Where There's A Will, There's A When

Hello Friends, it's been awhile. When I go this long without writing, something happens. Every wandering thought gets stored as a potential blog entry and my fingers start to twitch in anticipation of flying across a keyboard again. I needed some relief from the madness, so I decided that now was as good a time as any to share a little more about P's life, give an update about where P is now, and tell a bit about my life since his departure.

All I can really say about P's "before" story is that I have never met, and doubt if I ever will meet, a person with a more tragic story. Because of what he has faced, he now struggles academically, socially, and of course emotionally. Fortunately, P's brother has adjusted a little better and has found a wonderful foster home, but his sister's life has virtually mirrored his. She has yet to find her place in this world either. P and his sister are now both somewhere that provides the kind of help they should have gotten the moment the "after" part of their story started. The incompetence of certain DHS workers and even the agency in general has been beyond shocking, but that is for another blog.

P has a short call list and although that saddens me, it does mean that we get to speak with him quite often, usually daily. We also get to visit him for a few hours each weekend. We spend our time with him playing games, walking around in their little courtyard, and watching him enjoy his weekly treat of a pop and some candy. They allow visitors to hit up their vending machines and I'm convinced they make a killing off our guilt! I know that our visits are one of the highlights of his week (hopefully not JUST for the sweets). Unfortunately I don't see him being allowed to leave this place for quite some time. His outbursts, while completely understandable, are not under control yet. If you spend just a moment with him, however, anyone can see that his bravado is just fear, that his anger covers up debilitating pain, and that deep down he wants to be loved more than anything in this world. We are the ONLY ones on his side, and that is why we know that even though we still have no idea what our forever roles in P's life will be, we DO know that we want to be a part of it for as long as he wants us to be. Whether we're his cool aunt and uncle or just the people that take him to church every week, I'm confident that we will be permanent fixtures in his life.

Since he left, my range of emotions has been surprising to say the least. I've been extremely down, numb, angry, and everywhere in between. The thought of a child enduring even a portion of what he's gone through is enough to make you question everything you've ever known. So for the last month, that's where I've been. Questioning our decision to let P go, stewing in my "righteous" anger regarding his circumstances, and wallowing in the feelings of failure over something that I KNOW I had no hand in. I don't know why, after all I've been through, P's situation is what finally sent me over the edge, but it did.

Thankfully, I'm back from the abyss. Lots of reading, praying, talking, and renewing of the mind. It has been a hard, one-day-at-a-time climb. We are still childless, and DHS's "next on the list" evidently translates to months and months of waiting. Our worker went on maternity leave the same day our paperwork was finalized, so we anticipate a few more weeks of waiting before our advocate is back, well, advocating for us. Still, I remain in a good place. Waiting is something I'm used to. And this time the anticipation isn't a matter of will it happen? It's more a matter of when.

Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough...

Carousels. I enjoy watching them, and the opportunities to do so abound this time of year. Each one is unique and ornate; I think it’s so fun to watch a child get excited about the particular animal or horse they want. There’s something about a specific one that speaks to each person differently. Then, once everyone’s settled and the ride starts, it picks up speed and it becomes harder and harder to make out each individual outline and they begin to run together until the whole carousel is just a blur of swirling colors and breathless laughter. This year, watching such a simple thing evoked such strong imagery for me. Choices made, ups and downs, always spinning, not unlike our lives.

I suppose I also like the carousel because it seems secure. No chance of a car hurtling towards the ground in a 50 foot fall. Unlikely that you’ll get puked on by the person next to you. Our lives, as of a month ago, were safe, just the way I like them. We came home, we watched our shows, we ate what we wanted, did what we wanted, essentially only had ourselves to think about. P changed all that. My world changed quickly from carousel to roller coaster. Sometimes when we make choices in life and commit to them, later we can’t remember choosing them at all. The safe gray horse changes before your eyes into a 2-seater on a track, and you don’t know how you got there.

I know that my head knew that love wouldn’t be enough for P. I believe that my heart may even have believed it too. But somewhere, locked deep inside, was just enough arrogance to believe that maybe, just maybe, it could be. Arrogance plus ignorance is a very dangerous combination. I said before we were in over our heads, and we were. I said that we were learning, and we did. What I didn’t say was that this was the hardest thing we’ve EVER taken on, and that includes our miscarriages. I didn’t say that the more we loved, the more he pushed us away. And I didn’t say that my hair was starting to fall out and my heart would pound from stress anytime he walked into a room. Even with that, we were committed, even when the car started hurtling towards the ground. Love does crazy things.

In a perfect world, love would have been enough. In a perfect world, P would be in his room asleep right now, dreaming of the horses. And in a perfect world, people like us wouldn’t be needed at all. Choices would be as easy as picking your favorite steed and life’s ups and downs would be as smooth and seamless as a carousel ride. I pray that for P, one day his will be.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly!!

Parenting is HARD. Nobody and nothing, not even the 27 mandatory hours of DHS training, could have possibly prepared us for how difficult it is to be a parent. The rose-colored glasses with baby-girl-etched lenses I’ve been wearing for so long are gone. In their absence, I have seen what it REALLY means to be a mom, the good, the bad and the ugly. This week we’ve experienced some of the ugliest moments yet. Once again, God is using our struggles to bring us closer to Him; my strength alone is just not sufficient to even get me through the day as of late.

A quick glimpse at some of the less glamorous parts of parenting: The money I used to set aside for clothes? Well, it still gets spent on clothes; they’re just not for me. The time I used to spend relaxing after school? It’s now spent throwing a football, jamming my fingers whilst trying to catch it, then fishing said football out of the poison ivy infested creek behind our house. My favorite shows? Replaced by SpongeBob and movies that involve talking animals (a bit creepy frankly). My Pioneer Woman cooking? Well, trips to Wal-Mart are yet to be well-received, so all experimental meals are on hold. (To be honest, I’m not super sad about that). Privacy? I’m going to need a definition; I’ve forgotten the meaning. I’ve had to really, REALLY work at perspective. Remember, we’re not used to having anyone in our home but the two of us, and on top of that this is not your typical child. PERSPECTIVE, PERSPECTIVE, PERSPECTIVE. No new clothes? Materialism combatant. Poison ivy exposure? Discovering once and for all if I’m really allergic. Movies with talking animals? Down time to turn off my brain and think about nothing. No Wal-Mart shopping? Well, those benefits are just obvious. No privacy? More exercise when racing to time my bathroom trips to match his.

I’ve also had to really hold on to the more beautiful parts of this journey and replay them in my head throughout the day, lingering on them when I’m feeling some major stress-induced eye-twitching coming on. For instance, one of my favorite times of the day is bedtime, when he’s FINALLY settled in (after the hundredth excuse to get out of bed), we sit together, and I read to him from Harry Potter as he falls asleep. Also, I know that it’s a little early for him to call me Mom, but as he couldn’t remember my name half the time, after the first few days we gave up and gave in; I don’t mind. I like helping him with his homework, all the while secretly helping him with his self-esteem too. He says he gets smarter every day here. Sometimes he says things that are totally hilarious and recalling them later can still make me laugh. I can pick his face out of a crowd of kids in a matter of seconds, and there are moments when the recognition that I have when looking at his face is both overwhelming and familiar. Also, surprisingly, buying clothes for someone else is ALMOST as fun as shopping for yourself! J

Thankfully, the good days are increasing in number, the bad days are turning into shorter, more manageable bad moments, and the ugly, well, it’s best when forgotten quickly. Every day is new, and God is good. I rest in the knowledge that God does not call the equipped. Rather, He equips the called. We have answered His call, and we have faith that He is still on the other end of the line.

New Addition!

There are several versions out there of a quote that should be my bumper sticker as many times as I’ve lived it: “If You Want to Make God Laugh, Tell Him Your Plans.” Remember all of those things I wrote about us wanting a baby? Well, we do. And we believe with all of our hearts that we will adopt one someday soon. But as I write this, we have a child in our home who is much, much older than said baby. I’m not exactly sure how this happened, but it goes something like this…

God began a stirring in my heart for a child that I know personally - we’ll call them “P”. P was set to go to a shelter Tuesday night after the latest foster home said they were done with P. I knew that they would allow P to come to our home before our training was done because I knew P (a non-related kinship). I knew there were unspeakable things in P’s past, and a future of unsettling uncertainties. I also knew that P had a lot of issues that would cause most people to run the other way. This knowledge gave me ringside seats to my own internal knock-down drag-out. In this corner, weighing heavily on my mind: what I want to do!!!! And in this corner, weighing heavily on my heart: what I know I should do!!! As you’ve probably guessed, my heart won that fight. People have just been amazed at what we’ve chosen to do and have given us so much praise, but I just have to say, “It’s a God thing.” This weekend my pastor put into words exactly what I was thinking at that pivotal moment: “Somebody’s got to do something; it might as well be me!” We are so conditioned to not let in the hurt, because when we really allow ourselves to feel it, we can’t NOT act. I could have turned my back and then spent the rest of my life trying to ignore the guilt, or I could step into the unknown, let the pain of the burden fill me up, take a leap of faith, and change a life. Truth is, my head was never really in the fight after all.

I know people are wondering if this is permanent, and if not, how long we will have P. We are not planning on it being a permanent placement, but the truth is, we have no idea how long P will be in our home. Our first priority is getting P settled and helping P feel safe and secure. DHS’s goal is to eventually put P in a home with brother and sister and, well, we are just not willing to adopt 3 kiddos right now. We don’t know when or if they will find that home. Although we've already had really, REALLY tough days, our commitment to P’s well-being has not wavered, nor will it. We will do what is best for P first, and that is really the only way I know how to answer that question. There’s not much I can say about how I know P, came to get P, or really anything about P, due to the fact that DHS frowns upon divulging too much, and I’d rather be safe than sorry. Going into this whole process, I never imagined having a child that I couldn’t carry in my arms (or at least push in a stroller) at my age! I CAN say that we were in over our heads before P ever walked in the door, but we are all learning together.

A few lessons I, for one, have learned in the past few days (just thought I’d share):

1)      The word BEER on a root beer bottle is just too prominent. Inspires lots of inappropriate comments, usually spoken in a loud volume for the restaurant to hear. Note to self: ask for a cup instead!

2)    If you don’t specifically say WASH YOUR HAIR, it doesn’t happen. TAKE A SHOWER is just not detailed enough.

3)    Kids are expensive, and a Wal-Mart trip is not a good idea when they have a bad case of the “I wants.”

4)    Kids can melt your heart one minute and break it the next.

5)    The way they can get up each morning after the cards some of them have been dealt is nothing short of heroic (e.g. having everything they’ve ever owned stripped from them in an instant).

6)    Nothing makes you love your husband more than seeing him play with a child that worships him.

7)    Even this type of motherhood changes you instantaneously. It brings out all of your protective instincts, and you realize just how self-centered your life has really been.  

8)    Love isn’t enough, but it goes a long way. Also, singing a Taylor Swift song together at the top of your lungs helps with the bonding.

9)    Kids will surprise you when you least expect it, and often in the best ways.

10) Kids tell it like it is, whether you want to hear it or not.

Like I said, I’m learning a lot, and I know that when we DO get a baby, these lessons will prove invaluable. And who knows, P just might be around to see it!

Fostering Q&A

I have seriously been neglecting my writing! With school starting, DHS classes every Saturday, and working my second job on Sundays, my free time is running into the negative. I know that everyone wants updates and I have received several of the same questions from various people, so I decided that this particular blog will be dedicated to answering such queries.

Q: How soon will you get a child?

A: We have another month of classes and our home study is set to be finalized any day. DHS could call anytime after that, so it could be very soon! In emergency situations, we may even get a call before we’re done!!

Q: What age/sex will you get?

A: Most people don’t realize this, but you tell DHS everything you are willing to accept as part of the process. Race, gender, age, behavioral issues, diseases, mental disorders, etc. We are asking for a baby. We prefer a girl, but if a boy is available first, we would definitely consider it. We are open to any race and have even said that we would consider twins!

Q: How long will it take for you to be able to adopt the baby?

A: This is a complicated question. When they call, they will let us know the baby’s history and let us know if it is likely to be adoptable. They usually have some idea of what will happen based on previous encounters with the parents. We have the option to turn down any call. Unless they indicate that the child is likely to be adoptable or the rights have already been relinquished, at this point in our lives we would probably say no. I could definitely see us welcoming older children into our home later in life, but right now we are preparing for a baby.

Q: At what point did you decide enough was enough and turn to fostering/adoption to complete your family?

A: I think anyone experiencing infertility or recurrent miscarriages faces this decision at some point and it’s a very personal thing. For myself, I felt strongly led towards making our tragedy into something powerful and uplifting. What better way to do that than to change the course of a child’s life forever? Also, I could not, in good conscience, continue spending money in the name of having a biological child. For some, spending thousands upon thousands of dollars to have a miracle baby is their testimony of love and enduring faith. It can give others in the same situation hope. That’s just not where my heart is. Not when unwanted babies are dropped off every day at hospitals needing a home.

Q: So are you totally done trying for “your own” baby?

A: Well, we’ve had the “one last test” and it revealed NOTHING. Big surprise. Dr. Impressive Credentials REALLY tortured me with that test, but all that pain yielded another “I couldn’t see anything that would cause your miscarriages.” He sent us on our way advising us to try, try again. I guess my answer is yes, I’m done. If it happens, it will be despite all efforts to prevent it. Those pink lines have given me nightmares for too long now, and I’m quite certain that I can do without seeing them while I’m awake! My desires are in a different place now.

Q: What will you do if you get a baby and then end up pregnant?!

A: Assuming that the baby in my belly decided to stay, well, the more the merrier! We would be ecstatic with our double blessing!

Q: Aren’t you scared about this whole process?

A: Anyone who is adopting in any fashion that says that they don’t have very real fears and concerns is either doing extensive meditation or lying. What do I do when the child wants to find his/her “real” parents? What happens when they struggle developmentally because their mom was on drugs or didn’t have good prenatal care? When do I tell them they’re adopted? How do I let them know that they are more loved than any child on earth when they feel abandoned by the one that was supposed to love them most? These are the questions that give me pause, that bring tears to my eyes, that put the gravity of what we’re doing into perspective.

Any time something this huge is on the horizon, questions abound. I may actually have more questions than answers at this point, but I firmly believe that when we hold our baby for the first time, those questions will answer themselves.

Checking My Baggage

Have you ever found yourself at the airport standing at the counter frantically trying to move clothes into your spouse’s suitcase to get it down to the acceptable weight while everyone behind you checks their watches? Or maybe you’re one of the smart ones who weighs your bag repeatedly at home, leaving behind things you’d rather not for the sake of saving money. The bottom line is that if you want to go somewhere, too much baggage weighs you down.

For all of you extra observant readers, you may have noticed that there have been long lengths of silence between my last few blogs. I know that I promised to stay busy this summer, and I have, but being occupied was not the reason for my procrastination. The reality is that I had some major “baggage” of my own to let go of before I could possibly move forward in this journey towards becoming a foster parent, namely anger, resentment, and a serious sense of entitlement.

A peek into my recent struggles: This whole DHS process is extremely disheartening to say the least. Being required to spend hours on paperwork and take parenting classes would probably deter all but the most dedicated applicants (which is probably the point). However, I can’t help but think if the parents of these babies had been required to do the same before they conceived a precious child, many children would not have to live through the horrors that they face every day. There is never a lack of sickening, inhuman stories in the news involving these innocent angels. (Case in point: http://www.newsok.com/woman-is-arrested-after-girl-5-found-living-in-closet/article/3587308?custom_click=lead_story_title). I could dwell all day too on how unfair it is that women get to birth these amazing gifts from heaven when they don’t even want them in the first place!  We have considered domestic adoption briefly, the price of which is an insult to injury in itself. It is just so wrong that not only am I being robbed of the joy of carrying a baby, watching it grow while seeing my features reflected in its little face, but that I also have to either pay an arm and a leg to have a baby or subject myself to months (possibly years) of being controlled by the state and its flawed system. I’m sure by now you see the dire situation that I was in last month…my baggage was controlling my life.

I defeated this unrelenting dialogue in my head by rewatching a sermon our church did several months ago on the dangers of comparison. When I was lamenting about how crappy my situation was, I was really saying that I was not satisfied with the blessings that I have been given. We are all blessed in different ways and we don’t really deserve any of it. We are not guaranteed anything in this life, and yet I have been given so much. Who am I to say how God should bless each of us? Comparison also leads to jealousy, which is an extremely destructive force. I was actually feeling resentment and anger towards others for being able to have a baby! That is humiliating to even admit, but it is so easy to succumb to and it’s different for all of us. It is impossible to get into someone’s new car or tour their beautiful home and not get a taste of jealousy. And who goes home afterwards and is more thankful for their junked-out vehicle or worn out furniture?

The most unfair thing of all would be for us to bring a baby into our home while I am still holding on to something else. After a month of grappling with all that extra weight, I can honestly say that I have come a long way in letting it go. I don’t HAVE to foster a baby because it’s my last resort; I GET to follow a higher calling than most people BECAUSE of what I’ve gone through. I GET to make a difference in a child’s life and I GET to rewrite that child’s story while doing it. Instead of seeing fostering to adopt as option #2, it is now my priority.  It doesn’t mean that these thoughts will never cross my mind again, but now I know that gratitude goes a long way in dissipating the resentment and anger. After a month of turbulence, we are hoping for clearer skies!

Waiting is the Hardest Part!

When is the last time you waited for something you really wanted? Not just in terms of minutes, but in years? I know, I know, it seems like you've been waiting years for my next blog. So sorry Friends! In all seriousness, when I look back through my life, I can honestly say that the cliché “Good things come to those who wait” has proven itself true time and again.

Silly Example: I can get a meal in a few minutes from McDonalds and regret it for hours, or cook a Pioneer Woman recipe myself (yes, I am indeed obsessed), spend an hour or so preparing, and reap the delicious benefits. 

Anxiety-Inducing, Faith-Testing Example: I could have taken a job I didn’t love and knew I wasn’t meant to have simply for the sake of having one. I stepped out in faith and turned it down, waited all summer, and lo and behold 4th grade had an opening at the last minute! 

So-Glad-We-Waited Example: Once we decided to move, we wanted to move THAT DAY. We could have taken out 2 mortgages as so many people do. However, we waited 6 months until we sold our house before we frantically searched for our dream home. The timing was perfect for us to get a great deal. If we hadn’t waited, this house would not have been attainable. 

Mega life-changing example: Yet to be written. 

As you know, we are still waiting (2 years later) on God to bless us with a baby. We don’t know when it will happen or what that will look like. We are continuing to move forward with the DHS process and will have our first home study soon. We will hopefully get the parenting classes knocked out in August. I am also planning to have the “one last test” Dr. Reshef recommended and depending on the results, we may try for our own again someday when I’m ready. No, I don’t know how much longer we will be asked to wait on God’s timing, but I do know that when our family increases in number, the waiting will have made it that much more “good.”

The Big Reveal

As proven by my lack of blogging lately, I have thus far managed to keep the promise I made to myself of staying inordinately busy this summer. A zoo visit here, lunch with friends there, working out every hour in between…it has been easy so far. However, this IS summer (a.k.a. Baby Season), and I can remain oblivious no longer to the growing bellies protruding beneath every tank top and dress worn by every woman between the ages of 20-50. Unless I send up prayers for temporary blindness (and please don’t), I cannot escape the fact that virtually everyone I know is pregnant at this very moment. No amount of working out or staring at jaguar spots can give me the amnesia I have been hoping for. This leads me to the big reveal…the cure to my maternal longing…


Tomorrow we are starting the long journey towards becoming foster parents. We are meeting with a lady from DHS to fill out what promises to be a mountain of paperwork. This will be followed by background checks, financial statements, fingerprinting, physicals…the list goes on. Once we pass all of that, we will begin working towards completing 27 hours of parenting classes on free evenings and/or weekends. The last step is having a home study in which they check and make sure your home is kid friendly - or something to that effect. Then, BAM, you get a phone call and suddenly, for all intensive purposes, you’re a parent.

As you can tell from the above paragraph, we have no clue what to expect, we are in no way prepared, and we have nothing, and I mean NOTHING, for kids at our house. This is our leap of faith. Opening our home to a child that we will pour our hearts into, only to have her returned to her parents, is sure to happen. And sure to be agonizing. Our ultimate hope is that we can foster an infant and eventually adopt - as a few of our friends have been blessed enough to do. We were informed that Canadian County is not the mecca of infant adoptions, but we aren’t just doing this to fulfill our desires. We are doing it to minister to a child that may never go to church except with us, to show a toddler the wonders of unconditional love that they may have never experienced, to give a newborn a warm embrace and a comforting place to sleep. No, we have no clue what to expect, but we do know what we have to offer…and that’s everything we are.