Invisibility

From Chaitra Wirta-Leiker @Beyond Words Psychological Services:

"Speaking as an adoptee, adoptive parent, and psychologist - here is what I often say to foster/adoptive parents in my workshops:

"I want you to think of something very personal and close to your heart, something you don't share with many people. 

And I want you to imagine that when you walked into this room today, everyone knew "that thing" about you. 

They knew just from looking at you. 

And not only did they know, but they felt that this gave them the right to ask you questions about it, and tell you how to feel or what to think about it, even if they had never experienced it in the way you had.

And this happens over and over and over again, every place you go...How would you feel? What would you want to say? What would you wish for?"

Now you have an idea of what it's like to be a transracial adoptee.  Let this sink in.  Let this guide your interactions to be more compassionate."

As a mom, I struggle with knowing how much to share about my kids.  I tend towards being an open boundaries type person.  I tend towards believing that things hidden in the darkness often only oppress us and weigh us down, that there is light and freedom in truth telling.  

But where do my kids' stories fit into that?  I want them to be proud of who they are and sure of their stories.  I want them to not be ashamed or feel less than.  I want others to recognize that adoption is a beautiful, hard, messy, beautiful thing.  Yet, those things cannot happen at the expense of my kids' privacy and identities.  I would never want my children to be known mostly as "adopted from Haiti" or as "former orphans." 

 Even if people don't see that as the defining characteristics of my kids, there are still moments where people invite themselves into my kids' space with questions about their birth families, about their histories, about the why's and why nots.  I don't think anyone means harm; they are mostly just curious and interested in my kids.  

Questions and conversations aside, my kids, simply because their skin colors do not match mine, are instantly recognizable as different, as having a part of them, a very personal part of them, that is unique and special.  There is no escaping that everyone knows they were adopted.  And while I would never want my kids to hide any part of their story, I can certainly understand why there will be moments when they just want to be invisible.

Hyper Vigilance

"I close my eyes and sleep but my ears are always open."  Those words sum up the idea of hyper vigilance in so many ways.  It was said by a little girl, trying to explain her anxiety to her mom.  Hyper vigilance is a by product of anxiety, especially anxiety caused by trauma.  It's the idea that one has to be aware of his surroundings at all time, as a way to protect against something bad happening.  It's actually not even just about something bad happening; it's about something unforeseen happening, something that makes you feel out of control.

In our family, I used to just think one of my kids was very perceptive.  I used to think this child was sensitive to things and noticed more than most.  But as I've learned more about trauma, I've come to see it is not that.  It is my child's mind working to protect themselves either from a calamity or just from the unknown.  It means my child hears everything.  (For my child, I think that is especially true at night, when they hear every sound and easily wake when they hear those sounds.)  But this kiddo also overhears just about every comment said in our house.  (While somehow managing to completely tune out the directions about putting away the toys.)  In new situations, it means an intense curiosity that manifests itself as investigating the environment.  It's constantly picking items up to see what they are, endless questions about what is inside of closed drawers or why there is a box hanging on the wall at the doctor's office.  It's darting eyes that move quickly to survey a room or jumping up from the waiting room chair, repeatedly, in order to walk the room and observe what's there.

It is one reason why anxiety creates issues with focusing and concentration.  A brain that is consumed by staying safe interrupts itself repeatedly, be it a question asked aloud or thoughts that linger in the mind.  A brain that is dealing with thinking about maintaining safety and the status quo cannot let go of the minutia so the smallest details be it an annoying tag in a shirt or a lawn mower outside of a window cause a shift in focus.   It has to be, in some ways, exhausting.  I think a lot of times, my kiddo is somewhat used to all the "noise" anxiety creates.  It's just a part of life and my kiddo doesn't know any other way.

Thankfully, most of the anxiety is well enough hidden that we are not facing concerns at school regarding attention or behavior.  That said, my current gig is mostly being a stay-at-home mom but my pre-kid life involved working full time as an elementary teacher.  From time to time, I find myself subbing in a variety of classrooms and it's easy to wonder about the kids sitting in front of me.  So many typical tough behaviors could be symptomatic of anxiety and hyper vigilance.  Incessant chatter, asking redundant questions, appearing to be spaced out, constant fidgeting and movement, being easily distracted-all of those could be ways in which anxiety and trauma are affecting a child at school.

Unfortunately, many of the methods teachers use to manage behavior in a classroom can actually increase anxiety.  Clip up charts, color coded behavior charts, calling out a student in by dressing them down, and behavior charts that focus on performance and rewards are just a few examples of things that can actually increase anxiety for kids.  Because those things shine a spotlight sometimes in a very public way on the child, that creates more anxiety and the potential for increased behaviors.  No one wants their peers to know they have failed and even in situations where the failure is not public, for many kids, it is still a source of shame or guilt  that creates a cycle of anxiety, failure, shame or guilt, increased focus on performance, followed by increased anxiety.  One of my children was certain that the reason their math class had not earned ice cream for good test scores was because of their poor performance on the tests.  My child assumed that no one else was struggling and week after week, made it about themselves and their failures.  This child did not have the perspective to see that it was not their test scores alone that were preventing the class from reaching the goal.  This child finally told me that months after the school year ended.  (Even as a teacher, I was shocked to hear my child's internalization of the test scores.)  Certain management techniques can also be highly performance or outcome based which assumes that a child is in a place of logical thought, where they are able to think through what will happen when they do action "a"."  The issue for an anxious child is that when the brain is on overdrive, they are not thinking logically.  Their brain is flying by the seat of its pants, flying high and fast with no regard to losing a recess or earning a sticker.

Anxiety is not a license to behave poorly.  It is simply one piece in considering why a child is acting the way they are.  If we as teachers and parents know the why, then we are better able to individualize our response to that child.  I would never pretend that teaching a class full of little people is easy.  (It's not.  I would dare say that in terms of a job being mentally challenging, teaching small children is right up there.)  Nor would I purport that I have all the answers.  (In terms of finding a magic bullet, parenting and teaching are the same in that no strategies work for all kids, at all times, and there is a lot of distance sometimes between what is ideal and what is reality.)

But I do think there are a lot of little things that teachers (and parents) can do to help ease anxiety and refocus hyper vigilance.  Ironically, a friend shared this article (Taking a Different Approach to Behavioral Problems in School:  Trauma Informed Classrooms) with me today.  I had actually written the first part of this post last night but seeing this article encouraged me to share a bit more on the educational setting part of it since so many of my friends are teachers or work with kids.  The article is a bit soft in terms of providing a lot of tangible ideas so I thought I'd throw out some of the things I use be it at home or at school.

For distracted kids, it's little things like moving closer and providing a gentle touch, asking a child to look at you and repeat what you said, asking that child to hold your hand and squeeze your fingers, making that child the "helper" in the moment, or giving a child the freedom to fidget be it by standing beside the desk or with a stress ball.  For a child who is quick to talk, it might be giving them a stress ball to squeeze 10 times before they respond, working hard to not accept any answers in your classroom until you've mentally counted 10 seconds off which sets up a pattern of predictability that a child can trust in terms of discussion, or intentionally positioning "that kid" next to you so you can gently touch their arm or leg to remind them to wait.   For kids who putting forth a lot of negative talk or backtalk, it's asking them to stop, think, and reword what they just said.  (And if they don't know what to say, it's teaching them that.)  For kids who are on the edge of having a melt down, it's paying attention to the the signs of having a bad day or a bad moment and then heading it off with a break of some sort.  (I once made an arrangement with our PE teacher regarding one of my kids where I would send that child to the gym with a note saying that this kiddo just needed a break from the classroom and to send him back to me.  It gave an overextended 6 year old a 3 minute reprieve from the demands of the classroom in a way that didn't call attention to him.)  It could be reducing the amount of work that is in front of the child, encouraging them to do 5 problems instead of the 20 on the worksheet, knowing you will come back and do the other 15 when the child is feeling better.  It could be switching gears completely and telling a child, you'll work on it later.  It could be simple asking them if they need a drink and letting them go get one, even though you just took a drink break ten minutes ago.  At home, it's often completely switching gears and getting out of the moment.  It seems like those are the times we watch tv or read a book or cook together.  It is also prevention, knowing that anxiety feeds off of  the unknown.  You can eliminate some of the unknown by posting daily schedules, starting lessons or tasks like grocery shopping with what is going to happen and how you want them to behave, being aware of needs connected to hunger including recognizing that the sudden bad attitude may actually be a growling tummy, and creating flexible routines that are not restrictive and controlling but that are more like the bough of a pine tree, stiff and strong yet able to bend as the wind blows.  For all kids, it's shoring up their belief that they are safe and loved, focusing on relationship.  In a classroom, it's greeting them each morning and asking them questions about their lives.  It's noticing their new shoes or their new haircut.  It's remembering the names of their sibling or their dog.  At home, it's spending more time with that child, cuddling more, rocking even when they don't fit in the rocking chair, and telling them positive statements about who they are and their strengths.  It's letting them sleep near you, holding their hand while you sit at church, and making their favorite meals.

The reality is most teachers and parents probably know hundreds of more tricks that will work if they just think about it.  Key components include reducing the unknown, slowing down the brain so it responds instead of reacts, increasing felt safety through reassurance, relationship and connection, and focusing on if there is an unmet need.  What strategies are on your list?

Wise Words on National Adoption Month

November is National Adoption Month.  It seems like because of that there are more blog posts and articles about adoption floating around the Internet.  I happened to read two really good ones this week.  Both are short and worth the read in their entirety but some of the more compelling thoughts are as follows.

From Shannon Dingle, Should Adoption be the Church's Response to Abortion

"Perhaps you’re surprised by my answer, but hear me out. Adoption is not the opposite of abortion. Birth is. After a child is born, a variety of outcomes are possible, and adoption is only one."

"We’re being reductive if we act as if every abortion would have ended in adoption if the child had been born."

I really appreciated the idea that there is a third option for birth families:  parenting their child and that this requires us as a culture to value the life and needs of all, including that of the birth parents.

From Russell Moore, Don't Protect Yourself from Adoption
"We live in an era when commitments have become opportunities for narcissistic self-realization. "

"The angel Gabriel told our Lord’s mother that her bearing of Jesus was a sign of God’s favor on her (Lk. 1:30), and through the Spirit Elizabeth pronounced Mary to be “blessed” (1:41-42). The visionary Simeon, on the other hand, told Mary that a sword would pierce her heart (Lk. 235), as indeed it did (Jn. 19:26). Both the blessing and the pain were true for her, and in a very real sense are true for every mother, and for every father.  If you wish to avoid the risk or possibility of being hurt, do not adopt a child. Do not foster a child. Do not engage in ministry with orphans or with widows or with the sojourners or with the poor. Do not have children, in any way. Do not get married. Do not have any friendships. Hide under the bed, and hope for the best. Any human relationship brings with it the possibility of deep hurt. You can protect yourself from that possibility, but only by walling yourself off from love."

"We need a battalion of Christians ready to adopt, to foster, and to minister to orphans and to mothers in crisis. But that means real orphans, real women, real persons, real families—not idealized versions of what we think they should be. The gospel of adopting grace didn’t find us in a boutique nursery but in the war-zone of a stable, in the death-camp of a crucifixion field, in the graveyard of a borrowed tomb. That’s not a gospel that plays well on television, but it’s the only one we have.  Caring for orphans means, in a very real sense, joining them in their distress. I cannot tell you that won’t be risky. It could up-end your plans for yourself and your family altogether. It could wreck your life-plan. "
I really appreciated how he encourages people to think through their true feelings in regard to children and parenting.  It is very easy for every parent to want to have an easy child, a picket fence worthy family.  But that is not the reality of parenting, be it adoptive parenting or the plain old biological family.

Waiting on Mother's Day

Mother's Day will be here soon.  It seems like the arrival of that holiday always leaves me remembering.  My soul turns inward a bit and I remember the number of Mother's Days where my heart had been entangled with the face and shadowy presence of little ones who were not flesh of my flesh nor were they home sweet home.  I do lean towards the dramatic rather than the stoic but may I share with you how hard those Mother's Days were?  For hearts already weary of waiting, a day designed to celebrate the unique relationships between mothers and sons and daughters is a sharp painful breath in, a pregnant pause that causes you to suck in your cheeks and wince.  It's watching others enjoy Mother's Day dinners while you seem a bit far off because your heart really is a bit far off.  It's the standard honoring all mothers done at church, where you are not sure if you should take the flower or stand up, all of which reminds you that for all practical reasons, you are not yet a mom.   It's a bit like being the mom of a curfew breaking teen, the porch light on all aglow because not everyone is home in bed where they ought to be, but doing it for nights and days and months and years on end, knowing that Mother's Day feels a lot more about a piece that is missing than about the fullness of family.

For those who are waiting, those feelings are not just Mother's Day moments.  It's birthdays and Christmases.  It's the celebratory moments of life where you are keenly aware of the gaps, of the absence.  It's not just about the wait of adoption.  It's the wait of infertility.  The wait of infant loss.  The wait of a birth mom who is not parenting her child.  The wait of a parent of a child gone too soon, lost in an accident, lost to an illness.  The wait of a parent for the prodigal who wants nothing to do with you.

Could you be a friend who takes note of such moments and offers up encouragement in the waiting moments endured by another?  Words need not be fancy; a simple, "Thinking of you today" covers much.

And for those who are waiting, I read once that hope is the hardest work of waiting.  Isn't that the truth?  Hope often seems ethereal, a lot of light and mist, where foggy mornings reveal the dawn of something new, complete with glints of rainbows and brilliant breaks of sunrise in the sky.  Hope though is not quite so bright and airy.  It is work, a minute by minute commitment to have faith and believe.  Sometimes, it seems like we're not even sure of what it is we are hoping for but yet we still keep at it, hoping that things will change, that dreams come true, that even if we can't change the circumstances, that our own heart will heal.  I believe your hope is not foolishness.  It's a deep seeded desire placed there by God, a longing for life on this earth to be as He designed it to be, full and complete.  You are not wrong for wanting.  You are not wrong for loving.  You are not wrong for hoping.

Sometimes It's Not Just Normal Kid Stuff

Sometimes I think we've jinxed ourselves with a double whammy in the world of parenting.  We are parenting adopted kids, and we are parenting those adopted kids without the the benefit of having parented biological kids of the same age.   The question of what is normal, developmentally appropriate behavior seems to loom awfully large around here.  I realize that really every parent struggles with that to some degree, that there are moments where every parent is concerned that their child is struggling with some behavior that is not "normal."  But when you are parenting a child who has had some large losses, huge transitions, and unique challenges, that question is magnified.

Truth be told, we have one who is struggling a lot right now.  We have an 8 year old who is going on 16, who currently is the source of most of the drama at our house.  It is one child who creates a considerable amount of chaos be it through refusing to following directions, complaining about just about everything, arguing with most requests, picking fights with siblings,  or being reckless with items (as in "let me try to lift up the mini trampoline while my brother is jumping" or "let me jump up and down on the couch to show how angry I am.")  None of it is stuff that other 8 year olds do not do.  But it is intense, often filling the day instead of being spaced out over time like the behavior of other 8 year olds.  It's like when a regular kid has a really, really bad day, where nothing goes right and they are an emotionally wreck, quick to overreact, quick to get angry, quick to grumble and grouse.  But it is that for weeks on end.  Even when you as a parent have done a great job of keeping your cool, diffusing situations, and being consistent, it is exhausting.  For us, there isn't always a lot of predicting what will cause an issue.  Today, the child grumbled at graham crackers because they didn't break cleanly.  Yet, the same child was asked to clean the bathroom as part of pitching in to clean the house and there were zero complaints.  Some of it is just completely irrational. 

 It is not an issue of not knowing.  This kiddo can goes from calm to mad to calm in about 2 minutes.  This child can easily and willingly complete a redo of the interaction, correctly.  This child feels guilt and shame about not doing better.

It's a fine line between the reality of parenting an adopted child who does have a unique history and some unique challenges and the reality of seeing that some of it is just normal kid stuff.  Sometimes I need to hear that it's just normal kid stuff, that what is going on isn't that far outside the realm of normal.  And sometimes I need someone to offer a sympathetic smile, a nod of understanding, and not tell me that it's normal kid stuff.  Because I don't want to have to offer up every misdeed of my child in order to prove that it's really not normal kid stuff.    Because sometimes that simple act of hearing my mom struggles is enough.

6 Years Home

Who is this kid? Gosh he has changed so much. From the Haitian toddler who we heard was a "big baby, happy baby" to an 8 year old who is still big and happy. From his first few weeks at home where he explored running water and electric lights, from a cautious guy who was scared of dogs and stuffed animals and flush toilets, to a confident and kind hearted, loves any sport involving a ball big kid. I love his gentle spirit and his sensitive heart as well as his infectious smile.

Messy

It is not a neatly packaged present, a perfectly square box, wrapped in striped gift wrap, with a matching bow, symmetrically placed across the top.  Nope.  Adoption is a gift and a blessing, a burden and a wound, all at the same time.

If it feels that way for me, I can only imagine what it must feel like for my kids.

I'm a grown up and I don't know what to do with my own feelings.  There's the news today that reeks of coercion or at the very least, a large sin of omission.   It's news that seems to indicate that one of my children's birth parents thought her child would return to Haiti at 18.  There's news about the absent father and his fate that is hard to sugar coat.  There's no news from another birth mom, no news that creates a void for one child. There's another birth family whose very existence is a huge question mark.  And a foster family who was most certainly crushed by the departure of their foster son but yet chose not to parent him.

Real people drug into complex, hard situations.  Single moms feeling all alone and without options.    Perhaps a birth family scared to death to parent a child who looked different, unaware of how smart and adaptable that same child would grow to be.  Complex cultural situations that are hard for an outsider to understand.  Who knows the comments each family was influenced by?  Comments about adoption giving their kid a better life.  Questions about their abilities to feed and clothe and provide for their child.  Words from other family members, from friends, from well meaning orphanage staff. 

And so they all chose a choice that really wasn't a choice.  Because for so many birth families, it is simply the only choice they feel like they have.  Now their child is oceans away, safe and sound, loved and adored, but oceans away.  

I am not a guilty party in that.  I did nothing to cause these situations.  Yet, my heart is guilty.  Guilty of being the mom they could not be and will not get to be.  

That knowledge breaks me a bit.  It for sure humbles me since I will probably never face such situations.  But mostly it grieves my heart because it's very possible that tonight , three other moms may be missing and longing for the very children I've just tucked into bed.

Hard and Glorious Adoption

For a bit now, I have wanted to write a post about some of the hard and glorious things about adoption.  Maybe because we're dealing with some hard stuff right now with one of mine.  A pretty certain post traumatic stress diagnosis has left me feeling sad for my child, a bit overwhelmed by the need for healing, and a bit wore out because of the day to day grind of behaviors that come from anxiety and a heart hurt by trauma.

But I just didn't really have the right words.  Then I read this.  Someone beat me to it.  Adoption is hard and glorious and hard and sacred and hard and joy filled.  The words of this sum up so much of what it is really like to be an an adoptive parent.  So many of the hard parts of healing that she writes about, I have experienced.  And yet I've been witness to so much of the joyful parts too.

We as adoptive parents enter that journey of redemption with them, we take on their pain, we take on their grief…..

We sit with them when they are crying and grieving

We watch them glaze over or shut down when there may be too many people around, or they have too much stimulation. 

We take them off the playground because some other child has startled them so badly its reminded them of being in the orphanage and they can’t stop crying

We sit with them during night terrors, not allowed to touch because that will set them off even more.

We sit through pediatric, dentist, ENT, cardiac, orthopedic, and so many other specialist doctor appointments while our child flails and cries and yells because their only experience with doctors has been rough and hurtful, and without compassion..

We fill out form after form that serves as a constant reminder our child was once an orphan because we don’t have the answers for family medical history

We get to hear “they are so lucky to be in your family” when when we know nothing about their past wast was lucky….

We find we can’t put footed pajamas on our child because our child was restrained at some point in the orphanage and this triggers terror 

We get asked question after question about their “real parents” 

We get asked what’s wrong with our kids feet, or eyes, hands, or head

We hear them yell “don’t leave me mommy” when we leave to run an errand, knowing they remember being left by their birth mom

We get stares and second glances and questions about how much our kids “cost”

We have to go to their rooms to see if they have woken up in the morning because they have learned not to cry upon waking, because no one comes

We find food under their pillows, stashed away in their rooms because the fear of running out of food is still so fresh in their little minds

We sit with them when they cry that cry that takes our breath away

We love them through the screams and tantrums and screams of “you’re not my mommy”

We see them regress and shutter at the sound at someone speaking Mandarin or their native language to them.

We rub our hands on the back of their sweet heads, so flat from being left in crib for hours on end – a reminder for life that they were left alone, left too long….

BUT

We get to see them blow bubbles for the first time

We get to see them slide down a slide and play on a play ground for the first time

We get to see them try a new food for the first time

We get to see them slowly gain trust in us

We get to hear our deaf child say “I love you” after of weeks of hard work and determination to communicate.

We get to see them try cotton candy for the fist time and see the cutest sticky faced grin!

We get to see their hair start to grow, their little ribs not to show so much, and they finally get to be “on” the growth chart at the doctors

We get to see them gain the strength to sit up at 24 months of age, to stand, and to begin to walk.

We get to tell our story to complete strangers and see them smile

We get to see their lips turn pink for the first time in months after their heart surgery

We get to see them light up around their new brothers and sisters, establishing relationships that will last a lifetime! 

We get to experience all their “firsts” through their eyes

For me, these words speak volumes about the realities of adoption and the hopefulness that adoption can bring.  For whatever reason, right now, I've been stuck in a lot of seeing on the reality of a hurt heart.  But there are glimpses of hope and bright dashes of resilience.    

I know this looks like not much to most.  But it's hope and healing, fashioned out of craft foam and Elmer's glue.  See that candy.  That's from a kiddo who values food a lot.  Who picked through her Halloween candy to find a Reece's to put on Papa's because that's his favorite.  Who just asked a question of a counselor last week, who wanted to know if you can get unadopted.  Who was told no.  Who wrote the answer to that on a notecard to bring home to her brothers.  Who then wrote the words "foreaver" next to the words "Dad" and "Mom."  Hope, healing, joy-it's there.  It really is.

Good is Not Always Simple

Parenting seems to be a bit like doctoring.  At some point, most every parent raises a hand and repeats a Hippocratic Oath to do no harm.  (And I don't necessarily mean physically, although I'm sure each one of us has more than once gritted our teeth and uttered something about promising not cause bodily injury while dealing with our children.)  The thing is, parenting is often distilled into doing good by our children.

But doing good is not always so simple.  Good does not come labeled.  The most applicable ways to do good are not highlighted or marked with post it notes.  Truth be told, some days, parenting feels like a final exam where the prep material was significantly different than the questions on the test.

The last few weeks around our house have felt like a never ending testing session, where I've ended most nights with my head in my hands, mulling over a thousand different answers while doubting every single one of them.  My indecision has revolved around one of my adopted kids.  So while being an adoptive parent does not mean I have a monopoly on that feeling, it does add an extra element to parenting.  For my child who has been struggling, it's considering that it might be lack of sleep or our extra busy schedule or Dad's absence for soccer or the end of the school year or Zeke's upcoming surgery or big feelings about a birth family or big feelings about Mother's Day.

It's the question that haunts adoptive parent:  is this behavior just normal kid stuff or is there a piece of this that is about loss or outgrowing some orphanage habit or deep seeded questions about identity?  The intensity and frequency seem to point towards something other than typical seven year old behavior.  We seem to be on a cycle of impulsive behavior (um, no we do not stand on the tables or put sand buckets full of water in our room) followed by redirection followed by sass, eye rolling, and lots of attitude complete with hips and an extended tongue.  That's all pretty normal.  But it's this cycle that repeats itself often.  Maybe three times in ten minutes.  And it's exhausting and defeating and irritating.  Oh I want to do good by this child.  But sometimes, good is not always simple.

Linky Love: 10 Things Adoptive Parents of Medical Needs Kids Want You To Know

We certainly don't consider our family one who is parenting a child with significant medical needs.  Nevertheless, there was a lot to like in this post on No Hands But Ours titled Ten Things Adoptive Parents of Medical Needs Kids Want You To Know.  The pieces that relate to medical needs are so relevant to any family, adoptive or not, who has medical issues invading their lives-a great reminder to me to reach out to those who I know are in the middle of some tough, medical related stuff.   Medical needs aside, so much is applicable of adoptive families too.  Here are a few gems:

"Sometimes people praise us for adopting a child with medical needs, or they praise us for caring for them.  Know that we didn’t say yes to a diagnosis, we said yes to our child. Most parents wake up each day and meet their child’s needs. Please don’t see us, because we are weak, grumpy, and utterly insufficient. See a God who meets needs for His children. See a God whose heart beats for the least of these. Don’t praise our messy selves, praise God for work that is so evidently only Him."

"Often we are told that God doesn’t “give us more than we can handle”, but we are finding the very opposite. This is way more than we can handle. We are far outside the borders of our own capacity, but every morning God meets us where we are, replacing our weakness with His strength, our fear with His hope. Experiencing what it feels like to take steps forward only because of God is the greatest blessing of this journey."

Linky Love-Perspectives on Birth Families and Foster Care

From Tona Ottinger:

"But to ask “who really wants these kids” is a generalized statement that sensationalizes and moves us to “pity” them. I bet their broken-hearted families do. Even if they are too covered in shame, embarrassment, addiction, or fear to admit it. I bet they want them. Deep in their hearts they wish they were free to live and love and provide for their kids. But they aren’t.

We need to reframe our thinking. We need to think about the bigger picture. We need to lay down our stereotypes of what good parenting is. We need to lay down racial prejudices that get in the way of seeing birth families culture and different ways of living as something that can be celebrated rather than judged. Not all cultures parent the way white evangelical parents do and that does not mean they don’t want or love their kids. (Feels good to finally say that)"

While the author wrote this regarding foster care, this truth is not just about foster care.  It's about teachers who teach kids who come from homes where the choices about tv programs or clothing or behaviors seem questionable.  It's about people who work with at risk kids through mentoring programs who aren't quite sure why Mom or Dad isn't stepping up to the plate.  It's about people who spend their days with kids in domestic violence shelters or homeless shelters who question how a parent lets this happen to their kids.  It's about those who see kids placed for adoption, be it domestic or international, who can't fathom how a birth parent could just "give their child away."

The bottom line is almost every single parent loves their kids.  Their choices may not be the same ones we would make.  Their lifestyle may not be reflective of what we think of when we think of a stable family.  Their actions may seem to indicate apathy.  But parents love their kids; they are loving them the only way they know how.  Even if it's not very pretty.  Even if it's downright ugly.  That waiting child, that messed up mom, that dad who is striking out-it's just not okay to take love out of their family equation.

Apparition of a Birth Mom

She's there in the shadows, a wisp of something that occupies the fringes of our spaces.  He hasn't asked about her yet but it's just a matter of time.  Right how he still gets confused and wonders if he grew in my tummy.

Sometimes she shows up when I'm sitting on the edge of the boy's bed, tucking him in, as his arms fly open wide for a bedtime hug and his head flops onto the pillow, the mop of stick straight jet black hair, flopping right along with it.  For a quick moment, I think, "Is her hair as straight and as black as his?"

Sometimes she shows up when I hear the 3 year old counting or recalling letter names or saying big huge words like "catapult", as I am amazed at his progress and in awe that 18 months ago, he spoke only Mandarin.  I can't help but think, "He is so smart!  She would be so proud of how quickly he learns new things."

Sometimes she shows up when I watch him do something people think he shouldn't be able to do, when his 1 1/2 fingers unbutton a shirt or piece a puzzle or brush his teeth.  It's when I watch him innovate and create and strategize about the fairly mundane tasks of life, when I think "He is so clever!  I wonder if she would be surprised at how much he can do."

And sometimes she shows up smack in the middle of his face, in his smile and giggles, as his natural charisma pours out, trickling from his eyes and the upturned corners of his grin.  And that's when I sadly think, "She is missing this-this crazy wild boy with a full of life face who brings joy.  She is missing this."

Do You Love Your Adopted Kids as Much as Your Biological One?

Awhile ago, someone asked me a question, one I suppose rolls around in people's heads but they are simply too polite (or afraid) to ask.  The question was this "Do you love your adopted kids as much as your biological child?"  The person who asked this was not asking out of meanness or out of a place where she felt like adoption was a second rate way to have a family.  She had a biological child already and was thinking about adoption, wondering how her feelings might compare.  She also wanted to know what it was like to attach (as a parent) to an adopted child.

The reality is there should be a variety of answers to this question.  It's just like any birth story; everyone's story is different.  Some people instantly fall in love with their adopted children and feel very connected from the beginning.  Other people find that it is a bit like falling in love with a spouse, where you did not fall in love overnight but that it took time, where over the course of special moments and time together, you can't help but love that person.  Others find themselves really struggling.  Perhaps it is because the adopted child has a very painful past which causes the hurts to ooze out in extreme behaviors that are bluntly put, hard to love.  Perhaps it because the adoptive parent had specific expectations for the adoption and how it would feel and those expectations are going unmet.  Or perhaps it is a kind of disconnect because the adopted child has a very different personality than the parent, a dynamic that is also sometimes present in biological families, where a parent who gave birth to a child just finds it hard to understand her own child.

Because our family was formed in a fairly non traditional way (adopting three and then having a biological child) and because my own experience with Kai is still pretty fresh on my mind, I found the questions a bit compelling.  Probably because in my experience with Kai, I found myself wondering the question in reverse.  "Could I love this baby who was flesh or my flesh as much as I loved my adopted kids?"

In our case, Kai's birth was fairly eventful, providing me with just about every facet of labor and delivery in one experience.  I had a quickly progressing, fairly normal labor.  I dialated to 8 before I received an epidural.  I received an epidural.  My labor stalled.  My epidural ran out and I experienced labor with no or limited pain medicine.  I had an emergency C-section.

But in truth, my delivery story is not the normal one.  When Kai was born, I had asked for him to be cleaned up a bit before I held him.  So as the doctor delivered him, we heard him cry and heard the doctor confirm that he was a boy.  He was handed to a nurse to be cleaned up and then the drama started.  His breathing sputtered; when they checked his vitals, he was running a fever.  He was whisked off, away from us.  There was no opportunity to hold him or to see him.  D headed back to the nursery with our doctor while I lay on the operating table.  My own body was very shocked and stressed and I actually fell asleep before the doctor came back in, prompting him to ask upon his return if the anesthesiologist had put me all the way out.  Upon hearing that I was not under general anesthesia, our doctor explained briefly that our baby was sick and that they would be transporting him to another hospital.  I do not remember any of the doctors repairing my incision.  I was wheeled off to a recovery room where I literally shook and froze because of the stress, where I was in and out of sleep.  Finally someone came and got me to wheel me down by nursery so I could see Kai before they took him by ambulance to the NICU.  I did not have my glasses on, was really not allowed very close, and honestly was probably too exhausted and stressed to even remember anything anyway.  I really just remember looking through the nursery windows at D and our doctor standing beside the incubator in the nursery and then the incubator being wheeled by on its way out to the ambulance.

That is our birth story.  No tender moments of looking at this fresh little baby and watching my husband see him for the first time.  No photographs of a tired mom holding a tightly wrapped bundle moments after giving birth.  No cuddling, looking at his face to see who he looks like, commenting on his hair color.  In fact, I didn't even know what color his hair was.  The only thing I knew was that he had a dimple in his chin.

Our doctor was quick to get me transferred to the same hospital as Kai but nothing moves quickly in terms of that sort of thing so Kai was born at 5:30 pm on Wednesday and it was 2:30 pm the next day before I got to see him in person and hold him.  It was almost 24 hours past the point of his birth.  Of course the first part of that time, I was not very lucid.  But by about 3 in the morning, I was doing much better and able to think more clearly.  It was in those moments that I found myself feeling this strange disconnect.  In my case, pregnancy seemed a bit surreal anyway, because Kai's pregnancy was such a surprise.  Then his birth was such a crazy event, one I was not prepared for at all.  I had entertained lots of labor and delivery scenarios including a C-section.  But it never crossed my mind that I would end the labor and delivery experience without holding my baby or by being separated from him for almost a whole day.  I found it hard to believe that here I was lying in a hospital bed,a new mom to a new baby.  I felt like I needed someone to pinch me because I just didn't feel like a new mom.  And I found myself wondering where those feelings were coming from, if perhaps I would have problems loving my biological baby as much as I loved my adopted ones.

Of course, the answer to that question came rather quickly.  But it was one I wondered nonetheless, a stroke of irony in my life as a mom, that instead of worrying about loving my adopted kids, I was worrying about loving the one many might refer to as my "real" kid.  If nothing else, perhaps that's the take away.  That they are all my real kids, connected to me in powerful ways because of a Sovereign God regardless of how they came into my heart.

My Learning Curve

I've been a mom for over 7 years with at least one child actually in my home for almost 5 of those 7 years.  However, it's easy for me to overlook certain things, to be frustrated by behavior and be a slow learner in terms of figuring out how to deal with that behavior.  This week was no exception.

One of my kids was being a real pain.  Sneaking candy out of the cupboard.  Taking a sibling's toy that was put away after being told to leave the toy alone.  Refusing to do even the simplest of tasks without a battle.  Being told to stop and quickly doing the action a few more times just because.

With this particular child, you cannot out consequence the behavior.  Think a spanking might change the behavior?  I'm willing to bet you could spank until bloody and the child would still not change the behavior.  Think taking away toys or priveleges will affect the behavior?  This child would end up spending every night alone in an empty bedroom and still be having behavior problems.  What about writing sentences or doing extra chores?  Um, all that gets you is a headache from nagging to accomplish the tasks because the child drags their feet and refuses to complete the tasks.

I am not saying this child does not get consequences.  What I am saying is that if you are trying to change the behavior by creating a consequence that is so negative, so awful that this child will think twice about doing it again, if that is your goal, you will fail.  It is instead about the heart.  For this child, when inclined, everything becomes a power struggle.  It's a way to maintain control.  And the response to consequences are no exception as the child wills themselves to outlast you (even if that has never happened and even though the child can verbalize how this type of power struggle never works out well for them.)

Consequences cannot be the reason the child stops; consequences instead are a natural outpouring of what happens because of a certain behavior.  If you take your brother's toy, you must apologize and do a kindness for him.  If you color on your dresser, you clean it off.  (And then the next time you want to get the crayons out at the table, I remind you that you have been having problems being trustworthy with the crayons so I'm not sure you can handle the crayons at this moment but perhaps tomorrow will be a chance to try again.)

So if consequences do not change the heart, what does?  And what does this have to do with Mama learning a lesson yet again?

The traditional parenting approach might find you as a parent becoming even more hard nosed.  The parent might continue to apply consequences until the child's will breaks.  But for me, this was a time to consider why these behaviors were surfacing.  The aha of "oh yes, Mama is leaving for 3 days.  This kiddo is feeling out of control because of that."

So how do you regulate that?  How do you empower your child to feel back in control?  By making them feel safe and secure and loved.  By spending more time with them.  By holding more and talking more and hugging more.

And sure enough, the words started to come with a few tears as well.  "I don't want you to go."  "Why can't I go with you?"  "I'm afraid you will get hurt in a car accident."

In no way does the state of the child's heart excuse the bad behavior.  The child still has to deal with how their actions affect others.  But if I as the mom can get to the root of the behavior, then perhaps I can reduce the feelings that are causing the behavior and reduce the bad behavior.

It's whispering in their ear at church as you sing a song about the very presence of God, reminding them that even if Mama is gone, God is always there.  It's encouraging that child to ask for a hug rather than feeling badly all alone. It's reminding them of a Bible verse like "When I am afraid, I will trust in You."   It's hearing the child say "Oh yeah!  There's our picture up there!  I can just look at that and see you!"  It's hearing the child say to their dad on the morning after I leave, "We're going to be just fine."  It's a papa who lets the child sleep in his bed while Mama is away.

It's shoring up the child's heart rather than breaking the child's will.

 (Now too bad I realized what was really going on the day before I left rather than the week before when all the power struggles were happening...)

Why Did We Sign Up For This? Some Linky Love

I fielded a few pregnancy versus adoption related questions this week from the parent of kids that we teach.   (She was not intrusive just had experienced infertility and wanted to know if we had a common experience.)  When people ask some of those questions, even though I've answered them many times over, I still find myself fumbling a bit for words.  Today, I read and loved this section from a blog post at No Hands But Ours:

"The truth is, we don’t sign our names on the bold black line, while our brand new toddler screams bloody murder on our lap, so that we’ll pop back into Life As Usual and feel totally like that child’s mother, cutting the crusts off bread and vacuuming under the rug. If those were our expectations, we would be undone by disappointment when our child doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, doesn’t feel like our own, and the rug doesn’t get vacuumed until three months after Gotcha Day.

Friends, let us not forget that why we signed up for this. At some level, at some point in time, each of us realized that this life is not about our comfort, or even our happiness…or even, I propose, about us at all. The reason my husband and I adopted our daughter was because, quite simply, we are a family, and she needed one."

The Name Game

Since I just shared the name for our newest addition, I thought I'd share a bit about how all of our kids got their names.  I know I enjoy hearing other families share how they chose the names for their kids and I think when you add in the element of adoption, it adds another wrinkle into the conversation.

Let's start with kiddo #1.  Kenson was named by his birth aunt.  We thought to ask how he got his name during one of our meetings with his birth mom and I am so glad we did.  His aunt picked the name (which is relatively common in Haiti) because she liked it.  Mackenson is actually more common but you do occasionally see just plain Kenson.  His birth mom's last name is Jules.  The Haitian adoption decrees actually list the child's name with their given name, their Haitian last name as a middle name, and their new last name as the surname.  That is exactly how we kept it.  We liked the sound of Kenson and thought Jules fit well as a middle name.

For kiddo #2, her story is a little more interesting.  Her birth name is actually Youmie.  However, when she came into the orphanage, she was renamed Jemima by someone on the staff.  (Or possible Djemima.)  After a few months in the orphanage, she was taken into a foster home.  Her foster mom, Nancy, is American and knew that Jemima would not be culturally acceptable in the US so she renamed her Conleigh.  It was a name Nancy had loved.  So when she came into our life, she was being called Conleigh.  We liked that name as well and once we found out her Haitian last name was Dume', it was easy to decide to keep that as her middle name.  We changed the spelling on Dume' so it is more phonetic in English (Deme').

With Zeke, he was named by someone on the orphanage staff as he was a very small infant at the time he came to live in the orphanage.  The Chinese name they chose was Luo FuKang.  In Chinese, the family name is first so Luo is more like the last name.  It is possible than many of the children who were under the supervision of his orphanage share the surname Luo.  Fu Kang is actually two Chinese words.  Without having the actual characters, it can be harder to know what they mean but we were told on his referral documents that "healthy" was part of the meaning.  It is also common practice in China to give a nickname that repeats one of these names so his foster family was calling him "Kang Kang" which is pronounced more like "Kung" than "Kang".  Unfortunately, to American eyes and ears, none of those Chinese names really translate well.  They are not phonetic so they will be mispronounced.  Fu Kang is similar to a swear word.  And having a distinctly "foreign" sounding name can be something that right from the get go signals you are adopted or different.  We decided to choose a name we liked for the first name and find something that honored his Chinese heritage for a middle name.   We ended up narrowing our choices to Gideon and Ezekiel, based mostly on the sound of the names.  D ended up finding the middle name.  Jian is a Chinese word that shares the meaning of healthy, much like the original intent of the name he was given in China.

With adoption, there isn't necessarily a right way to proceed.  Sometimes, the best option is to completely rename because a child needs a new start, because the name is hard to pronounce, because all of the kids in the adoptive family have names that fit a certain pattern and the child would be left out, etc..  And sometimes, there are good reasons to keep their names.  Perhaps a birth mom thoughtfully chose the name.  Or it's an older child who just can't imagine losing that part of their identity.

The last kiddo on the list is Malachi.  Call it a blank slate if you will.  But for two teachers, starting with a blank slate can be a daunting task.  My husband sees about 650 kids a year.  He has been teaching for ten years as have I.  The sheer number of names we know and associate (both good and bad) with kids is pretty high.  We like unique but not too unique, but also don't want our child to be the 4th "Jacob" in his grade or to be constantly reminded of a certain child every time we use our child's name.  Names we liked but disregarded for one reason or another included Ezra, Elias, Burke, and Zekiah.  D of course used soccer as his inspiration and was really rooting for Breck or Beckham but those two names did nothing for me.  We ended up on Malachi, again because we liked the sound.  Kai just seemed like a great nickname and it seemed to fit with our other 3 who all have a hard c sound in their names.  We also liked how there was a more "grown up" version in Malachi should he ever get tired of being Kai.  We decided we would use a middle name that reflected cultural and family heritage, just like our other three children which is how we ended up at Stillman.  Stillman Gates is a great, great, great (maybe one more great?) grandfather on my grandmother's side of the family.  His claim to fame is that he settled in Custer County and founded a small community named Gates.

So that's the scoop...got any interesting name stories you want to share?

A Question of the Tummy

"Mom, did you want to have a baby in your tummy?"

The first time I heard this question a few months back I paused a moment and wondered how on earth to answer that question honestly.  Because this pregnancy was a surprise and has been a challenge in a lot of ways.  I would never want to give any of my children the impression that they or a sibling was unwanted.  But the truth is that prior to getting pregnant, I had not been sitting around dreaming up names for a new baby or wistfully imagining life with a new baby.  So I hodge podged some answer together and hoped it was sufficient.

But then yesterday, the same child asked the same question again.

"Mom, did you want to have a baby in your tummy?"

That prompted a flicker from the lightbulb in my head and the thought that maybe the question was not about me.  (Gosh, how quickly I make it all about me!)  That perhaps this question was about a little person who was processing this pregnancy in a different way than me.

"Hmmm....sounds like maybe you are wondering if I wasn't happy with the kids I had?   Like maybe I wasn't happy that the kids I had grew in someone else's tummy?"

This brought out a quick shake of a head, a little too quick to be an honest response.  

"Are you sure that you aren't wondering if Mama was wishing for a baby that grew in her tummy?"

That prompted a sheepish look and a half smile, a response that seemed more truthful.

Oh how to explain that we chose adoption, that each one of our kids was a very personal response to the question of "how to make a family."?

"You know, we chose to do adoption.  Not because I couldn't have a baby that grew in my tummy but because we knew there were lots of kids who needed families.  And if we knew that there were kids who needed families and we had love to give those kids, then it seemed like the right choice to adopt a kid."

"You decided that?"

"Me and Papa decided together because that's how it works when you are married."

"Oh.  But sometimes you argue."

And yeah, now we're on to a totally new topic....

Brokenness, Redemption, Anxiety and Joy

One of my bigs has been struggling the last few months.  One of my 6 year olds has suddenly morphed into a moody teenager who is often angry or sad, screaming or yelling, over the tiniest of things.  Because much of the last few months have seen D off coaching, I've been the one who has bore the burden for dealing with all of that.   The more I try to pull the child closer, saying with my words and actions "Your heart looks like it needs filled back up.", the more the child pulls away, the more the child tries to hide and retreat away.  And like many adoptive moms, I've found myself facing the giant elephant in the room question of "Is this normal kid stuff or is this somehow related to loss and trauma and grief?"

This morning, while reading through Lysa Terkeurst's devotional for Unglued, she shared a bit about her own struggle with anxiety, specifically related to the broken relationship she had with her father and the lifelong impact that wondering about her father's love had on her life.  It's a struggle many adopted kids can empathize with.  Even if it's not a day in and day out struggle, I think there are many adopted kids who would say at least once in their lives, they have wondered about their birth parents' love for them.  Lysa shared two truths that I will be praying for my child whose heart seems so wounded lately.  She reminded me that

brokenness is universal but so is God's redemption.  

Oh, I've known that truth!  But I needed to hear that again,, that in the moments where my child's brokenness (adoption related or not) seems to be dominating, God is still present, wanting to redeem those moments.  She also shared a verse from Psalms 94.

"When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul."  (Psalms 94:19)  

It's a verse that is easy to pray and easy to share, a way to bring God's Word to light as both my kiddo and I deal with a heart that is anxious yet acting angry or hurt.

Hope for the moments, refreshing for the soul...

Anger and Sorrow

This week, I read this at One Thankful Mom:

Anger feels so much better than sadness – anger is powerful, sorrow is terrifying. 

Anger feels like control. If deep grief, fear, and sorrow come the surface, those feelings may never stop and that is terrifying.

Their family is currently walking a really hard road with an adoptive daughter who is struggling which is why Lisa felt like she should share a bit on the connection between anger and sorrow.  I just found it very profound, not just for adopted kids.  For someone is grieving the loss of a parent or a child.  For the mom, trying to help a child who seems angry often  or who who is quick to anger.  For someone who feels betrayed by a spouse or a friend.  

For one of mine, there is a lot of anger that often bubbles out over small things.  This same child is also the one who vocalizes most often about his/her birth family and has cried the most for them.  For this child, I think there is a lot of grief and sadness over the loss of his/her first mom and the chance that he/she had to be with that mom.  And while there are tears of true sadness and grief, I think there are also a lot of outbursts, overreactions, and frustrated moments that come not because of the situation at hand but because of a thinly dug graveyard of not quite matured emotions.  

Anger makes you feel strong and in control.  Anger makes you feel powerful not powerless.  Anger is just much easier than feeling deep hurt.  Truth for us all, followed by God's truth as to who He created us to be.

"For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline."  1 Timothy 1:7

6 months home and adoption academics

Lately, Zeke has been all over the "academics" of being 2 1/2.  He's very good with body parts; I think he can probably name all of them.  He loves to try to count things.  However, his number sense is limited to saying "tree, four, tree, four, tree, four."  You would not believe how many sets of things are apparently "four."  He has also been practicing his color words.  For quite awhile, everything was "red."  And if you told him he was wrong, he would tell you "no, red" and insist that he was correct.  Occasionally, he would get a color right and I wasn't sure if it was just a case of a blind squirrel finding the occasional acorn or if he actually did know and thought that teasing us by calling everything "red" was just a fun game.  In the last few days though, he has been much more accurate, especially if you ask him to point to a certain color.  (Although he does often vocalize the right color too.)

It's such an interesting contrast because my other two were no where close to being ready to talk colors and numbers at 6 months home.  It has nothing to do with intelligence but is all about readiness and child development, something that can be really hard to sort out when you are doing an international adoption.  It's very easy to compare your child to other kids their age and feel like they are behind.  But the reality is, for most kids, they just need time.  What you are looking for is progress, consistent progress even if it is slow.  Our culture often does not value this as we hurry kids to grow up; we bypass play and childhood in favor of preschoolers and kindergarteners who can read and solve addition problems.  (When most of us did not learn to do those things until first grade or beyond and somehow we all turned out alright.)  For me, with my first two, it was a struggle to not compare, to remind myself that they are making up ground in their own unique yet appropriate ways.