Posts from — July 2009

As I sit here, I’m listening to a Vivaldi violin concerto.  Its been years since I’ve listened to classical music, something which was once a huge, fulfilling part of my life.

Fulfilling.  Not a word I’ve been using a lot lately. I’m fried.  Everything is a huge effort to be passable.  There is no place I can go to just “rest”.  I am empty.

So what do I usually fill myself up with?  Ice cream.  Toffee.  Mindless TV and web browsing.  Sleep (and not the good, refreshing kind, but the escapist, “I can’t face the day” kind).

It occurred to us that my husband and I started to confuse “vegging” with “refreshing”.  Instead, we needed to focus on filling ourselves up with the GOOD stuff.  And that’s where the classical music comes in.  And jigsaw puzzles.  And crochet.

“But wait”, you say, “so what?  Jigsaw puzzles and Vivaldi aren’t filling – they’re just fun things to do!”

I disagree.  Classical music awakens the artist in me.  Jigsaw puzzles allows me to process the issues of the day in the background, while watching a beautiful pattern come together. Crochet gives me a sense of true accomplishment while allowing me to pour love into a gift for someone.  These are God’s gifts to me, gifts that renew me. And real renewal helps us focus on our sense of purpose, our hope, love, beauty and so much more.

Believe me, when you’re parenting kids like ours, it takes every ounce of energy to take care of myself.  Just last night, I thought about starting a new puzzle, but I literally did not have the energy to open the box.  So maybe I’m going to have to just veg sometimes.  But I no longer want this to be the norm, because it doesn’t really help anything or anyone – vegging just sort of “delays” life.

What are the things you used to love to do?  What are the things you’ve always wanted to do?

Think about it, and start doing them.  The effort will be well worth the refreshment.

One year ago today, the State of California made M and L official members of our family.

Legally, from that point forward, they had the same rights as N, a child born to my husband, and any future children we might have (uh, NO).

Logistically, we were no longer considered foster parents.  We no longer had to track meds on a form, take forms to every doctor’s visit, fingerprint anyone we wanted to leave the kids with, worry about what a social worker might say about our parenting.

Emotionally, we were surprised at how much of a relief it was to us.  The freedom from the logistical concerns, having it settled for once and for all, having our names match – it all added up to a certain freedom from an emotional weight we had been carrying.

In the last year, so much has changed.  M has become much better at expressing her feelings, she’s finally connected with her dad, and is thriving at school.  L is making huge strides, finally being medically and therapeutically treated properly, and is showing more and more of his delightful personality.  N has gone back and forth between hating being a big brother and loving it, which seems fairly typical to me.

My husband and I have begun to take better care of our marriage, and ourselves (more on that tomorrow).   And when we stand back to see the big picture, we are amazed at how its all come together.

Happy anniversary, my beautiful family.  May we celebrate many, many, more.

I was invited to speak to a group of prospective fost-adopt parents about maintaining relationships with birth families.  At the last minute, I couldn’t go, but here’s what I wanted to tell them:

When looking at the ROI, it can be hard to see one.  Its a huge hassle, and every visit is preceded and followed by anxiety.You are going to be tempted to “not bother”.  To try and convince yourself that its really not worth it to maintain relationships, that it’d be best if they just forgot they have a sibling, etc.  Right now, you’re appalled I’m even saying it, but trust me, you’ll go there.

I keep coming back to this: when they get older, I want to be able to honestly look my kids in the eye and say “I did everything I could to maintain a relationship with your sister”.  And even though it may not FEEL like its worth it, I have to believe that it is.

And remember… your child has already lost so much: parents, a decent childhood, part of their education, etc.  This is something you can help them hold on to.  That’s incredibly important.

It really was a great birthday for M.  She got to spend the night in San Francisco with her best friend, go to the zoo, and have a party with a lot of people who love her.

But the day before the party, I saw this anxiety start to develop.  And I’m pretty sure it was because her sister was going to be there.

M loves her sister. And, she hates her sister.  Sounds like normal siblings so far, except in this case, big sister was adopted by another family, a family who rejected M. And, M’s memories of E really aren’t that great – they involve E getting M in trouble for stuff she didn’t do, breaking her toys, and I’m guessing a bunch of other stuff that M can’t articulate yet.

So M was nervous.  Nervous that E would break her presents.  Nervous that she wouldn’t recognize E.  At least, that’s what she said.  But I’m guessing the stress had more to do with the unresolved grief about not living with her sister anymore.

What was especially interesting was E’s response. She adores her little brother and sister, she really does.  But this was the first time that she saw them in their new world, surrounded by a lot of people who love them – and who don’t know her at all.  Suddenly, she wasn’t the heroic older sister riding in to entertain them – she was just another loved one in their life.  At one point, I found her off by herself, because she just didn’t know how to handle it.

I assume I did the right thing in inviting E – though maybe I should have had the siblings have their own seperate celebration.  Or not.  Maybe it was good for E to see that life goes on without her.  Maybe it was good for M to see E while surround by lots of love.  I don’t know.  I guess there’s really no right answer here.

But I hate that my baby girl’s birthday was tinged in grief.  But for families who have adopted older kids, our celebrations are often tinged in grief. That’s our reality, and we’ll just have to learn to manage it.

Warning: this is not your standard adoption post.  In fact, I’m not even sure where this is coming from – I just know its something I have to say.

I’ve studiously avoided talking about my faith in these pages, even though its an integral part of my life.  Why?  Because I know that the minute I say something about Jesus, many – MANY – people will assume that I’m one of those “hellfire and brimstone, you’re all going to hell unless you think the same way I do” type of believers.  And I’ve wanted to avoid that because my passion is that those who have adopted kids will find this to be a place where they can find encouragement, and that those who are considering adopting can get the real scoop – and I don’t want those people to be turned off by my faith.  And honestly, encourage adoptive and prospective adoptive parents is far more important than shoving my faith down anyone’s throat.

In fact, nothing gets me angrier than seeing people denied the opportunity to adopt because they don’t live a certain lifestyle, or hold certain beliefs.  As far as I’m concerned, if you’re willing to love a child who’s been abused, neglected, abandoned, or traumatized, I don’t care what your lifestyle’s like.  Our kids need parents desperately – and to deny people the opportunity to love these kids is a far greater sin than any lifestyle choice.

I suppose its possible that I’m wrong – its been known to happen.  And I’m sure there are those who will disagree with me.  But if you challenge me on it, I will come back with Matthew 25: 31-40:

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his throne in heavenly glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.

“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

“The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’

You love our kids, then God loves you. ‘Nuff said.

My church is having a women’s retreat, and in a cursory review of the agenda, it looks like they’re going to spend a lot of time with activities that are deep and meaningful.  And I instantly thought “oh man!  no way I’m going to THAT!”

???

I was very surprised at my response.  Going deep is a good thing, right?  Growth, building relationships, etc – its all good, right?  And in the past, I’ve normally sought that kind of thing out.  So what’s the deal?

Then it hit me: I don’t need to go on a retreat to go deep, because these days, I LIVE in the deep.

On a daily basis, I find myself so far in the deep end of my kids crap that I’m either exhausted from treading water, or feel like I’m drowning.  Every day, I’m faced with levels of anger, grief, pain and loss that would take down the Terminator himself.  Every day, I have to examine my own insecurities, failings and emotions at a level that most people pay trained professionals to help them examine (and, I pay said paid professional in addition to my own examination).  Every day, I have to work like a fiend at my relationship with my husband, because we can’t take it for granted for a single minute or else we’ll drown.

Every day, I’m in the deep.

Which is why last night was such a wonderful little break.  For one hour, we went out to dinner to celebrate my husband’s birthday, and it was a delight.  My husband and I were making googly eyes at each other; N was being the tolerably annoying big brother; L was being a total, goofy, delight; M was trying desperately to act like a little adult (which is hard to do when your two front teeth are missing and you’re cute beyond words).  We laughed, joked, sang in the car, and generally had a blast.

Of course, it ended the minute we got home, but that’s okay.  Because for a brief moment, I got to sit in the shallow end, and take a break.  When you’re treading water day in and day out, even that brief respite can do wonders.