Thirteen years ago, my husband and I had a very clear picture of what our family would looks like.
Two kids. Girls, of course, because they are easier. Neater. Calmer. They would be exactly two years apart, and exceptionally well-behaved.
It's almost laughable now that I look at my life.
I have two rowdy, crazy, always-into-dirt/bugs/mud/any sport boys. Think pet praying mantis, lizards, and cicadas. And one wild, ready to breakdown at any moment, girly girl. Think tantrum in a tutu and tiara.
They are a perfect mess. There is nothing neat or calm at my house.
Princess is working through trauma and as parents we are stepping into new territory that we never imagined. We are committed to walking through this with her--because she is worth it--because our family is worth it.
But I'd be lying if there weren't days where I wished my family didn't have to face the mess of trauma. Where I wished all three of my kids knew love since their first breath. There are those days when I don't think I have a single more ounce of love or patience to give. How I'm not sure I can meet anyone's needs--especially Princess' the next day.
And, you know what, I get up the next morning and fumble through it all over again. God drops little gifts every once in a while: Grandparents who understand Princess and sit with her, love her, and are patient with her. Or a friend who unexpectedly calls and invites Princess over and gives me an all day break. These things come at the most unexpected and needy times.
Then there's the church service where we are reminded that we are called to live messy lives.
Jesus didn't walk the face of this Earth with perfect, all-together people. He sought out the messiest, trauma-ridden people. He didn't sit in a beautiful house, with his perfect family, and watch the world go by. No he got in the mess--fully emerged himself in it--in fact he sought it out.
We were created to roll up our sleeves and get muddy. We were created for mess. And if we view our parenting as a holy calling--a calling like no other--then it only makes sense that we are equipped to survive and thrive in the mess of parenting.
Hardly ever do I feel like I'm thriving. But I get holy glimpses of it--like when all three of my kids play together; laughing, talking, working together. Or a little girl who asks for her daddy when she so often rejects him. Or my middle guy, who is only 7, asking to send his toys to orphans because they have nothing and he has everything he needs.
They are fleeting, perfect glimpses of the hard, messy work of parenting.
Showing posts with label adopted and bio siblings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adopted and bio siblings. Show all posts
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
60 Things I Wish Strangers Knew about Adoption
1. Yes, she is my daughter.
2. Luck had nothing to do with her adoption.
3. How much did she cost? Nothing. You can't buy a baby.
4. But if you want to know how much adoption costs--google it.
5. If you want to know how to finance an adoption, I'll talk to you.
6. No, I do not know her biological history.
7. Yes, we knew she had special needs when we chose her.
8. No, we were not paid to adopt her.
9. Yes, I do realize there are a ton of kids right here in the United States that need homes...there's also kids in Russia, Ukraine, Ethiopia, and a host of other countries. When will you be adopting or becoming a foster parent?
10. When she runs up and hugs you, she is not just a really cute, affectionate child. She has an attachment disorder, please don't hug her.
11. Your bio kid may be able to throw a world-class tantrum, but my daughter has one for totally different reasons--mostly because she is scared we will leave her--so please, please don't compare the two.
12. No, we are not infertile.
13. No, we did not adopt just to get that cute little girl we can dress in tutu's.
14. Yes, it is hard. Sometimes very, very hard. Especially the attachment stuff.
15. Yes, we have help. Professional help.
16. Yes, it costs a lot of money.
17. To see her grow and blossom makes it totally worth it.
18. She may want to go back to her birth country one day.
19. I want to go with her.
20. We will play for her college.
21. She is our daughter!
22. I know her nose is crooked.
23. That is part of her cleft.
24. And, yes, it will be repaired when she is done growing.
25. Of course, she knows she has cleft. We have mirrors.
26. She can hear you when you ask. And you're embarrassing yourself.
27. She is under our insurance--because she's our daughter!
28. No, I do not wish I'd given birth to her.
29. She is fearfully and wonderfully made.
30. I wouldn't change a thing about her.
31. That goes for her cleft, too.
32. I'd agree that a lot of kids would thrive with their birth families even if that means being raised by grandma and grandpa or an aunt and uncle.
33. Unfortunately because of government policies and poverty, a lot of people don't have that choice. So they are forced to make choices most of us can't even imagine.
34. Even so, I believe this is Plan A for her life.
35. I also believe adoption is redemption in a fallen world.
36. Yes, she calls me Mommy.
37. No, it wasn't hard.
38. No, it wasn't love at first sight.
39. But I didn't fall madly in love with the two babies I birthed either.
40. Yes, it was scary to board a flight to China to meet my new daughter.
41. But so was going to the hospital to give birth.
42. Yes, I think about her birthmother.
43. I wish we knew who she was.
44. I wish we could tell her that the little girl she gave the gift of life to is loved, adored, and thriving.
45. She calls our parents grandma and grandpa--just like the other grandchildren. You know, because she's our daughter and part of the family.
46. No, she does not speak Chinese.
47. Maybe someday she will take a class and learn it. But language is not biologically ingrained.
48. I don't know if she has biological siblings.
49. You're right she doesn't look a thing like her two older brothers.
50. Just because we adopted does not make us saints.
51. I did not have to beg my husband to adopt. He was always on board.
52. From the first piece of paper to holding her in our arms, the entire process took 18 months.
53. I would do it again in a heartbeat.
54. For her.
55. Do my kids have different dads? Well, yes, as a matter of fact they do.
56. But they have the same daddy.
57. Yes, she does rule the roost.
58. Probably because she's the only girl.
59. Yes, she wears her tiara everywhere.
60. She is a real princess.
2. Luck had nothing to do with her adoption.
3. How much did she cost? Nothing. You can't buy a baby.
4. But if you want to know how much adoption costs--google it.
5. If you want to know how to finance an adoption, I'll talk to you.
6. No, I do not know her biological history.
7. Yes, we knew she had special needs when we chose her.
8. No, we were not paid to adopt her.
9. Yes, I do realize there are a ton of kids right here in the United States that need homes...there's also kids in Russia, Ukraine, Ethiopia, and a host of other countries. When will you be adopting or becoming a foster parent?
10. When she runs up and hugs you, she is not just a really cute, affectionate child. She has an attachment disorder, please don't hug her.
11. Your bio kid may be able to throw a world-class tantrum, but my daughter has one for totally different reasons--mostly because she is scared we will leave her--so please, please don't compare the two.
12. No, we are not infertile.
13. No, we did not adopt just to get that cute little girl we can dress in tutu's.
14. Yes, it is hard. Sometimes very, very hard. Especially the attachment stuff.
15. Yes, we have help. Professional help.
16. Yes, it costs a lot of money.
17. To see her grow and blossom makes it totally worth it.
18. She may want to go back to her birth country one day.
19. I want to go with her.
20. We will play for her college.
21. She is our daughter!
22. I know her nose is crooked.
23. That is part of her cleft.
24. And, yes, it will be repaired when she is done growing.
25. Of course, she knows she has cleft. We have mirrors.
26. She can hear you when you ask. And you're embarrassing yourself.
27. She is under our insurance--because she's our daughter!
28. No, I do not wish I'd given birth to her.
29. She is fearfully and wonderfully made.
30. I wouldn't change a thing about her.
31. That goes for her cleft, too.
32. I'd agree that a lot of kids would thrive with their birth families even if that means being raised by grandma and grandpa or an aunt and uncle.
33. Unfortunately because of government policies and poverty, a lot of people don't have that choice. So they are forced to make choices most of us can't even imagine.
34. Even so, I believe this is Plan A for her life.
35. I also believe adoption is redemption in a fallen world.
36. Yes, she calls me Mommy.
37. No, it wasn't hard.
38. No, it wasn't love at first sight.
39. But I didn't fall madly in love with the two babies I birthed either.
40. Yes, it was scary to board a flight to China to meet my new daughter.
41. But so was going to the hospital to give birth.
42. Yes, I think about her birthmother.
43. I wish we knew who she was.
44. I wish we could tell her that the little girl she gave the gift of life to is loved, adored, and thriving.
45. She calls our parents grandma and grandpa--just like the other grandchildren. You know, because she's our daughter and part of the family.
46. No, she does not speak Chinese.
47. Maybe someday she will take a class and learn it. But language is not biologically ingrained.
48. I don't know if she has biological siblings.
49. You're right she doesn't look a thing like her two older brothers.
50. Just because we adopted does not make us saints.
51. I did not have to beg my husband to adopt. He was always on board.
52. From the first piece of paper to holding her in our arms, the entire process took 18 months.
53. I would do it again in a heartbeat.
54. For her.
55. Do my kids have different dads? Well, yes, as a matter of fact they do.
56. But they have the same daddy.
57. Yes, she does rule the roost.
58. Probably because she's the only girl.
59. Yes, she wears her tiara everywhere.
60. She is a real princess.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Parenting a Traumatized Child {Understanding Her Past}
My first baby was well planned.
I ate well.
Took vitamins.
Even got extra sleep.
And then when he was finally born, I spent hours holding him, singing to him, reading to him, just being with him. He attached within days, maybe even hours.
We'd page the doctor if he so much as sneezed. OK we were nervous, over-protective, slightly crazy, first-time parents.
But my daughter, on the other hand, spent her first two years in an orphanage.
In a crib. Alone.
She was born with Tetrology of Fallot and cleft lip and palate. And no one called the doctor when she was sick. Actually she was very near death. And, still, no doctor was paged.
Her heart wasn't repaired until she was well over two years old.
Her cleft wasn't repaired until she was nearly three.
Simply unheard of for slightly crazed, overprotective parents.
But this is the reality of so many adopted kiddos.
So is it any wonder, that they crave attention. But they don't know how to get it? That they can't attach to their mother and father?
Last week at our Theraplay therapy session, my hubby had an Ah-ha moment. Our therapist said that many adopted kids rely on their cuteness to get attention--to become favorites. They smile and hug anyone. My hubby, remembered looking at files that said certain kids were "nanny favorites" in the orphanage. And the nannies always loved to give them extra attention.
Our daughter was not one of those.
She was just another very sick, actually dying, kid locked away in an orphanage fighting for her life.
I've known all of this since we first got her referral. But there is a difference between knowing and understanding. Because understanding means that I don't get frustrated and stressed when she has her fifth tantrum of the day, for what seems like no reason.
or
When she clings to me in fear, from something I don't understand.
or
When she asks me a hundred times a day if I love her.
or
If she asks me again if I will leave her.
or
If she asks me again if I will leave her.
Instead of frustration and stress, understanding means I have compassion because I know her brain has always been in flight or fight mode. She has fought for her very survival. And there are times, when she's still not sure if we will always be there, always feed her, always love her.
We know that we will never leave her. And that we will love her forever--no matter how she behaves, or what she does, or even how cute she is or tries to act.
But we have to teach her.
And that takes time and work.
And we've only just begun.
But I have faith that she will be emotionally healed. And she will truly let herself experience the love of a family. And one day, she will realize her place here with us is permanent.
Come back again. I'd love to hear how you are dealing with the past trauma in your child's life.
Come back again. I'd love to hear how you are dealing with the past trauma in your child's life.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Battle!
Princess has discovered swords.
These were once banned in my house. As were guns, camouflage, and any other war-like toy. But when my oldest started school he was the only boy in the class without a water gun. So he built them out of paper, Lego's, blocks, and anything else he could get his hands on. So my husband decided that Joshua was getting a water gun and then he wouldn't be so obsessed with them.
He was right.
And over the years our arsenal has grown. We now have enough "weapons" for a party of 20. They are mostly Nerf, and I still insist if it looks real it can't come home with us. The boys battle every night. And Princess has started to join in. She whacks them on the head, it's ever so gently because she is so tiny, and they fall down and play dead.
Tonight this went on for hours. And they giggled and giggled and giggled.
Dare I say they are siblings who like (notice not LOVE) each other. Love and like are two different things. Like means they want to spend time with each other, they want to play with each other, they look forward to seeing each other.
When you bring a child home, in your head and heart they are part of the family. Period. But in reality, at least in my house, it has taken time for the kids to adjust and to see her as one of the gang.
She's getting there. She is slowly becoming one of "them."
She's a princess with two princes for brothers. She proudly showed me her Hello Kitty purse today. Inside was a Nerf bullet, a rubber snake, and a Star Wars Lego guy.
That's my girl!
These were once banned in my house. As were guns, camouflage, and any other war-like toy. But when my oldest started school he was the only boy in the class without a water gun. So he built them out of paper, Lego's, blocks, and anything else he could get his hands on. So my husband decided that Joshua was getting a water gun and then he wouldn't be so obsessed with them.
He was right.
And over the years our arsenal has grown. We now have enough "weapons" for a party of 20. They are mostly Nerf, and I still insist if it looks real it can't come home with us. The boys battle every night. And Princess has started to join in. She whacks them on the head, it's ever so gently because she is so tiny, and they fall down and play dead.
Tonight this went on for hours. And they giggled and giggled and giggled.
Dare I say they are siblings who like (notice not LOVE) each other. Love and like are two different things. Like means they want to spend time with each other, they want to play with each other, they look forward to seeing each other.
When you bring a child home, in your head and heart they are part of the family. Period. But in reality, at least in my house, it has taken time for the kids to adjust and to see her as one of the gang.
She's getting there. She is slowly becoming one of "them."
She's a princess with two princes for brothers. She proudly showed me her Hello Kitty purse today. Inside was a Nerf bullet, a rubber snake, and a Star Wars Lego guy.
That's my girl!
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Boy + Girl = Bonding
It could have been a very bad day.
The toilet backed up.
The dog got sick.
A carton of orange juice spilled all over the counter.
And this was all before 8:00 am.
It could have been a very, very bad day. I needed help and the only person around to help me was my four-year-old.
"I'll help you, Mommy," he agreed. He played (gently) with Princess. He helped carry the rags I used to wipe up the OJ to the laundry room. And he managed to keep the dog out of all the messes. Then we flew out of the house to run our errands. My Middle Guy pushed Princess (gently again, after I reminded him) through the store in her stroller. He helped load bags into the trunk. And he did it all without complaining. He was such a good boy, he got to out to McDonalds for lunch.
At McDonalds he held Princess' hand as I balanced the trays in my arms. He even fed her french fries. Then he was off to play in the tubes. She has refused to even try to say his name. She has been calling him "boy." But when he popped his head out of one of the tubes, Princess looked up, waved, and yelled, "Love you."
Sometimes the best times come out of the worst days.
The toilet backed up.
The dog got sick.
A carton of orange juice spilled all over the counter.
And this was all before 8:00 am.
It could have been a very, very bad day. I needed help and the only person around to help me was my four-year-old.
"I'll help you, Mommy," he agreed. He played (gently) with Princess. He helped carry the rags I used to wipe up the OJ to the laundry room. And he managed to keep the dog out of all the messes. Then we flew out of the house to run our errands. My Middle Guy pushed Princess (gently again, after I reminded him) through the store in her stroller. He helped load bags into the trunk. And he did it all without complaining. He was such a good boy, he got to out to McDonalds for lunch.
At McDonalds he held Princess' hand as I balanced the trays in my arms. He even fed her french fries. Then he was off to play in the tubes. She has refused to even try to say his name. She has been calling him "boy." But when he popped his head out of one of the tubes, Princess looked up, waved, and yelled, "Love you."
Sometimes the best times come out of the worst days.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Mommy Guilt
Within 48 hours, my four-year-old got a new sister, said goodbye to his grandparents who live halfway across the United States, watched his best friend move from the house next door, and waved goodbye as his older brother got on the bus to go to school all day.
My Middle Guy was stuck at home with me. No friends. No grandparents. No brother. Just me and Princess who cried and cried and had to go to countless doctor appointments. He went from being my baby to the middle child. He was dragged to all of the Big Boy's stuff and now all to Princess' appointments.
And I poured on the mommy guilt. It got better when his preschool started, but even after 3 months of being home I still have guilt about him. Just this week, he sat through 4 different appointments. On Wednesdays he has to hurry up and go to school, so I can hurry up and get Princess to speech therapy. Then after school he has to hurry up and come home, so I can hurry up and get Princess to physical therapy.
I haven't figured out how to slow it down. Until he asked to watch Tom and Jerry--with Evie. I don't normally let my kids veg in front of the TV. But they were sitting on the couch as close as close could be and begged. Even Princess said, "E-V," and pointed to the screen.
As it started, my little guy laughed and laughed. And so did Princess. But not at the TV--she was laughing at her big brother, who, for a moment, slowed down with his sister. They are bonding, but it's slow. Maybe there are more Tom and Jerry episodes in our future. And maybe my mommy guilt will one day fade with the laughter.
My Middle Guy was stuck at home with me. No friends. No grandparents. No brother. Just me and Princess who cried and cried and had to go to countless doctor appointments. He went from being my baby to the middle child. He was dragged to all of the Big Boy's stuff and now all to Princess' appointments.
And I poured on the mommy guilt. It got better when his preschool started, but even after 3 months of being home I still have guilt about him. Just this week, he sat through 4 different appointments. On Wednesdays he has to hurry up and go to school, so I can hurry up and get Princess to speech therapy. Then after school he has to hurry up and come home, so I can hurry up and get Princess to physical therapy.
I haven't figured out how to slow it down. Until he asked to watch Tom and Jerry--with Evie. I don't normally let my kids veg in front of the TV. But they were sitting on the couch as close as close could be and begged. Even Princess said, "E-V," and pointed to the screen.
As it started, my little guy laughed and laughed. And so did Princess. But not at the TV--she was laughing at her big brother, who, for a moment, slowed down with his sister. They are bonding, but it's slow. Maybe there are more Tom and Jerry episodes in our future. And maybe my mommy guilt will one day fade with the laughter.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Closed Doors
People ask me all the time if we'll go back to China for another adoption. I try not to laugh. Because it's like asking a mother who has just given birth if she plans on getting pregnant again right away.
But I can't laugh at my sons when they ask. When we first started this process in 2008 my desire for my boys was to first have a little sister. I think a siblings are one of the greatest gifts you can give a child. But I also wanted them to learn about compassion for children in the world who live with much, much less than they do. Even still, I was a little taken aback when my six year old announced that there was still an empty seat in the minivan. The four year old also chimed in that we had an extra chair at the dinner table.
Almost once a week the boys ask if we can go back to China for one more little girl. They remind me that there are many, many more children who just need a mommy and daddy to love them.
We love our girl. And I will be forever grateful for our adoption experience. My family has been blessed beyond measure. But she has special needs. And demands a lot of attention and time. I want to give her that time and attention. I want Evie to grow and develop and catch up with her peers. I absolutely cannot image caring for another baby right now. I know people do it--and do it well--but I doubt that I could juggle it all.
So we told our boys at dinner that our family was complete. We have three beautiful, smart, amazing, (and mostly) healthy kiddos. We are thankful for every one of them.
So for now the door to adoption is closed. But I'd be lying if I didn't admit that there is a faint light filtering in through the crack.
But I can't laugh at my sons when they ask. When we first started this process in 2008 my desire for my boys was to first have a little sister. I think a siblings are one of the greatest gifts you can give a child. But I also wanted them to learn about compassion for children in the world who live with much, much less than they do. Even still, I was a little taken aback when my six year old announced that there was still an empty seat in the minivan. The four year old also chimed in that we had an extra chair at the dinner table.
Almost once a week the boys ask if we can go back to China for one more little girl. They remind me that there are many, many more children who just need a mommy and daddy to love them.
We love our girl. And I will be forever grateful for our adoption experience. My family has been blessed beyond measure. But she has special needs. And demands a lot of attention and time. I want to give her that time and attention. I want Evie to grow and develop and catch up with her peers. I absolutely cannot image caring for another baby right now. I know people do it--and do it well--but I doubt that I could juggle it all.
So we told our boys at dinner that our family was complete. We have three beautiful, smart, amazing, (and mostly) healthy kiddos. We are thankful for every one of them.
So for now the door to adoption is closed. But I'd be lying if I didn't admit that there is a faint light filtering in through the crack.
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