Stepping Out in Faith

Every parent has heard these whiny words: But I don’t want to.

The phrase usually flies out of my kids’ mouths when I’m asking them to do things like eat their vegetables, take a bath, or brush their teeth. I don’t ask them to do these things because I take great pleasure is seeing them uncomfortable, but rather because I love them and want them to be healthy.

The last time my four year old whined how much he didn’t want to eat his green beans, he added that mommies never have to do anything they don’t want to do. I tried not to laugh and reminded him about all the loads of laundry I wash, the dishes I scrub, and the toilets I clean. But I also couldn’t help but wonder how many times I’ve told God I didn’t want to do something because it took me too far out of my comfort zone.

I’ll be the first to admit it: I like to be comfortable. I don’t really like unexpected changes or challenges. When we traveled to China to adopt our daughter in August of 2009, I knew I was taking the biggest leap of faith in my life. While I was prepared for our princess to have cleft lip and palate and a repaired congenital heart disease, I was not ready for my new two year old daughter to be so delayed that she was more like a three month old baby.

While I loved the Princess from the minute I saw her picture, and the love grew even more when I held her for the first time, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t completely devastated to learn that she didn’t know how to walk, how to play with toys, or even how to turn the page of a book. As I watched other parents receive their children, I couldn’t help but notice that their kids could all walk, would smile, and laugh. I found myself asking God why me? Why was my beautiful daughter completely shutdown? Why didn’t she look at us? Why couldn’t she walk? Why did she only weigh 15 pounds?

As I wallowed in my own self-pity, my husband told me something that I already knew: God doesn’t give you more than you can handle. Let him work. Give him control. Then he gently reminded me that we prayed for God to lead us to our daughter. It was no mistake that we were her parents. So we took our daughter home and settled into our new, sometimes uncomfortable, normal as a family of five.

Five years later, and many, many developmental therapy and speech seasons later, Princess is catching up to her peers. She is smart, spunky, and full of energy. It hasn’t always been easy, but stepping out of my comfort zone has allowed me to experience a new joy. I’m no longer going through the motions of my faith, but I get to experience and see God in a deep and profound way.

I don’t want to think about what I would have missed if I had simply said, “ I don’t want to do this. Adoption is too hard.”

Are you listening to God? Is he asking you to do something? What would happen if you simply trusted him and stepped out in faith?

{I wrote this post for  www.thinkchristian.net. And it appeared there first.}

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. 

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. 

Parenting a Traumatized Child {Why There is Hope}

{Definition of Trauma} a disorder psychic or behavioral state resulting from mental or emotional stress or physical injury

Like head banging, lying, stealing, tantrums, guilt, shame, anxiety, fear, withdraw, hyper-activity.

Which have been brought about by abandonment, abuse, neglect, traumatic medical experience.

Many adopted children have experienced more trauma in their short little lives than most people ever do.

And as parents, we often feel lost and alone as our child, the one we prayed for and hoped for, bangs his head on the floor.

Or lies.

Or asks if we love them.

Or if we'll leave them, too.

But, but, but...

{Definition of Hope} to expect with confidence

It's not an easy road.

And it's work.

Dirty, in the trenches, cry yourself to sleep, wonder if it will ever get better work.

But our kids--the ones we love more than we could ever possibly image--are loved even more by their Heavenly Father. And his promise of hope is this:

{Jeremiah 29:11-13} For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

Stick around, I'm doing a series on parenting a traumatized child. If you are deep in the trenches, I promise you there is hope.

Not the "A" Word Again

I want to be totally upfront: I love talking about adoption. I love following people on their adoption journey. I love, love, love watching all the miracles that happen in adoption. If you ask, God always shows up. Always. Read a few blogs (check out my favorites on the side) and you'll see some pretty awesome miracles. I also love the support of the adoption community.

Now with that said, when we were in Florida on Spring Break, Princess got a lot of attention. I wondered if people are curious about her because she's Chinese or because she has a cleft lip. Her grandpa says it's because she's so darn cute.

My kids love to swim, so we went to the pool every day. On our first day, an older woman jumped out of her chair and started talking about adoption. She had adopted several children and now was the proud grandma to several adopted kiddos. She had an amazing story, and honestly, I did enjoy hearing about it.

The next day, we went back to the pool, and she jumped out of her chair again and handed me something she'd printed out about parenting adopted kids. She went on to explain that she wanted to encourage me.

Her intentions were good.

Then the third day, she told me about a book she had worked on and wanted to send me. Again to encourage me about adoption. This is all fine and I really don't want to sound ungrateful.

But, and this is a big but, Princess is three years old. She is standing right there, and this well meaning lady keeps trying to encourage me about adoption. As if Princess is harder to parent than my two boys.

And to be fair, in many ways Princess is a little more challenging to parent. And I do look to other adoptive parents for guidance, especially well-seasoned parents. But these are not things I want my daughter to hear strangers talk about at the pool.

I am not naive enough to think that her adoption will not have real, significant effects on her life. I get that. What I don't want to have happen is for adoption to be the only thing that defines her.

There is so, so, so much more to her.

By the fourth day, I avoided the pool lady.

I love adoption talk. But the pool lady taught me something. I want my girl to have the chance to swim at the pool without the "A" word coming up. And it's my job, as her mother, to protect her from those uncomfortable conversations and prying questions.

Oh, and I never got the book the pool lady promised she'd send me. But I do have a lot of pictures of my girl in the pool. I guess, in the end, she did end up just being one of the gang having fun splashing around.