Remember our Korean tour guide, Stella?

She’s coming to our house tomorrow.

Ahhh!

(Here’s a past about our meeting in Seoul.)

About a month ago, I got a message that she wanted to come to America to go to an English immersion camp because although her english is amazing, she feels it’s getting worse.  She thought that staying in a family would be a better way to be immersed. Can I come stay at your house?

Our answer: Absolutely yes!

But there is a lot to consider when a 13 year old is coming to stay with you for 5 weeks.  What about school? Could she join in?  What would we do? Where would she sleep? How would the kids feel about it?  But after very easy conversations, everyone was a go!  We even have an amazing family friend who is 13 who we hooked Stella up with on facebook and they already are fast friends.

The hardest part was getting the school to agree that she could shadow this friend for 3 weeks in school so she could be truly immersed with kids her own age, learning what school in America is like.  (Nothing like the 7am-5pm school she attends with “academy” after for 3-5 MORE hours!)

After a lot of work, the school agreed, but unfortunately, we were caught in a blizzard and the last two days of school before winter break were canceled so we don’t know the finality of her placement, so we’re just going to show up on the first day after break and assume she’s good to go. 🙂  We also are sending her away for a weekend with our church’s youth group. (With said 13-year-old.)

We are so excited! We asked her to speak in hangul LOTS for Cora and Logan is certain she’s going to be his new best friend. And Miles wants her to go to his class and show off her beautiful Hanbok and wonders if he can call her noona. (big sister) 🙂

Cora sleeps in Miles’ bottom bunk, so her room is wide open, waiting for her and we are stocked up on Korean food, though we’re going to make lots of American food staples so she can truly be immersed.  We’re excited to take her to church and also Korean church so she can meet some Korean teens that live in America.  We’re excited to have her here for Christmas and Christmas break.  We’re excited to bring her to our families gatherings, too!

4 kids in the house! A good peak to see if we’d ever be prepared for another. 😉  The only thing I’m thinking about is bedtime.  We’re a “kids must go to bed at a good time so that Dave and I have time to connect after the end of the day. Or just watch TV in silence.” What time DO 13-year-olds go to bed? From skype sessions at 1am to her, I’m assuming a LOT later than Dave and my 10:30. 😉

So today we finish getting ready, cleaning out a  bit of Cora’s closet and drawers so she has room for her stuff, fill up her bookshelf with some of Logan’s books for this avid reader and make a meal plan of foods she must have while here. (What would you make?)

{All while preparing for (Cora’s first) Christmas when the last two days before break where closed due to a blizzard, shopping still to do, no wrapped presents and cookies to bake.  Just a regular day in our house!}

Humbled

6 months ago a pastor visiting from an African country visited our church. We are partner churches with his church.  His word stirred in our minds like thunder and lightening in a storm. A man, a father, a pastor, a brother of ours eating once a day, doing what he can in one of the poorest countries. He was there – in front of us – speaking the Word of God and the truth of his life.  By the end of the service, Dave and I knew we needed to connect with him and help in tangible ways.

As the past 6 months went on, we would occasionally get an email from him and we would share our life and struggles. Due to medical issues, he is back in the US receiving medical care. Today we were blessed to listen to him give our sermon at church and even more blessed to take him out to lunch afterwards.

Imagine a man from one of the poorest countries in the world coming to one of the glutton-ess countries of the world and seeing how we tick.  A menu with 10 pages of words and pictures showing a laundry list of foods that are available with one command to a man who eats one bowl of rice and vegetables and maybe fish a day. Every day. Just one.

We listened to truths of his life – how things work, the struggles, the things lacking, the school life for his children, the people dying of malaria while he had just learned that his 5 year old daughter had contracted it while he was in America and she was in the hospital. Watching him learn tic-tac-toe for the first time, giving up on the menu and asking us to help him order a simple burger, contemplating ketchup for french fries and intently watching as we added all of our sauces and dips and extras. Talking about touching snow for the first time and seeing and tasting a big turkey for Thanksgiving when in his world, Thanksgiving is simply a day where they gather around the table and give thanks for life. Life.

I was embarrassed.

I prayed my kids wouldn’t complain that their food tasted bad.  I prayed that they would have good manners and hear something that would make them see in a real way what a blessed life they lived.

I was embarrassed.

As he was telling me about the school in my town that he visited where he was blown away at the education the young children have.  Books – smart boards – work sheets – libraries – activities.  His children go to a small room crammed with 40 children, one black board with chalk and a teacher with one book.  They do not get their own books.

My kid complains about the books that he has to read each night.  We have so many books in this house that we regularly pack some aside to donate. The boring ones. The ones that we’ve grown tired of.  His kids don’t even have one.

We bundled up a gift back for Christmas for his family. His six children – three biological, one via adoption and two that he has taken into care for when the parents could not.  It was not much that we gave – some baseball hats with our state teams on for him and his boys, a little hello kitty purse for his 5 year old daughter, some jewelry for his daughters and wife.  My boys added a couple of their matchbox cars.  You know, the bucket of about 100 that they have in their rooms that they never play with.

“Do your boys have cars to play with?”

“No they do not. They will LOVE these.”

I was embarrassed.

I struggle very much with living in a land where even the poor have ways to have their needs met almost always.  I’m not saying it’s not hard to be poor in America, because I’m sure it is, but in this land we have food pantries, soup kitchens, places to lay your head, places to get clothing, even if you can not afford.  Where this man lives, he and his family of 8 do not eat more than once a day, ever.

I am humbled when I think about that meal, learning about his country, thinking about ours, hearing that people in his country think of America as the 2nd heaven. There is no greater place than our country.  Yet, how often do we complain about what we’re lacking.

As I sit here, I think about my big house, my two cars, my three beautiful children with more clothes in their closets than they wear, each child a room of their own. I think of my dog who eats twice a day on top of the scraps he gets.  I think about the fact that we would never ever allow a family to keep their child out of school and the kids whose families can’t afford to go to school. I think of my pantry being full of food, yet so often we go out to eat because we “have nothing to eat”.  I think of the meals and snacks and sodas and coffees that come so easily and unexpectedly to my family. I think of the expectation of our children to go to college and then of those who won’t likely finish middle school.

Though humbled, our conversation and fellowship was fantastic.  We learned about some of the inner workings of this country, these people and this beautiful family who are blessed each day too.  We saw great pride in his face as he shared about his country and community and congregation and family.  We are blessed by his friendship and pray he feels the same.

One of the main reasons that we lose our enthusiasm in life is because we become ungrateful..we let what was once a miracle become common to us. We get so accustomed to his goodness it becomes a routine..” Joel Osteen

Praying that our family can keep our eyes on the miracle of our blessings and not forget each day just how blessed we are. When we get annoyed at the little inconveniences in life, I pray we realize just how convenient those inconveniences are in the broad sense of the world.  And I pray that I never mumble and grumble about medical care when my daughter is seeing some of the world’s best a mere 20 minutes away by car.

I am humbled. And blessed.

Medical Update: Mayo Clinic

Last week was my paperwork – paperchase week.  I sat down and filled out the forms needed for our big trip to Mayo clinic. (Or should I say, looked at all of the questions I couldn’t fill out and checked “unknown”.)

But I could fill out two very easily.

• How many fruits/vegetables does your child eat a day? (Do not include french fries.)
• How many times does your child eat french fries a day?

Really!? At Mayo?

We hunted down  all of Cora’s medical records. Our favorite is from a Neurologist talking to our general doctor who said, “As you know, Cora is an absolutely beautiful 5-year-old who….”  Yes, yes she is. 😉 And let me say how hard it was to get them all.  7 months of visits = 2 inches + of papers.

Because our care has transferred to 3 dermatologists in the past 6 months, we’re feeling a little bit like the case that is “the case”.  The hard one.  The one that isn’t easy to solve. (Of course it’s not) The one that causes stress with lack of treatments.  (We’re definitely that case.)

Cora’s cancer is a genetic cancer. There isn’t a cure or a real fix because one of her genes that is responsible for blocking tumor growth does not work properly.  But I’m not OK “no cure”.  It infuriates me.

In the past few days I have been able to get general thoughts on a couple of questions from Dr’s across the country.

Is bone marrow transplant an option?  No.  In situations where bone marrow transplant is an option, a small amount of healthy bone marrow is needed to “heal” the sick bone marrow. In Cora’s case, most, if not all of the marrow would need to be replaced because the sick would “sicken” the healthy.

Is chemo an option?  I found an online medical journal article that states it could be.  There are so few of Cora, we just don’t know.

I spoke with a geneticist who told me that he wanted to do a study that never got funded using a drug they use after organ transplants that has been shown to decrease risk of skin cancer. It’s a carrot.

Ah, a carrot that the doctor at Mayo said today was really just a fake carrot. Not a carrot at all.  But isn’t that what happens when you get opinions from many doctors? Or thoughts from many people? Conflicting ideas and thoughts?

Today we drove 3 1/2 hours one way to sit in an office for an hour and half with one of the top Dermatologists world-wide.  We were told this by multiple people.  He fit the role. Glasses down to the bridge of his nose, spoke with authority, knew everything about everything and called other nationally known doctors by their first names.  His knowledge trumped everything in the room.

We were not rushed, we were allowed to ask any questions we had, he googled while we talked, and often times our questions were answered with, “That’s a good question. We just don’t know yet. There aren’t enough people. Not enough cases.”  He took notes, looked at her skin with cool micro-glasses that he let Cora wear, ordered medical records he needed to have in Cora’s mayo file and left promising contact with more info soon. Hopefully before the end of the month.

We finished our conversation, headed to the medical photography room where little Cora had to have about 30 measuring tape stickers on her body and about 100 pictures taken standing on what looked like what you’d see at JC Penney photography place, but far different.  She posed in various positions so they could photograph every inch of her skin, wearing nothing more than her underwear.  (I hated it. hated, hated, hated it.)

What did we get out of the appointment?  Open doors.  A genius doctor that doesn’t see children has decided that he is going to keep seeing Cora as we need while he reaches out to the #1 world expert in Cora’s condition. He knows him by a first name basis and he is going to see what is happening in a world where the only medicine are not approved for children.  Might she be part of the study that sees the safety and effectiveness of this drug on children?  So many factors to consider before we could even get close to thinking about it.  We also got recommendations to nix what our current Derm wanted to do next as a treatment. (Scraping. Sounds fun, huh? Modern? Not.)

What we didn’t get from this appointment? Answers.  Plans.  A, “Yes mom and dad, I can help you!”, A “This is what you should do this year and here is how we will handle it.”

A carrot, I guess, right?  A real one.  A promise of communication from an internationally-known genius to the top dog medicine creator with a passion for Cora’s future.  That’s a good thing.

But I’m not going to stop searching for an answer.

Homework Blues

Want to see something that breaks my heart?

This is M about 20 minutes into homework tonight.

*sigh*

Watching your child struggle every night over homework is heartbreaking.

We have one who excels at everything academically – not so much physically.
This one excels at everything physically and socially – not so much academically.
Cora seems to be excelling at both.

Where does that leave this young sir?

Frustrated, sad and lacking confidence.

We started Vision Therapy where we were told that his eyes weren’t focusing at the same pace, so he was struggling SO very hard to focus that there wasn’t much room to advance with learning.

We’re faithfully doing our eye exercises that take about 20 minutes a night on top of going to the vision therapist once a week for 24 weeks. We’re on week 8.

Things are not getting better yet.

His teacher says he struggles to even answer a question out loud in fear of getting it wrong.  But no one can argue that he tries SO hard.  He truly tries harder in everything than my oldest who skates through it all.  He isn’t struggling out of lack of determination.

But he’s the first one to raise his hand for a game of soccer, basketball, tag or really anything that requires physical movement and social skill.  The kid has more friends than I ever had. Everyone thinks he’s just the best kid and his smile can light up a room.

Homework takes about 1 1/2 hours each night. (On top of our vision therapy. On top of special tutoring.)
There are tears on the majority of them.
Some nights he has 30 minutes or less to unwind before bed.

My heart is breaking for him and my prayer is that it will all of a sudden click for him.  The vision therapy will work and his eyes will get stronger and our nights, though filled with homework, can show more of that smile than those tears.

“You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it.”
― Maya Angelou

Surgery Update

Yesterday went well.  We had to leave our house at 5:30am, so we’re thankful for a Grandpa who wakes up daily at 4:30am to come get the boys off to school for us.

Cora got up without an argument and was amazed that we were driving when the sun was obviously still sleeping. A HUGE orange full moon made the drive full of wonder and conversation.

Dave and I wondered: Would it really be cancerous?  What would the scar look like? What kind of pain would she be in? Would she freak out like she did the last 3 times she was sedated?

Cora sat and stared at the moon.

We got to the hospital and got all checked in. Cora is finally back to the weight she was when she came home from Korea 7 months ago. (Am I a wimp that those two pounds totally feel like 20?)

We drew and colored and snuggled and watched a little TV until each doctor and nurse had their turn with us.  A shot of Versed made her care about nothing at all and then it was time to get all dressed in my surgery transporting gear.  Cora didn’t like the hat. 😉

Thankful they let me stay until she was sleeping and thankful for the medical team who know deep down how much it sucks to watch your child be sedated. No matter how many times you see it, it’s eerie and yucky.  A kiss on the cheek, a few arms around the shoulders by surgeons and anesthesiologists with promises to take good care of her and I was out.

Her surgery lasted 1 1/2 hours and the surgeon was able to get clear margins.  The mole was indeed malignant, but it is gone. (And yes, we have another 500+ to work on, but we’re on a marathon. Or one of those super marathons. Yes, super marathon. I’m sure they have better names.  Ooh, how about Iron Man. Yes, we’re on the Iron Man, people. No 100 meter dash here.) Though very upset when she woke up, as soon as the IV was able to be removed, she settled down, crying slowed down and she was able to sleep in my arms for a good hour. She woke up feeling much better and did great from there on out.

She has some stitches underneath the skin that will dissolve and she will need to be on restrictions for 3 weeks at home and school. (No gym! No recess! Boo!)

She has some swelling, but not as much as we were expecting.  But I read that day 3-4 can bring on swelling that wasn’t visible before.  She has some leakage, some pain and some discomfort, and we’re not even thinking about what might or might not be a scar at this point, but this child is such a trooper.

I have been reflecting on her “trooper-ness” and truly see it as a gift from God.  Yes, part of this is because of her first 5 years of life.  She learned to not complain, not cry, not be a burden.  But I think it’s more than orphanage behavior.  I think it is truly God’s gift of being able to bounce through things without the worry that so many people have. (ME!)  And she’s going to need this behavior as life goes on, and hopefully I’ll gain some strength from her.

Right now she’s sound asleep on the couch, the morning of skyping with grandma and grandpa, coloring and a quick stop to drop of Logan’s forgotten lunch all proving to be too much for the girl who bounded out of bed excited to put on her new sweatpants we got to lounge in today.  Reminding myself that she doesn’t complain, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel it deep down.

As we were driving to the hospital yesterday, I talked to Dave about acceptance. Has he accepted this prognosis yet? Our future yet? Her future yet?  Have I?  That’s a new post all on its own.  Self-reflection time coming up.

The Day Before Surgery

So far in our cancer journey we have tried:

• photo-dynamic therapy (laser)
• cryotherapy
• topical chemo
• topical acne creams

Tomorrow we jump into the surgery category. The one I wanted to avoid, but know that I will not be able to.  Cora’s biopsy sites show a complete scoop out of her skin and they were just biopsies.  Tomorrow Cora will have a tumor removed from her lower eyelid.  You can see it in this photo pretty well.  You can also see a bunch of little bumps. Each and every bump is skin cancer.  This gives you a little idea how her whole body is riddled with this little cancers.  Little cancers that might eventually grow big like the one under her eye.

It’s a tricky surgery, as the mole itself is in her eyelashes.  They will carefully try to keep all of her eyelashes and also keep the muscles of the eyelid in tact.  They explained to us the inner muscles of the lid and how they work, but in all honesty, all I was thinking about was the possibility of this surgery changing that amazing eye.

You see, these amazing eyes would stare at me each day, multiple times a day over the computer screen, while I was trying to memorize the face, the voice, the eyes of a child I had not yet met.  I knew those eyes by memory the day we met her and they are like little windows into her soul.

But it is very important that we go at this mole surgically because sadly sometimes people lose their eye to skin cancer if the cancer grows into the eye socket.  The surgeon will scoop out what he thinks is a good margin and send it to the lab while Cora sleeps under general sedation.  The lab will share if the margins are clear and if not, he’ll take more.  Unfortunately, this is not mohs surgery, so if there is not clear margins, we will not know where exactly the margins were unclear and he will have to widen his “scoop” all around, not just in the area that had the unclear margins. (Make sense?)  So pray for a shallow tumor that enables the smallest amount of skin to be taken out.  A woman we met with Cora’s condition told us that this surgery – identical to what Cora is having done – was the first surgery that changed her appearance.  Praying that child-skin heals better, faster and with less scaring.

We can not do mohs because it is done with no sedation in older teens/adults – not a 5-yr-old.  There is no proper way to sedate her at the Mohs clinic.  Her surgeon is a widely respected, intelligent surgeon who only works on eyes and eyelids, so she is in good hands and we trust him.

At this point in her walk with this she knows she has, as she puts it, “lots of cancers”.  She knows that we’re trying to get rid of the cancers.  She knows that she’s going to have surgery and this brings up all kinds of memories and emotions of going to the hospital in Seoul for surgery.  Apparently alone, according to her memories. (It’s hard to read things like this when I think about that.)  But she is now also secure in the fact that mommies and daddies go TO the hospital with their babies.  (Forever, my sweet girl!)

Is this surgery a big deal?  Not in the grand scheme of things in life, of course.  But it’s the start of a new way of treating her cancers that I wanted to avoid at all cost.  Our dermatologist wants to try a new sedating and “scraping” method to see how that works.  Sounds lovely.  “Will it scar?”  “Yes, with her skin tone, there will be scaring unfortunately”.  “Lovely.”

Our appointment at Mayo is in a few weeks and we will be seeing a man who is well-versed in Cora’s condition who will hopefully lead us on a not-yet-known path to treating Cora without scaring up her beautiful body more than it already is.  Pipe dream, probably, but I’m holding on to that dream.

So today I finish my monthly writing obligations, fill my pantry with favorite foods and get ready to hunker down for a few days while she heals.   Keep her and the doctors in your thoughts and prayers!

And just for fun, a little glimpse at little Cora reading. The girl can tell a good story. 😉  (“glad” is a new word in her vocab as of a couple weeks ago.  She finds as many ways possible to use it while reading. 😉  ) Oh, and though this little girl could care less about her Barbies, her BFF at school apparently loves them. Every woman in her stories is named Barbie in her friend M’s honor.  Even Pocahontas.

Am I This Child’s Mother or Am I Supposed to Find Her Mother?

For a very long time I struggled with the idea that God knew me. Just me.  In my mind, we’re all like ants running around. No way one stands out over another.  I kept this struggle a secret because I figured I was the only one who felt this way.

God does not know little ol’ me.

No way. No how.

Until he proved to me that he did in a wild and amazing way.

One year ago a sweet little girl found her way into the loving arms of her parents.  This adoption story is so unlike any adoption story you’ll find on a message board or facebook forum.  While adoption is *always* a leap of faith, this little girl’s parents leap was about as long as jumping over the Grand Canyon.

And my husband and I – we had our own leap across another canyon.

As I watch this family celebrate their one-year anniversary of this little girl’s family day, I think back to those days last year. The days where I was uncertain, scared, tearful, hopeful, overwhelmed. And I think about the days where I finally could not even for a second deny that God knew me.

He picked me for a very important role.

But I didn’t know what my role really was supposed to be.

Mother or advocate.

And when I sat and wondered, “Am I this child’s mother or is my role to *find* her mother”, He instantly brought forth her mother.

I’m reposting the blog post that I wrote so long ago in honor of the leap of faith that was taken by this family, by a very special woman in this little country and my husband and I.

———————-

Exactly one month ago today, our world was taken by surprise. I’ve wanted to share bits of this amazing story, but the story didn’t have a clear path, thus, I didn’t feel comfortable sharing or talking about it.

For those of you who listened to me cry tears of many different emotions, I’m forever grateful for your friendship and love. I think it’s time to release it and share the amazing tale of how God tapped my shoulder and said, “I pick you for a very important job.”

Before Dave and I started our home study,we researched I researched and gave Dave the cliff notes, every country you could think of to adopt from. Our first choice was America, and then pretty much every country in Africa, Asia and Europe. The government has a great page dedicated to international adoptions, and I soured it for facts.

When we stumbled across one little country, we couldn’t stop researching it more and more. Not just for adoption, but simply for information. We were hungry to find out as much as we could about this amazing little world that we had never heard of that was so unique and different and amazing.

I inquired about adoption from this country via email that I assumed would go nowhere and got a nice response back that adoption wasn’t a common practice in that country at all, but we could put our names on a list if we’d like. If a baby every came up for adoption, they’d go in order off the list, but don’t count on ever getting a call. So of course we didn’t do that. But we were thrilled that someone actually acknowledged our email. How cool was it to think in this cute little country, we corresponded with someone. I never stopped looking at pictures of this country and even found myself finding their online news websites looking for a way to learn more about daily life there. Tad bit obsessed.

Then, our home study began and we struggled with choosing a country. If you’re not in the international adoption world right now, you might not know just how many countries are closed for adoption. We did loads of research (still researching every day) the different types of special needs that were commonly found trying to get a better idea of what we were comfortable with. We wanted to adopt a 3-4 year old, but we soon found out that in all likely hood, there were going to be big struggles with that too. This is all for another post, though….back on track. We picked S. Korea and went ahead with all that was needed.

April 27th was Wednesday, a day like any other Wednesday. Got the kids up for breakfast, kissed Dave goodbye and started out on my big job of gathering and mailing my i600a. I took a second to quick check my email before I headed out to make copies and mail the package and saw a name that looked familiar, but that I couldn’t place where from.

I read the email and was shocked that it was from the contact I had made in this tiny little country that I fell in love with. A family was needed for a baby who had a special need. In the adoption world, it’s considered a “minor correctable” need, but in reality, as “minor and correctable” as it is, it comes with a childhood of surgeries and doctor’s guidance, not something they could provide for her in country.

The email went out to 8 people in different countries. We were the only one who responded. The only people in the ENTIRE WORLD, besides the people directly responsible for the care of this child who knew about this baby girl needing a home. An honor and a huge responsibility.

We were in disbelief, but we went to work. We went to our Children’s hospital – met with surgeons and nurses. We contacted our local doctor. We got the guidance of one of the most well known international adoption pediatricians for her guidance. We got our families thoughts and our social worker’s thoughts. We talked, prayed, talked, researched, studied, prayed and talked some more.

The thing about international adoption is that many times if you get a “referral” of a child with a special need, if after you do your consulting you find that the need is greater than you can feel comfortable with and you decline, you can get a little comfort in knowing that the chances are good that someone else will look at the child’s info and hopefully move forward.

That was not the case with this child. We were it. There was not someone who would look at her file after us if we declined.

So then I struggled with what God was doing with this. Was he saying, “Jen, Dave…this is your daughter!” or was he saying, “I know you have compassion and are someone who will move mountains to make this happen….GO! Find this little girl’s family!!”

And I’ll be honest, it was a really hard personal reflection time for me. If you know me at all, you’ll know I have a heart for orphans around the world. I know that my family could give her a future that she would not have in her “world”, and the fact that I was struggling if I had the strength to walk her life with her was such a dark time. (Dark as in, struggling to shower. Struggling to get out of my sweat pants. My entire day that the kids were in school was taken up by this constant stream of research.) I was ashamed.

Then, in this strange set of circumstances, I was introduced to this family who had adopted a little girl with this same “special need” less than a year ago. The mom walked with me down my path of self-reflection, research, doctors appointments and digesting. She didn’t judge, she didn’t make me feel bad for my feelings of uncertainty and she lifted me up. From the first second that we talked, there was this connection and sense of hope and peace.

Through a series of long thought and prayer and many tears on both of our ends, we gave this family the opportunity to consider this little girl as a new child in their family. They’re living life with this need every day already and we couldn’t help but note that adding a sister so close in age with the same need could make this whole special need easier for both girls. I’ll be honest, during the time we were waiting for them to do their research and feel comfortable adopting from a place that is hardly considered a country people adopt from, I felt like I could hardly breathe. Were they going to say yes? Or were WE going to be the ones who said yes? We were waiting in the background, ready to move forward if they didn’t feel comfortable. We only had to wait to see what would happen. We were definitely in limbo.

We waited for weeks, constantly in contact via emails and phone calls while they did their research and as of Monday morning, they wrote back with their commitment to adopt this little girl. They are moving forward and we are their biggest cheerleaders and will support them in any way we can. And now, we step back and release her fully to them.

And I won’t lie and say that multiple times in the past 2 weeks while we waited we had moments of doubt, of fear and of peace. Mostly peace though. I realized that God was a part of ALL of this, and I could see it clearly being on the other end. God gave us the choice – and we could have done it! But God also placed this family, this amazing, wonderful family right in front of us. No choice would have been wrong! But the choice that was made, I do believe is the BEST choice for this little girl.

People, let me tell you how lucky she is going to be to be a part of this family. Oh.my.gracious. And to know that there is a woman in this little country who I have connected with, bonded with and saw this amazing thing through has really just ignited the hunger I have for this country.

Like, looking down on it all, I see that I have been a bridge, really, with this woman who emailed me a month ago. She saw beauty in the baby and a future if she could just find someone to help her. That someone was me. And when I look at the pictures of this sweet baby girl and imagine her in the arms of her new mother, I’m not one smidgen sad that she’s not in my arms. It’s ALL right and perfect and the way it is supposed to be.

This baby girl will have such an amazing life, and really, it’s all because a woman cared and took a shot in the dark that someone would reply. God picked ME to reply. And I am honored at the role he gave me in all of this. Seriously honored.

So now I get to watch this family go and get this baby girl and I can’t wait to see how it all unfolds. In my heart, I’ll always have a little connection to her. (OK, OK, I still have tears…*wiping them away*) They could use your prayers, as could the baby and the baby’s mother and family. Oh how they all could use your prayers. But, as I said above, God has been directing this all along. He’s in this for the long haul.

I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me.
Matthew 25:40

Eleven

We had parent teacher conferences this week and Cora’s teacher said, “How’s life with three kids?” as I shooed them off to play while we talked.  “MUCH busier than with two!” I said.

OH, is it true.  (Wendi, my hero-friend with six kids, don’t laugh at me.)

Having three kids in elementary school is a lot of work.  Homework, after-school clubs, sports, language school.   We’re full these days.

So that is why it my Halloween post was 7 days late and my Logan’s 11th birthday post was 7 days late.  But, I have a fun post coming up next – English 2.0.  We’re still laughing all the time in this house with our little language learner.  I promise it will come before 7 days. 😉

Logan tured 11 last week. And this was a celebration for me, too, cause it was my 11-year mom-aversary.  The birth of this kiddo changed my life forever.

He thinks he’s so cool because his feet are much bigger than mine now.

Ah, but he has a little bit to go before he can claim taller.

More proof.

We started the celebration with a party with some of his close friends at an arcade/bowling alley.

And the next day we went to celebrate with my parents. If you know my dad, this picture sequence will come as no surprise.

“Logan, come take the first bite of the cake!”

(I love Miles’ face in this one!)

Then on his actual birthday, we celebrated with a special birthday donut before school…

opened presents after school…
Had dinner with more grandparents…

And ate *more* cake and icecream, of course.

A total sugar-filled week.

To say that I love this boy more than life itself would be an understatement.

Halloween – a tad bit late

 

I know, it’s a week past Halloween already, but it’s camera dump time.
Logan was a black scary guy.
As was Miles.
You know, I’ve had scary black costumes for lots of years…
Except for two years ago when they were these cute brothers.
But this year…THIS year we had something pink, girly and I would have given anything to have this costume when I was 5-years-old.

She did a lot of walking and a lot of riding.
I laughed harder this night than I have in a long time.
She peeked in doors asking, “What you doing in there?”  She told men in costumes that she didn’t like them, she screamed at dogs, she dumped her bag on the steps of someone’s house, she was so.gosh.darn.funny.

Hope you had a happy Halloween!

Older Child Adoption Not For the Faint of Heart – Updated Thoughts

I got an email from a sweet woman who is considering adoption from China. She isn’t in process yet, but she is doing her due homework.  If she and her husband move forward, they will be looking to add a child age 5-7 to their family.  She came across this post where I wrote that I was against the phrase, “Older child adoption isn’t for the faint of heart”.  (Here’s the post)  She wanted to know, now that we’ve been “in the thick of it” for a while, do we feel like that phrase has good meaning behind it.

In a nutshell? No.

And let me tell you, this is coming from someone who brought home a child who she thought was a perfectly healthy child who had a rocky start to life and turned out that we brought home a child with cancer and lots of other medical issues that could arise in the future.

I still don’t like that phrase.

Let me explain.  Quite a few people don’t think of adoption the same as giving birth to a child when it comes to permanence in the family – loving the child as much as the biological siblings. Disruption occurs for many different reasons (and I’m *totally* not judging, just saying) and others who change their minds before the child even comes home.

I am so sensitive to the fact that people I know have disrupted.  It happens despite no one wanting it to end that way.

When we gave birth to Logan, things were pretty easy. We were young, we were naive, we of course knew it all. He was a great baby – so easy-going – because we were good parents.  How could it be any other reason?  Easy good kid=great top-notch parents.  Yep! I probably even judged your screaming 4-year-old at the grocery store candy isle because I knew my child, when he was 4, would never behave like that.  How could he? I was his great mama.

Then God gave us Miles.  BAM! Like a brick hitting the side of our head, we were thrown into the life of a not-so-easy kid.  Well, make that a HARD kid.  OK, an I.N.S.A.N.E.L.Y. hard kid.  A kid who cried constantly, didn’t sleep, puked everywhere, SOOOO hard to parent kid.

Our “we’re great parents” theory was dashed.  We weren’t good parents.  We had an easy-going son, period.  And a totally not-so-easy-going son.  And life.was.hard.  So hard.  He was miserable pretty much every single moment for a while there.  I don’t think, up to that point, that I had ever been so stressed.

But, as you do when life throws you a curve-ball, we adjusted.  We stopped going out, we caught our breaks when we could, we supported each other as spouses and we spent one-on-one time with Logan when it was possible.  Did our relationship change with Logan when Miles came? Of course. It had to.  Just like it does whenever a new child enters the family. But praise be to Jesus that that kid was easy-going.   And by age 4 or so (yes, age 4!), Miles wasn’t so hard anymore.  He had mellowed out a bit.  We got comfortable again.  Life got easy again. It was a hard 4 years. Some ugly.  Some so very sweet. I love my Miles fiercely because he challenged me to be more.

When I think of the hardness of those 4 years, I think of our sweet Cora and her introduction to our family.  Adjustment. Just like any child joining a family via birth or adoption.  Why must they be considered any different? When a child has been raised in an institution, there are many institutional behaviors.  They are hard. Frustrating. Heart-breaking.  There is hardness.  There are sweet moments. Many sweet moments. Many hard moments. Relationships with children change, their roles as siblings change and their relationships with each other change.  That doesn’t have to mean anything negative – it just means change.

We got home from Korea and we adjusted. We are still adjusting. I think we’ll always be adjusting to what lies in front of us. We are definitely a different family than we were 6 months ago and even 1 1/2 years ago when we started this process. But when Miles was with our family for 6 months, we looked back and saw we were an entirely different family than we were 6 months before as well. I bet you’d say the same with your family as well.

There are things in our future that aren’t even a twinkle of what’s happening right now.  We’re not at a point of racial acknowledgements from friends at school, having two moms hasn’t gone past the fact that she grew in another mom’s belly – different from her brothers.  She looks in the mirror and sees that we’re the same.  I know there will be a time when those hard moments grow us and stretch us and move us.  I know they are coming.  They are not here now.

Now our hard is newness. Newness of family (she asked a little boy at the field trip today if he had a mommy and a daddy. He looked at her like she was crazy. She’s not crazy. That’s her reality.) Newness of parents, newness of a house, newness of food, newness of a language, newness of grandparents, newness of rules, newness of releasing control of everything (adoptive moms, can I get an amen from all of you who struggle with hair washing?), newness of bedrooms, newness of birthday parties and holidays and playdates. Newness of pretty much everything.

Our hard = newness.

Newness of a sister, newness of a younger sibling when someone WAS the youngest sibling for 7 years, newness of everyone telling your parents how cute she is while you sit there wondering if you’re cute, too, newness of three children versus two, newness of food challenges, language barriers, newness of evolving into a parent of a child with more personality than my little finger, newness of hair, of nails, of skin, newness of medical issues, of scary words and scary prognosis. Newness of language and culture and expectations of so many people. Newness of changes in relationships (new family rules) lost relationships ( 😦 Where did they go?) and new relationships.(Thank you Jesus!)

New.
(Dare I say Miles’ transition was harder. At least initially? Ask me in 2 years. That’s meant to encourage.)

Ah, but it won’t always be new!

I’m wondering what it is going to be like in 4 years when Cora is 9 and Miles is 11 and Logan is 15 and these newness stages are a long distant memory.  When we can think back as we did with Miles’ early life and think, “OH my gosh, we made it. HOW did we make it? Remember that time when we didn’t think we could make it?”

But it will be a memory.  It will have been a season.
I believe we’re going to make it.

God doesn’t promise that there will be no hard times in life – He promises that He will be with us IN those hard times.
He’s totally with us in these hard times and He’ll totally be with us when we look back and high-five each other in memory of hard times.

So, what do I think of “Not for the faint of heart” now that I’ve survived the coming home, the initial craaaaazy adjustment and come to terms with the medical realities that lie ahead?
I will never say it to a pre-adoptive parent.

We are all capable. Through God.

Is adoption scary? Yes! I mean, the process can be a nightmare, let’s be real here.
Is getting pregnant scary? Yes! Cause who knows what can go wrong!?
Is getting married scary? Yes! Have you seen those divorce rates lately?

Life is scary.

This is what I will say to you if you tell me you’re considering adopting older.

• Read.  Get your hands on every little book mentioned in adoption forums or by your social worker or that look semi-good on Amazon. You will gain info from each of them.  Fill your kindle and go to town.
• Don’t think that because you’ve parented already that you know it all.  We (you know, awesome parents!) fell for this one.  We were forced kicking and screaming into watching an 8 hr (I think?) video series full of horror stories and we.hated.it.  But in there we learned how jumping on a trampoline has been proven to heal the brain of trauma and how those horror stories *can* have positive outcomes.  We learned tons of tidbits in between the not-so-fun-to-watch stuff and we used them. Most importantly, we learned about rad and attachment issues, ways to bond, what to do to help your child regress to bring forth bonding, etc…
• Find an adoption community. (In person and online.) The in person people will be flesh-and-blood people living life right in your back yard.  They get it! The code words of waiting, the heartbreak of holidays without your child and the joy adoption is.  They get it. Go find them! The online community will be there for your, “OMG! Is this normal? How do I handle this? Please tell me it’s going to be OK!”
• Pray. Cause He’s going to get you through it. There is a lot to pray about.
• GO!  Get your booty on Rainbow kids and find your baby! Cause you can do it.  How do I know? Cause I did it!

If you tell me you’re scared, I’ll tell you I was, too! If you tell me you’re thinking about quitting the process, I’ll tell you that I thought that, too.  And if you tell me you’re struggling, I’ll tell you I struggled, too. I’d do my best to encourage you and I’d pray for you and I’d root you on!

I’m not going to lie, it’s not rainbows and cupcakes and sunshine but there ARE rainbows and cupcakes and sunshine if you look for them.  And when people start talking faint of heart business, as I said back in March before we traveled, it gets me shaking in my boots. I am the farthest from strong in the world. I cry over a sliver. I cry at parent-teacher conferences.  I swear I feel it when my kids get hurt.  I am an emotional mess.  When I hear that phrase, I doubt myself. Even now that I’m home.

So I think that’s why this line bugs me so much. I find myself doubting myself though we’ve done so much adjusting.  It almost made me drop out of adoption altogether. It is a phrase that MOVES you. Either to man up and be tough or to shy away and think, “definitely not me. I’m in the wrong party tonight. I’m supposed to be with the other timid moms who cry too much.”

Ah, but us timid moms…we must dig deep. It’s in us.

Because let’s again be real here. PARENTING is hard.  So what if your biological child gets diagnosed with autism. Hard.  What if your biological child gets cancer. Hard.  What if your biological child winds up to be nothing like you and you find it so hard to relate with her on anything at all. Hard. What if she gets pregnant at 15? Hard.  Having a biological child is not a golden ticket to easy life.

Yeah, I know there are people who disagree with me.  But as for someone who doesn’t fit the quota of parents who are not ‘not’ faint of heart, I did it. You can do it. I believe in you.

Psalm 121

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
    where does my help come from?
 My help comes from the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth.

 He will not let your foot slip—
    he who watches over you will not slumber;
 indeed, he who watches over Israel
    will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord watches over you—
    the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
 the sun will not harm you by day,
    nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all harm—
    he will watch over your life;
 the Lord will watch over your coming and going
    both now and forevermore.