Checking in

It has been a busy day around here. I've been working on my paracord stuff, chasing Lizzie around, trying to whip up dinner, and applying for jobs.

We've decided to renew the homestudy. Nate was the deciding factor on this one. He was horrified at the thought of quitting. "But...what if a mom is having a baby...and she wants to give it to us?" Well, try to explain THAT to those big, brown eyes! We have always wanted him to feel involved in the adoption process, and this is the first time he has expressed a strong opinion about anything involving it (besides wanting a brother, lol). I'm not thrilled at the thought of searching for another year . . . but at this point, we're so used to it, what could it hurt?

Song of the day, since it's been a while . . .

The video itself makes me motion sick, but the lyrics are perfect. "I'll kneel down, wait for now. . . I will wait, I will wait for you."

Something about Mary

Very few people read this blog, really. I mean, seriously--maybe a handful of people wander through and read it. Mostly, they're family. Some friends. People from Russia who stumble in by mistake. And I seem to have a loyal reader in Brazil. Interesting. Anyway, my point is this--most of you already know these things about me. But . . . ya' know what? I really need to put it in words tonight.

I am . . .

. . . D and R's youngest daughter. I have my mother's hands and my father's eyes.

. . . the agony of my mother's death, and the triumph of knowing I will see her again.

. . . fierce. Beyond anything even I can imagine. Because, as I mentioned above, I am my mother's daughter and I know no other way.

. . . patient. Because, I am also my father's daughter, and he taught me to temper my fierceness with careful thought and understanding.

. . . a fighter. I shouldn't have survived my own birth, the nurses and doctors told my parents. I did. And boy, I've fought for everything I've accomplished ever since.

. . . adoption. I hold it closely to my heart, as it makes my very existence possible. Thank you, Grandma H, for your sorrow and heartache, fortitude and perseverance. D wouldn't have found R otherwise. And I wouldn't be any of this without you.

I believe . . .

. . . God knows us and loves us, on a very personal level.

. . . In true love.

. . . in possibilities.

. . . in everybody's ability to change, if they truly want to.

. . . that I WILL see my mom again, and that moment will be glorious and joyful, and the years without her will be swept away in with the fullness of it.


I think . . .

. . . people who are mean to animals are going to hell.

. . . likewise for people to mistreat children.

. . . My kids are the most beautiful, radiant, amazing people I know.



I love . . .

. . . my husband

. . . my kids

. . . my family

. . . my sister, who has found a new place in my heart the past few years. Love you, sis. Don't think I would have made it this far without you.

. . . music (oh, come on! You knew that one was coming!)

. . . meadow larks, because they remind me of my mom.

. . . animals, because I believe they teach us about unconditional love. Besides, I can't get my kids to run after tennis balls (haha)

Love me, hate me, feel however the heck you want about me. I don't care. I am who I am, and right now . . . at this moment . . . I am so darn happy with that! I am guilty of focusing too much on my own shortcomings and faults. I forget who I really am. I forget who my parents raised me to be. I lose sight of who and what I am in my obsession with who and what I'm not.

No more.

. . . So. How's everyone else feeling today?

HEY! Keep being awesome!

Close your eyes...

And just listen. Love this song and how it reminds me of my amazing husband and (to a lesser degree) all the supportive people in my life.

Just...listen. You'll understand when you listen.

Our adoption journey

Because I've never actually put it all in one place before...I think it's about time...

Andy and I were high school...friends. Not sweethearts by any measure. We had a large group of friends (the band nerds) who hung out together and we just enjoyed that. We laughed, we did stupid things...we had fun. High school ended, college started, and even though we both lost touch with most of our other friends, I never could write Andy off. He was the nicest guy I had ever met, and no matter how bad he was at returning phone calls (and still is) I really liked having him in my life. Anyway, after being good friends for six years, we suddenly looked at each other and thought, “Wait a minute!” and were married six months later. We should seriously have a romantic comedy based on our story.

One thing I knew about Andy going into our relationship was that he couldn't have kids. He had battled leukemia in his teens and the radiation had left him unable to father children. This was the only thing his family saw him cry about in the four years of treatment for his cancer. They told him when he was 15. Even then, at that young age, he had a strong desire to be a dad and he was heartbroken thinking it might not happen. It would take him a few years to realize adoption would still give him a deep, loving bond with his children.

I, on the other hand, had been raised with adoption as a way of life. My dad is adopted and my oldest sister adopted three kids, so it was a “normal” thing for me. I fully intended to adopt kids if I could; I felt it was a path I was meant to tread. By the time we were married, Andy's mourning was over and we were able to embrace adoption together. I remember being so excited and nervous about it; Andy was mostly nervous. It was a roller coaster ride, but we held on to each other and  screamed when we needed to. We had two long years of waiting for our first child, Nate. Those years taught us patience and trust in God, things we continue to work on today.

Nate came out of the blue. I had signed us up for an adoption profile site—one of the first ones to be in existence as far as I know—and I got an email one night about an agency looking for parents for three babies. I responded, saying we would be interested. I didn't think anything would come of it. That was a Wednesday night. Thursday morning, our profile was forwarded to the agency. Friday morning, I was on the phone with the agency director and we were told a baby boy, three months old, was waiting for a family in our own little town. Were we interested? Um...yeah! We met our Nate for the first time the next day (nine years ago on Saturday!) It took two weeks to get the red tape out of the way; he came home Valentine's Day weekend. We were, and still are, head over heals in love with this gorgeous, happy baby boy. Andy would hold him on his chest and cry over him, “My son...my son...my son.” He was a dad at last, and it was everything he had dreamed.

A semi-open adoption (pictures, letters, phone calls, but no identifying information) was pretty progressive back then and that's what Nate's birthmom asked for, so that's what we agreed to. I remember writing her our first letter when Nate was six months old: “Hello, we are the family who adopted your son,” was how we started our relationship with his brave Mama, Mama L.

In the ensuing years, I watched my dad search for and find his biological family. I was so thrilled for him when he finally found his older sister. Andy and I promised each other we would do all we could to keep another sibling group from experiencing the loss and sorrow of being separated by adoption; so, when it came time to start the adoption process again, we signed up for a foster/adopt program and hoped for a sibling group. It only took four months. And it was nothing like we were expecting.

It was another email.

“L is here at the agency. She is due next week and asked if you could adopt the baby. Are you interested?” Um...yeah! We had ten days to prepair for a baby instead of the older sibling group we had been expecting. One of the agency case workers told us it was a boy.  When we got to the agency, we were told that not only was Mama L having a girl (oops!), but she wanted us to meet Nate's brother. A brother?! We had no idea.

Two days later, we met Elizabeth Hazel (Elizabeth for my sister and Hazel for my dad's birthmom) for the first time. She was just 24 hours old, with enormous brown eyes that met mine as soon as I spoke her name. “Look how she already responds to you!” Mama L said joyfully.

That day, we also met A, who was five at the time. A and Nate were immediately best friends, from the moment they laid eyes on each other. All the parents in the room (adoptive and birth) shed a tear of gratitude that we were able to bring the three of them together: Best buddy brothers and precious baby sister.

Our relationship with A and his family has grown and blossomed over the years. Adoption brought us together to make a new family, and we love them so much! L now gets pictures with all three of them together, grinning just the same smile. A's mom is like a sister to me and we call and email often. Andy and I kept our promise: A group of siblings has been kept from the sorrow of wondering where their siblings were, we insured that bond was safe.

I think the lessons we've learned from adoption are 1.) Life doesn't turn out the way you plan. Sometimes, it turns out much, much better! 2.) The promises made in adoption are sacred, and you're held responsible for them. We promised to save a sibling bond, and we were given that opportunity. We don't think that was a coincidence. But, then again, we don't think anything in adoption is a coincidence.

I cannot lie, the adoption process has much to be desired. But, adoption itself can be wonderful and joyous for everyone involved; it is also heartbreakingly hard for everyone involved. But, the hard times make individuals, couples and families stronger if we let them.

Nate is now nine and Lizzie is five. There is no doubt in our minds that they were meant to be together. To hear them laughing as they play in the backyard with the dogs or climb all over their dad is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. No, our adoption journey didn't take us where we expected! It took us where we were supposed to be. 

Nate the Great!

When we found out about Nate's...well...existence, we went about finding a name for him. We liked the name his birthmom had given him, but it as very similar to a couple relatives' names, and we just thought it was too confusing. So, we decided to use that name as his middle name and find a new first name that suited him. Oh my! We went through every single name on the AOL Baby Names list, from A to N...right down to Nate. It took us hours upon hours! But as soon as I read aloud, "Nate" we both went, "Huh...yeah..." It didn't take any time at all for his cousins to start calling him Nate the Great.

I must say, he lives up to the hype.

Kind, thoughtful, an attentive brother and caring friend, Nate reminds me every day of what I should be striving to be. I am so proud to be his mom.

Here are some pictures of Nate the Great. No words exist that can describe how much I love this kid!

With Lizzie on the first day of school.
See the protective arm around her shoulders?

Soccer! His new love!

With his baseball awards!

My precious, precious son! He is growing so quickly. I can hardly wait to see the man he becomes.

Where you invest your love...

"For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."

I kind of started this post with a journal entry on Cafemom, but I wanted to expand on it since it's still kicking around in my head. So, forgive me if it sounds familiar.

I've been thinking a lot lately about what I treasure...the things I put the most value in. Family, friends, my relationship with my Heavenly Father...all these things are on the top of the list; but what things at the bottom of the list are robbing me of time for the things at the top of the list? Does my list too often get turned upside down so the least important things are given the most value? I know it happens; I think it happens to all of us.

I'm not here to say how we should all be living our lives. What works great for me isn't going to work at all for someone else, and vise verse. Maybe what I'm getting at is that I'm trying to be better. I've been "just getting along" for a long time, and now I'm taking a good look around, at my life and how I'm living it and thinking some things have got to go, and some things have gone that I didn't mean to let get away. I wrote not too long ago about change; life can change on a dime...but when we try to change ourselves, it takes a lot of work. I think I'm finally ready to get at that job again.

What about you, readers? What have you been trying to do better or improve on/at?

Ah, and the song of the day: "In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die. Where you invest your love, you invest your life." (Mumford & Sons, Awake My Soul)

Missing

It's one of those nights when I sit and miss my mom. I miss her every day, with every breath I take; but I don't let myself just sit and really feel it very often. The sorrow is just kind of...always there...in the background. Nights like tonight, I long for her laughter, her voice telling me it's going to be all right.  And though I deeply believe she is still with me, that she still loves me, shares in my triumphs and pain...it isn't the same. Adjusting to a world without her has been (and continues to be) the hardest thing I have yet to do. Sometimes, I just have to take it day by day...or minute by minute.

I hope I can be the mom she always knew I could be. I think it's the times when I don't feel like I'm living up to expectations that I miss her the most. She was always my biggest fan, and she would cheer for me from the sidelines of my life. It's the times when I'm most weary, at my lowest, hardest on myself, that I really, really miss that.

I don't know that this post has much to do with adoption, except...Gee, I had a great mom! And  I was so incredibly lucky to have her as a mom! And...Gee...I hope someday my kids say that about me. Because I'm striving with everything I have to be to my kids, what my mom was (and still is) to me.

A note about siblings (AKA an essay on love...yeah, it's long)

As you can see from my last post, I have lots of siblings. Seven! Wow! Practically unheard of in this day and age! Andy has five siblings (all sisters) and two step-siblings (also sisters). With so many brothers and sisters running around, we often get asked something like, "Didn't you feel lost in all those kids?" The short answer is, "No." But since when do I give the short answer to anything, haha?

Andy and I both grew up loved and individually recognized in our big families. Not everyone feels that way, of course. But, for us, it was the best way to grow up. Far from feeling lost in the crowd, we really felt as if we had more attention because of our siblings. My brother D taught me to read. My brother G taught me to ride a bike.

There are probably people out there thinking, "Well, shouldn't those be things your parents do? If your parents didn't have so many kids, THEY would have had time to do those things with you." Well...fact is, if my parents hadn't had so many kids, I wouldn't be here. Seventh of eight, remember? However, let me address this statement. I love that I have those memories with two of my brothers. I love it! Pictures of me and my brother M, with D reading to us bring back such warm and tender feelings. And G is still that brother running along behind, ready to catch any of us if we fall. My sister L is my best friend (after Andy), my brother M is one of my heroes, and the list goes on and on.

 I cannot express gratitude for our large families without mentioning Andy's sister S, who saved his life by donating her bone marrow. He was 15. She was 21. And don't get me started on the rest of his sisters! Our first date, we doubled with Andy's sister L. His sister T orchestrated and pushed (sometimes gently, sometimes not) our new relationship along. B (the oldest) took our engagement pictures. B (the youngest) makes Andy feel like a million bucks whenever they spend time together.

Our warm and fuzzy view of big families seems to be one not shared by most people these days, especially in the adoption community. How could we love a third child as much as we love our first and second? You would be surprised how many times we've run across this sentiment in our adoption journey. Oh my! Love is only limited by the people you share it with! I can understand wanting a child to feel special and loved. Guess what? Andy and I both feel special and loved. I don't think that's nearly as unusual as people think it is.

Nate is our super hero in eight-year-old clothing. He is ten feet tall, and just waiting for his body to catch up. He is gentle and thoughtful in ways far beyond what you would expect from and eight year old. Nate thinks deep thoughts, and really studies the world and forms strong opinions about that world. He loves to read. He loves his dogs. He misses his biological brother, but likes getting emails from him. He thinks growing up with white parents is weird sometimes. He hates it when Andy and I kiss in front of him.

Lizzie not only marches to the beat of her own drummer, she dances to her own orchestra. I often think that if life were to suddenly turn into a musical, with everyone singing and dancing down the street, Lizzie would feel right at home.

Lizzie's ideal world

My sweet girl has a wicked sense of humor, and loves to hog the lime light. She adores her brother, and thinks he is the most perfect person on earth, even when he's mad at her. She, too, hates it when Andy and I kiss in front of her, but she likes it when we hold hands. She loves to jump on the trampoline. She likes to sing along to Blue October, Mumford & Sons, and The Firetruck Song. When I look into Lizzie's eyes, I see the depths of eternity stretching out before me.

Wow, we can't WAIT to find out who kid #3 is! What awesome and unique characteristics will he or she bring to our family!? Will he or she hate it when we kiss? Will they be play sports? An instrument? Draw, paint? Maybe they'll be a whiz at technology! What amazing things will they accomplish? What new way of seeing the world will they introduce us to? I'll bet he or she LOVES Nate (everyone does). Guess what? We will know them just as well as we know Lizzie and Nate. Just as our Heavenly Father knows each of us.

If your heart is open, there's no limit to the people you can welcome into it. And each one is unique and loved for the wonderful person they are. And the love you give is given back to you, and you find that we really are all brothers and sisters, on this strange journey of life together...and if only the rest of the world would realize this, how wonderful it would be!

That's the way I see it, anyway. My two cents. For what it's worth. Take it or leave it.

~ Mary