Have you read this yet? It's Rage Against the Minivan's blog post, Let's Bring the Holidays Down a Notch. It's a short little read with over 600 comments, apparently because the post touched a nerve and ended up being reposted via Facebook and other online sources.
It's interesting to me on so many levels. Kristen (the original blogger) shares how frustrated the holidays make her feel because her kids have huge expectations for them. For example, her children were disappointed because no leprechaun visited their house on St. Patrick's Day. (And one of them stomped off and threw a fit. Oh the horrors! She should come visit this joint...) And she finds it a tad annoying that other parents go over the top with gifts/school treats. (Can you say "50 pieces of Chinese made trinkets stuffed into a plastic gift bag for Valentine's Day?") She brings up newly invented holidays like the 100th day of school and Pi Day. Lastly, she calls out other parents (to some degree) and encourages them to stop the madness that they might be perpetuating regarding the holidays.
Was I offended by her post? No.
Do I understand some of her feelings? Certainly. (I mean, Zeke's daycare had Valentine's for the 2 year olds. Why? I have no idea. I also personally do not enjoy the constant stream of crap that comes into my child's lives via goodie bags, the bank, the doctor's office, etc.)
But I can't say I think the post actually served her well, especially since she shared a homemade Valentine that her littlest made which appears to be an accidental, pretty funny, but literal "FU" to what she describes as the overachieving parents who are participating in the holiday madness. (Yes, I get sarcasm and humor; I just think you have to be careful with what you say online.)
Realistically, I think it's time for moms in general to turn it down a notch in terms of behavior and attitudes. It is not the holidays that are the issue; it's us. Yes, I didn't like the Valentine party for the 2 year olds and yes, I think a holiday goodie bag is just a pile of junk destined for my trashcan. But I can deal with it without ranting and raving, without blaming others for my children's behavior, and without judging the motives of others.
In fact, it's not even Kristen's original post that I found most interesting. It was the 600 plus comments that she received. That is where you see the real indictment of how we as moms sometimes handle life. The majority agreed with Kristen, that all of this was over the top and too much. Many felt like those moms who did over the top things were doing so out of competitiveness or a chance to one up other moms. Many cited Pinterest as an evil used only by those who have the dreaded Super Mom syndrome. Others blamed the schools for encouraging kids to believe in fictional things like the Easter Bunny or leprechauns. Few were willing to say "This is about me being comfortable with who we are as a family and the choices we make." Few were willing to not blame others, to allow their kids to walk through a bit of disappointment once they learned that they would not be setting leprechaun traps of their own. A handful of people shared why they celebrate holidays with big things, from those who did so because it brought them joy as parents, to those who said it let them express their creativity, to those who said it was about creating memories with their kids. And of course, there were the down right catty responses from essentially telling Kristen to get off her computer, out of the blogosphere and into her kids' lives. (Terribly rude especially when you have idea about what Kristen does with her children since you do not personally know her.) Or those who said things like if you don't like your kids hearing about leprechauns at school,just homeschool. (Because I'm sure all the homeschooling families out there want to be viewed as families who simply could not handle leprechauns.)
I think what spoke to me most about this was I just saw a lot of moms struggling with the same type of confusion that grips many women from the time they are about ten. It's the idea of questioning if what we are doing is good enough, if we measure up and how we can do more. At the heart, I think that's what Kristen is trying to say even though I'm not sure that part stands out loud and clear. Moms have to stop competing. They have to stop comparing. They have to stop jumping on one crazy bandwagon to the next all in an attempt to keep our kids happy.
It's the idea of do what blesses not what burdens. (Love those words, stolen from a recent Beth Moore Bible study.) And then shut up. Decide who you are and what you value as a mom and then don't spend the next hour inspecting the lives of other moms, looking for reasons why you made a bad choice. Or looking for a reason that indicates that other moms have made a bad choice. Do what blesses not what burdens.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Love of God, Love of Man
As I sit and write this, the vacuum stands against the wall, reminding me that I swore up and down last weekend that I would get the bedrooms vacuumed but that task is still undone. The dishes are piled high in the sink and the dishwasher just finished washing a load so it's obvious that I was pretty far behind before I even started. My stove and my sink have the tell tale signs of being wiped down but not really being cleaned. And the humidifier next to the dog bowls has been unplugged lest the little one turn it on and it starts to spew out a nasty smell, one that I know about because I smelled it a few days ago but have yet to actually sort out why on earth it is smelling.
The last ten days or so have been pretty good in terms of how I feel. But today was a kick in the pants that pulled me back down. And so, having worked on Friday, I feel like I'm behind again, a feeling that I have felt all too often that last few months.
Things have to change. I have had to simplify. While I would not judge another mom for the choices she has made regarding how their family lives, there are certain things that I hold onto because they make me feel like a good mom. I rarely use convenience foods. It takes me just as long to make mac and cheese from scratch as it does to pull out the Kraft blue box. I like occasionally going a stretch farther and making bread or taco seasoning from scratch. I prefer not to buy things like snack crackers and sugary cereal. I have a system and an order to things that makes me life feel orderly. Things like how the school lunch calendar gets put into my family binder or how the mail gets gone through as soon as it is brought into the house. I have routines that help keep the family going, that keep the kids' bookbags emptied out, the laundry sorted and washed, and ensures we have clean silverware.
But when you are sick for even a day as a mom, it puts a lot of that on hold. When you are sick for weeks on end, it brings all of that to a screeching halt. It has been not much fun to watch my household management skills be crushed by nausea. I find myself having to think about why I cling so tightly to the "normal" way I do things. Why on earth does feeding my kids frozen pizza make me feel less skilled than feeding them homemade pizza that sits atop a homemade whole wheat crust? Why does it seem so earth shattering to make yourself use paper plates rather than regular dishes just so you can sort of keep the counters clear of dirty dishes? And why does the counter clutter and mountains of paperwork that just don't find their places take me to this place where I feel like the house will never be clean again?
My worth as a mom and wife somehow gets tangled up in all sorts of crazy things, doesn't it? A few weeks back, my friend, Lisa, who knew how I was feeling, showed up at my house demanding to do my dishes. As I said she really didn't need to, she grabbed the dish soap and started filling the sink with warm water. Not much was going to stop her other than being wrestled to the floor so she spent the next 10-15 minutes clearing out my sink. As I shared this story with another friend, that friend asked if it was hard to let Lisa do my dishes. I couldn't help but think what a silly question that was. (Not because my friend who asked it was foolish but because we as women are foolish.) Why should it be so hard to let a friend come and do my dishes? Because it seems an affront to who we are? Because it makes us feel like we are not doing a good job? Because we are too independent to let a friend dirty themselves with our crusted over stuff?
God did not design us as moms, as women, as people, to live our lives apart from others. Yet we insist that we do not need someone to start the water and put in the bubbles because we hate the thought of someone scraping the gunk off of our dirty dishes. As if they didn't mean the words they have said... As if their actions are not motivated by love and concern... We push aside the chance for our friends to love us deeply. And then wish for more meaningful connections in our lives.
And God did not design us to be people who find their purpose in the trivial things of life, things that have no eternal value, things like dirty floors and homemade bread. How quickly we make life about things that don't really matter. How quickly we find our worth in the tangible, seemingly unaware that God's crazy grace filled love is pouring over every moment.
Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.
From the hymn "The Love of God" by Frederick Lehman
*Update
I wrote this last week. Thankfully, the vacuum has been put away, I have clean floors and clean counters. Still having a few moments of the ickies but I am so thankful to have more productive, feel good days.
The last ten days or so have been pretty good in terms of how I feel. But today was a kick in the pants that pulled me back down. And so, having worked on Friday, I feel like I'm behind again, a feeling that I have felt all too often that last few months.
Things have to change. I have had to simplify. While I would not judge another mom for the choices she has made regarding how their family lives, there are certain things that I hold onto because they make me feel like a good mom. I rarely use convenience foods. It takes me just as long to make mac and cheese from scratch as it does to pull out the Kraft blue box. I like occasionally going a stretch farther and making bread or taco seasoning from scratch. I prefer not to buy things like snack crackers and sugary cereal. I have a system and an order to things that makes me life feel orderly. Things like how the school lunch calendar gets put into my family binder or how the mail gets gone through as soon as it is brought into the house. I have routines that help keep the family going, that keep the kids' bookbags emptied out, the laundry sorted and washed, and ensures we have clean silverware.
But when you are sick for even a day as a mom, it puts a lot of that on hold. When you are sick for weeks on end, it brings all of that to a screeching halt. It has been not much fun to watch my household management skills be crushed by nausea. I find myself having to think about why I cling so tightly to the "normal" way I do things. Why on earth does feeding my kids frozen pizza make me feel less skilled than feeding them homemade pizza that sits atop a homemade whole wheat crust? Why does it seem so earth shattering to make yourself use paper plates rather than regular dishes just so you can sort of keep the counters clear of dirty dishes? And why does the counter clutter and mountains of paperwork that just don't find their places take me to this place where I feel like the house will never be clean again?
My worth as a mom and wife somehow gets tangled up in all sorts of crazy things, doesn't it? A few weeks back, my friend, Lisa, who knew how I was feeling, showed up at my house demanding to do my dishes. As I said she really didn't need to, she grabbed the dish soap and started filling the sink with warm water. Not much was going to stop her other than being wrestled to the floor so she spent the next 10-15 minutes clearing out my sink. As I shared this story with another friend, that friend asked if it was hard to let Lisa do my dishes. I couldn't help but think what a silly question that was. (Not because my friend who asked it was foolish but because we as women are foolish.) Why should it be so hard to let a friend come and do my dishes? Because it seems an affront to who we are? Because it makes us feel like we are not doing a good job? Because we are too independent to let a friend dirty themselves with our crusted over stuff?
God did not design us as moms, as women, as people, to live our lives apart from others. Yet we insist that we do not need someone to start the water and put in the bubbles because we hate the thought of someone scraping the gunk off of our dirty dishes. As if they didn't mean the words they have said... As if their actions are not motivated by love and concern... We push aside the chance for our friends to love us deeply. And then wish for more meaningful connections in our lives.
And God did not design us to be people who find their purpose in the trivial things of life, things that have no eternal value, things like dirty floors and homemade bread. How quickly we make life about things that don't really matter. How quickly we find our worth in the tangible, seemingly unaware that God's crazy grace filled love is pouring over every moment.
Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.
From the hymn "The Love of God" by Frederick Lehman
*Update
I wrote this last week. Thankfully, the vacuum has been put away, I have clean floors and clean counters. Still having a few moments of the ickies but I am so thankful to have more productive, feel good days.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Real Life Parenting Conversation #290
Me (about 20 minutes after bathtime): Kenson, when you take a bath, you need to make sure you use the washcloth underneath your arms because your armpits are still kind of stinky. Can you smell them because I sure can?
Kenson (sniffing for a moment, then the light bulb moment): Ohhh, that's what my armpits smell like. I thought that was my butt smell but it's my armpit smell!
Kenson (sniffing for a moment, then the light bulb moment): Ohhh, that's what my armpits smell like. I thought that was my butt smell but it's my armpit smell!
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Candor and Control
Once upon a time, I realized I had some serious control issues. (Probably when I was in high school and my mother kept telling me I was going to have to become more flexible or I would have a heart attack.) By the time I was in college, I realized how much I enjoyed control. From controlling my behavior to controlling the behavior of others to having a melt down if I couldn't do those things, I gradually realized that I craved control. In an interesting way, God worked on my heart a lot to pry my need for control out of my tightly curled hands. There were of course some pretty big things like adoptions and family deaths. But really I think God worked the most in the small things. A trip to Romania where I was the only person my age, where I didn't know the language,where I was stuck in a situation completely outside of my comfort zone. Steady revelations on how grace affects us all, on how God didn't love me more because I could do a multitude of good things with a snap of my fingers. A marriage where I realized how my desire to control could become a source of friction. And last but not least, the lessons of motherhood where poopy diapers always cause major issues moments before you are walking out the door, where children never throw tantrums at convenient times, where your life gets turned topsy turvy as you realize just how much you must put aside your self centered focus while you care for your kids. (There have been times where I have honestly thought I would never eat a warm breakfast again.) All of those things I thought had eroded my need for control. I really thought that I was in a pretty good place as I took comfort in knowing that God was in control of my life.
And then, I found out I was pregnant. It sounds a bit callous to write that. (And forgive me if you are a friend who has struggled or is struggling with infertility. I know how much your heart wants to be pregnant, how you would give up a limb to be here, and I mean no disrespect for the gift God has chosen to bless us with.) It's just that I wasn't really sure I wanted the gift at this very moment in my life. In the last 4 years, we have had 3 kids. In the last 6 months, we have done a major move which we are still not completely settled from, traveled to China, and brought home a 2 year old. At the beginning of November, I actually said to D something about life slowing down and being able to just enjoy the slower pace for a while. I was really enjoying my time at home when it was just Zeke and I. I was finally feeling like I had some routine and normalcy.
And then there is this positive pregnancy test, one that caused both my husband and my mother to ask if I was joking. (Um, who jokes about that?!) My head of course started swimming, thinking of all the uncertainty that a pregnancy brings. From the major things like wondering who will deliver your baby and wondering when is the best time to tell people you are pregnant to the minor-but-feel-very-major-things like realizing you have no baby things and trying to figure out where you are going to find a maternity bra when you already have issues finding a regular bra. Not only did I think about the practical side of pregnancy, but it also made me think about the practical side of adoption. I really thought we would adopt at least one more time; God has not yet taken away that desire from my heart. But this baby fills our vehicles and our bedrooms so I have wondered if perhaps another adoption is just not to be. It all makes you feel a bit out of control. Throw in major nausea which literally puts you on the couch for months on end and not only are you mentally and emotionally off kilter, but the entire running of your household is out of whack.
Out of control. Surprised by how much I felt that way when I really thought all my controlling ways were pretty in check. Wondering why on earth God thought this seemed like a good idea because I was perfectly content the way things were. I knew in my head that it would be something that would take some time to adjust to and that it was okay to feel those things but I still was surprised by how much I felt out of control. Time, of course, changes things and while I don't have all my thoughts sorted out, I do believe there is something in this moment that is about God at work in my heart. It is not about pregnancy. It is about God giving me a "gift" of sorts. And I don't mean in terms of a baby. I mean, it's about God giving me what I need: 9 months (+) of a crazy, out of control, God's plan is different than my plan life.
Is there a good chance that it's not just as simple as that? Sure. But right now, that's where I'm at, stepping out to say that this surprise pregnancy has been not easy on a lot of levels, that my need for control is still there, and that I am trusting that God has a best plan for me, one that is better than any good plan I could have dreamed up on my own, a plan that God knows is just what I need.
And then, I found out I was pregnant. It sounds a bit callous to write that. (And forgive me if you are a friend who has struggled or is struggling with infertility. I know how much your heart wants to be pregnant, how you would give up a limb to be here, and I mean no disrespect for the gift God has chosen to bless us with.) It's just that I wasn't really sure I wanted the gift at this very moment in my life. In the last 4 years, we have had 3 kids. In the last 6 months, we have done a major move which we are still not completely settled from, traveled to China, and brought home a 2 year old. At the beginning of November, I actually said to D something about life slowing down and being able to just enjoy the slower pace for a while. I was really enjoying my time at home when it was just Zeke and I. I was finally feeling like I had some routine and normalcy.
And then there is this positive pregnancy test, one that caused both my husband and my mother to ask if I was joking. (Um, who jokes about that?!) My head of course started swimming, thinking of all the uncertainty that a pregnancy brings. From the major things like wondering who will deliver your baby and wondering when is the best time to tell people you are pregnant to the minor-but-feel-very-major-things like realizing you have no baby things and trying to figure out where you are going to find a maternity bra when you already have issues finding a regular bra. Not only did I think about the practical side of pregnancy, but it also made me think about the practical side of adoption. I really thought we would adopt at least one more time; God has not yet taken away that desire from my heart. But this baby fills our vehicles and our bedrooms so I have wondered if perhaps another adoption is just not to be. It all makes you feel a bit out of control. Throw in major nausea which literally puts you on the couch for months on end and not only are you mentally and emotionally off kilter, but the entire running of your household is out of whack.
Out of control. Surprised by how much I felt that way when I really thought all my controlling ways were pretty in check. Wondering why on earth God thought this seemed like a good idea because I was perfectly content the way things were. I knew in my head that it would be something that would take some time to adjust to and that it was okay to feel those things but I still was surprised by how much I felt out of control. Time, of course, changes things and while I don't have all my thoughts sorted out, I do believe there is something in this moment that is about God at work in my heart. It is not about pregnancy. It is about God giving me a "gift" of sorts. And I don't mean in terms of a baby. I mean, it's about God giving me what I need: 9 months (+) of a crazy, out of control, God's plan is different than my plan life.
Is there a good chance that it's not just as simple as that? Sure. But right now, that's where I'm at, stepping out to say that this surprise pregnancy has been not easy on a lot of levels, that my need for control is still there, and that I am trusting that God has a best plan for me, one that is better than any good plan I could have dreamed up on my own, a plan that God knows is just what I need.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
FAQ's Regarding Zeke's Hands
From strangers, acquaintances, and friends, we do occasionally get questions about Zeke's hands. For those of you too shy or polite to ask, here are some of the more common questions and the answers.
1. Why are his hands like that? (Mostly asked by elementary aged children.)
Zeke was born with his hands that way. It is not from an accident and it doesn't hurt. We still do not have an official diagnosis other than congenital birth defect but I'm still holding onto my belief that the technical term is symbrachydactyly . It is not something that is inherited nor can he pass it on to his children and there are a lot of unknowns regarding why it actually happens.
2. What kinds of things can he do with his hands? (Usually this question actually comes out more like "How does he eat? or another similar question.)
Honestly, this kid does whatever he wants. He came to us knowing how to use silverware, chopsticks, and writing utensils. (I am sad to say we have not used chopsticks very much and when I gave him some the other day, he struggled.) He can drink from an open cup, catch a ball, open our patio door and put together simple wooden puzzles. We took a break from being potty trained when he first came home but after Christmas, went back to underwear. With that development, he decided he wanted to dress and undress himself. So he can take off all of his clothes by himself and can put on underwear, pants, socks, and shirts. (Pretty much by himself, depending on the piece of clothing.) He can unzip zippers as well as any other two year old. Two things that are impossible right now for him are pants with zippers and opening doors. Pants with zippers have an open front and so he can't pull them up like he can pants with all over elastic waists. Door knobs require the ability to grip and turn which he can't do. When he is taller, he will be able to use both hands to do that but right now he is too short. The reality is he is very adaptive and innovative. He just figures out a way on his own. Right now, some of his favorite words are "Do it!" which of course really means "I do it!"
3. Will he use a prosthetic?
Generally speaking, most people whose upper limbs are affected by limb differences do not choose to use prosthetics. Many people feel it is cumbersome and that they would rather just make do with what they have rather than add something else into the mix. For those with lower limb differences, prosthetics are more commonly used. There are assistive devices that he may or may not choose to use. For example, he might choose to have something added to the handlebars of his bike since one arm is shorter than the other. There are people who spend their careers designing special equipment that enables people with unique bodies to be able to do things like play the violin, ride bikes, drive cars, etc. and there is a chance that at some point, one or more devices like that might be helpful to him.
4. Can they do anything to fix his hands?
"Fix" is a relative term. His hands are always going to be unique. However, they may or may not be able to give him more function. We will be visiting Shriner's Hospital in Minneapolis in May to meet with a hand specialist. After an initial consultation with an orthopedic specialist at our local children's hospital, we were referred to Shriners. The specialist we did see thought there might be the possibility that they could create a pincher type grasp on his hand that is missing the fingers. That hand is actually a wrist with a portion of his palm so there is more to work with than what you might assume. However, we have no idea of the pros and cons of doing a surgery to create a pincher grasp. We will just wait until our appointment in May and go from there.
Last, I thought I'd share a picture of his hands. Kids especially are really curious about what how his hands look.. Grown ups are usually too nice to let on that they are curious.
1. Why are his hands like that? (Mostly asked by elementary aged children.)
Zeke was born with his hands that way. It is not from an accident and it doesn't hurt. We still do not have an official diagnosis other than congenital birth defect but I'm still holding onto my belief that the technical term is symbrachydactyly . It is not something that is inherited nor can he pass it on to his children and there are a lot of unknowns regarding why it actually happens.
2. What kinds of things can he do with his hands? (Usually this question actually comes out more like "How does he eat? or another similar question.)
Honestly, this kid does whatever he wants. He came to us knowing how to use silverware, chopsticks, and writing utensils. (I am sad to say we have not used chopsticks very much and when I gave him some the other day, he struggled.) He can drink from an open cup, catch a ball, open our patio door and put together simple wooden puzzles. We took a break from being potty trained when he first came home but after Christmas, went back to underwear. With that development, he decided he wanted to dress and undress himself. So he can take off all of his clothes by himself and can put on underwear, pants, socks, and shirts. (Pretty much by himself, depending on the piece of clothing.) He can unzip zippers as well as any other two year old. Two things that are impossible right now for him are pants with zippers and opening doors. Pants with zippers have an open front and so he can't pull them up like he can pants with all over elastic waists. Door knobs require the ability to grip and turn which he can't do. When he is taller, he will be able to use both hands to do that but right now he is too short. The reality is he is very adaptive and innovative. He just figures out a way on his own. Right now, some of his favorite words are "Do it!" which of course really means "I do it!"
3. Will he use a prosthetic?
Generally speaking, most people whose upper limbs are affected by limb differences do not choose to use prosthetics. Many people feel it is cumbersome and that they would rather just make do with what they have rather than add something else into the mix. For those with lower limb differences, prosthetics are more commonly used. There are assistive devices that he may or may not choose to use. For example, he might choose to have something added to the handlebars of his bike since one arm is shorter than the other. There are people who spend their careers designing special equipment that enables people with unique bodies to be able to do things like play the violin, ride bikes, drive cars, etc. and there is a chance that at some point, one or more devices like that might be helpful to him.
4. Can they do anything to fix his hands?
"Fix" is a relative term. His hands are always going to be unique. However, they may or may not be able to give him more function. We will be visiting Shriner's Hospital in Minneapolis in May to meet with a hand specialist. After an initial consultation with an orthopedic specialist at our local children's hospital, we were referred to Shriners. The specialist we did see thought there might be the possibility that they could create a pincher type grasp on his hand that is missing the fingers. That hand is actually a wrist with a portion of his palm so there is more to work with than what you might assume. However, we have no idea of the pros and cons of doing a surgery to create a pincher grasp. We will just wait until our appointment in May and go from there.
Last, I thought I'd share a picture of his hands. Kids especially are really curious about what how his hands look.. Grown ups are usually too nice to let on that they are curious.
 |
| His left hand has a full thumb and a portion of the pointer finger. The middle finger on that hand is more of a nubbin but does have some bone in it. He also has 2 small nubbins that don't appear to have any bone in them. His right hand has a functional wrist and portion of a palm. At the end of the palm portion are more boneless nubbins. He actually does have the "start" of 5 individual fingers on that hand if you look closely. One thought has been that they might be able to deepen the space between his thumb and the other "fingers" on this hand and create more of a functional thumb on this hand. |
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
How Not To Put Away Your Laundry
Don't know why it's posting sideways; anyway, this was Conleigh around 5:00 tonight.
Other how nots from the day:
How not to end your bathtime: by taking your freshly lotioned bum and sitting on a very hairy, shedding dog
How not to remain germ free: by using the dog's squeaky toy as your own personal chew toy
Monday, February 25, 2013
Surprise? Miracle? Pregnancy After Adoption
"Oh, I bet you were surprised!"
"What a miracle!"
I know those phrases don't seem like much but with this pregnancy, I was really hoping I wouldn't hear those things too much. Mostly I was hoping not to hear the last one.
To some degree, both carry this connotation that our first three adoptions were perhaps a result of an inability to have our "own" children and I think that this is the preconceived idea many have about adoptive families. Let me say though that for us, this was not exactly how we came to adoption. (And I am in no way dismissing those families who came to adoption because of infertility or other issues that make having biological children complicated. Their stories are authentic and valuable. Our story is just different, not better, just different.)
I came to adoption because I believed it was the right way for me to start a family. (Said as a single person.) After spending several week as an 18 year old in Romanian orphanages, less than a decade after communism fell, I simply could not know what I knew and not make a choice to adopt. I shared that belief with D before we were married and he was on board with that choice. Sometimes that belief has been misconstrued by others as an attempt to save the world or to "help" kids but it is more than that. It's a deeply held belief that says "Every child deserves a family. I desire to be a parent and it seems like common sense to be a parent to a child who needs a family." Love, reigned in by an understanding of the practical side of adoption, has been the motivation.
So words that indicate that perhaps adoption was a last resort or a second best attempt to form a family just sit badly with me. (And I think for families who have experienced infertility, etc., who maybe even did only consider adoption because of that, would still say the same thing. That yes, they had to consider another option, one they might not have considered but in no way is it second best.) Mostly, I just don't want things like that said around my children.
The implication that my pregnancy is a miracle negates the other ways I have seen God at work in my life. Yes, it true that we did not have biological children and that there might have been an aspect of infertility at some point (after Kenson came home) but the reality is, we really didn't care nor did we take any time to try to discern if there was an issue. And yes, I think most people consider any pregnancy a miracle. I would just hope a pregnancy following an adoption would not seem more miraculous.
The reality is my other children were birthed to birth moms in miraculous ways and then birthed again into an adoptive family in yet another miraculous way. I have two children who are from a country where the infant mortality rate is over 7% and where almost 9% of the children do not live past the age of 5, where treatable things like cholera, malaria, respiratory illnesses, and diarrhea are often deadly, where malnutrition contributes to death. I have another child who was born in a poor province of China but who is considered disabled by most of the world because of his hands. His future in China (and many other countries) would probably be that of an adult who was unable to work at an honest job, not because his disability really hampered him but because social stigma would prevent anyone from hiring him. Add in a crazy plan that somehow transplanted them into our family and I can't help but feel a deep sense of how God-sized the task of adoption is. I don't, for a moment, want any of my children to feel "less than" or "plan b."
No judgement if you've said those words to me or someone else. (Really, I have been blessed by so many simple "congratulations!" and not the words I am writing about today.) Just a call to consider how your words might sound to the itty bitty ears of children who are listening or to the heart of a mom who values all of her kids and their "birth" stories.
"What a miracle!"
I know those phrases don't seem like much but with this pregnancy, I was really hoping I wouldn't hear those things too much. Mostly I was hoping not to hear the last one.
To some degree, both carry this connotation that our first three adoptions were perhaps a result of an inability to have our "own" children and I think that this is the preconceived idea many have about adoptive families. Let me say though that for us, this was not exactly how we came to adoption. (And I am in no way dismissing those families who came to adoption because of infertility or other issues that make having biological children complicated. Their stories are authentic and valuable. Our story is just different, not better, just different.)
I came to adoption because I believed it was the right way for me to start a family. (Said as a single person.) After spending several week as an 18 year old in Romanian orphanages, less than a decade after communism fell, I simply could not know what I knew and not make a choice to adopt. I shared that belief with D before we were married and he was on board with that choice. Sometimes that belief has been misconstrued by others as an attempt to save the world or to "help" kids but it is more than that. It's a deeply held belief that says "Every child deserves a family. I desire to be a parent and it seems like common sense to be a parent to a child who needs a family." Love, reigned in by an understanding of the practical side of adoption, has been the motivation.
So words that indicate that perhaps adoption was a last resort or a second best attempt to form a family just sit badly with me. (And I think for families who have experienced infertility, etc., who maybe even did only consider adoption because of that, would still say the same thing. That yes, they had to consider another option, one they might not have considered but in no way is it second best.) Mostly, I just don't want things like that said around my children.
The implication that my pregnancy is a miracle negates the other ways I have seen God at work in my life. Yes, it true that we did not have biological children and that there might have been an aspect of infertility at some point (after Kenson came home) but the reality is, we really didn't care nor did we take any time to try to discern if there was an issue. And yes, I think most people consider any pregnancy a miracle. I would just hope a pregnancy following an adoption would not seem more miraculous.
The reality is my other children were birthed to birth moms in miraculous ways and then birthed again into an adoptive family in yet another miraculous way. I have two children who are from a country where the infant mortality rate is over 7% and where almost 9% of the children do not live past the age of 5, where treatable things like cholera, malaria, respiratory illnesses, and diarrhea are often deadly, where malnutrition contributes to death. I have another child who was born in a poor province of China but who is considered disabled by most of the world because of his hands. His future in China (and many other countries) would probably be that of an adult who was unable to work at an honest job, not because his disability really hampered him but because social stigma would prevent anyone from hiring him. Add in a crazy plan that somehow transplanted them into our family and I can't help but feel a deep sense of how God-sized the task of adoption is. I don't, for a moment, want any of my children to feel "less than" or "plan b."
No judgement if you've said those words to me or someone else. (Really, I have been blessed by so many simple "congratulations!" and not the words I am writing about today.) Just a call to consider how your words might sound to the itty bitty ears of children who are listening or to the heart of a mom who values all of her kids and their "birth" stories.
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