I went back and read my last few posts  – boy were they serious!  I think it is time to lighten things up a little.

I found this great site called Childzilla (www.childzilla.com).  You can do online chore charts and the kids can fill them in on line, earn points and then earn prizes.  Right now the points are all the incentive my girls need.  They fight over who gets to sign on first and who has the most points.  I have some streamlining of our list to do, but so far it is really working well.  Check them out! 

I have started to work on getting my digital scrapbook things organized and getting to work on some pages.  I am glad that I am taking the time to do this – it is great for my mental health.  I have a couple of gifts that I am working on and they are really making me smile and enjoy myself.  (Yes, S, one of them is your wedding album!)

Mostly my life recently has been filled with math worksheets, brownie and daisy scout meetings, working, reading to EB, and generally loving my girls and my life.   Here are some pictures of the girls.  You will see them again when I finally get them scrapped, but I thought they were too cute not to share!

Back in April of 2008 I was really struggling with the reality that another adoption is probably not in our future.  I created this layout at that time and shared it only with some close adoptive friends.  This is the first time that I have felt confident enough to share with the bloggy world.

There are people out there, if they read the journaling on this page, who would be angry that I would request a child of a specific gender.  While the decisions that DH and I make are exactly that, our decisions, I would like to clarify our thought process in a miniscule effort to decrease the amount of anger out there in the adoption world.  I always said, long before I was married, that I wanted to have sons instead of daughters.  I was not a pleasant teenager.  I really did not want the mother’s curse to be visited upon my head.  Second, I had much more experience with baby and toddler boys because most everyone I babysat for as I grew up had boys.  When we were trying to conceive,  the joke was that I wanted boys and DH wanted girls – but honestly, we did not care, we were just praying for a healthy child.  When it became clear to us that God’s plan was for us to expand our family through adoption we once again did not care what gender the child was, only that we would have the skills and knowledge to provide the best home possible for the child.  We prayed for a child that needed us as much or more than we needed him/her.  When it became clear to us that China was where we were to seek out a child, it was a foregone conclusion that the child would be a female because of the social situation in China.  After we had adopted both of our daughters, we felt that we were being called to adopt a special needs child from China.  The special needs that were identified were within the skill set that we had to care for the child.  During our time in looking for a pre-identified child, it became apparent that many of the children who needed medical care and a family were actually boys.   But if we had been guided to a little girl with special needs, there would have been no question that we would have welcomed a boy or a girl with equal joy and love and devotion.  So while the layout does refer to an empty frame and a boy – it is actually an empty frame representing the hole we feel there still is in our family.  Will it be filled?  I don’t know.  Maybe God is telling us that we need to seek out a child somewhere else in the world other than China.  Maybe we will be led to sponsor children in China so they can receive medical care and find homes within China.  At this time our future regarding this situation is not clear.  We continue to hope for an adoption.  But more importantly, we seek to find God’s path for our family.

Layout Credits:                                                                                                                         Kit – Designing on the Edge (no designer name given or TOU with the kit
Chinese Character – From Little Treasures Templates

Has anyone noticed that we humans are usually not content with what we have been blessed?  Does anyone else think about that one other thing they wish they could add to their life?  I will be the first to say that I am very guilty of that.  In fact, that was one of the things that I beat myself up over during our infertility struggle.  I had (and still have) a wonderful husband, a job that pays the bills, family and friends that love me (though heaven knows why some days), a place to live, a car to drive and food to eat and the freedom to worship and live my faith.  But I wanted more, my heart and arms felt empty and I did not know how to stop that longing.  I kept thinking that I should be content with what I had been given.  I went so far as to apologize to God for not being grateful enough for the things He had given me.  It took me a long time, a lot of tears, some painful medical tests and procedures and 2 trips to China to realize that it was not just me being ungrateful, it was a yearning that God had placed in my heart.  I just needed to shut up long enough and listen to what He was trying to tell me.  But without those struggles I would not have learned the lessons I needed to gain some of the tools that my girls would need their mother to have to help them navigate the waters of being adopted and growing up in a transracial family.

One day DH and I started to panic at imminent danger of our children going naked from lack of clothing.  Then we remembered that we had several tubs of very nice hand-me-downs from family and friends that we had put away because they were too big for the girls.  We pulled those out.  In order to actually find those tubs, though, we had to wade through the tubs of outgrown clothes.  We hauled all of it down into our living room and started sorting.  3 evenings later we were finally, sort of, part way done.  We found enough clothing to avert our children starting a nudist colony.  We also found a lot of clothes that brought back a lot of memories.  The outfit a friend a showed up at our door carrying the day she heard about our referral.  The outfit that JB wore her first Christmas with us.  Squeaky shoes that we had bought in China.  The outfits that we had purchased in China because none of the clothes we had packed for either trip had fit!  The Halloween costume that my best friend had given us that JB wore the day after we returned from China.  So many memories wrapped up in such tiny pieces of fabric.  We sorted all of those clothes according to size and packed it up and stacked it in the corner of my office.  I had a friend with little ones and had her come over and go through the clothes.  She took a sack full of clothes, but there were still so many left.  Those clothes sat stacked in my office for almost 1.5 years.   In the meantime  the crib was taken down and cannibalized for hardware - no one had slept in it for several years and it was actually starting to fall apart anyway.  DH dismantled the toddler bed since EB had been in a big girl bed since she was 4. 

Finally there was enough stuff stacked in my office that there was danger of bodily harm if  it suddenly shifted and fell on one of the girls.  It was time to do something.  We loaded all of those clothes and all of those shoes and took them over to the abused women’s shelter in our town.  We explained to the girls, as gently as possible, why there was a need for this shelter and why there was a need for the clothes we were donating.  Both girls pitched right in and helped unload the truck.   Then came the hardest part, getting into the truck and driving away from all of those clothes.   It was not because I felt that we were giving them to an unworthy cause – on the contrary, I was trying to figure what other closets I could clean out to help these people who had the courage to face a new life with absolutely nothing but the clothes they were wearing.  It was not because I thought my girls could ever wear them again – they couldn’t, though EB gave it a good try!  It was because I was letting go of a dream. 

We always thought we would adopt 3 children.   And when we had talked about going back to China for the third child, we had decided that we were going to seek out a special needs boy.  So it was not like I was saving the clothes for that child.  But with China’s adoption rules changed we are unable to return there for our third child.  With our advancing years,  we are aging out of other international programs.  So by giving up these clothes I was  symbolically giving up our dream of that last child.   I know that God has a plan for everything, and that His timing is perfect.  I don’t discount the fact that God has a seriously odd sense of humor, either.  But right then, as I walked away from those clothes,  I left some of my heart and a lot of my dreams behind. 

I have a wonderful husband.  I have two beautiful children.  I have a house that has indoor plumbing, heat and windows.  I have food to place on my table.  I have wonderful people in my life who still love me.  But  I still  want – I want one more child.  Is this my desire or is it one placed their by God?  I don’t know at this point.  All I know is my heart aches at times.  Then I hear someone screeching at her sister, or I have to mop up tears because someone was “fired” from her group of friends, or I have to negotiate the politics of giving one attention without disturbing the sleeping jealousy beast and I thank God that I have been entrusted with these two precious little girls.  But still, in the deepest recesses of my heart, I know there is a place where I continue to hope, where I continue to dream…

Years, before kids, DH and I always had a basket of candy on the entry table.  We usually only gave away 1/2 – 3/4  of it because we were the old curmudgeon of the neighborhood.   I think the kids dared each other to find out who was going to come up to our door to find out what kind of candy we had to see if it was worth walking up our driveway.  In 2002 we had arrived home on the 30th, grabbed a shower and slept a couple of hours.  On Halloween mom and I sent DH and dad out to get candy and some baby supplies and dressed JB in a little ladybug costume that my best friend had given me.  JB loved racing me to door, but then hid behind me when there were people actually there.  We did not go out trick or treating that night.  For the next 4 years we went to the Halloween party at her daycare where she gathered enough candy to get a small school high.  Once we moved into our current home DH took the girls out around the neighborhood while I handed out treats,  Once JB started school, she started seeing children around the neighborhood that she recognized.  This year, with our addition completed and people settled and truly becoming neighbors as well as both girls in school we have at least 2 other children trick or treating with us with the possibility of a 9 extra children wandering around with the men in the families while us moms either gather at my house or stay in their houses to hand out treats.  We sure have come a long way – and it is so exciting.  It is incredible to me that  I, who went for years and did not know who my neighbors were, now welcomes many of the kids in the neighborhood into my home on a routine basis, stocks boxes and boxes of popcorn for quick snacks, who turns around and finds new children in her backyard or ringing the doorbell asking to come play.  I am so proud of my girls for their openness to friends and willingness to welcome people into their home.  God has blessed me with the challenge of stepping outside of my comfort zone and providing some terrific people to pull me out of my shell.  There are times I look in the mirror and wonder who this middle-aged mom is looking back.  While still uncertain in social situations that I can’t control, I have found a new confidence in my own abilities.  I have gained a new sense of self-worth.  I am so glad for this growth because I don’t want my girls to be inhibited by the same insecurities that I have felt for so many years.  So here is to trick or treating with half the neighborhood.  Here is to our open door policy for the neighborhood.  Here is to well-balanced girls who know their own self-worth and can handle themselves with confidence in whatever situation they encounter.

It has been quite awhile since JB and her Godfather have seen each other.   DH and I were friends with FJM before JB was even a dream.  We shared many dinners and lots of laughter together over the years.  As we were struggling with infertility I spent many hours talking things over with him and praying with him as we walked our way through that dark tunnel and came out the other side.  He had been transferred from the parish we had attended before we submitted out dossier to China.   We had long considered him as part of our family – so when we received our referral we asked him to formally become part of our family and be JB’s Godfather.  We have been so blessed to have him in our lives.  

Papers = meremodisty by TaylorMade                                                                      photo treatment – coffeeshop
Word Art – no TOU, was a freebie that I downloaded.
Aged Photo Borders- made by AnVanLaer                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

Last week was Fall Break for the girls.  We took off and went for our one and only camping trip of this year.  The weather was very chilly and it rained 1 day.  But we had a really good time.  One day we headed further south and visited JB’s Godfather.  He is a priest assigned to a very small town.  We got to see him and he took us all around his town.  This page is of the girls playing around as we were waiting for something or another.  I just happened to snap these pictures and thought they did a great job of showing off their personalities that day. 

A Loving Template – extremely altered
Wordart and I Love You circle – TaylorMade Indefinitely
Photo treatments – CoffeeShop Classic B&W and Bittersweet Vintage

That buzzword in parenting – bonding.   That nebulous instant connection between mother and child.  That magical soul knowledge of each other.  Balderdash!  I have spoken with parents who have parented children they have carried in their womb and some of them had a very tenuous bond with their child for several months after birth.  How could I have possibly answered my pediatrician’s question  2 weeks after meeting JB that we were bonding.  How horribly naive I was. 

JB willingly came to me without tears.  Within 2 days she looked around to find me whenever I got out of her direct line of sight.  She showed joy when I approached her.  In my honeymoon phase I did not realize that she was only showing me what I wanted to see – she was a pleaser who pegged me immediately to get me to meet her needs.  I thought we were bonding.  My heart was definitely already involved.  But even that was not real bonding.  JB was the realization of prayers and dreams and renewed hope.   I loved what she represented, but I did not know her enough to love the person she was.    Several months after we got home JB was doing 2 things – feeling comfortable enough to challenge me, and acting out in a typical (though unrecognized) sensory seeking SPD fashion.  I remember looking at her and wondering who she was.  I looked in her eyes and realized that I really had no idea.  We started to learn about each other.  We started to trust each other.  We started to relax and let our relationship take its own course.  I learned how to meet her needs, those verbalized and those that I anticipated.  I thought we were bonded.

A few months later she started experiencing night terrors.  She would wake screaming.  I had no idea how to take away her fear or comfort her.  I held her after she awoke and soothed her back to sleep.  Not long after that she had tubes placed in her ears.  When she awoke from anesthesia she frantically grabbed hold of me and relaxed more deeply into my arms than she had ever done before (and no, it was not the anesthesia that made her relax)  It seemed that she realized that I was going to be there to comfort her when bad things happened.  I thought we had bonded. 

We moved into our new house.  In the interim between selling our house moving into the new house we lived in a 1 bedroom apartment where we all slept in the same room.  Once we moved into our new house I realized that JB was getting up in the middle of the night and making sure we were still there.  I asked her about it and she told me that she just wanted to make sure we were safe.  Finally we ended up placing a sleeping bag beside the bed for when she needed to be with us and we needed to get a full night’s sleep.  She began confiding thoughts to me that she had never talked about before, though I had tried to introduce topics.  She asked for alone time with me – our mother/daughter dates.  We talked about all sorts of things.   I thought we were bonded.

Earlier this year we went to a live production at our local stadium.  We had upper balcony seats.  JB was very uncomfortable sitting up there – she is not terribly fond of heights when she does not have control of the situation.  She asked me what would happen if she started to fall off the balcony.  I assured her that I would do everything I could to save her, even going over the edge of the balcony myself.  She stopped for a moment and then turned to me with wide, wonderous eyes and said “You would die for me?”  I assured her I would.  She sat a little taller and moved with a little more confidence.  And then I realized we were still bonding. 

Bonding for us is going to be a lifelong process.  She will realize bit by bit that I am not going anywhere.  I am here for her no matter what.  I love her with all that I am.   We share a name, we share a home, we share our lives.  But we are still getting to know one another, and will continue to get to know each other for the rest of our lives.  We are bonded as the people we are at this minute, but tomorrow we will be different people and will learn about each other and rebond again.  Bonding is not a static event; it is the constant evolution of life and relationships and learning and trusting and accepting.  So I relish each day, I cherish each moment, because it will never be this way again.

Today, 7 years ago, a child was placed into my arms and I became a mother for the first time.  I have talked about that day several times on my blog.  Today I want to talk about the moments before that miracle.  

The room was stuffy and hot and slightly musty smelling.  There was a huge conference table in the center and all around the perimeter of the room was a beige vinyl sectional.  One whole wall of the room was lined with windows.  Our group quickly opened the windows so we could get a little air moving around.  Each parent found a spot on the sectional and claimed it with all the paraphernalia that we had lugged, not knowing exactly what we would need.  DH and I had the diaper bag with a bottle all ready to add hot water to.  We had a change of clothes in case the orphanage wanted the clothes that she on back.  We had gift bags containing items to present to the orphanage director and the caregivers.  We had a video camera.  We had a 35mm camera.  We had extra film. 

Before we had traveled we had read personal accounts of the various possibilities of the condition our child could be in – colds, diarrhea from giardia, rashes, lice, scabies, misshapen head from laying too long in a crib, various developmental delays.  We had read personal accounts as well as professional accounts of the emotions that our child may be feeling and how those emotions may play out – rejection of one or both parents, extreme clinginess to one parent, inconsolable crying, refusal to eat, emotional shutdown to the point that it could resemble mental issues.  I had read numerous books and watched endless videos about China.  I had read of the numerous reasons that children were left to be taken care of by the government – the one child policy, the cultural and elder survival need for a boy, poverty, superstitious reasons, decisions being made by the birthfather’s parents, the stigma of single motherhood.  I had read the few interviews of birthmothers that were out there at the time.  I had read sociological analysis of how the Chinese would view giving up a child.  All of it had left me not with a feeling of anger or disdain for my child’s birthmother.  Quite the contrary. It left me with a feeling of emptiness, because I knew I could never put myself in her shoes, even for an instant, because I could never understand where she was coming from. I could never give my child a glimpse into what her birthparents’ thought processes or feelings were because I would never be able to understand them.  There is such a deep cultural difference between east and west that I could never totally comprehend it let alone put it into language that my child would be able to relate to.  I had never lived in the emotional, cultural and social environment in which she had lived her entire life.

So there I stood in that stuffy, hot and slightly musty smelling conference room.   I was about to become a mother – the dream and heartache of so many years.  Others around me were alternating between nervous laughter and tears.  I spent some time looking out the window at the mass of people moving up and down the street.  I wondered if one of the women I was seeing was my child’s birthmother.  I wondered if she wondered how her child was and what was going to happen to her.  It hit me of the total unknown that is my child’s past – that the chances of me being able to provide her with any information was basically nonexistent.  My head had known that all along, but suddenly my heart knew it and I grieved.  I grieved for all that was lost – my child’s birthparents, my child’s history, my child’s extended family. I did not expect those emotions.  I did not expect it to make me so very sad.  I did not expect the overwhelming REALITY of it to hit me at that moment. 

Those emotions were quickly pushed to the side as our name was called and we finally met JB and held her for the first time.  Those thoughts and feelings were easy to push aside during the baby and toddler years when we were so busy just trying to keep up with her.  But now that she is growing older and starting to have some questions, whether she verbalizes them or not, those feelings are becoming more prominent in my heart.  I ponder them during the night when I hold JB close and listen to her breathing.  I know my grief is nothing compared to what she will face throughout her life.  But as a mother, my grief is different and I can only speak to my emotions.  I want to meet this person who gave JB life.  I want to share stories and giggle with her at JB’s antics, and revel together in the person that JB is.  I want to take away all the unknowns in JB’s past so she can face the future without questions.  In short – I want to fix it.  But it is not fixable.  It is, though, something that we can work on together.   By being open with my emotions I can show her it is ok to be open with hers.   By showing her how much I want to know all I can about her birth culture I can empower her to want to know more.  But today my thoughts are not on JB’s emotions, they are not really on my emotions.  My thoughts are about the people half a world away that share the same genes as my little girl.  My thanks go out to them for choosing life for her instead of the very viable option of abortion.  My thanks go out to them for choosing to keep her safe and healthy while she lived with them instead of ignoring her.  My thanks go out to them for placing her in the safe, sheltered place where she was found.

Our first night home in the States

My crazy hair girl! 2009

There is a discussion in the adoption community (particularly the international adoption community) about the term “Gotcha Day” and if it should be celebrated annually.  There are valid points in both camps.  We choose to use the term (for right now) and we chose to celebrate the day.  Let me give you a glimpse of our thoughts, feelings and traditions.

On October 18, 2002 we boarded a plane and headed to the great unknown  – China and parenthood.  On October 20^th, a precious 15 lbs 12 month old little girl was placed in my arms.  She quietly watched me walk into the warm and stuffy conference room in the provence civil affairs office from the safety of her care giver’s arms.  My first thought as I walked into the room was “That can’t be her, she is so tiny!”  The care giver was pointing to me and telling her “Mama, Mama”.  This little girl who had lived in an orphanage for the last 9 months, who had just taken what was probably her first bus ride and traveled an hour, looked at me with wide, yet unafraid eyes.  As I cautiously approached her she leaned towards me and opened her arms.  She came to me without a whimper, staring at me and then at her new daddy.  Later in the evening, belly full and pajama clad, she looked around the hotel room and realized that something was different.  She crumbled into heartbreaking sobs.  I held her and murmured “I gotcha, sweetie. I gotcha.  We are here.  You are safe.”  I know that she had no idea what I cooing to her, that all she knew was that life as she knew it was overwhelmingly altered.  But it must have calmed her to some degree because she did calm down and snuggle into my arms and doze off.  I have no illusions that we had any meaningful bond at that time, that she had any trust in me as a human, let alone as a parent.  But that phrase, “I gotcha sweetie” would become my mantra over the next seven years.  I would say it as I would hold her as she learned how to do the monkey bars, I would say it when she would get herself stuck behind furniture, I would say it when night terrors and nightmares would wake her, I would say it as she trembled during thunderstorms.  It became our mantra of safety, security and love. 

The first anniversary of our adoptions we held a big party.  It was the equivalent of what many people do for their child’s first birthday.  But with bonding issues and the age of our girls when they entered our family, we were unable to do that.  So we asked everyone to celebrate with us our 1 year anniversary.  Subsequent anniversaries of JB’s Gotcha Day are celebrated with the families that traveled together and adopted girls from the same orphanage.  We get together several times during the year, but we all make a concerted effort to get together on one specific day around the actual gotcha day to celebrate family, to celebrate the friendships that have developed between all of the adults, and to ensure that the girls maintain some sort of connection.  One year our group went out to dinner where our server was a 20 something Korean adoptee.  She asked what our group was celebrating.  We explained our group to her and she because very animated and excited for the girls.  She was not excited about the adoptions, she was excited because we were maintaining the connection between the girls.  She said that she really regretted that her parents did not maintain a relationship with the other families that had adopted at the same time she was adopted.  She said she really missed having those relationships and the ability to talk to someone who shared the same history and was facing some of the same issues as she was growing up.  Once we heard that, all of us renewed our commitment to gather together.

During our Gotcha celebration we always release red balloons.  The balloons are sent heavenward with the hope that they will reach China and let all the people who cared for them know that they are remembered and that the girls are doing well.   As I watch those balloons rise gracefully into the sky and become nothing but dots against the clouds, my thoughts turn to the woman who carried my child for 9 months and to the man that fathered her.  I wonder what they are feeling, I hurt that they do not know this child that is bouncing and saying that her balloon is winning the race to China.  I want to share with them the little things that JB does, her little quirks, the milestones that she is meeting. All I can send them, though, is the respect and admiration in my heart and pray that God will grant them peace.  I also think about the orphanage director who took JB under her wing and gave her some extra cuddles and affection during her time in the orphanage. 

Another thing that is starting to become a tradition is celebrating a group birthday.  All of the girls that live in state have birthdays in about a 20 day span.  My father also has his birthday in there as well.  He and my mother share a special place of honor in our group.  They were able to travel with us with each adoption, so they witnessed the birth of all the families in the travel groups.  My parents unofficially adopted each of the children as another grandchild.  So during the Gotcha celebration we also have a cake and sing to the group.

The other day JB and I were laying in bed together.  She was supposed to be going to sleep and I was supposed to be reading a book while she quieted down.  Neither event was happening.  She turned to me and asked me what Gotcha Day means and why we call it that.  I told her that we celebrate it because of the formation of our family and that I got her and she got us.  Neither of my girls withhold their opinions, so I was waiting for her reaction. She looked up at the ceiling for a moment with serious face, then she got a grin on her face and said “oh, ok”.  I asked her if that was ok.  Her grin got even larger and told me “Yeah, I can’t wait to see D, and K and J”. 

So, do we  Gotcha?  Yeah, at this time we do.  It is not said or meant as a possessive term.  It is not a time to dwell on loss.  It is a time to celebrate friendship.  It is a time to honor those who love them here in the United States and those is China.  There is a time for grief and expression of loss.  We explore those emotions throughout the year as they are experienced.  But this particular day is a celebration of all that is good in our lives.  At this time the girls see this as a big party where they get to play with friends they don’t see often enough and eat unending treats.  The adults sit around and talk about life in general and renew our friendships, raise our glasses that we have survived another year as parents, and share laughter and tears as we share parts of our lives.  One day the girls may decide they want to celebrate in a different manner.  We will take our cues from them.  But for now I get to revel in the hugs and giggles of all my “nieces” and relax in the embrace of friends while my girls get to build the basis of lifelong friendships.