Family Stories Archives - Page 8 of 24

November 15, 2013November 15, 2013

What Makes A Mom

One night, I was sitting with A Friend during a banquet. It was fun watching all the little kiddos running around. We were remarking about how cute this one tiny little girl was. I mean, she was really, really, cute. She was maybe 3 years old cute. Then I noticed all of her siblings. And, you guessed it! They were all cute! They were all wearing cowboy boots and belt buckles that weighed more than the cute kids. Apparently they participated in bull-riding. Anyway, A Friend remarked to me, “You know…she has six kids, and she is only 38 years old.” Well, I just looked at A Friend. I wondered what was so remarkable about that since, well…I have six kids….they’re all cute….and I’m only….well…skip the 38 years old part.

So, I looked a little confused at A Friend, and replied to her, “I have six kids you know.” And she replied to me, “Well, she birthed all of hers. There is a difference.” Now, I am not a very good bluff. I’m sure she saw the surprised look on my face because she repeated herself, “There is a difference.” I just looked at her and didn’t really know what to say. Those words made me feel that I somehow had to prove myself as a mom. Was it a competition? Childbirth vs Adoption? Thoughts ran through my mind and I wondered if there really was a difference. I thought about my babes that I lost at birth, Ashton, Grace, Ben, and Rachel. I turned to A Friend and shared that little bitty fact with her. She replied, “I didn’t know.” How could she know?
It is not something I go around telling people.

That short five-minute conversation keeps popping into my mind. It is amazing how a simple comment can affect someone and cause their thoughts to go in all different directions. Is a mom, who has never given birth, less of a mom to her two, five, six, or even ten adopted children? Do those children not count on the scale of “mommy-hood”? Is giving birth some sort of badge of honor and those who are not successful doomed to wear a scarlet letter their entire life? Is it the physical act of childbirth and the passing on of our genetic traits that makes someone a mom? Or is it the raising of a child that makes someone a mom?

I’ve always heard that DNA doesn’t make someone a mom or dad. To me that is absolutely true. I guess I just have different eyes when it comes to mommy-hood. It is not the nine months of work up through the birth of the child that makes someone a mom. It is that mom’s entire life of self-sacrifice, prayer and devotion to her children that makes her a mom.

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Cheri lives in Virginia with her husband, Mike, of 26 years. They have 2 adult children, and 4 children at home. After struggling with many pregnancy losses, they felt God was calling them to adopt a little girl from China. Upon returning home from their trip in 2006 to adopt Eva, they became more aware of the need of orphans. They traveled to China again in 2007 to adopt Joy. Always having the older children on her heart, but feeling incapable, Cheri felt an older child was in their future for adoption. In February 2010, Cheri traveled alone to Guangdong, China to adopt 7-year-old Ivy. Cheri started blogging to share her travels to China with friends and family but has also enjoyed sharing the ups and downs of adoption and family life.

November 13, 2013November 13, 2013

My Fairly Uneducated, Slightly Inexperienced Advice on Older Child Adoption in a Nutshell

So, not that everyone has been waiting on the edge of their seats or anything…

but it’s about time I got these few points out there to maybe benefit someone else.

Also, I would like to go ahead and mention, that I know there are some really hard things that go with older child adoption and by no means am I demeaning those experiences. Nor do I believe that these few things that I feel like have been important learning experiences for me even come close to touching all the issues that can/do arise in these situations.

Whew. I feel better now that I have that off my chest.

Now.

I think the biggest thing I was unprepared for in this whole experience was how delays in maturity really effect you in the everyday and how to be prepared to handle these things.

I like to call this first point:

CROWD CONTROL.

The good news about handling crowd control is that all you really need is a good sense of humor and perspective. That doesn’t sound too bad eh? Well, it’s not too bad if your thinking about it.

The tough part is we sometimes forget things as parents and overreact at times. Do I sound like I am speaking from experience???

Umm, yes.

So, this is something I have had to remind myself about on a regular basis this first year and probably about 1-2 years more for all I know.

Crowd control is understanding that there is a difference between knowing that your child is about 2 years younger on the inside because of what they have been through and seeing that play out every where you go.

Because when a 2 to 4 year old says, “Hey, Mom! Look at that fat man.” It is embarrassing, but everyone understands; that little kid doesn’t have a filter yet, he’ll learn.

But when a 6 or 7 year old says things like that…you start having some ‘splainin’ to do.

When a 2 to 4 year old says, “Hey, when you two get married are you going to take your clothes off and get in the bed?” most people laugh and snicker. They’re not assuming the worst, but understanding that most likely that child was just speaking in a literal sense from what he has seen his parents do.

Ah, but when your 7 year old says it…it’s a little different. It’s harder for others to see the lack of the maturity that I know exists, that his world is being redefined, that he is learning new things culturally and societally. And quite frankly, I can’t put out a psa to every kid’s parent in his classes or everyone in my church. I have had to put out a few fires in this first year.

This is why I call it crowd control.

I have come to learn in these situations that sometimes I need to make sure I am patient with my son because he is just learning, with others because they can’t be expected to always know or understand, to not overreact myself and fear the worse, and especially pepper the situation with a little sense of humor.

Now, I am not saying that sometimes there couldn’t be other underlying issues or that everything can be laughed off. But a good bit of it in our situation can, and I need to remember that.

Another underlying point with crowd control is me getting over myself and this perfect family image thing. Which honestly, didn’t we abandon that already a long time ago? Go figure.

My second point, which kind of follows along with point one is:

REDEFINING LIFE WITH A FAMILY CIRCLE.

What is family?
What is a mom and dad, really?
It is a word, a title they are familiar with.

It has begun to occur to me that the actual concept of that and all it entails will take him some time to truly understand. And we have to define what that means for him.

In his mind, he had created an image of what he thinks a family is or does, but the reality of what a family truly is and means is very different from that.

I mean, in his foster family he called his foster parents mom and dad, and at the orphanage everyone is big brother, big sister, aunt, etc.

So many people have taken care of me.

So why wouldn’t everyone we meet at church be my big brother and sister. Why can’t I cuddle with every person I meet. Don’t they all love me, know my name, readily want to hug me?

I had to fight for attention in the orphanage. I would get it from doing things like this. Shouldn’t it be the same? I need attention. That is how you succeed.

Maybe this stuff is obvious. Maybe I even read it. Seeing it come to reality is different.

I began to understand first hand how a mom and dad (and siblings too) become the center of a baby’s universe. They are the nucleus from which their world revolves. For my son, maybe it was his nanny’s or crib. Which isn’t exactly a central point, especially since that changed when he was three. From three till 6 it was his foster family, and he recognized them as mom and dad.

I am sure they probably tried to clarify they were just fostering, but he wasn’t at an age I think to truly grasp that. Most of the time I marvel at the reality he has created in his precious mind. I know it will take time to redefine that.

At the moment, we have a lot of conversations about the fact that we are his forever. He talks about not staying here forever, that he can’t. Not in a spiteful way, just matter-of-factly. So in the kindest loving way possible, I explain to him that while we may take him back to visit, China/the orphanage is no longer his home unless he decides to leave when he is older. I try to tell him that his foster parents were just helping him while he waited, that they couldn’t be his family forever. They weren’t allowed. I try to explain that we could visit the orphanage or try to work there one day, but that they couldn’t take him back if he wanted to go and we would never leave him even so.

I wonder how long it will take him to see these concepts; how long it will take for him to understand that life will never change as far as us being his family is concerned.

Some of the ways we reinforce this is by spending quality time together, which I would consider an obvious solution. But there are other things we have been led to do as well, such as:

—Remind him that there are things we discuss with family that we don’t discuss outside of our family unit. And when he asks why, it gives me a great opportunity to reinforce the nucleus of family.

—Remind him that physical affection is saved for mom and dad.

—To try to explain what strangers are and how and when to let someone in to become acquaintances and then friends.

—That all attention is not good attention.

—That though others care about you that doesn’t necessarily mean that they love you or want to be your family. You can’t just pick any Joe from down the road because they seem better and they’re kinda nice to you.

My last and probably the most surprising for me was:

WHEN PEOPLE DON’T LIKE THEM

Ok, maybe this should have been obvious. And I know this is an issue that my biological children could have, but none the less it didn’t occur to me.

So much love had grown in my heart for this kid I had never met, just like for Lily. And you assume it does for others too. But she was a cute little 2 year old girl and he was a big 6 year old boy. I just didn’t allow myself to realize that all the things that come with that aren’t as cute to others or as easy to get over.

News flash: things that he does aren’t nearly as endearing as when a little 2 year old girl does them, or even a little boy for that matter. Not even close.

Which, some of that is boy, I guess. And I am not going to lie, all of us have had some adjustments to make getting used to this in our previous estrogen-filled life.

But I just wasn’t prepared for how hard it would be for him to make friends. I wasn’t prepared for the fact that kids in our circles of life wouldn’t like him, that he would be picked on, called “weird”, and get hit. That even adults would have a hard time “liking” him.

What got me was that it wasn’t about prejudice because he was Chinese.
I had been prepared for that.
It wasn’t because he has a special need.
I had been prepared for that.
It was because he is mentally, socially delayed.
It was because he acts…different.
I wasn’t prepared for that.

I will admit this is where I have struggled the most. I want him to be accepted and make friends. I want him to have buddies. We try to help him learn what people like and don’t like. We teach him how to read social clues. While also trying to teach him when/how to stand up for himself and balance that with forgiveness, kindness and love. Which again, is not totally different than when parenting biological children, or with parenting boys, or with parenting children with special needs. But, I just wasn’t prepared for it.

I really thought he would make friends easily and that people would understand. I was more focused on him being willing to let his guard down to make friends instead of realizing that it would also be difficult for others to accept him and understand his needs.

I should have realized that this would be a challenge for others as much as it was a challenge for us. There were many times my own daughters had a difficult time understanding his actions, and I had to take time to help them see things with the proper perspective. I just didn’t have a good enough game plan in this area, or heart prep, or something.
There is so much more than just these three things, but I think these are the three things that have struck me the most. Maybe I knew, but never understood or maybe I underestimated??

People ask me know about our experience adopting an older child and these are the responses that I feel like I would have wanted someone to talk to me about more before hand. It is one thing to read it in a book. A total new one to handle in real life.

I have learned to really listen to the Holy Spirit. I don’t have all the answers or know how to handle every situation. Even having read the books, each situation is sometimes so unique and people are staring at you for answers…in those moments I need help.

However, I wouldn’t change a thing about what we have done. We have beaten some pretty negative odds out there too, I suppose; adopted an older child into a large family, out of birth order, the first of his sex in our family. In many ways though, this adoption has been easier than Lily’s was. However, more difficult on his side for the things he lost. Which I know he still mourns in his own way. Though, you would never know it to look at him. He covers it up in his silly, attention getting ways.

Anyway, this is kinda long and if you made it this far you really wanted to know my thoughts on this. So there ya go, some of my thoughts on older child adoption. It’s beautiful and fun and I would do it all over again. The good has far outweighed the hard and he has brought a lot of joy to a lot of people. He is one cool dude and our family has been changed for the better!

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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.

November 4, 2013

Siblings

As a by-product of my job, I get the opportunity to talk to lots and lots of people about adoption. I get all kinds of questions and lots of chances to tell our story to families, almost on a daily basis. Most families that are calling our agency today are moms and dads who have heard God’s call to care for orphans, and are already parenting biological children. So as you can imagine, one of the most frequent things people ask, is:

“How is adoption going to effect my children I’m already parenting?”

Buckle your seat belt.

Adoption teaches your children that the world does not revolve around them.

(Romans 15:1-3)

*Because the world does not revolve around them, by the way*

It teaches them to think outside of themselves, when your family is working and saving to bring a child home, and they can’t have that toy, or that Disney vacation. And they may have to share a bedroom, and their toys, and even clothing. Maybe the van is really crowded (amen) or they don’t have Christmas presents stacked 6 feet deep like their friends. But that’s OK. We adopted both of our children within weeks of Christmas. They never asked why it was lean. They knew it wasn’t about gifts anyway, and we had babies to go get. And although they didn’t always have perfect attitudes about it, and they didn’t really understand, one day they will.

Adoption teaches your children to love and respect cultures that are not their own.

(1 Thess. 1:9, 1 Peter 1:22)

It teaches them that there is a world outside of the city and state they live in, with different people and different languages, and different cultures. If you adopt a child of a different culture or race, congratulations, you are now a multi-cultural, multi-racial family. You now get to celebrate double the holidays (kids really love this:) and your kids learn by default to respect and celebrate different skin tones. My girls especially love to point out every Chinese person they see….most recently in the van, Annalyse went crazy screaming at Ashley, “LOOK!!! LOOK!! THERE’S A CHINESE BOY DRIVING THAT CAR!!! HE’S CHINESE! FROM CHINA!!!” I’m sure Ashley will not think this is particularly cool when they are 17.

Adoption teaches your children to be compassionate, forgiving, accepting and giving. (Luke 6:36, Ephesians 4:32)

Aren’t these the things we want our kids to know and live out anyway? This isn’t something they learn because you tell them to act this way. It’s a pattern they imitate by having parents who are living out the commands of Christ to be the salt and light to a hurting world. When you adopt, and care for orphans, they get it by default. You don’t just tell them to be compassionate, they learn this when they see you holding a screaming child who is grieving for things they have no words for. They hear it when you explain to strangers your motivation behind building your family the way you are. They understand about giving because maybe your family has been the recipients of some pretty amazing financial gifts, and they watch you give your gifts to others coming behind you.

One day in car pool, my 7 year old said, “mama if I had a million dollars, I’d go straight to China to get some more brothers and sisters to bring home. Then I’d go to the mall.” Hey people, she has her priorities straight 🙂

Adoption is the perfect picture of salvation. God meant it that way.

(John 14:18)

Here’s the deal. Jay and I have two living breathing examples of the very GOSPEL that live and reside in our home. See that kid? He was far far away. He had a different name, and his life was hopeless. There was no way he could change his life on his own. Through the miracle of adoption, he was brought home. Regardless of his baggage, regardless of his ability, and regardless of his life before, he was adopted. His name changed. His future changed. It was sealed with a decree that can never be broken or changed. He can never go back to being an orphan. No matter what he does. You can read more about adoption and the Gospel here, but folks we’ve got an open opportunity to share the very GOSPEL with everyone who says to us, “what made you want to adopt?” AND YOUR KIDS WILL SEE THAT!

Can they learn all this without adoption?

Absolutely.

But for those of is whom the Lord has called to walk this road…..He has given our families an amazing opportunity to show the world about Him. To not only preach the Gospel, but live it out with our very lives. Which is what we are called to do anyway…..we just get the incredible privilege of being mama’s and daddy’s to some pretty amazing kids while we do it.

And special needs? Apparently, kids overlook those as well.

Last week in the tub, Annalyse was helping bathe Asher when she exclaimed, “MAMA!! Asher only has THREE toes on this foot, SEE????!!!!!!!!” #we’vebeenhome10months

ummmm, yes. Yes, he does…..<3

Matthew 5:14

“You are the light of the world—like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden.”

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Emily and Jay have been married for 11 years and have 5 childen–Avery 8, Ally 6, Annalyse 4, Ashley 3, and (finally) our BOY, Asher 2. Ashley and Asher were adopted from China and were both special needs adoptions. Emily spends her days chasing toddlers and waiting in line at carpool. Her favorite place in the world is in her van, all alone with the worship music blaring! She would count it an honor to have you be encouraged at www.ourhimpossiblejourney.blogspot.com.

October 18, 2013October 18, 2013

My Find At Salvation Army

Today, I was heading to the grocery store, but I had a feeling Max wouldn’t do well. We had already been running errands for a little over an hour, so I decided to go to The Salvation Army to see if I could find any treasures. I’m not sure that reasoning makes a lick of sense, but that’s what I did. I was going to do a quick walk-through – maybe I would find a cool piece of furniture or some clothes for Max.

I found something much more amazing.

One of the workers was helping me figure out the price for a play kitchen set. She looked familiar, but I didn’t really think much about it.

I went on my way to hunt some more.

As I was walking up and down the aisles, I heard another worker say the nice lady’s name. It’s a unique, unforgetable name and it’s the name of the first birthmom we met when we were going though our first adoption journey. It clicked and I realized why she looked so familiar.

I made a bee-line for her.

January 2010 An expectant mom wanted to meet us. We found out that she was from the Gary area, but was in a rehab center in our town. She would be having her baby in our very own city. This for sure was the baby God had for us! We met her and the meeting went really well. She had it narrowed down to us and another couple. We were her #1 pick. The counselor said, “Birthmoms almost always go with their first choice. It’s just to make sure that they made the right decision.” She didn’t pick us. That was a humbling experience and we would love to know the reason she went with the other couple, but we know that God had other plans.

I started jabbering at her. Understandably, she was looking at me kind of nervous. I told her my name and then I’m pretty sure I said something ridiculous like, “Did you place a baby for adoption?” Did I just say that out loud?

I told her my name again along with Wes’ name and she said, “Oh yeah!” I then remembered how much she loved Wes. She has good taste.

We just assumed that this uniquely-named, nice lady would move back to the Gary area. I’m so thankful that God allowed our paths to cross again.

We hugged. She told me about her little girl and how she gets pictures every 3 months…and this month is one of those months…and she’s checking her mail every day for those pictures.

She gave me an update about her life and I could tell that she was proud. She has her older children back, she has a job and she has a house and I believe her.

I started to get all teary-eyed as I told her how humbling it was to not be chosen, but that we knew that God had a different plan for our family. I wasn’t teary-eyed because of the not-being-chosen-part but because I was holding in my arms the different plan that God had for us.

God wants me to pray for her. I just know it.

And I can’t wait to go back to The Salvation Army.

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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. Wes and Abby are trusting God as he leads them in their relationship with their sons’ birth families. You can follow their story at Akers of Love.

October 16, 2013May 16, 2022

Of My Own

“If Mommy gets a baby in her belly, will you send me back?” she asked him, with nervous eyes searching the floor, inhaling the shame of those words as if they were her indictment.

It’s often near the surface for this one — not the year she was “chosen” and a mommy and daddy flew all the way across the ocean to look her in the eyes and call her daughter — but the too-many, earlier years that still seem to weigh heavier. These days, she lives buoyant and giddy. Her eyes have found a sparkle and we see them more than we see those hands that spent nearly a year awkwardly covering them. My little girl laughs. A lot. And this week when I hugged her I could tell her body wanted to melt (not stiffen) in my arms.

But just within her reach is the shame she feels about her life on the other side, when her given last name tied her to no one. One phrase or question or hint of her past and I watch those eyes, which just harnessed a sparkle, go dark.

Adoption saved her and it haunts her, because of its open-ended definition to her. It’s still a question.

She, like many of the rest of us, has yet to reconcile the power of this one act.

+++

I hadn’t even kissed their foreheads or tickled their feet and this stranger’s words about them stung.

“Oh, you’re adopting? Just you wait. Once you have them at home I’m sure you’ll be able to have children of your own.”

A phrase I’ve heard a hundred times, and it never ceases to give my heart pause. Children of your own, words that expose a subconscious understanding of adoption as charitable affection versus primal love. As if these, once-adopted ones, were somehow, not truly … mine.

There is a distinction in our language about those children, once adopted, and their biological counterparts that reveals much more about the state of our hearts — the state of my heart — than it does about the children to whom it’s referring.

That simple phrase, often spoken by beautifully-intentioned people**, reveals the shame under which my daughter sometimes lives. But she’s not alone, she just lives an outward existence that represents the battle each one of us fights in our understanding of Him.

It is inherent to human flesh. We are interlopers, or so we think, hanging on to the coattails of another person’s inheritance. Certainly we’re not “one of His own”, we hold deep-down; instead we grasp at something we believe will never really name us. We are simply recipients of His charitable affections, we subconsciously reason.

Our language about physical adoption reveals the gaps in our understanding about how He has adopted us. And those words that sting when I hear them make me hurt more than just for my children, but for the representation of His name.

Most can’t imagine a love beyond what we see in the natural as the most intense form of love — the kind birthed when a mother’s body breaks open to give life to one that shared her flesh and her breath. How could it be that a mother could not only love, but see as her own, a child that her womb did not form and who wears another mama’s skin? We see the struggle of attaching, mother to child and child to mother, that so often happens in adoption, and it only reinforces our subconscious belief that true love between mother and child is only inherited through blood … and not won.

+++

When her eyes fill with the shame of her history and her heart begins to clamp behind them and adoption is still her question — am I truly “in” or just posing – I see me. I see a hundred weak yes’s as just plain weak and all the things I’ve declared with my mouth that my body never fulfilled and the times I poured out prayers to Him only to forget Him, the real source of my strength, hours later.

I see a never-ending list of failures.

I live, subtly, as if I am on the outside of that fence. Just like her.

All things that could be wiped away in an instant if I understood the power of His having adopted me. This reality changes everything.

I am a child of His own, this God-Man who wrapped His holiness around my sin-stained existence and renamed me.

Adopted.

Grafted.

I am one who is marked by His name more than any of my failures.

A child who knows that adoption isn’t really about the past that haunts her, the forever stamp of separate, not included, but instead the name of the King who fought, hard for her — she wears a love that is fierce.

She’s a force with which to be reckoned, this wildly-loved former-orphan.

Me.

+++

So when I hear that phrase “a child of your own” separating the children under my roof from the one my womb will bear, and my heart saddens at the misunderstanding of this wild-love that’s been birthed within my home* among children who wear another mama’s skin, I can’t help but think of Him.

He calls me “His own” when the world and my heart wants to label me forever severed.

Adoption is His great declaration.

*For the mama who has children “of her own” wearing different skin: This love we birthed, when we signed countless papers and spent sleepless nights waiting and fell in love with a picture or a name before we heard a heartbeat, is other but still very much His. To love them fiercely, like blood, requires an unnatural impartation of His love, in and through us. It’s not normal, but it is fully possible. In Him.

If you’re wrestling under the weight of the “not yet” that you feel towards them or the “not yet” that they demonstrate towards you, don’t shrink back. This gap is merely His opportunity to move. Now, more than ever, it’s your time to pray and to ask and to hope for Him to bind your family with a beautiful love that can only point back to His name.

**For those looking for a new term: There is grace to learn, and learn now. If you are like me, you have likely been one who learns what not to say by saying it several times the wrong way . You are in good company.

The term we and many other adoptive families prefer to use to distinguish a child born into a family versus one adopted into a family is “biological child”. We, personally, prefer not to refer to our children as “adopted children” as we see adoption as having been a one-time event. We just call them our children. (And this leaves room for all the other adjectives that define them;)). If we need to distinguish, we’ll say “we have four children who were adopted.” But that’s just our personal preference. No need to stumble over your words around us, we’re all learning — there is grace for you to stumble while you learn!

Photos compliments of Mandie Joy (who is currently fostering a baby, stateside! Pop on over to her blog to catch a glimpse of those baby-toes.)

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Sara is a wife to Nate and a mother of four (and one on the way) 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.

October 11, 2013October 11, 2013

For a Moment, She Was a Baby

For a moment, she was a baby.

Having just climbed out of the bathtub, she was warm in her pink hooded towel. In a sweet, soft voice she whispered “I want you to cuddle me.” Those few words were all it took for me to stop my world of selfish business and look at this sweet sister of mine who was craving physical touch. I wrapped her tightly in that pink towel, picked her up, and placed her on my lap.

She nestled her head close to my body, and I held her like a baby, rocking gently back-and-forth. Her big, blue eyes locked with mine, much like that of an infant, and for a moment, I forgot I was holding a four-year-old.

I kissed her forehead and rubbed her still-soft babylike skin. The usually rambunctious child sat in silence, giving my mind opportunity to wander.

For a moment, she was a baby.

I thought of her first Christmas, one that was spent with a foster family who got to hold and cuddle her. I thought of the months that followed, the homes that followed, the people that bounced in and out of her life. I thought of her first birthday and her first steps. Who were the people cheering her on, encouraging her, advocating for her?

For a moment, she was a baby.

And I missed it.

And sometimes my heart hurts for those precious moments of my little sisters baby-hood that I will never know.

Selfishly, I wish I had been the one feeding her bottles, rocking her to sleep at night, watching her take her first steps, spending her first Christmas with her, and taking pictures of her smashing into her first cake.

I will never know all that went on for the first 34 months of Sunshine’s life, and the first 5 years of Princess’ life. I grieve for that precious time lost with them, but even more, I grieve for them and the many losses they experienced.

I see it on their minds a lot these days. Princess is asking questions and seeking answers. Just yesterday, while walking hand-in-hand with my mom, she asked “so were the boys adopted too?”

“Yes, they were.”

“So they were in somebody else’s tummy?, she pressed.

“Yes” my mom answered, “Kylee was the last baby in my tummy, but that doesn’t make you any less my daughter.”

“I know”, she confidently replied.

As family traditions are pulled out, relatives come in and out for visits, and memories are talked about and laughed over this holiday season, I am continually reminded that for kids from hard places, this is a challenging time of the year. My little sisters hurts and insecurities seem to be spotlighted this time of the year, and as I watch them hurt, my love and respect for them continues to grow deeper.

As Sunshine sat there on my lap, breathing steadily against my chest, I noticed a sense of peacefulness about her, a peacefulness that comes with security and belonging. Those moments, those precious, precious moments from her babyhood, they are gone. But we have moments like these, moments when she initiates cuddling after bath time, in which I see tremendous amounts of growth in her; growth which reminds me that her heavenly Daddy has journeyed with her through every event of her life and has ordained each moment in a beautiful, perfect way.

For a moment, she was a baby.

She got to be a baby in my arms, allowing herself to be soothed by someone who cares and loves for her more than I might ever be able to express to her.

She was a baby, resting safely in the arms of her big sister.

Safe in my arms.

Fastened tightly by His love.

_______________________

Kylee is a college student who is passionately pursuing a degree in Social Work while simultaneously learning what it means to be a big sister to kids from “hard places”. Her parents jumped into the crazy world of foster care just days before her 8th birthday for numerous infants and toddlers over a ten year time span; four of those children became permanent family members through adoption. Kylee loves sharing about foster care and adoption and is passionate about advocating on behalf of vulnerable children on her blog Learning to Abandon.

October 9, 2013October 9, 2013

A Peek from His Vantage Point

Lately God has been inviting me to look at our adoptions from His vantage point–kind of like a bird’s eye view/big picture perspective. I want to share this with you because I have found this perspective to be so refreshing and helpful. It has lifted and empowered me to love my children better. How kind of our Father to take my hand and say, “Come up here for a moment, Beth. I have something I want to show you…..” The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail. Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins and will raise up the age-old foundations; you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls, Restorer of Streets to Dwell In. (Isaiah 58:11-12 AMP) God’s clear intent expressed throughout scripture is to restore who we are meant to be. We are talking full recovery. His holy intent is to wholly restore!

For many of our children there are generations of “ancient ruins” and “age-old foundations” that God wants to rebuild, and many whose inheritance apart from adoption is not one of wholeness and abundant life.

How amazing is it that we can be a part of the giving and receiving of a new inheritance, of a complete legacy shift, so that future generations no longer inherit abandonment, rejection, alcoholism, abuse, neglect, or other manifestations of a broken world. To see our children embrace love and then have the freedom to give love, to see them learn to enjoy life and to make plans for their future, rather than only decisions for survival that day–this is just incredible! Oh what a shift adoption is making in the trajectory of a generational line! Is this not amazing to be a part of?! It is the gospel at work in our families, and it is powerful and oh so good!!

Our God thinks and moves generationally, not merely circumstantially. He is in the circumstance, in the moment, absolutely! I’m sure you are like me and know Him to be “an ever-present help in time of need.” (Psalm 46:1) But from this birds’ eye perspective, we see that God is up to some amazing things with our adoptions or fostering that go way beyond the circumstance of the moment.

So, what you are fighting for right now–reams of paper work in order to bring your child home, government regulations and international laws, meltdowns or rages, attachment or trauma issues–may have more to do with the seeds in your child that will bear fruit in future generations than it has to do with the circumstance you are in right now.

The adoptions of our children, Kristina, Pasha, Andrei, and Sergei, were not just about Kristina, Pasha, Andrei, and Sergei. God is showing me that our adoptions were also about their children, and their children’s children for generations to come.

The truth is that when Stephen and I were first called to adopt we didn’t see the grand vista that Father God was seeing of the generations to come. We saw our children, and that was grand enough for us! That God would rescue our children from their relinquished state was overwhelming in itself, and still has the power to bring me to my knees. Such a thing is too lofty for me to attain, as the psalmist says in Psalm 139.

Our intent was to adopt children; God’s intent was to change the lives of generations of children to come.

And you know what we have found to be even more exciting?! These legacy shifts are not limited to our adopted and foster children. Adoption changes us and our birth children too. Listen to what our daughter Rachel wrote on our Hope at Home blog: I could write a book on this experience, on adoption and how it has affected my life, and my family’s life, but what I really want to emphasize is that adoption has not only dramatically changed me, but has come to define my life and my view of the world around me. As many of you surely know, melding individuals who previously knew nothing of each other into the most intimate of relationships–a family–is a weighty venture that has the potential to redeem and restore broken lives, for both those who are adopted and the family into which they are adopted. Our adoptions have changed and shaped my life completely. When I meet new people I talk about adoption; when I wrote my college application essays I wrote about adoption; when I picked my major I thought about adoption; when I show friends family photos I talk about adoption. I say all this to show that adoption doesn’t just change those who are brought into your family – it changes you to the core. It expands you, challenges you, and fills you up until it overflows into every area of your life.One thing I know for certain is that God’s love is infinite, his heart is universal, and his vision is endless. God bridged the gap between each of my family members, connecting us with threads of supernatural love that cannot be broken and that pulled and shaped us into a wholly unconventional and wholly beautiful family. Yes it’s hard, and there were bumps and bruises on all sides, from having to share my friends with Kristina to getting used to having smelly, loud boys in the house (who were also handsome and wonderful of course). And yes my family doesn’t look like many peoples’. But thank God that he is strong enough to heal the broken parts in all of us, and to not be constricted by terms like “normal families”. I love my family, and I love God for bringing it together in such a powerful and beautiful way.

To be honest, it’s not like I wake up every morning and contemplate the grandness of God’s purposes for future generations! I wake up thinking about my needs, my children’s needs, grocery lists, school meetings and car pools. It doesn’t come naturally for me to think in terms of living for something bigger than myself, but it does come supernaturally!

So as you and I are living out our days, parenting our children in the circumstance of the now, let us remember that every prayer that we pray for our child, every word of life that we speak into and over him or her, every breakthrough in attachment, every sacrifice of love, every dinner time conversation–it all is an inheritance we are leaving for the next generation.

Adoption is having a ripple effect into eternity, friends! This is a work of love that is often costly, but when I see from God’s perspective the beautiful work of enduring love that He has invited me to co-labor in, I am humbled and honestly overwhelmed to be a part of something so grand in it’s scope. When I see how He is restoring me and my whole family, when I see that He has invited me to participate in the breaking of generational bondages, the canceling of curses, the building streets to dwell in, the rebuilding of ancient ruins, and the restoring of stolen heritages that will affect future generations, I am excited once again to love my children in and through every stage of their lives.

Father, thank you for this invitation to co-labor with you in Your amazing work of restoring and enduring love. I am not up to the task, but oh how exciting to be able to be a part of such a beautiful thing with the One who is the Great Adopter and Restorer, the One who is able. Lord, I yield myself once again to Your plan for my family and I thank you for your great love that extends into the generations to come. Would You cause the inheritance that I leave to be one of eternal significance and a blessing to my children’ children’s children? Thank You and Amen.

______________________________________

: Beth Templeton

Beth has been married to her husband Stephen for 27 years. They have seven children, ages 18-24. Several years after giving birth to three girls God called their family to the adventure and blessing of adoption. In 2000 they brought home a brother and sister, ages 5 and 10, from Russia. Then they returned to the same orphanage 18 months later and brought home two more brothers, ages 7 and 10. Beth’s heart has been deeply and forever changed as she has watched the love of Father God poured out on her whole family through adoption. She leads Hope at Home, a ministry dedicated to help adoptive and foster parents encounter the Father’s heart for their families, partnering with God to transform orphans into sons and daughters. For more parenting insight and encouragement in the Lord, go to hopeathome.org.

September 6, 2013September 6, 2013

A Letter to My Daughter’s Birth Parents

Dear Amanda and Conner,

I have no idea if you’ll ever read these words, but I have to write them.
I have to hope that, even if you never stumble across this blog or
open the card that we sent on your court day, you somehow know the way that
we feel about you.

I remember getting the call that you were at the hospital, Amanda. It
was June 28th- the day that we would meet our girl. I had
simultaneously anticipated and dreaded this day since May 16th, when I
first heard your voice on the phone. Although I was grateful to be
allowed in the delivery room when Piper was born, I was also unsure of
myself. Would I say something stupid? Would I pass out since
I’d never seen a live birth before? Would I be able to convey my
excitement about bringing home Baby Girl without rubbing salt in your
wounds? At least our case worker would be there to help us know
how to navigate this situation that most people never face…

Except that when Andrew and I arrived at the hospital, you only wanted the
two of us back there with you. Panic. I was honored that
you and Conner trusted and loved us enough to let us experience something
so special, but up to this point, we had depended on Bonni to help us know
what to say to you and how to act. Andrew put his arm around my
shoulders, and I quickly prayed for the kind of strength and wisdom that
could never come from me. Please don’t act like an idiot, please
don’t act like an idiot.

When we walked in the room, my fears were gone, and I immediately felt at
home. “Hey guys!” you grinned. Even in labor, you looked
beautiful and seemed calm.

In a few minutes, the nurse came in to see how far you were dilated.
She looked at Andrew and me, hinting with her eyes that we should
step out. We took the clue and started to leave the room when you,
Conner, looked at her and said, “No, it’s okay. They’re
family.” I wonder if you know how much those words meant.

Time seemed to stand still as we spent the next hour or so talking with
both of you and trying to wrap our minds around this huge thing that was
about to take place. Though we had met you before, those moments in
the delivery room were especially precious to me as we actually got to know
the parents of our little girl. In the moments away from the agency,
the paperwork, and the caseworkers, you became my friends and not just the
couple who had chosen our profile book. Conner, I learned that you,
like my husband, hate making decisions about restaurants. Amanda, I
learned that you and I are both somewhat obsessive about using the Weather
Channel app on our phones. It was the little things in that
hour-long conversation that made you both seem more real and made me love
you more.

When the nurse came back later, it was “go time.” Andrew and I stood
awkwardly at your head and stroked your hair as we tried to think of
something to offer other than, “You’re doing great!” Conner, you were
a natural. You knew exactly what to say and do to help your girl.
And Amanda, wow. You made labor and delivery look like a walk
in the park. I honestly expected so much anger and frustration, but
all I saw in that situation was love. I wish there was
a way for you to have stood back and watched the scene like we did.
Your relationship with each other is inspiring, and your affection
for a baby who you bore for someone else is, frankly, earth-shattering.
Those words that Conner whispered as you pushed, “Come on, Amanda,
this is the last thing we can do for her,” melted my heart in more ways
than you’ll ever realize.

Just 30 minutes after you started pushing, Piper was here. I cried
the happiest tears of my life as I took in her thick hair, her chubby
cheeks, and her perfect little body. Then I watched as the two of you
held her, and my heart broke. This was the reason why I had
been so afraid of our time together in the hospital. You clearly
loved her as much as I did, yet you knew that she wasn’t yours to keep.
You said that we deserved her, and I knew that wasn’t true.

The nurses came in and out to check on Piper as the four of us bounced back
and forth in our conversation between the trivial and the significant.
Andrew and I left for about an hour to pick up some food and to give
you two time alone with Piper. We got back to the room and ate dinner
together, and I found myself wishing (though I knew the impossibility of my
idea) that there was a way for the five of us to be the little family who
lived happily ever after.

The hospital prepared a room around the corner for Andrew, Piper, and me,
and we slowly collected our belongings to spend our first night as a family
of three. Before I went to bed, I walked down the hall to refill my
water bottle. Your door was open, and I stopped. Conner, you
were headed out briefly to get some fresh air, so I sat down in a chair
next to the bed for some “girl time.” Amanda, as I listened to you
share your hopes and dreams, as you talked about your friends, and as you
revealed your plans for college in the fall, I felt connected to you in a
way that few people will probably ever be able to grasp. Though we
didn’t always talk over the past nine months, we were in each other’s
hearts as we shared this journey. We have a unique bond: I wanted so
badly to be in your place (to be pregnant), and you wanted to be in mine
(“established” enough to raise a baby). There is no way to explain
those feelings to anyone else, but I think you know.

The night passed uneventfully, and I began to think about how the two of
you would be going home to a new “normal” in just a few hours. I
started dreading those last moments in the hospital. Finally, around
2:30, both of you came down the hall. This was it. Andrew and I
stepped out of the room to give you the space that you needed with Piper.
We held each other tightly and prayed for the words to say as we waited for
you to come out. About five minutes later, the two of you entered the
hall with Piper, and all the tears that I had been holding back came
flooding out as I looked at your faces. I never guessed
that goodbye would be so hard. Amanda, I’ve thought that you
are unbelievably strong throughout this entire journey, so seeing you
dissolved by emotion was almost unbearable. It would have been wildly
inappropriate to take pictures in the moments that followed, but the scene
will forever be captured in my mind as you handed Piper to me for the last
time and as you, Conner, hugged my husband like there was no tomorrow.
In those moments, every word I had rehearsed was gone. Each of
us knew that there was nothing to be said which could possibly convey the
feelings we had. In shaky voices and through blinding tears, we all
said how much we love each other. Amanda, you asked me to “take good
care of her,” and I promised that I would. Then the two of you walked
around the corner and back to your lives. I still cannot fathom
how a day can be so joyful and so gut-wrenching at the same time.

Andrew and I walked downstairs to the hospital’s chapel, where I buried my
head in his lap, and we both sobbed. I have never seen my husband cry
like that before. I had thought that I would be filled with guilt
when you two went home without a baby, but really I was just overcome with
sadness like I haven’t ever known. I was sad for you because of the
difficulty of your decision, and I was sad for us because I felt like we
had just lost two people who, in a matter of days, had come to mean
everything to our family. “Be still and know that I am God,”
the walls of the chapel read, and this is ironically the verse tattooed on
the wall of our bedroom at home. Both of us found it difficult to “be
still,” because our hearts were so heavy for you. We prayed over and
over for God to give you peace, and I still pray every day that you’ve
found it.

As I got ready the next morning, I burst into tears all over again, and I
wondered how many days would pass before I woke up without crying for you.
In the weeks since we have been home with Piper, time has slowly
eased the hurt, but I don’t think of you any less. I have never once
doubted that you would change your minds about the decision you made, but I
have felt an unexplainable stillness in knowing that if you did, I would be
okay because as much as I care about Piper, I care about the two of you
equally.

Every night before bed, we tell Piper how many people love her, and the two
of you are always at the top of the list because you will always be her
parents, too. I can’t wait until she is old enough to ask
questions about the picture of the four of us on the wall in her room,
until she wonders how she got her beautiful black hair, and until she makes
the connection that her middle name is the same as her birth mother’s.
I can’t wait for that day because then I get to tell her, once again,
the story of two people named Amanda and Conner who loved her so much that
they made the greatest sacrifice two people could ever make.

People say that you can’t understand true love until you have a baby.
Although I don’t fully agree with that statement, I do believe that
I’ve experienced a fuller and deeper kind of love because I met you.
In your words, Conner, this situation was just “meant to
be.” Through our whole adoption journey, I have been the
most worried about our relationship with our child’s birth parents, and
that has actually come to be the most beautiful part of it all.

You named our sweet girl Grace when she was with you for nine months, and
grace has absolutely been the theme of our song. “Thank you” seems so
inadequate for expressing the gratitude we daily feel for your selfless
gift- Piper. Somehow I hope you know just how much you mean to us,
not just for giving us a daughter who we could never have on our own, but
because of the truly strong and special people that you are. I love
you and respect you both, and because of you, my heart is full for the
first time in years.

Love,

Mary Rachel

_______________________________________________________

Mary Rachel Fenrick

Mary Rachel Fenrick recently became a mom when she and her husband adopted their daughter from an agency in Oklahoma City. God used infertility to not only teach them more about himself, but to bring them a perfect baby and two wonderful birth parents. You can read more about her journey on her blog, the Fenricks.

August 7, 2013August 7, 2013

{Hitting Repeat} Lots of you asked for it, so here you go.

Ok….like 5 people asked for it.
But since I am a stay at home mom and interact with exactly no one most days during the day
5 people is like a lot.

So here you go
my thoughts on older child adoption.

The question of how we “do” older child adoption
how the intricacies of that play out in our home
how their adjustment is
quite honestly sets me back a bit.
When asked about “Older child adoption” I have to wait for that “older child/hard to place” label that used to define them rise up from the recesses of my brain and come back into my frontal lobe….errr…cerebral cortex?…..I dunno….so that I can remember
because I truly don’t look at them as “older children”.

They just fit.
They fit perfectly into our family.

I don’t know that it is harder.
I don’t know that it is easier than adopting younger kids & cute squishy lil babies.

It’s just
well
different.

In the beginning in China it was fabulous.
They were old enough to somewhat have a grasp on what was happening.
All 3 came right to us.

(other than Joshua apparently thinking he was going to live in Italy….sorry buddy)

There were
No tantrums.
No tears.
Just pure
adrenaline induced
excitement.
For them
for us
we were one big group of really, really excited people.

Yet, ironically, if anything illustrates the udder brokenness of these orphans
it is that moment
because really,

children should not be that excited to be handed to
and walk off
with perfect strangers.

But they somehow know.

They know that what is to come

love
life
hope
a future
food
a bed
warmth

simply must be better than what they have now.
Because when I try to picture my biological children being handed over to strangers at the age of 7
and the definite opposite reaction that they would have
it illustrates just how big a void these kids sitting in those orphanages have.

There is nothing like a family.

There is
no
thing
like a family.

Practically, older kids just aren’t as needy in the physical sense and since we were far beyond diapers and nap times this worked well for us.
They could walk, go to the bathroom, understand that it was time for bed, shower, dinner.
(Man I am SO good at charades now. If anyone ever wants to play, let me know. I’ll kick your butt.)

This I knew was a key to our families successful transition.
These kids were in the same phase of life that we were already in so the adjustment on our part was minimal. (Not to trivialize adoption itself but in this specific context(as it pertains to age) it was a minimal impact.)
I think had we chosen to go back down baby lane it would have been much more difficult (for us).
We just weren’t there.
Our hearts weren’t there.
Our sports filled evenings and weekends weren’t there.
Our older kids weren’t there.

I knew how to do 7 year’s old.
Our youngest 5 are all within a 21 month block of time.
The twins are 6 minutes apart.
Push em out, push em out, waaaaaayyy out!
Sorry, that was a throwback to my brief cheer-leading days in high school.
But I digress…

Jacob is 14 months younger than the twins.
Joshua is 3 months younger than Jacob.
Joey is 4 months younger than Joshua.
If we could do anything,
we could do the 6-8 year old age range.
I knew what their maturity level was, what would appeal to them, how to speak to them.
We were there.

Granted, some of it may have been lost in translation but I think the message is this…
Kids are kids.
Red, yellow, black and white they, at their core, are kids.

Obviously

Experiences will color that,
Trauma will cover that,
Abandonment will change that,
Institutionalization will harm that

but somehow I could see right through all of that muck and mire
and I could see that underneath it all
there was a little boys heart.
I didn’t know how long it would take to unearth.
I didn’t know the hardships would come along
I didn’t know how much pain was in the process
but the heart
the heart is there
it’s just waiting.

It’s the uncovering of all of the “stuff” that comes along with adopting older kids that is where the challenge can rise up
and
smack
you
in
the
face.

So though I don’t change diapers
or warm bottles
or wake up for 3am feedings
and I don’t hurry home for nap time
I fight a battle that is larger than myself.
A battle that will consume them
if it weren’t for love.

So yes.
It’s hard.
I do sleep all night
They do go to school all day
but I have to be ever mindful that though their neediness doesn’t lie in the physical sense
there are still 3 little hearts under my roof that are still in a state of mending.
Because not only do I have my own parenting wisdom, tips, techniques and training to impart on them,
I am simultaneously un-parenting all of the bad habits, harsh words, and lack of love that they endured when I wasn’t there.

Have you ever tried un-parenting and parenting at the same time?
It’s ummmm……fun?
Nope.
Pretty sure that’s not the word I am looking for.

It’s not just “Hey buddy, this is how we do this.”
It’s “Hey buddy, I know that was how things were done before and I’m sorry that happened, ~ hug ~ hug~ but here’s why that’s not ok. Now let me show you what we do. ~ teach. train. model. ~ hug ~
Then it’s “Good job! I knew you could do it!” ~ hug~
All whilst speaking Chinglish and having about 50% of what you are telling them get lost in translation.

Repeat.
8,000 times a day.

They will be 14 years old before we ever even break even.
They will be 14 before their time in our family becomes longer than their days spent in an orphanage.

This is a marathon.

I am not who I used to be.
My patience is bigger
My heart is heavier
My joy is tempered.
Just like a normal marathon
it’s exhausting.

It takes an inordinate amount of energy
of patience
of love
of patience
of patience
of teaching
of training
of patience
of love
to bring these kids out of the darkness.

And if I’m being honest….

it.
empties.
me.

And if I’m being more honester. (yep I know, not a word)
it’s the reason I haven’t been blogging.
It takes SO much to be continually pouring love, encouragement, discipline, and training into these kids that I often find myself

empty.

And most days
when the sun has set
when 7 sleepy heads are happily snoring on their pillows

I have nothing left to give.

Are we happy?
Yep.
Would we do it again?
No doubt, yes.
Is it the hardest thing I have ever done?

A
b
s
l
u
t
e
l
y

Are there moments when I think to myself,
“Am I being punked?”
7 boys? Seriously?
Totally.

I vastly underestimated the amount of life training that they would need at their age.
Things like

A stove is hot.
You knock on the door before you walk into people’s houses, you can’t just walk in.
Seatbelts.
Walk on the sidewalk, not in the street.
Kindly do not remove the food from your plate that you don’t care for and place a big blob of it directly on the table.
Don’t walk down the hallway from your room to the bathroom stark neked. You’re 8.

Small things of course.
But when each and every moment,
each and every action
each and every transition
requires explanation it takes awhile to get the hang of that.
Rather…
it took me awhile to get the hang of that.

But last I checked my goal isn’t to take up residence on Easy Street,
I think that is a crowded, overpopulated neighborhood.

go.
serve
love.
be more like HIM
It’s what I want to do.
It’s where I want to live.

So is older child adoption really more difficult?
I don’t know.
It’s just
different.

________________________________________

Sonia and her husband John are an Air Force family with 7 boys. She stays at home part time and spends the other part of her time shopping at Stuff-Mart buying large quantities of food to feed said boys. Sonia’s hobbies include cooking, cooking, cooking more, cleaning, cooking, and cleaning bathrooms. They are navigating their way through life attempting to glorify God in all that they do — follow the journey here.

August 2, 2013

{Hitting Repeat} Tension

We’re experiencing the tension of being foster parents.

Our foster baby’s mom has come into the picture for the first time since he was born. He’ll start to have regular visits with her next week.

There is much tension in my heart as I want the woman who birthed him to know how much we love him and how we have done everything we can to protect and nurture him.

And, I want her to know that SHE is loved, because I know this life hasn’t been easy for her. She’s where she is in life because of some things that aren’t her fault.

And, I want her to know I’m not the enemy. That I want the best for him. Whatever and wherever that may be.

I want redemption for her: restoration for her body, her spirit, and her life.

But, I love this sweet baby boy who currently lives in our home. As all this has played out this past week, I’ve wanted to grab him and hold him and not let go.

And, I want to make her earn the right to see him because she’s left him for the last three months.

I want to grab her face in my hands and say, “Don’t you know what you’ve missed? Was it worth it?”

But, I realize that she has given me a gift for the past three months. And her gift is the result of a life that has been littered with heartache and devastation.

And there is the tension.

We need loads and loads of prayer as we navigate these new waters.

________________________________________

Leslie and her husband Brian are passionate about caring for the orphan and have helped start ONEfamily, an adoption, foster care, and orphan care ministry in their church. In thirteen months, they went from a family of three {Husband, Wife and dog} to a family of 7 {Husband, Wife, 3 boys and 2 dogs} by becoming legal guardians, foster parents and adoptive parents. You can read more about their adventures here.

Blog

Category: Family Stories

What Makes A Mom

My Fairly Uneducated, Slightly Inexperienced Advice on Older Child Adoption in a Nutshell

Siblings

My Find At Salvation Army

Of My Own

For a Moment, She Was a Baby

A Peek from His Vantage Point

A Letter to My Daughter’s Birth Parents

{Hitting Repeat} Lots of you asked for it, so here you go.

empty.

{Hitting Repeat} Tension