Not a Birth Story

Five years ago today, I went to see a lawyer about a little girl. I've told some of you my story, our story, but I don't think I've ever written it down. It seems like it was a lifetime ago. It basically was another world. I was living in Bolivia, South America and everything was in Spanish and on laid-back Latin time. I went to ask Dr. Freddy (lawyers in Bolivia are called Doctor) if I could adopt an eight-year-old girl from a local orphanage. It was the fleece I was laying out before God after two months of praying and seeking wise counsel. Since August, when my dear friend, Heidi, told me that my sponsor child, Angie, was becoming adoptable, and I felt the nudging of her elbow in my rib cage, or maybe the tugging of the Holy Spirit on my heart, I'd been asking God and others if I should take her home. 

At first, I prayed for Angie to get a family, as every good sponsor would. Then God answered with a question, as He often does, "Why not you?" 

Some people told me 'not me' because I was single. Others said 'not me' because I was a foreigner. Still others told me 'YES me.' So I went to talk to Freddy on the recommendation from my pastor and friend who had used him to adopt his son. I was ready for the lawyer to tell me it was impossible so I could have some closure on this chapter of my prayer life, so I could begin to pray for Angie to get another family, an easier family, easier for me at least. But that's not what God had in mind. After an hour-long consult, Freddy's words were "I'll have your daughter to you in a month." 

I'll never forget those words, or the state of near hyperventilation that consumed me as I descended the steps from his office. I remember making sure that she wouldn't have the chance to be adopted by a two-parent family, because I didn't want to stand in the way of her having a father. And I remember only half-joking that other mothers get nine months to prepare!

So, our story began. December 1st, one month later, I was granted custody of a beautiful eight-year-old girl. Six months from then, the adoption was final. But it wasn't as simple as that. The process was all in Spanish, and legal Spanish may as well have been Chinese for me. More than the paperwork and the hoops I had to jump through though, the struggles were emotional. Angie and I had a 12-day honeymoon period. Followed by six months of intensifying stress. The books I read said the first six months were the worst, so we held on. But it didn't get better in six months. It didn't get better after a year. At a year and a half I got married and it got worse. After three years, I read Jen Hatmaker's  blog post about their two years since adoption.  And I cried. I cried because she was giving others hope that at two years things would get better, and that had not been our story. And I cried for the dozens of commenters who hadn't found peace for their families after years and years either. 

Today, marks five years since the day I asked if Angie could be my family. And today, we've finally hit our stride. It's nearly guaranteed that seconds after I post this, we will have a monumental breakdown, but for the most part we've found our groove. It wasn't overnight, there wasn't a magic formula, but for those of you who've been asking and praying; the Lord has brought us so far.

I'm writing this now, for two reasons. 1) Because I owe it to Angie. After years of telling people how much we've struggled, it's time I tell people how far she's come. How far we've come. How much we've improved, she's improved and I've improved. How the tantrums have subsided almost entirely. How the fear has mostly been replaced with trust. Not with the trust that means just enough comfort to act out, but instead enough comfort to ask questions and be vulnerable, and stay calm. Trust that maybe we really do have her best interests in mind. And although the trauma's never gonna disappear, the scars it left are fading and its hold on her is loosening.

And 2) To give others hope. There's been a campaign going around social media to end mommy wars, to normalize the differences in parenting little ones. I want to add to that conversation. Not only will everyone's birth story, baby story, and toddler story vary, but everyone's adoption journey will look different too. 

It's quite possible your honeymoon period will never end. Or it's very likely your first six months will be the hardest, just like the books say. Maybe your path will smooth out in two years like the Hatmakers'. Or there's a chance it will take five like ours. And honestly, maybe it will never get easy for your family. But precious adoptive mommies and daddies, even if this last version becomes your story, you've still done the right thing. No matter how hard life seems now, I can almost guarantee your child's journey would have been darker, so much darker, if you weren't in it.

I believe in the ministry you're doing 24 hours every day, I believe it is the most holistic ministry anyone can do. And because you probably haven't heard it enough, Thank You.

Thank you for serving with your whole self, ALL the time, with no end coming. Thank you for loving as an action and not a feeling. And thank you for doing the hardest work that should be so rewarding but sometimes isn't; parenting a child someone else has hurt. Thank you.

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” -Galatians‬ ‭6:9‬ ‭NIV‬‬

8 Months of Love and Cuddles

It seems like this month our BIG baby transformed into a little boy. 

At 8 months, Zy's 2.5 teeth are enough to draw blood if your finger happens to be in the wrong place, but not enough for him to enjoy eating any food, at least not any that's intended for him.

He's sitting up well enough to play with his toys from a new vantage point, as long as someone's close enough to catch him as he falls, or comfort him after his head grazes the ground. 

He's getting just a touch of separation anxiety. His new skill of reaching his arms up is precious and helpful when I'm extracting him from the car seat, but bittersweet when he reaches for family when someone unfamiliar has hold of him.

We've been SO blessed that he hasn't been sick even once in his first 8 months of life, except the nagging diaper rash we've been fighting for a couple weeks.

Just like his new friend, the dog Ruby, his favorite toy is not a toy at all, but a discarded water bottle. They both enjoy gnawing on their Sophie giraffes as well.

His favorite word at the moment is Dadda, in the form of "Daddadaadaaddada," which pretty much melts Jon's heart every time.

Watching him explore and investigate EVERYTHING within his reach, breathes a fresh dose of wonder back into all of us. I can't wait to see where his curiosity takes him. There appears to be a lot more than meets the eye going on up there in that huge head!

Just for his fan club, here are a few extra pics to show you just how grown up he's gotten.

It must be instinct to close your eyes when being licked in the face.

"You can have a lick of my Sophie if you want, its squeaker still works.

This little tongue is always working overtime these days.

The equine term "cribbing" makes a lot more sense now.

TEETH!!

Finally riding in the cart like a big boy, makes such a difference 

Daddy giving Zy a little driving lesson at his favorite store, The Home Depot!

He appears to take driving very seriously.

Myth Busters

"You can't spoil a newborn."

Well, it looks like we've busted that myth out of the water!

I'm not sure who coined this phrase, but it sure spread like wildfire. It's been quoted to me so many times I googled it to see when "newborn" ended, so I'd know when my infant was likely to suffer permanent damage from my doting.

Even my Baby App updates remind me that our precious angel from heaven is unspoilable, assuaging any guilt I feel for snuggling him "too" much. And then there are family and friends posting quotes like this on my Facebook wall:

You don't have to tell me twice, you don't even have to make it rhyme. I was on board this train from Day 1. "Sidekick" has reached whole new levels of togetherness in our relationship. 

Although Jon and I both STRUGGLED with thumb sucking until approximately middle school age, we let, even encouraged, Zy to find and use his thumb to his heart's content. It's cute! We'll worry about the price of braces later, for now, he can't be spoiled.

And sleeping. This is how your babies all nap, right?

The longest I've been away from our 7-month-old is ~3 hours, and the longest I've slept since he was born is 5. We're hooked on each other. And I'm afraid it's starting to show.

Jon kept Isaiah Sunday morning so I could host a fellowship breakfast for CVM downtown before church. He cried for an hour after I left, Isaiah that is, I'm not sure how long Jon cried.

We've dropped Isaiah off in the church nursery 4 weekends now. Our Child ID has been called (he was so upset we had to go pick him up) 3 of those 4 weekends!!

If you've met him, you know he's the sweetest thing since candy corn. The number one question I get when I have him at tennis matches, parties, or conference booths is, "Is he always this happy?" 

He thought he was hot stuff as the Associate Dean of Auburn's vet school hauled him off for a tour of the booths in the exhibit hall. 

I guess the answer is, 'Apparently, only when I'm around.' Our child is behind in most milestones such as holding his head up, sitting unassisted, and eating anything but paper and cell phones, but it appears he's precocious in the area of separation anxiety. So, don't expect to see me without my tiny assistant for another few years. Looks like we'll be enjoying church from the Cry Room for quite some time. This is pretty much my motto anyway:

"Don’t you see that children are God’s best gift?" -Psalms 127:3 TM