Recently, I had a candid chat with a friend of mine who is parenting former orphans. It was Mother’s Day, which is one of those slightly awkward holidays when you aren’t the only mommy your child has ever had. She has also faced infertility, making it an even harder day. She was overwhelmed by the loss and brokenness that accompanies adoption. Hurting for her children, but also herself, at the years of life she didn’t get to see.

The hard thing about loving someone so much it hurts is that, well, it hurts. When you think about their loss and pain, you just ache and wish you could take it on yourself.

Sometimes the brokenness is overwhelming.

Sometimes it’s maddening to think about all you’ve missed.

Sometimes you just want to tell your child, “YOU are remarkable. Your life has been harder than just about anyone I know and yet you have somehow come through it all with a tender heart.”

Sometimes you actually do tell your child that.

So, what do you do with all of the grief and loss and brokenness?

Gloss over it and pretend it didn’t happen? Sometimes that’s a good option, frankly. It’s sort of hard for kids to heal if they’re reminded all the time of their wounds. But, obviously, that’s slapping a bandaid on a big, big hurt.

Where I’ve noticed the greatest moments of redemption are in the firsts. Which are (ironically) usually the most painful reminders of all that’s been lost. I didn’t get to see my child’s first step. I don’t know how much be weighed at birth. Or when he got his first tooth or said his first word. I grieve all of that, but I cannot focus on it. That wouldn’t help anyone.

So we manufacture firsts. We choose to celebrate the firsts that might seem insignificant to others.

The first unsolicited hug.
The first time he had ice cream and winced at the cold with every bite.
The first time he pushed away a plate of food without pleading for more.
The first time he saw the ocean.
The first “I love you.”
The first time he went to a movie.
The first time he fell asleep without clinging to me for dear life.
The first time he celebrated his birthday.

We make a big, big deal out of these things.

We see the brokenness for what it is, which allows us to stand in awe of the wholeness that comes out of it.

This healing – it doesn’t come from a family, although that certainly helps. It doesn’t come from a book or counselor or therapy method.

It is God Himself who takes these little lives and makes them whole again. He redeems all the lost firsts and shows us that sometimes the manufactured firsts are even better, because they remind us of His goodness.

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Lara is a Jesus-loving, book-reading, coffee-drinking, kid-chasing farmer”s wife of 5 years. She and her beloved farmer, Jon, have three kids: Cade, Ambrose, and Ellie. They brought their most recent addition home from Uganda in October 2011. Follow along on their journey at The Farmer”s Wife Tells All.

We joined the “Century Club” today (meaning we have been waiting 100 days to receive our letter of approval/acceptance from China to adopt our daughter). Thankfully, not too many adoptive families achieve this status, but for whatever reason, our adoption journey includes being a part of the “Club.” I know in my heart there is something beautiful and wonderful that will come out of this wait. There is a purpose. And there is an end. Not today, but some day the wait will be over, and our Little One will be home.

When this season ends, I hope I am more like Jesus. Refined. Stronger in my faith and character. More equipped to meet the difficulties and hardships the next season is sure to bring.

God is so faithful in encouraging my heart as I wait, whether it be through a promise in Scripture, the gift of a darling Chinese doll, a phone call from a friend, or the opportunity to send a box of supplies to my daughter”s Healing Home.

So, while I never dreamed we would reach Day 100 without our LOA and I am sad, I decided to celebrate 100 today with the kids.

We counted 100 steps.

We ran  down the road for 100 seconds. (During this 100 seconds, the dog managed to get sprayed by a skunk. Stinky!!)

We dug for treasures in our 100 year old barn.

Ori told me he had 100 treasures. I”m pretty sure he does.

We played in the 100 degree heat (it”s sooo dry!!).

Ori and Calla each strung 50 Cheerios on to a pipe cleaner to make 100 (then they ate 100 cheerios, I”m pretty sure).

I”m thinking ice cream might be necessary tonight. Maybe we can each lick our ice cream cones 100 times?

It”s a good day. Resting in the fact that my God is faithful, all-knowing, and good. Even the heartache of joining the Century Club is for my good.

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Julie is a former middle school teacher turned stay-at-home mom who is passionate about children. She and her husband, Ian, have been married for 8 years. They have two biological children, both born prematurely. God placed adoption on Julie”s heart as a child and it was something Ian and Julie discussed off and on throughout their marriage. However, when their daughter Calla was born at 26-weeks and faced many challenges, they became interested in special needs adoption. Currently, Ian and Julie are waiting to bring home their precious 17-month old little girl from China. Julie blogs about motherhood, adoption, and toddler activities at Breezy Acres Farm.

I can always tell when we are starting, praying about or in the middle of an adoption.
I know because of the paper work that lies about,
the emails that clutter my inbox,
and the anticipation that seems to linger in the air.

But more tangibly, I know because the whole world seems to go awry.
The axis of the earth seems to tilt,
the Super Moon graces us a bit longer
and our house starts to come alive.

Not like the house in Ammityville,
but alive with activity
and none of it is the good kind either.

On our date night last week, The Hero and I discussed our second adoption.
We made some very direct goals and hard decisions.
Almost immediately, our house responded.

The vacuum cleaner sparked and died on Friday.
Behavioral issues abounded with our children.
The washing machine keeled over Saturday morning.
And Monday we awoke to the air conditioning units refusing to pump cold air.

The repairman told us both units would have to be replaced.
(For those of you who have not replaced one in quite some time,
it’s about the same cost as an international adoption).

The Hero met me at the door on Monday, smiling.
I found nothing to smile about.
But as we sat at the dining room table,
we started talking about our last date night.
And I started laughing.

Our house was under attack.
Literally.
Spiritually.

While The Hero called our insurance,
I called our adoption agency.
And sent them some money.
And just for good measure,
I made some small financial gifts to some of our favorite places.
And prayed over our house.

It’s Thursday morning.
The Hero called me from his car.
The a/c repairman just left.
Units are fixed and pumping.
And it’s covered by our insurance.
His only words “give thanks baby. This was all HIM today.”

The Hero found a part for the washing machine.
And fixed it for less than $30.

Behaviors have been identified and specifically prayed over.

The only total loss was the vacuum cleaner.
But considering it was almost 12years old,
it didn’t seem like too big a loss.

Whatever is keeping you from adoption, remember:
THE DEVIL HATES IT
AND WILL TRY ANYTHING TO STOP IT.

Ephesians 6:12 “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rules, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”

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We are a family of God’s perfect design. With two adopted angels (2, 5) from Ethiopia in 2010 and more on the way soon. The Andrews family are one of three founding families of LoPa Art, buying Ethiopian art fair-trade and proceeds benefiting an Ethiopian non-profit, currently serving 210 orphans in Korah, a trash dump outside Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Lovers of gardening, advocating for Children’s HopeChest, swimming and traveling to Africa, the Andrews continually seek to connect those they know with the things they love. Mommy is a writer, lawyer, speaker and chief laundry distributor. Daddy “The Hero” is a fireman, handyman and human jungle gym. “The Angel’ is now eight and loves reading, drawing and dreaming about buying a bunk bed. “The Dinosaur” is now four and stomping his way through home, hearts and life. The family is loved by Jesus and protected by a french bulldog, Walter. Mommy blogs at www.africaboundandrews.blogspot.com

…just how wounded she is.

That deep down, there is a lot of hurt.

A lot of anger.

A lot of confusion.

And I’m just not sure how to be the mom she needs me to be.

Because there are moments where it seems so completely overwhelming. And I feel so completely inadequate.

Like this morning, when a simple request is followed by a refusal from her. And thus, a consequence ensues.

Which is followed by a tantrum. But not just any tantrum.

A tantrum that reaches a whole ‘nother level. Different than any tantrum I’ve ever experienced with other kids.

There is no calming her down. There is no reasoning.

There is only escalation, and screams from the depth of her soul. Followed by more escalation. And thrashing, and contortion, and eyes rolling back in her head.

It’s as if for a little while, she’s not even there. She’s somewhere else.

And then exhaustion comes. And she curls herself up into a fetal position.

So vulnerable.

So wounded.

And then, the chanting returns. The chants that consistently rang out when we first brought her home. The self-soothing primal chants that make my heart hurt for the life she led. And the scars that bear witness to that time.

And it’s then, that I realize how much I love her. And how much I want to fix it, and make it all better. How I desperately wish she did not have to endure what she has in her short life. Where she was provided for…but not loved. Fed…but not nourished. Touched…but without affection. Abandoned. Without a soul in the world to call her own.

So I scoop her up, and love on her. And pray.

Which is really all I can do.

Because she needs a lot more than I, alone, can offer.

She’s come so far in the past year and a half. And 99% of the time she looks like a happy, spirited, well-adjusted kid who has learned how to love and play and be silly. And I am thankful.

But that 1% of the time….well, I think that road will be a long one to walk.

Sometimes I forget.

Just because she has a family, doesn’t mean she’s fine. Just because she’s been home for a while, doesn’t mean the issues are all gone.

It’s not magic. It’s not quick in this case.

BUT….adoption is healing. And redemption. And a second chance.

And while some would have me believe that she will never be restored from those hurts from her past, I will choose to believe otherwise.

Because she is CHOSEN. And LOVED.

And SHE. IS. MINE.

And really, that’s all that matters.

And that, I can remember.

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Jennifer and Rush Middleton have been married for 11 years and have 4 kids, Jonah (8), Reagan (5), Rylie (3) and Jude (2). Rylie came home from China in 2010 and Jude just arrived earlier this year. The Middletons have been through the easy and the hard of bringing a child into their family, yet the awesome gift of adoption has rocked their worlds in more ways than they can count. You can check out their blog about family, life, adoption, cleft lip/palate and other randomness at Apple Pie and Egg Rolls.

The Lord continues to bless me with encouragement when he knows I need it the most. A few months ago I went searching online to see if I could find our little man’s orphanage. I want to know where it is, to look it up on google maps, to see pictures, to imagine him there. But between having little idea about where to start and having to translate all those sites from Russian to English on google translate, I didn’t get very far. I looked through hundreds of orphanage pictures, hoping I recognize something in the background from the photos we have of out little guy… hoping I’d maybe even have some sort of motherly sense to just know which “baby house,” as they say in Russia, was his. But I did not.

Until today.

Through the miracle of the internet and what I’d say is God’s gracious guiding, I found it. A woman I connected with on a private adoption-related forum (hi M!) found my etsy shop. She bought a t-shirt and sent me a link to the website of her son’s orphanage, asking if perhaps our son was there too. I clicked on to the site and saw that it was one I had visited before. I wasn’t sure it would lead to anything, but still- I cut and paste every piece of wording into google translate and kept clicking around, hoping and hoping until…

Until I suddenly saw his sweet face and soft smile looking back at me. I inhaled sharply and tears prickled at my eyes. It was one of the pictures we already have of him, but just to know…. to know where he is… to see the faces of his peers, his playmates, his friends… this is a gift I treasure deeply tonight.

There is only one picture of his orphanage on the website and I’ve memorized it already. The white walls, the gray floor, the pine table and chairs, the colorful toys, the old fashioned play-pen like my parents would have played in. The room it sterile, but bright- filled with sunlight from large windows- and clean. It gives my mother’s heart some peace. A treasure, that picture. A gift for my soul.

On the site, the children in the baby house are “listed” with a picture and short description. The words used to describe our sweet son echo the descriptions his nannies have given us through our agency: quiet, gentle, tender, sweet. Our precious, precious, baby boy. Oh God how I long to cup his face in my hands, to stroke his head and push back his hair, to whisper, “My love. My baby. My son.” Do that for him today, I pray. Warm his heart until it glows with my love, from miles and miles away.

Today, for this gift, I am thankful. For a peek into his world. For a gaze into the eyes of the children with whom he spends every day. For a connection with another mama whose son waits with mine.

Until I carry him in my arms, I treasure these gifts in my heart. I carry him in my heart, today.

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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.

I grew up in a family where perfection was expected. What others thought of us was THE most important agenda. I have to even say way back when my oldest was little I still had that thought process. I was so caught up in what others thought of my parenting based on how my kids acted, what my kids looked like, what car we drove, etc. I found myself yelling a lot more, stressing way more and plain not happy – with anything.

 

Then almost 6 years ago our little Brahm was born to our perfect little family. You know the one with the 2 kids, boy and a girl,