Having It All

I was going to get a pedicure today. Had an appointment and everything. But God, as He does, spoke to me yesterday afternoon. Through Facebook. A friend posted a link to this blog:

http://buildingtheblocks.blogspot.com/

One of the entries shows pictures of her five adopted children interspersed with pictures of stuff and vacation destinations. In the entry she says she would choose those kiddos "again and again and again" over the stuff. I can get whiny and irritated and downright resentful at how much adoption costs. Maybe there is reform that is needed; I can't say I've researched it enough to have an educated opinion. But something I read in this blog hit me square. I think that we, as Christians especially, want to "have it all."

It's a different kind of "have it all" than "the world." (boy, I'm using a lot of quotation marks) And that's dangerous. See, I think the kind of thing I'm guilty of is wanting to have it all in that I truly do want to help others, adopt a child, and generally save the world, if you will. But I ALSO want to wear cute clothes, have a nice haircut, live in a home that I'm proud of and send my kids to private school. I want it all.

Today I'm thinking about just how much, or what, I'm willing to give up for the sake of something else that really matters. So for today I canceled the pedicure and put that money in a jar. I wonder how much I could save if I did this with the new clothes I want, the dinners out, the venti latte....you get the idea. How long would it take to save the tens of thousands of dollars it takes to adopt with this method?

Frankly, I'm kind of tired of "having it all." Even the Christian version. I feel a challenge coming on. Anyone in?

Less Like Breakdown

Well, this past week was rough. For whatever reasons I just kind of had a meltdown midweek that had me wondering what in the world we are doing. I know that other people feel this way, too, but when you're in that moment it just feels like you're the only one. Parenting is hard work. So is working, being married, maintaining friendships, and trying to bear witness to God's goodness through action. Life, in short, is hard. And for whatever reason, this week the hardness of life outweighed the beauty (at least in my own head...) and I went over the edge a little bit. My poor hubby. Unfortunately he is the recipient of said breakdown emotional outbursts and the i-can't-deal-with-life-anymore monologues. Because I can get it together pretty well for other people. I mean, I functioned at work this week and saw some people socially who (i don't think, anyway) didn't really wonder what the bleep was wrong with me. Or maybe they did.

I am in a better place today. A song I love has come into my head. Sara Groves wrote it and there are a few great lines. Indulge me while I quote:

Every day it's
Less like tearing more like building
Less like captive more like willing
Less like breakdown more like surrender
Less like haunting more like remember


And the song just has me thinking that I can use the same emotions to break down that I can to just surrender. I cannot do life on my own. We cannot parent these four kids on our own (Lord help us and them if we try!) Period. When I try it just gets worse and the people around me get beat up. It is not the way of Jesus to think we need to have it all "together." There has been no time in my life when I've felt less "together" than now.

I can't say that I feel exactly grateful for the breakdown. But it does lead me to a place of knowing I need to trust Him with my life. Surrendering to my all-knowing-all-loving God sure sounds better to me at this point. We'll see how this week goes.

We Get To Be

Last Sunday I had the chance to briefly talk about our experience with adoption and how we felt God moving us. A "burning bush moment," if you will. The message in church was on Moses, going about his every day thing, minding his own business, and then God shows up in the form of a burning bush :) Haha. Makes me smile because I really feel like that's what happened to me/us in late January of this year. I have been made aware that I kind of just jumped into this blogging thing in the middle of our journey. Some of you don't know the whole backstory and want to (!). That will have to wait for another post because I have my sweet babe in my arms as I type and that's not one I can just quickly shoot out one handed...

Yesterday I was reminded by the Indigo Girls (love 'em) that, "We get to be a ripple in the water. We get to be a rock that's thrown." Somehow, by the grace of God (and I truly mean that because I was just a blubbering idiot up front and really don't even know what I said... sigh) my telling a little bit about our story touched some people and a few came up to me afterwards wanting to talk adoption in more detail. Kinda feel like God took us and threw us into the adoption water. If, through us stumbling towards obedience there are some ripples happening, then to God be all the glory! Nothing would make me happier than to see more children, birthmamas, and families of all types come to know the love of God more richly through adoption.

He Knows Me

So last night, 4 a.m. to be exact (which is still technically night, right?), my sweet babe had finally fallen asleep on my chest while we were both on the couch. As I was praying that he would start to sleep better I started wondering what God was trying to teach us in this tough transition and sleep deprived period. Then it hit me.

Asher knows me.

We have really been struggling to get him to go back to sleep in his crib after night time feedings. He can be up and awake for hours sometimes. He'll do this little grunting uncomfortable sound and not really cry, but not sleep either. It was after one of those periods that I finally thought, "whatever. I am going to sleep with this baby and if he starts to think that's the only way he can sleep, I DON'T CARE!" So picking him up out of his bouncy seat and laying him on my chest, his little grunts finally subsided and he started, well, sleeping like a baby. (sidebar: weird saying that is since most babies don't sleep worth crap).

I did not carry my son in my womb for nine months. My skin is a different color than his. And yet, he knows ME and is comforted by ME. I am and forever will be his mommy. And that gives me a big, sleep-deprived smile :).

Sad

*Profanity disclaimer for the easily offended. Read at your own risk*

I know, I know. This blog has taken a turn for the negative. Sigh. This morning, however, there's no other emotion I can conjure up and the babies are all sleeping, so this is what you get. My kids would say, "You get what you get and you don't throw a fit!"

My little brother is a police detective in Tampa, Florida. This past week they lost two officer's lives when they were shot at close range during a traffic stop. The guy turned out to be involved in a previous homicide, the way I understand it. Only last night, after a four day man hunt, was he taken into custody. One officer had four young boys. The other's wife was 9 months pregnant. The funeral for these two men is this morning. I just sent my brother a text and he and his wife are at the funeral now, which is just about to begin. Thousands are expected to attend.

So I've had several questions for my God this week. They kind of vary in the exact nature, but the overriding question is, of course, "Why?" How in any way is God allowing this to happen pointing to His goodness? Maybe it's not. Maybe it's just a glaring, horrible, f@#$ing, sh@##y reminder that sin is in our world and God help us all. As a mother I cannot help but tear up when I think of those children and those two moms who will now raise those kids alone and have to work through not only their own grief, but that of their children. This is not the way it's supposed to be.

And then there's the fear. I have done a pretty great job over the past 10 years, or so, just ignoring the danger facing my little brother on a daily basis. Even though he's done much undercover work and entered crazy situations, I've been able to keep the danger at arm's length. This past week I have not. Knowing he was involved in the search for the killer had me praying harder than ever before for his safety. And also wishing he were an accountant. (no offense, honey) The police dept. is lucky to have him and the good people of Tampa are safer for him there. He is the best of the best at what he does, I am sure. I have always maintained that he is the ONLY person I can think of who has never once complained about his job. He was made to do this.

And so it comes back to trust. I cannot pretend to say that I trust the life of my brother will be safe because I pray or believe in God. And I don't think it's true, anyway. We're not promised that. But can I trust that God is good? Can I trust that He knows what He's doing? Can I trust him with the lives of those I love? My life?

It's a decision every day.

Tired But Not Destroyed

This may not be the best day to update a blog, but the 3 big kids are busy watching a movie and little one is napping, so no time like the present. Our beautiful boy is four weeks old today! Already! The stinker kept me up for at least two hours straight last night, all wide-eyed and gassy smiles (him, not me). And I AM TIRED.
A was born right at the beginning of summer vacation for the big kids, which has also presented some challenges and I suspect has added to my foul mood at times. Wow. That sounds kind of horrible to say/type. I think that having a newborn while simultaneously trying to adjust everyone to a new routine (or lack thereof if I'm honest) has not been one of my shining moments as a parent. Sigh. I really wish I was one of those moms who just loves summer vacation with their kids because they get to just play and hang out at the pool and eat popsicles and sleep in. I am definitely not there yet. My typical summer day has consisted of trying to keep the boys from killing each other, trying to explain to my eight year old that no, I am NOT lying to him just because plans change, and if we're lucky reminding the kids to practice their piano and do their chores. Oh yeah, and also trying to get A on a schedule while still getting the big kids to swimming lessons and playdates. I have had some times of panic when I realize I don't really have anything planned as far as activities go for the next while. And I'm looking forward to going back to work a couple of days a week....

I don't THINK the above makes me a bad mom. Truly I love all those little rugrats and would give both arms and legs for them if it ever proved necessary. Sometimes I'm feeling that I can't really complain about this, though, now that we've had our fourth child. I mean, we chose to have this many kids for heaven's sakes! To complain about how it can be exhausting seems....well....kind of wrong. And like I'd get a lot of "I told you so" looks, or at least "I thought you'd feel that way after you had him" looks. So I'll just complain via blog and then all of you who might be reading this can give your disapproving looks to your computer screen instead :).

And I'm brought back to the message our pastor gave that started this whole business of us adopting...he said that sometimes following God rather than our own plans can be excruciating. Excruciating. Again feel a little like a mom is not supposed to say that about parenting....but...

Insert that song "I Will Survive." You know, the one that someone ALWAYS sings at karaoke? Granted all of the words do not apply. Really only the chorus. And actually I will do more than survive; I'm just being a whiner. There are the moments in every day that are just plain great. Moments where I think that I made some good decisions, did some good parenting, and have totally amazing kids! And moments where I can see that adopting A was completely right and good. Love that little munchkin. :)

A bit of awesome news: A's birthmama is now out of the shelter and in an apartment with her daughter! She already found a job and is making some good decisions to get life back on track. I can't explain how happy this makes us. This week I'm sending her the first set of pictures and a letter updating her on how A is doing....

Wow. I'm kind of babbling again and this is turning into a very long post. Lots more thoughts swirling around in the brain. But I will stop since my loving and lovely hubby just suggested that it's my turn to take a nap! Only a fool would refuse that...

The Exhale

She went back to Georgia today with her darling five-year-old daughter. The birthmother of our son, as it turns out, is homeless and will be living in a women's shelter for the time being.

It is still hard for me to reconcile our two lives. Only a couple few weeks ago, we met S and she asked us to be her son's family. Nine days ago he was born, beautiful and healthy with lots of dark hair, gorgeous big brown eyes, and the most delicious skin. Just one week ago, S signed over her parental rights and Asher officially became our son! That day, and for several days following, I felt like I could exhale. The night he was born S changed her mind about not wanting to spend much time with him. We were told, while in the waiting room, that she did want him to spend the night in her room with her. At that point I think Mitch and I both kind of felt like giving up--it was hard to not think of this as a replay of the Indiana situation. Another lesson in trusting God, and I don't think I scored very high marks. After he was born, we were able to spend time with him and give him his first bath. Looking back, I truly enjoyed that time, but did not allow myself to bond with this baby who was not really mine yet. While in the nursery we received word that S had changed her mind again back to the original plan. We would be able to keep him with us in a hospital room all night! Grateful as we were, I wouldn't really let myself think this was a "good sign."

The following day S spent a little time with Asher by herself. During that time I could only think how heart-wrenching it must be for her to spend time with him, knowing she was going to give him to us. And then I'd quickly start to doubt that this was going to actually go through and get all panicky again. By this point I was a little more invested in the little guy having spent many hours together.

Later that day, S and the social worker came to our room for a little more time with us and the baby. She gave us some gifts for him, including many cute outfits, bath towels and washcloths, and a package of diapers. I was overwhelmed and vowed to myself that she'd receive pictures of him in these tiny clothes that she chose specifically for our son.

Looking back, I wonder what we did with all those hours and days we spent in the hospital with Asher and without him. We made the hard decision to have our other three children come up to the hospital to meet him. They were SO excited! I wanted to be as excited, but couldn't help thinking that I might be hurting them in the long run if this turns out to not be their brother after all. Grandparents came and visited, as did some friends. It was all very much like the births of my other kids in some ways. He spent the second night with us in the hospital room and it started to feel like this might really happen.

The following morning, S walked over to our room, alone. She delivered a card she had written to him which is beautiful and touching. I know he will always treasure that. She also gave him his middle name. Immanuel. God with us. We love his middle name and it has become a reminder for us to pray that S and her daughter will know the power of God with (all of) us.

A short time later the paperwork was signed. The process of that took about an hour, and the wonderful adoption agency basically babysat us during that hard time. You can tell they are counselors and we didn't even care that we could tell we were being counseled :). It is too hard to write about all the emotions felt during those minutes and hours. One woman signing her parental rights away. Another, with her husband, accepting this baby as his parents forever. Bittersweet doesn't even come close.

One of the sweetest, most unexpected and healing things happened just before we were all discharged. At the hospital, a photographer takes pictures of babies and their families. I was intially thinking this would be the typical baby mug shot and not that interested. Oh no. These are full on, gorgeous photographs. We were all in S's room and the photographer so gently handled the situation. She first asked S to hold Asher and took some beautiful photos of the two of them together. I know this was hard for her, but I am so very grateful to have those pictures. Next she took some of Mitch with him. During that time, S was standing next to me. She is such a quiet person, and hadn't really verbalized much about her personal feelings on placing her son with us. Watching Mitch wish Asher, however, she said something like, "That is what he needs. He needs a daddy." To have that moment captured with those pictures is truly priceless to me. The process of taking those photographs-first of S and Asher, then Mitch with him, then me, then Mitch and I with him, was what we needed. We were told later by our wonderful agency social worker that it was healing for S, as well. I honestly can't even do justice to how much I value those pictures.

Soon after, we all left the hospital separately. We did not say official goodbyes to S, and I think she wanted it that way. She had some time alone with Asher and did say goodbye to him. I cannot imagine.

And now we've had this week with him as our son! Only in the last day or so can I look at him and not, every single time, think about and grieve for her. I still think about her every day. Especially this day. She and her daughter are headed "home," whatever that means. My understanding is that she does not have much support from family or friends and does not have a home. We have struggled with the feeling that we are taking advantage of her poverty, which is a horrible feeling. The agency helped us remember that we are her way of providing for him. She wants this for him. She wants US for him.

Hard to write any more. I thought the emotions weren't as fresh as last week, but reliving it brings it all up again. If you are reading this, please keep S in your prayers. We so desperately want her to feel peace and, above all, God's ever-loving arms around her.