Fear of man, no more

The other night, Peter and I met with a prospective adoption therapist. During our time together, she said something to me that was so very freeing.

She told me that adoptive moms are the most "looked-down-on" kinds of moms. 

How scary! And, yet for me, it was freeing. It was as if I felt the chains falling off of me.

I grew up with a wonderful family in a relatively small community. Most people knew my dad and/or mom, and my last name was familiar. It was not uncommon for me to introduce myself only to be told "your dad took care of my mother when she was ill," or some such thing. I was raised to remember that my actions reflected my family. I believe that was a good thing, especially because as an adult, I recognize the parallel: if I carry the name Christian, my actions reflect the God I serve, albeit imperfectly.

Whether rightly or wrongly, people do get a picture of Christ by what His followers do and say.

But, somewhere along the line, I began to care what others thought, and that's not good. Even though I know what is True, I still struggle with people's perception of me on occasion today.

And, I'm being honest here....

When I know I'm in the right, I can handle when people attack me or try to shame or manipulate me. Generally, in those situations, criticism stings for a moment, but then it rolls off my back.

But, when I am uncertain about a decision or an action, I will be often be concerned with what people say or think. I know this is a trap (Proverbs 29:25), so I resist the temptation, but if I'm honest, it can be a battle.

One of my concerns in going forward with this adoption has been the judgement that I know will come from others. I have been amazed over the past two years with not only how opinionated people have been since I became a mom (is it me, moms? or does everyone seem to have an opinion on how I should raise my kid?), but also at how much liberty even strangers take in asking personal questions about my transracial child.

Just. Wow.

Most of the time, though, I try to take questions as an opportunity to educate on adoption, but sometimes I just want to shake my head and ask 'really?' (Well, honestly, sometimes I want to do more than that...)

Through NO fault of their own, our children have and will have issues that differ from what children raised by biological parents face. Some of these are visible now, and some we may uncover later. Much of our parenting is the same, and much of it is different. We still deal with toddler tantrums and little girl drama, boo-boos and bedtime charades.

But, when my little ones don't want to be left in a nursery or in Sunday School, it is not because they are experiencing age-appropriate anxiety; it is because they are not sure that I will ever come back. It is because that has been their experience.

When my ten-year-old someday throws a temper tantrum in the middle of the mall, it is not because we don't set appropriate boundaries at home or because she is spoiled; it is because her body may be ten-years-old, but her emotions are still three-years-old. Or, when my six-year-old is afraid to go over a friend's house for the afternoon, it is not because he is sheltered; it is because he has seen too much.

Children who have experienced trauma (and that's just about every child in foster care) are stuck in a fight or flight pattern. You and I have that adrenaline rush when faced with a danger (think being approached by a scary animal). Our bodies see the danger and make a choice to fight it or to flee it.

Children who have been exposed to the various unsafe and abusive conditions that warranted their removal from their natural parents are often in a constant state of fight or flight (or freeze). Their little brains and bodies often don't know how to relax and feel safe. A kiddo in this situation may see dinner being prepared, but may still worry about not having enough food. This is why it is not uncommon for children with these experiences to hoard food. Healing is possible, but it takes time. We've been told that for every one year in foster care, children need at least one year in a stable home in order to overcome.

Believe me, this is a learning experience for us. We have to rethink our parenting style. It isn't going to be easy, and people may think we are too permissive, or too strict, or just plain crazy. And, maybe we are. Or, perhaps there is more to what most people can see. Maybe, my husband and I are privy to information not known by others, and just maybe, we are doing something right.

So, if you happen to see us when one of my kids is having a meltdown over the wrong kind of pizza (and it's happened), please don't tell me how you handled it with your kids, because that just may not work with mine. Mine might need me to order a different kind of pizza so she can begin to understand that moms make sure their kids have food. Or if one of my children uses an inappropriate word or doesn't yet know how to tie her shoes, please refrain from passing judgement. Maybe I need to keep tying them for awhile so she learns that moms help care for their kids.

And, if you just can't help but judge me, know that I forgive you. I once judged moms, too, before I understood.

Instead, please offer a prayer on our behalf. That will help more us than you may ever know.

We have a date

In both our adoption experiences, we have had moments that mark our journeys...moments that stand out as memorable. There are the obvious ones--the first time we held the little pickle, our first night as parents, meeting birth mom, getting "the call." Then, there are the less anticipated ones--meeting our social worker[s], mailing in a completed home study packet, choosing an agency, submitting on and interviewing for specific children...the list goes on.

Saturday was one of those moments that fell somewhere between the obvious and the surprising. We called our kids to give them the actual date that they would come home with us. It was a nice thing to be able to do on Valentine's Day. The children were cautiously optimistic.

They've been disappointed before.

Foster mom said they had begun asking her questions about the summer unsure of when they'd finally be clear to come, so she was grateful we could give them a countdown. She felt their excitement had diminished a bit with all the waiting they've been doing.

I can't blame them.

When we went into this match, we did so knowing that it was a legal risk placement. Usually, that means either that the natural parents' rights have not been terminated, or in our case, that an appeal to the termination had been filed. In part, this is what held up the transition from the sending state to ours. Our kids don't know that part...

Some good has come out of all this waiting, though. We heard just over a week ago that the judge (who had given himself an extension at the end of December) had ruled that the state had met the standard for rehabilitation services and that the termination of parental rights was upheld.

I received this ruling with mixed emotions. Anyone who has read the background on my children would wonder what took so long for the state to intervene. It would be so easy to hate their first parents. And yet, I can't bring myself to do so. Somewhere along the line, they were hurt, too, and unless someone stops the cycle, hurt begets hurt, abuse begets abuse, and sin begets sin. My kids' natural parents are paying dearly for theirs.

Make no mistake - I justify no behavior that harms children--physically, emotionally, or spiritually.

Yet, bad parenting perpetuates bad parenting unless something or someone stops it. The judge made the right decision. It is past time for my children to have the promise of permanency.

In addition to being able to put to rest the legal risk in our minds and hearts, we have been able to construct the wall needed to add a fourth bedroom upstairs, and we have [mostly] been able to organize our home. Peter and I will be homeschooling, and I have been excited to open the boxes of school books as they arrive.

Tomorrow, we meet with our social worker to go over behavior awareness tools, and Thursday, we have a consultation with an adoption counselor. Things are coming together.

We are buckling in and bracing for the ride of our lives. I'm not sure how we would have come this far without the amazing support of both our natural family and our church family. We owe them many thanks.

Thanks also to my readers for "virtually" joining our journey. Please continue to pray for us! The hard  (yet rewarding) part is yet to come.

Amazing Love

I don't believe in love at first sight.

Sure, when I met Peter I thought that I might like him, but I don't think I really began to understand what loving him meant until after we married and I watched him go to work tired in order to provide for me. Or even more so when I saw him get up during the night to change our infant daughter or watch him forego some much needed downtime so that I could have some instead. It's fair to say that the more I learn about Peter, the more I love him.

So it is with our children.

The first time I met A, she was two days old. I was drawn to her, and I cared about her. I even thought I might love her, but I really didn't even know her. I didn't have nine months of her growing inside me or even two or three months of getting to know her through a match with a birthmother. I met A about 18 hours after I found out she even existed. I had to learn to love her. The feelings followed the choice.

This time, I am much better prepared and have no notions of falling in love with cute faces. It's a good thing, too. It is hard enough for me to feel any love towards people I already know when I'm exhausted, and exhaustion doesn't even begin to describe what we experienced during both times our children visited us over Thanksgiving and Christmas. It certainly wasn't the normal exhaustion of parenting five children (with the holidays mixed in). I can adjust to that.

No, this bone-deep weariness was the result of parenting five children, four of whom come to us from a place of great hurt. Emotional ages don't match chronological ones.

Adoption = trauma. No matter how you slice it.

Even my little A--who came to us at birth from a very loving first mom who still rejoices with me over the many milestones--she was taken from the familiar and thrust into the unfamiliar.

I am not my new children's first mom, or even their second.

Or third.

When they call me mom, it isn't because we are bonding. It is because they don't attach the same meaning to the word that you and I do. They will have to learn what a mom is.

There is loss. And grief. And a great need for grace.

At one point, one of my kiddos had a rebellious encounter with poop. She smelled. She was full of angry tears and wanted me to hold her. Needless to say, I don't like the smell of poop. In fact, it turns my stomach (I still hold my breath while changing diapers). I had to summon every ounce of strength I had to snuggle with a stinky, defiant, disobedient, (did I mention smelly?) kid. Oh how I really wanted to run into a shower.

And then it occurred to me. That was me. That is all of us in our sin. We stink. We are repulsive. We are messy and ugly.

Yet God, in His great love for us, lowered Himself to come to us in the midst of our defiant stench because He saw something redeemable in us. He hugged me when I was covered in poop.

And so, I wrestle again with love, as our children prepare to join us within the next several weeks.

But this time, while I know I may not feel love or even want to express it, I must choose to give it.

Because I have received it.

Alas! and did my Savior bleed
And did my Sovereign die?
Would He devote that sacred head
For such a worm as I?

Was it for crimes that I had done
He groaned upon the tree?
Amazing pity! grace unknown!
And love beyond degree!

(Isaac Watts; Hymns and Spiritual Songs, 1707-09, Book II, number 9)

Foster Mom

I think I may have been a little unclear in my last post. Nothing is definite yet. This isn't the first time a caseworker has contacted our social worker to ask if we are still interested in certain children. In fact, several months ago, I spoke at length with a caseworker about a specific young girl in whom we had expressed interest. Another time, we were asked to answer several questions about a trio of children to see if the caseworker wanted to continue considering our family. We've gotten a second look in a handful of cases so far, but for one reason or another we either didn't make the cut or we withdrew our names. 

My heart breaks often in reading what some of these precious children have had to handle in their short lives. It really is unthinkable. And, to be honest, there is a bit of guilt for me in this process. Sometimes I think adoptive parents get to make too many choices. It took me a long time to be able to be honest about what I couldn't handle...things like severe autism or sickle cell anemia. 

Several times we've had to complete pages of checklists asking what kinds of behaviors, family histories, illnesses, and handicaps we would consider accepting. In many cases, we even get to decide gender. That last part seems a bit unnatural to me. Of course, if I gave birth to a baby with Down Syndrome or a cleft palate, we would love and care for that baby. But, as a mom through adoption, I get to turn down those kids. That's sometimes tough to handle.

But, back to caseworker inquiries... In reality, since each state is so very different, a caseworker asking if we are still interested generally just means that it has been some time since our initial contact (in this case about seven weeks), and she is just checking to be sure we haven't been matched with other children so that she can continue considering us. So, while I was very excited to receive the email, I spent about two days trying to temper that excitement.

I originally intended to call foster mom after the holiday so as not to disturb her Memorial Day weekend, but I couldn't help myself, so I phoned her on Saturday. What does one say to a foster mom? I generally don't find myself at a loss for words, and goodness knows I've made plenty of phone calls to people I don't know, but somehow this was very, very different.

It turns out that foster mom, R, put me right at ease. In fact, we talked for an hour and twenty minutes! She told me that we are one of three families being considered for the children, and she answered my questions and asked some of her own. I found her to be a wonderful resource, especially since she has fostered them for quite some time.

One of the biggest questions I had for her had to do with whether or not she would want contact after an adoption. We have a semi-open adoption with A's mother now. Basically that means we email and text each other. I would welcome an open relationship with R should we be chosen for these children.

One important thing that came out during our conversation was that the family chosen would need to be dually certified both to adopt and to foster since at least one of the children is a legal risk placement, meaning that the parental rights have not yet been terminated. That means another layer of certification for us. I can see that the next few weeks will be quite busy.