whose new children have significant challenges. A family can quickly become exhausted when there is constant raging, arguing, and destructive behavior. A friend who understands children from “hard places” and is willing to give the family a 24 hour break, or even a four hour break, will have an impact far beyond what they may imagine.
Show Kindness to the Original Crew
I’m in the process of (slowly) writing an article for Empowered to Connect on “giving voice” to the siblings of children from “hard places.” Our original children struggled with our inability to give them attention and time when we added three new children to our family and one year later added another. They lost us for a number of months as we struggled to figure out how to live this new life.
My friend, Beth, welcomed Ladybug into her family and home, and nearly completely homeschooled her for a year after Dimples came home. Rusty and Ladybug joined the youth group of a local church and we were thankful for the encouragement and positive adult interaction they received. It was so meaningful, that we eventually made that our church our new church home.
Friends who will take the kids and do something fun is also a huge blessing when life at home seems to be a load of work or simply tumultuous. If a family has new children who are raging or crying for hours, the kids may need relief from the stress too. My friend, Sue, began taking Ladybug and Sunshine to the library once a week, which they still look forward to each Friday.
It is very easy to forget how hard this adjustment phase can be for the other children. Reaching out to them, or giving the parents a break from the new kids, so they can enjoy the other children, is a real blessing.
Be Present
I have to admit, I was struck by the prevailing theme of loneliness and isolation in the comments. I hope you will read them yourself, because I can’t express the thoughts as well as the original authors did. Over and over readers expressed that once the initial excitement died down, they felt lonely. The needs of their children may have prevented them from getting out and about; they were stuck at home, alone, living a new life with new children. It is hard to imagine how very isolating this can be.
Several people said they wished friends would just stop by for coffee, even if the house was messy. Others used the words grief and loss to describe how they felt. Some of you said you needed somebody to just listen and not judge or try to cheer you up as you coped with the changes in their lives. Encouragement is needed. If you live a distance away, a phone call, email, or encouraging text may be what a mom needs. Knowing you have not forgotten her, that you are praying may help her through the next hour.
It has been four and a half years since we brought our first adopted children home and for a long time our life needed to become very contained and small. We simply could not go out much; even going to my bookgroup once a month became impossible. I hope you’ll be encouraged to know that this month I am going to my bookgroup once again — and I even read the book.
If you missed this post, be sure to go back and read the great responses from everyone. Please take a moment to add your thoughts – it is not too late.
Thank you for being a great community and sharing my life.
Encourage one another.
______________________________
Lisa Qualls
Lisa Qualls, writer of One Thankful Mom, is the mother of 12 children who came to her by both birth and adoption. As she winds her way through the challenges of attachment, trauma, 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 wounded minds.
Our daughter is so proud that she can now write her name. She loves to practice. Her name and her ability to write it is important to her. Her name is part of who she is. What’s even more amazing is that she only has three fingers and no thumb and she just came home from China six months ago. She writes her name in spite of it all. No one tells her she can’t. She knows it is part of her identity, and she just keeps writing. How will she respond one day when that identity is challenged? How will she respond when she is teased or bullied? Or told she can’t do something?
The crazy thing is that we walk around every day letting others challenge our identity. When we choose to truly follow Christ, we claim a new identity in Him. Our entire mindset is changed, we are a completely new being. Romans 12:2 says, “ Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.” We now choose to be empowered by Christ, not by others. Our identity is in Christ.
I know that the day will come when Madelyn’s identity is challenged. She will be made fun of, she will be called names—it will happen. I want her response to be, “I am Madelyn, my identity is in Christ. My confidence is in Him, and He empowers me to rise above.”
Keep writing your name Madelyn!
___________________________________
Amy Kratzer
Amy Kratzer’s identity is in Christ. She has been married to her awesome husband for seventeen years. She is a pastor’s wife, mom, and seventh grade public school teacher. She has three children, Harrison, 13, Cailyn, 6 and Madelyn, 4. The youngest, Madelyn, joined the family in February 2012. In her “spare” time, she loves blogging, reading other people’s blogs, and helping adoptive families with her ministry Forever Hope
We got the call on a Friday. Three weeks and three days ago, we first heard about you. You had been born the Sunday before, and you needed a home. I spoke at length to the social worker, and it seemed so perfect. Everything you needed, we were. Everything your birth mom wanted, we were. Even down to your name, which your birth mom wanted you to keep. It was perfect. We were so happy. We so wanted to be your parents, and we thought we would be. We would leave the next day to come and get you. To bring you home.
We went to dinner that night at our friends’ home. Everyone who was there either has adopted or is adopting, and they were so excited. While we were there, I texted with your birth mom a few times. Then she sent me your picture. I was so happy to see you for the first time. You’re beautiful, S. I showed your picture to our friends, and they agreed. The dinner was a joyful, wonderful, happy time. They would have loved to meet you, to hold you.
Late that night we got a call from those same friends. They showed up at our door with diapers, gift cards, sweet baby girl clothes, a blanket, a soft toy. They are such sweet friends to share in our joy that way.
Saturday, we drove the next day to Florida. As we drove, we talked about your name: would we make your birth mom’s choice you first or middle name? What would we call you? We thought about how we’d have to get a luggage rack in order to fit your carseat in the van. We talked about your birth mom, and I she and I texted back and forth all day. We were so happy as we made phone calls, talked to the social worker, told our families what was going on.
Sunday morning, my mom, Laina and I went shopping for a dress for you, to match the shoes in the puzzle picture. We found a sweet one.
Sunday night, we met you…what can I even say about that? Your birth mom is amazing, and you are precious, valuable, priceless.
Tuesday we learned that you weren’t ours.
Wednesday, we returned the dress.
Thursday we came home without you.
I pray for you still, sweet S. I pray that your mommy and daddy know Jesus and teach you about Him. That you are happy and loved. I’m sure you are.
You weren’t our daughter, but we wish you were. I grieve not being your mama; I wanted to be. And I also grieve the loss of relationship with your birth mom. She loves you so much, and she”s so special. I wanted to be in her life.
Someday, we will bring our baby home, and we will understand what I hope you are already experiencing: that this was how it was meant to be. But we won’t forget you or your birth mom. We know already at least one good thing that came out of this: so many people were praying for your birth mom and you, during a time that was probably the hardest in your lives. Our church was praying. Our families were praying. If we had to go through this in order for you and your birth mom to have so many people lifting you up to the Father during this time, it was worth it. She is worth it. You are worth it.
Adoption is such a mix of joy and grief. Right now, ours is the grief. Yours is the joy–and I hope for you that it is always true, that you grow up strong, joy-filled, loving, and loved.
Prayers and blessings, sweet baby.
________________________________________
Allie Brannon
Allie and her husband Jeremy live near Atlanta with their three kids–two terrific bio boys and a sweet daughter adopted a year and a half ago from Rwanda. They are currently in the process of adopting a baby boy domestically due not long from now! They love their family, their church, and their life. Allie writes about adoption, home schooling, family adventures, and funny things her kids say on her blog Notes in the Margins.
My afternoon yesterday was most likely your night…since I live on a rock in the middle of the Pacific ocean. I read through Facebook posts and tweets about the Cardinals losing, Monday night football, Dancing With the Stars and some pretty nasty comments about the presidential debate. My mind was on other things. I was googling “mental retardation.” I engrossed myself in stigmas and causes. Medicinenet.com defines it this way, “Mental retardation: The condition of having an IQ measured as below 70 to 75 and significant delays or lacks in at least two areas of adaptive skills. Mental retardation is present from childhood.”
I read about studies done in orphanages in Budapest. Some said that for each month a child spends in an orphanage up to age three, their IQ score goes down 1/2 point. I read about stigmas of each name. How retard has become a dirty word. I know, I used it on just about everything growing up in the ’80s. Now, the politically correct phrase is developmentally delayed. Huh? That’s Jack’s special need according to all his paperwork.
Why am I bringing all this up now? I just left Jack’s cognitive assessment. I won’t have the results for several weeks, but I know the test the psychiatrist was using needed to be changed to fit his level more than once over the three hours we spent in that little room. Jack was awesome. I think in the same situation I would have been irritated with someone asking me the same question in a sing song voice repeatedly. I didn’t do so awesome. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t lost my composure. Here’s the thing. It’s a standardized test and Jack, well, Jack’s not standard. We call those little wax things colors. Dolls are babies. I’m Mama, not Mommy. Grandpa is a bear. Things like that tend to skew a test. I can’t think of a time I’ve said, “Jack give me the _____.” I say, “Can I have ____?” or “Hand me the _____.” “Get your shoes.” “Find your cup.” I wanted to yell, “You aren’t asking the right way!” I did finally say, “In our house those are (and then I spelled out) B-A-B-I-E-S.” That’s when I got the standard rules for standardized test speech.
Jack can count higher than half the kids on Bria’s class but he won’t answer if you say, “Jack, how old are you?” He just learned to say “Mama and Daddy” not that long ago. Jack parrots our behavior. Matching something is an abstract concept for him. He shares. He tries to do what we ask. Today I was overwhelmed leaving the test when he patted my shoulder and said, “Woook! Is a train!” He is getting it, ever so slowly. The fact is for whatever reason he is delayed.
I heard all about the orphanage delay. I had delusions of grander. Apparently what I heard loudest was, “he will catch up.” Instead of that, can’t speak, low muscle tone, missing fine motor skills points. I heard he’ll be like everyone else. He’s not. Neither is Arleigh, or Hanan or Bria. We all come with our own set of kinks and quirks. Low IQ was off my radar. I thought this would be, show him a car, say car, he’ll learn car sort of deal. It’s not. I’m mad right now because I hear some people saying, “I told her so.” I hear the naysayers in my head saying, “Do you know what’s going to happen to your family?” or “Did you really count the cost.” When I am overwhelmed with Jack’s delay I’m reminded that there were people along the way of our paper chase who wanted to tell me it would be too hard. When I’m struggling, sometimes I wonder what they are thinking now.
This is what I would say to myself of almost two years ago when we were just getting Jack’s file…
Dear Self,
If you think the paperwork is scary now, you don’t know what scary is. Wait until they take him back for an MRI to look for brain damage. It is going to get a whole lot worse. It’s not blue skies and rainbows and sisters loving on brother the second you get off the plane. It’s hard. He’s going to get mad because he can’t tell you how he feels. You are going to get mad because all you want is a day at the beach and the beach is going to be the most terrifying place on earth the first few times he goes.
During this paper chase there is something about it. You are broken and want your boy home but you also feel like you are part of something bigger. You somehow really see your place in God’s plan. It’s easy now to shirk off naysayers. It’s a bit harder when Jack is in your arms and you want him to act like a normal little boy and he’s not. When you are holding him and he is tremoring like a seizure is coming on just because something is new and people are giving both you and Jack funny looks, try to remember that Wonder Woman feeling you have right now. It’s a bit harder to hold on to these days but it’s still there. Remind yourself that you are still part of God’s plan. You are helping the world see God’s love in a little boy.
Don’t quit. Jack will teach you so much about yourself. Some good, some bad. Jack is going to show you and those little girls a bigger world. He is going to win EVERYONE over even though he doesn’t talk much. The random guy at the school will come to love him. He will make people laugh out loud on a regular basis and you get to watch as he touches their hearts. Jack is going to open up compassion in Arleigh, Hanan and Bria like you’ve never seen. Bria will walk away from her little sister role to become a champion to her brother. You’re going to cry over all the tests. It’s going to be hard to watch him fail. Hard isn’t impossible. In his failing, he just gives himself more room to grow.
Jack isn’t going to be what you thought. He won’t be perfect. He’s going to be better. He may be with you until he’s 18 or forever. Either way it’s okay because you’re going to learn that when he’s around, you’re better. Delays are hard to swallow. It’s just one more mountain to climb. God wouldn’t have sent Jack to you if He thought you couldn’t do it. Somedays you may think you can’t. Remember that with God, you can.
Don’t quit! Sincerely,
B
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Brandi Stiff
Brandi is a Christian, military wife and mama to four true blessings. After living in Iceland and Maryland she started blogging so their extended family could keep up with their life on the east coast. Two moves and two kids later, one brought home from China, it’s about faith and family, dealing with developmental delays and their misadventures in Hawaii. You can read more here.
We will drive to the baby home for the last time,
sign in at the front door for the last time,
shake the director’s hand for the last time,
take off those communal clothes our little man’s been wearing for the last time.
We’ll dress him up in the outfit we so carefully picked out just for that day.
We’ll roll up his pant legs which I’m sure will still be too long.
We’ll zip up his brand new winter coat and slip warm mittens onto his little hands.
We’ll walk out those heavy metal doors,
down the cement steps,
and outside the black gate.
We’ll climb all three of into the backseat of the car.
And we’ll drive away, forever.
The words on the chapter in our little man’s life-without-a-family, all written. Finished.
The proverbial page, turned.
A thousand empty pages waiting to be filled with a hope and a future.
A year ago I found this one couple who had chronicled their Russian adoption journey via youtube videos. The video of this couple leaving the orphanage with their little boy for the last time contains one incredible, poignant moment: as they head down the staircase to leave the baby home, their translator tells them to open the door and bright, white light from outside floods into the dark hallway.
“The door to the world. To a new life.” she says.
And in the background of the video, a song with these lyrics:
Sin has lost it’s power,
Death has lost it’s sting.
From the grave you’ve risen
Victoriously!
Into marvelous light I’m running…
This moment- this moment of leaving the old and starting the new- this is the picture of salvation. In my son’s story, I see my own. I see my rescue. I see my ransom. I see the life I’ve been given, the gift of the Father. For I was once fatherless, but now I am a child of God.
When John and I walk through those orphanage doors with our son in our arms, we will be living in a moment we’ll remember forever. A moment that will forever cause us to worship. A moment made of new clothes, and footsteps on tile floors, and the weight of a child in arms, and cold winter air, and three in the back seat….
but mostly it will be a moment made of grace.
Through the door. To a new life. Into marvelous light.
This is all of our story, who know the Lord. Once we were not a people, but now we are God’s people.
One month to begin a story that has been written for all eternity. Praise the Lord.
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Jillian Burden is an expectant mama; she and her husband are expecting their first child by way of a Russian adoption. While her belly might not be expanding, her heart and her faith sure are growing! You can read about this soul stretching journey to parenthood on her blog.
