Category: Realities

Expectations, realities, real struggles

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I Heart Open Adoption

Rebekah (our birth mother, if you’re just tuning in) and I (also Rebekah) are both back to work and have full schedules right now. Gone are the days of talking weekly, blogging regularly, and sharing pictures and videos back and forth, often. We do the best we can, but it seems that weeks go by before we have a block of time to call and catch up.

I headed to bed early last night, in hopes to gear up for this coming week of work, but I was missing Rebekah and decided to call her instead. The time difference makes it difficult and although I set out to only talk an hour, we chatted well past two.

Friends come in a variety. Some are needy, some are high-maintenance, some walk in and out over time, some are there everyday/through every mundane detail, and some are glued to your heart, unfettered by time or distance. Rebekah is the latter. It doesn’t matter how much time passes, we always pick up right where we left off, sharing about work and kids and life.

It will never get old.

She is my son’s mother. I’ve said it before; there is something so unique that happens when two mothers love one son. We’re able to laugh and cry and enjoy Ty together as he experiences all his firsts. It’s as natural as life. It’s not weird or awkward or strained. I don’t have to hold back my true feelings in fear of hers and there’s a mutual respect in what we’ve done for each other. I know everyone doesn’t get this. I know it looks too good to be true. I’ve had haters write subsequent posts about me and our relationship and they question the authenticity. It doesn’t bother me. I know what we have – what we are experiencing – and it’s only made possible through God’s grace.

Last night, we laughed over Ty’s tendency to throw premature temper tantrums and agreed on the importance of reading to him. We gushed over his cuteness and were thankful for the closeness he shares with his daddy. We talked about his early rising pattern, which Rebekah admitted was a trend in her other kids. To that I jokingly exclaimed, “So, you’re responsible for this!?”

Like all moms, we think he’s the smartest, cutest, most advanced baby of his time and think he has the perfect blend of biology and family.

The three of us are flying out to reunite with Rebekah and her family, this April. I was so excited last night, I had a hard time falling asleep. The Bible talks about talents and the importance of using and sharing them versus burying them away to be hidden forever. That’s sort of how we (Ben and I) view Tyrus. Apart from Christ, he is the greatest treasure we’ve been given. We don’t want to keep him close to home in fear of what may happen. We want to share him and expose him to the world. We want him to be bonded with his first family and are joy-filled that he has the opportunity to know them. We can’t wait for our trip and to show everyone how much he’s grown!

Because there are so many instances in which God seems absent or his presence hard to find, it’s important to make a raucous when we can undeniably see his hand of goodness. When I look at the revolution that has taken place in my heart, the connections that God made to bring us our son, the relationship we have with Rebekah and her kids and extended family, and the ever present smiles on that crazy-haired little boy of mine, I say – GOD, YOU ARE GOOD.

And I say it rather loud.

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Rebekah

Next to my faith walk, I am a wife and mother first. My husband and I have been married ten years and have two incredibly, tender sons, Tyrus and LJ.
Our boys are essentially twins, yet neither boy was born from my belly. We adopted sweet Ty (domestically) in 2009 and have a wide-open relationship with his birth family. LJ was also born in the summer of 2009, but came to our family, this year, as a ward of the state (via foster care). Our hearts and abilities have been stretched to capacity, but God is moving, filling, and redefining family for all of us.

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My Favorite Desserts

I love dark chocolate covered raspberries. I love the slight bitterness of dark chocolate mixed with the sweetness of fruit. I love the magic of dark chocolate and raspberries melting in my mouth.

I love refridgerated homemade chocolate chip cookie dough. I love the chips and the smooth creaminess of the dough. I love the ridiculously large amounts of sugar and butter. I love the magic of spoonful after spoonful melting in my mouth.

If you gave me a choice between the two, I would pick both. If I really really had to, put a gun to my head, pick one, I would five times out of 10 pick cookie dough and five times out of 10 pick the dark chocolate covered raspberries.

If you told me I could never have cookie dough again, and my dessert for the rest of my life was solely going to be dark chocolate covered raspberries, I would love it. I certainly wouldn”t care much. However, there would be times I would think, boy cookie dough sounds good right now.

Or, while I love my dark chocolate covered raspberries, I would like just a taste of the cookie dough. And then if you said no, absolutely not, no cookie dough. Then I would be fine. And in fact, I would rejoice in the fact that I get to have my dark chocolate covered raspberries. Because I love them.

Can anyone see where this is going?
Can you figure out the analogy?
If you can, let me know because you are awesome and have figured out what”s in my head and that”s freaky.

I love adoption and I think we”ve esablished that I would like to adopt a million kids. I love my girls more than anything on this planet (other than my hubs). As I snuggled with Hannah tonight in her bed and stared at her sweet little hand resting on her tummy and her adorable skinny legs propped up on the duvet, I felt such an amazing and overwhelming feeling of love for this girl (let”s not leave Olivia out, I love her too:)). I love these girls so much, in fact, that sometimes I”m amazed that people love their biological children. I”m serious.

And I would still like to be pregnant. I don”t necessarily want to reproduce my DNA. In fact, I kind of don”t want to because (just thinking ahead), if s/he would look anything like me, I really would cringe every single time someone would say that “s/he looks just like you” in front of my girls. Who will never hear that. But I want to experience pregnancy. And I want to give birth. If I could could give birth to an adopted baby, that would be perfect (we”ve already discussed embryo adoption, that”s off the table for us for now (but never say never, right?)).

Anyway, adoption has not squelched the desire to do what my body was created to do. I still track things. I still know where I am in my cycle. I still care. I still get jealous. I still sin.
But, if what I get for the rest of my life is dark chocolate covered raspberries and no chocolate chip cookie dough, I rejoice for the Lord”s plan for my life and I will fully, with all my being, embrace eating my dark chocolate covered raspberries. Because I love them

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Abby Brandenberger
Abby is a stay-at-home mom, married to her college sweetheart Matt. Matt is an elementary school teacher, a coach, driver”s ed instructor, tutor, and sports fanatic. Abby just tries to keep up with him and the two little ones they adopted domestically (15 months apart). They are right in the middle of their third adoption journey and are excited to see how God adds to their family.  Abby welcomes you to follow along at Our Little Hope.

 

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Dear Eddie

oh my darlin’,

you seriously put me through the ringer today.
you made me question everything i thought i knew about parenting.
you are one determined boy, and i know that will serve you well later in life,
that you will accomplish great things because you do not give up.
like with the easter candy, for example.
by golly, you wanted that chocolate bunny, and that chocolate bunny you were gonna get.
you have this uncanny sense of hearing… you announce every passing motorcycle,
the arrival of every garbage and delivery truck, an airplane flying overhead.
none of it is by sight, all by sound.
and yet. i can tell you 412 times to come to me, to stop climbing or jumping or running
and it is as though i haven’t uttered a single syllable.

but in spite of all of your crazy antics,
you have an unfathomable capacity to love.
you want to snuggle every night before bed, and first thing every morning.
you nestle into “mama’s bed” (it’s daddy’s, too, just so you know), rest your head right next to mine and are quiet and still and content.
i look at you in wonder, my heart full and achy,
and very aware of this precious time.
i’m not ignorant to the fact that someday… maybe soon… you will understand you’re adopted.
there may be a day when you question if we’re as close as we’d be if i’d had you myself.
if i could, i would take all those questions away in a heartbeat.
i’d tell you that i can’t imagine loving anyone more than i love you,
that our lives would have a gaping hole without you in it,
that tears well and overflow at the thought of you ever experiencing any heartache
from the undeserved gift we’ve been given of calling you ours.
i look at you in those quiet moments and i drink it in.
your tender heart and your boundless love.
i pray almost every day that you will know in the depth of your being that you are more than we could’ve ever hoped for,
that you will be confident in our love for you, and even more,
in God’s love for you.
you are a most precious gift, my sweet, wild Eddie.

i hope you will know that in your heart every day, forever.
yours always,
mama

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Carina

We are a family of 5 1/2: 3 kids – 2 biological, 1 adopted, and waiting to be chosen for our next adopted baby. 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 three boys more than we’d imagined possible and can’t wait to see what is in store for the future!

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Letting Go of Expectations

No one ever promised us that adopting our children would be a simple thing. I didn’t expect to whisk Silas into the mix and then just go about my happy business.

I knew it would be really, really hard.

For like six months.

And then it would be sort of hard for another six.

Then we might have a few bad days over the next six months.

Then we’d be home free.

We’d be in “regular parenting” territory then, which is never a slice of pie. It always requires effort and attention. It can be frustrating sometimes, exhausting often. But the dark, bruisey days would be over.

We’ve had Silas with us for 19 months. My extremely generous timeline for unfavorable behavior has expired, and we’re still registering a solid Month Ten. At least this week.

It’s been one of those weeks that used to find me feeling bullied and defeated, but now, after much practice, I simply feel bone-tired. It has worried me, the way I’ve learned to compartmentalize. It has concerned me at times, the way my patience grips the very edge with its fingernails.

This adoption thing? It can be lonely business. It’s hard to find the kind of everyday support that I crave, not because people in my life are unwilling to offer, but simply because it’s different.

When these hard weeks come, I sometimes feel judged. She should be doing things differently. I feel inadequate. I’m tired of screwing up. I feel defensive. He’s had a difficult life. I feel exasperated. What will it take for him to start to understand how this stuff works? I feel rejected. My kid doesn’t love me.

I feel all of those things, at times. They are my knee socks, my jeans, my gray T. I wear them well. They fit just right, at this point and they’re surprisingly comfortable.

But then I pull on my love for my child. I zip certainty up to my chin. I ball up my hands and shove them into Promise.

I walk in the sunny-day truth that I often know the right thing and choose the wrong anyway. I do not always obey the very first time. I shove and kick when I’m scared, or when I think my idea was better.

And still, just as I love my angel-lashed boy, I am loved.

I could never have known for sure what this journey would look like or how it would feel. I might have run screaming for the hills had I understood that it would be this hard this long. That is the thought that threatens to break me. I might have turned my back on one of the blessings of my life. I might have missed the moment where he turns to me and says, “I lu yew Mommy”. I would have missed stifling a laugh when he looks up at me and says all mean and sassy, “I tickle yew”. (He finally understands that “I spanka yo bottom” wasn’t working for him, so he improvises now.)

So, I’m learning to let go a little. I’ll not take personal the days where he wakes up spitting mad at me and the world, because these days come in waves. I’ll ride it out knowing that maybe tomorrow, or next Monday, he’ll smile straight into my heart and giggle me through my day.

Every day is a step in the right direction, even when it’s hard.

Every day is a chance to remember that God honors this work. He honors it full. He cheers us on, reminds us that the dark days move faster if you dance a little.

Every day is one more opportunity for grace – for all of us.

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Shannan Martin

Shannan Martin is an ordinary girl who searches for and finds beauty in the everyday. She’s the wife of a man who thinks all of her jokes are funny and who regularly indulges her late-night, thinking-out-loud ponderings. They have three funny shorties, Calvin, Ruby, and Silas, who came to them across rivers and oceans. Together, they are embarking on a fresh adventure and are confident that God will meet them there. And though they no longer live on the farm, life remains a heaped-up pile of blessings, and Shannan will forever remain a Farmgirl at heart. She has blogged for three years; come take a look.

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Someone Else’s Child

My sweet son,

While watching you play with a group of children, another mother commented that she “could never love someone else’s child.” Her eyes can only see a child born from an unknown womb and of a different ethnicity, not sharing my blue eyes or light skin. How unfortunate that her eyes cannot see what I see.

When I look at you, I see an ornery sense of humor like your daddy. I see your Lego engineering skills that rival your brother’s. I listen to your contagious belly laugh and am reminded of your grandma. I admire your imagination that you share with your sister as you play together for hours. That short-sighted woman couldn’t see the deep mother/son bond we share as we snuggle early in the morning or know of the fierce protectiveness for you that overwhelms me sometimes. Your tawny skin and your almond-shaped eyes that disappear when you grin do not make me feel less connected to you but rather closer to the woman who loved you enough to give you life.

Your sweet spirit and tender heart are just like your Father’s. I am reminded that you, as well as your siblings born from my womb, are not really mine at all. All of my children belong to our Father, and you are a gift for me to nurture. I do love Someone Else’s child. And it’s easy because He tucked that love here in my heart even before I met you.

With love,
Your mommy

Originally posted on Mom Life Today

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Julia DesCarpentrie, aka: Mama, hey Honey, Jewel, MOMEEEE, yo Sis, oh Mother, Julie … depends on who needs me. I answer to the love of my life (who also just happens to be my husband), a drama tween, and three very rambunctious superheroes, and toddler diva. Several years ago we handed our safe little family over to God and told Him to take control. He buckled us in on an adventurous roller coaster that rocketed us to China to adopt our youngest child, spun us closer to His heart, and plunged us into the south where foster care once again changed our hearts and family. I can usually be found behind the wheel of ”Mama”s Monster Truck” (aka the family minivan) on the way to dance, tae kwon do, scouts or school. The laptop travels with me and most of my writing is done waiting in the school pick-up lane. Read more of her ramblings here.

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Love is a battlefield

Not long ago a pastor was praying over Nathan and I when he uttered words along these lines: “Satan doesn’t want this family to succeed so God be their anchor as he attacks them.” It was right then and there that I truly understood what a war zone our entire family had just entered. I always “knew” it would be hard to adopt a child, that there would be days I would get overwhelmed or the kids wouldn’t get along, and days when progress would feel limited, but it was in that moment I became aware that being under attack was going to be a permanent part of our story.

You see, for the first 2 and a half years of my daughters life Satan believed he had gotten the upper hand. She was abandoned, alone, unloved, purposeless, insecure, unattached etc. He celebrated every hurdle placed in her life and laughed when she was unable to lift herself over each obstacle in order to run the race set out before her. He took pleasure in watching her build up walls around her heart and develop techniques that would serve her well in the dog eat dog world she was living in. But God had a plan for our daughter too. As Satan whet his appetite for her ultimate demise, God began a story line that would bring redemption and victory to her soul.
When we said, “yes!” to God’s call to adopt we enlisted each member of our family in the bloodiest war imaginable. Many had fallen in defeat on the very ground we were stepping into battle on. But many had found victory on this path as well. With each step taken toward our forever family we were being ushered onto the front lines of a spiritual battle I had only read about prior to now:

For we are not fighting against flesh and blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world and against evil spirits in the heavenly places. – Ephesians 6:12

War torn and battle scarred, my daughter had been fighting this battle her whole life but she was no longer going to be fighting it alone. Now we are all in the war.
Some days I get so tired from the fight that my passion becomes misdirected and I start fighting with or against my daughter instead of fighting for her. I become an adversary instead of her advocate. But graciously God offers me insight into my weary misfires and I am able to re-calibrate our troops and start to gain some ground again. Still, the Enemy is ruthless.
So as we, together as a family, enter into the war zone of adoption on a daily basis and struggle to lift Jaydn over the hurdles of her past and encourage her to venture away from the walls around her heart toward wholeness and healing, I cling to the Truth found in Romans 8:
If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare His own Son, but gave him up for us all- how will He not also, along with Him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who shall separate us from the the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written:
“For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”
No in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. -Romans 8:31-39
So Satan…hit us with your best shot! I may lose focus from time to time but Im in this war for the long haul and I have read the back of the book and know how the story ends- God wins. You got nothing on Love.

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