I love Christmas. It has always been my favorite holiday and favorite time of the year since I was a kid. I love the Christmas carols, the Christmas Eve candlelight services, the food (hello, peppermint bark and chocolate covered pretzels), the get togethers with family, the presents, the card games and ping-pong games, the snow (at least, sometimes the snow) ... Christmas makes me happy. It reminds me that Jesus came to earth as a baby so that I can have a relationship with God and be adopted as God's child. And I'm a big fan of adoption.
However, this Christmas was, um, less than enjoyable (to put it mildly). And I'm realizing that Christmas isn't quite as fun as it used to be now that I have 3 small children. My kids were wired, insane, off the chain -- however you want to put it. Too much food, too much sugar, too many presents, too many people. I thought I was going to go insane. Nothing makes me more mad than a kid who is ungrateful for what he has received and whining and throwing a tantrum because he wants what his brother got. And a Christmas Eve candlelight service is hardly a good time when you've got two boys using the candles as drumsticks (and breaking them), trying to escape the pew (we were literally grabbing them by their pants and pulling them back in the pew), and throwing a loud fit during "O Holy Night" (my favorite Christmas song) because the water in their cups was gone. And did I mention two of the boys screamed the entire hour from my parents' house to my husband's family's house, and the other one wailed all the way home? Seriously?!
While we were trying to talk over the screaming in the car, my husband tells me, "I think we're THAT family." You know, the family that brings their 12 bratty kids (yes, we only have 3, but it feels like 12) and everyone cringes when they see them because they know the kids are going to be a hot mess that ruins every family get together. Usually, THAT family is the one whose parents think their kids are perfect and never discipline them and let them get away with murder. That's not us. We most definitely do not believe our kids are perfect, and we really do try to discipline them (I'm not sure how many time-outs M got on Christmas day). But our kids are still insane. I don't know if it's the age, or the fact that there are 3 of them so close together, or because they are "all boy" as people like to tell me, but it's pure craziness. And I feel bad. I worry that people are judging me. I feel like people probably hate my kids. I've had numerous people ask me things like, "Do you know if their birthmoms were on drugs when they were pregnant" (they were not) or "Have you heard of the bad side effects of artificial dyes on kids' behavior?" (I have, and I don't give my kids food with dyes in it). I know they're trying to be well-meaning and help a sister out, but it's a little discouraging that my kids are crazy enough to make people think they have something wrong with them.
But then I look around at other friends who have boys the same age as my boys, and I'm reminded that, for the most part, my kids are normal. They may be a little more energetic than some, but hey -- that can be a good thing if they want to play sports or be in a band, right? And I was reminded that my kids aren't born naturally good -- they require training and discipline to help them learn right behavior from wrong behavior, and for goodness sake, they're only 1 1/2 and 3 years old, so maybe I should cut them a little slack.
And there were moments of pure joy this Christmas -- when Kid 2 shared all of his toys with Kid 1, then Kid 3 slept through the night and so did I, when Kid 1 got excited to see "Baby Jesus" at the Christmas Eve service and started yelling, "I do like Baby Jesus! I do!" Christmas may not be the easy, fun times I remember for a few more years, but it's still a time to celebrate. It's still a chance to see family and eat food and rejoice in the birth of our Savior. And maybe in a few years Christmas will be fun again. Until then, we'll just smile at everyone, knowing that they're secretly thinking, "Oh no, not THAT family."
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Monday, November 5, 2012
Do I Grow Up to be a Loser?
"Do we suck as parents, or are our kids just hard?" When my husband asked me this yesterday, it perfectly summed up the way I've felt the last few weeks (months?). As I told my sister, some people were meant to be moms. They're awesome at it. They love it. Their kids sleep all night at two weeks old, don't whine, say "yes, ma'am" and "no, sir", memorize Psalm 119 by the age of 3, and they actually really enjoy life with their kids 90% of the time. Then there's me.
My 5-month old used to sleep through the night, but for the last month he's woken up and pooped (half the time a blowout diaper) at 3am. And every once in awhile he has nights like last night where he's up 3-4 times (only one time was it a complete blowout diaper). And he won't take a nap longer than 45 minutes. Ever. My almost 3-year old whines. A lot. I hate it. And he throws temper tantrums and has started hurting people (i.e. his middle brother) on purpose. And my 1.5-year old has the worst temper I've ever seen. He's disobedient and doesn't listen and consequences don't seem to phase him one bit (in his defense, he can kick the crap out of just about any kid twice his size, so maybe he really doesn't feel pain).
But all of this makes me feel like a complete failure as a mother. Why won't my kid sleep through the night? Why do I have a kid who both whines and throws temper tantrums (one or the other would be fine, but both?!)? Why is my middle kid so stubborn and disobedient? Obviously, it's because I suck as a parent. I'm not "Babywise" enough. I'm not strict enough. Or maybe I'm too strict. I'm definitely not "shepherding my child's heart." In fact, most days I'm just trying to survive. I'm trying to make it to naptime without having a mental breakdown. And when Aaron comes home, we put our helmets on and just try to stay alive (and keep our kids alive) for 2.5 hours before bedtime. And then we collapse.
The daily grind is exhausting, and it's not made any easier by feeling like we are doing something wrong. I was seriously considering throwing in the towel and giving up on this whole parenting thing altogether ... possibly coercing my parents into keeping my boys for the next 3-5 years (I'd see them on holidays and birthdays, right?). And then I read an awesome chapter in the book Parenting is Your Highest Calling and 8 Other Myths that Trap us in Worry and Guilt. The author talks about how we can get so fixated on trying to use the right methods to raise our kids that we lose sight of the fact that the Bible never gives any specific directions on methods for raising kids (No really. There's no advice on getting your kid to sleep through the night, or whether you should homeschool or do private school or public school, or whether they should be allowed to watch Hoosiers or not (they should)). The Bible mostly talks about how we should teach our kids who God is. In fact, Jesus narrows it down to two simple commandments: Love God. Love others. That's it.
This was so freeing to me! All I really need to do is focus on loving God and teaching my kids about God's love for them and his desire for them to love others. This simplified "parenting manual" feels a lot more doable. It's a lot less condemning. I mean, I don't love God or others perfectly (sometimes I don't really love others at all), but if I can focus on those two things and stop stressing about my sleep techniques, feeding techniques, discipline techniques, etc., maybe I'll feel less like a failure every waking moment of every day. I can rejoice in the little victories, like praying for and with my kids, reading Bible stories, watching YouTube music videos by Third Day (okay, so I don't know if I can count that as a victory, but hey -- it's good music and they love it -- don't judge me). And I can stop comparing myself to all of the parents who are raising their kids the "right" way.
Love Jesus. Love others. Those are my only goals for today.
My 5-month old used to sleep through the night, but for the last month he's woken up and pooped (half the time a blowout diaper) at 3am. And every once in awhile he has nights like last night where he's up 3-4 times (only one time was it a complete blowout diaper). And he won't take a nap longer than 45 minutes. Ever. My almost 3-year old whines. A lot. I hate it. And he throws temper tantrums and has started hurting people (i.e. his middle brother) on purpose. And my 1.5-year old has the worst temper I've ever seen. He's disobedient and doesn't listen and consequences don't seem to phase him one bit (in his defense, he can kick the crap out of just about any kid twice his size, so maybe he really doesn't feel pain).
But all of this makes me feel like a complete failure as a mother. Why won't my kid sleep through the night? Why do I have a kid who both whines and throws temper tantrums (one or the other would be fine, but both?!)? Why is my middle kid so stubborn and disobedient? Obviously, it's because I suck as a parent. I'm not "Babywise" enough. I'm not strict enough. Or maybe I'm too strict. I'm definitely not "shepherding my child's heart." In fact, most days I'm just trying to survive. I'm trying to make it to naptime without having a mental breakdown. And when Aaron comes home, we put our helmets on and just try to stay alive (and keep our kids alive) for 2.5 hours before bedtime. And then we collapse.
The daily grind is exhausting, and it's not made any easier by feeling like we are doing something wrong. I was seriously considering throwing in the towel and giving up on this whole parenting thing altogether ... possibly coercing my parents into keeping my boys for the next 3-5 years (I'd see them on holidays and birthdays, right?). And then I read an awesome chapter in the book Parenting is Your Highest Calling and 8 Other Myths that Trap us in Worry and Guilt. The author talks about how we can get so fixated on trying to use the right methods to raise our kids that we lose sight of the fact that the Bible never gives any specific directions on methods for raising kids (No really. There's no advice on getting your kid to sleep through the night, or whether you should homeschool or do private school or public school, or whether they should be allowed to watch Hoosiers or not (they should)). The Bible mostly talks about how we should teach our kids who God is. In fact, Jesus narrows it down to two simple commandments: Love God. Love others. That's it.
This was so freeing to me! All I really need to do is focus on loving God and teaching my kids about God's love for them and his desire for them to love others. This simplified "parenting manual" feels a lot more doable. It's a lot less condemning. I mean, I don't love God or others perfectly (sometimes I don't really love others at all), but if I can focus on those two things and stop stressing about my sleep techniques, feeding techniques, discipline techniques, etc., maybe I'll feel less like a failure every waking moment of every day. I can rejoice in the little victories, like praying for and with my kids, reading Bible stories, watching YouTube music videos by Third Day (okay, so I don't know if I can count that as a victory, but hey -- it's good music and they love it -- don't judge me). And I can stop comparing myself to all of the parents who are raising their kids the "right" way.
Love Jesus. Love others. Those are my only goals for today.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Birthmom update
So, I realized that a few weeks after my last blog about Malachi's birthmom not being able to be reached, I should probably update you with the awesome news that she contacted the agency and wants to visit Malachi! Apparently she never received any of the emails we or the agency sent her and took the initiative on her own to contact the agency and find out if we were still interested in coming to visit. We are beyond excited that she wants to continue to have a relationship with Malachi -- it's a big answer to prayers.
At the same time, it also brings up some tough questions. How often are we going to try to visit now? For how long will we visit every year, or when does it become a better option to visit every other year? At what age might Malachi not want to visit? Or what if he wants to visit more often? It's pretty darn expensive to fly out there (this time we're just sending Aaron and Malachi, and I'm staying home with the other two boys), but by the time you pay for plane tickets, rental car, hotel, food, etc, it will probably be close to $1,000. We've been wondering if maybe next year Malachi's birthmom would be willing to fly here to visit (we would pay for her plane ticket), but the problem with asking her to do that, is that the rest of her family won't get to see him (his birth grandma and aunts always come to the visits too). And how do you start a conversation with her and her family about the frequency of visits? As Aaron says, there's no way he can tell her, "Sorry, you'll have to wait two more years to see your son." We really want to continue our relationship with her, but paying $1,000 a year for 18+ years is a lot of money!
We talked with our adoption case worker about her thoughts on frequency of visits. She said it's natural to start visiting less frequently as a child gets older; age 5 seems to be a natural transition age for visits, because kids start school and their schedules make it harder to plan visits. We talked about other options for continuing communication with his birthmom, including Skype (I love that idea, esp. as he gets older), sending pictures and videos more frequently, and keeping an online photo site that she can check often (I use Shutterfly, but apparently she hasn't been able to get on the site, because her email changed and she never received the information from me). Hopefully Aaron will be able to talk through some ideas with her and her family and it won't be too awkward (prayers appreciated!).
All this to say, we are so happy that Malachi's birthmom wants to continue a relationship with him, and we're working through what that relationship will look like for our family in the future. With adoption, things are never boring or simple, that's for sure, but it is so worth it.
At the same time, it also brings up some tough questions. How often are we going to try to visit now? For how long will we visit every year, or when does it become a better option to visit every other year? At what age might Malachi not want to visit? Or what if he wants to visit more often? It's pretty darn expensive to fly out there (this time we're just sending Aaron and Malachi, and I'm staying home with the other two boys), but by the time you pay for plane tickets, rental car, hotel, food, etc, it will probably be close to $1,000. We've been wondering if maybe next year Malachi's birthmom would be willing to fly here to visit (we would pay for her plane ticket), but the problem with asking her to do that, is that the rest of her family won't get to see him (his birth grandma and aunts always come to the visits too). And how do you start a conversation with her and her family about the frequency of visits? As Aaron says, there's no way he can tell her, "Sorry, you'll have to wait two more years to see your son." We really want to continue our relationship with her, but paying $1,000 a year for 18+ years is a lot of money!
We talked with our adoption case worker about her thoughts on frequency of visits. She said it's natural to start visiting less frequently as a child gets older; age 5 seems to be a natural transition age for visits, because kids start school and their schedules make it harder to plan visits. We talked about other options for continuing communication with his birthmom, including Skype (I love that idea, esp. as he gets older), sending pictures and videos more frequently, and keeping an online photo site that she can check often (I use Shutterfly, but apparently she hasn't been able to get on the site, because her email changed and she never received the information from me). Hopefully Aaron will be able to talk through some ideas with her and her family and it won't be too awkward (prayers appreciated!).
All this to say, we are so happy that Malachi's birthmom wants to continue a relationship with him, and we're working through what that relationship will look like for our family in the future. With adoption, things are never boring or simple, that's for sure, but it is so worth it.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Birthmom Blues
For those who don't know much about our adoptions of Malachi and Isaiah, we have a semi-open adoption agreement with Malachi's birthmom, and a pretty darn open adoption agreement with Isaiah's birthmom. What this means is that I send pictures and letters to our adoption agency 4 times a year for Malachi, and we would fly to Virginia twice a year to see her until he was two, and then we planned to continue trying to see her once a year. Isaiah's birthmom, who is the same age as we are, and who I spent three weeks hanging out with while Isaiah was in the hospital, has came to see us for Isaiah's first birthday and is coming again in a couple of months. I have a Shutterfly share site where I post pictures every couple of weeks for her and her family to see (Isaiah's birth grandma is hoping to come with his birthmom to visit in October!).
We love having such an open relationships with our boys' birthmoms. We have their pictures in the boys' baby books and hoped they would always be a part of our lives. They are a huge part of the boys' stories. So when we were unable to reach Malachi's birthmom to schedule our next visit, I was pretty upset. I mean, sure it's easier to not fly to Virginia with a 2-year old and a new baby, and sure it saves us money, but when I and the adoption agency never got replies to the emails we sent, and the phone number the agency had was disconnected, I felt really sad. I guess I had always assumed that we could reach Malachi's birthmom, esp. if there was an emergency. And I have this fear that maybe she thinks we didn't contact her to schedule a visit because we didn't want one. Maybe I have the wrong email address. I don't know, but I'm really disappointed. In some ways, it's like we've lost touch with a member of the family.
I guess all I can do is pray and hope that someday she'll contact the agency and we'll be able to resume contact with her. I'm hopeful that we just have wrong numbers and email addresses. But there's a part of me that knows that some birthmoms need to move on, that continual contact is too painful for them. Malachi's birthmom is a brave young woman, and if she needs to close a chapter of her life in order to start a new one, I need to accept that. It's just not easy.
We love having such an open relationships with our boys' birthmoms. We have their pictures in the boys' baby books and hoped they would always be a part of our lives. They are a huge part of the boys' stories. So when we were unable to reach Malachi's birthmom to schedule our next visit, I was pretty upset. I mean, sure it's easier to not fly to Virginia with a 2-year old and a new baby, and sure it saves us money, but when I and the adoption agency never got replies to the emails we sent, and the phone number the agency had was disconnected, I felt really sad. I guess I had always assumed that we could reach Malachi's birthmom, esp. if there was an emergency. And I have this fear that maybe she thinks we didn't contact her to schedule a visit because we didn't want one. Maybe I have the wrong email address. I don't know, but I'm really disappointed. In some ways, it's like we've lost touch with a member of the family.
I guess all I can do is pray and hope that someday she'll contact the agency and we'll be able to resume contact with her. I'm hopeful that we just have wrong numbers and email addresses. But there's a part of me that knows that some birthmoms need to move on, that continual contact is too painful for them. Malachi's birthmom is a brave young woman, and if she needs to close a chapter of her life in order to start a new one, I need to accept that. It's just not easy.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Redefining Fun
Contrary to what anyone who knew me in high school might believe, I really like to have fun (for background, in high school I did nothing but study and play sports; my dad used to pay me to go to the movies because I'm pretty sure he was afraid I'd turn into an antisocial weirdo who lived with my parents for the rest of my life). I started to lighten up a little bit in college, but after finishing school, I learned to love life a lot more. I love running with friends, camping, hiking, playing ultimate frisbee, meeting people for scones at Starbucks, being part of book clubs, game nights (Settlers of Catan anyone?!), and hanging out with friends. Unfortunately, having 3 kids under age 3 doesn't leave me many opportunities to do any of the things I love.
Aaron and I have been talking a lot about what "fun" looks like for us now. Doing the things we love with our kids doesn't exactly sound fun: Camping with toddlers and a baby? Um, no. Game nights? Not unless people come to our house, and we're getting old enough that all of our friends have kids too, so bedtime kind of screws things up. Running with friends? I decided not to purchase a triple stroller, and let's be honest, as slow as I would run being out of shape and pushing 3 kids, no one would want to run with me anyway. Book clubs? That would mean I'd have to have time to actually read a book. So what does fun look like for us now?
Fun has become finding diggers and mixers and dump trucks on walks or drives around town. Fun is going to the park and playing with the kids on the merry-go-round and slides. Fun is singing and dancing to the Zac Brown Band CD that Malachi has memorized. Fun is pretending that Thomas the Train is hiding behind our couch and we have to find him. Fun is playing baseball in the backyard with Malachi while trying to keep Isaiah from falling off the jungle gym that he climbs on his own.
And while this may not always seem like real fun to us, we have to admit that it's fun to watch our kids having fun. I laugh a lot, especially when the kids aren't driving me crazy. And I keep telling myself that in a few years, the fun we used to have might be fun again. Camping when the kids are a few years older will be a blast. With 3 boys, ultimate frisbee and every other sport will be awesome (and probably super competitive). The kids can ride their bikes with me while I go for a run. And we can have family game nights and won't even have to have friends to invite over. So while we're redefining fun right now, by giving time to our kids while they're young, it's going to pay off big time when the real fun starts. At least, that's what we keep telling ourselves ...
Having kids has taught me a lot about what unselfishness means. I'm learning how selfish and self-centered I really am. When I'm getting angry at Malachi for taking his brother's toys and not sharing with his friends, I hear myself muttering, "You are so selfish! It's annoying!" But you know, this selfishness is exactly what I struggle with every day. Putting others first isn't easy, for a toddler or an adult. But sacrifice, as Christ showed us, is exactly what love is all about. And love as a mom means redefining fun, at least for now.
Aaron and I have been talking a lot about what "fun" looks like for us now. Doing the things we love with our kids doesn't exactly sound fun: Camping with toddlers and a baby? Um, no. Game nights? Not unless people come to our house, and we're getting old enough that all of our friends have kids too, so bedtime kind of screws things up. Running with friends? I decided not to purchase a triple stroller, and let's be honest, as slow as I would run being out of shape and pushing 3 kids, no one would want to run with me anyway. Book clubs? That would mean I'd have to have time to actually read a book. So what does fun look like for us now?
Fun has become finding diggers and mixers and dump trucks on walks or drives around town. Fun is going to the park and playing with the kids on the merry-go-round and slides. Fun is singing and dancing to the Zac Brown Band CD that Malachi has memorized. Fun is pretending that Thomas the Train is hiding behind our couch and we have to find him. Fun is playing baseball in the backyard with Malachi while trying to keep Isaiah from falling off the jungle gym that he climbs on his own.
And while this may not always seem like real fun to us, we have to admit that it's fun to watch our kids having fun. I laugh a lot, especially when the kids aren't driving me crazy. And I keep telling myself that in a few years, the fun we used to have might be fun again. Camping when the kids are a few years older will be a blast. With 3 boys, ultimate frisbee and every other sport will be awesome (and probably super competitive). The kids can ride their bikes with me while I go for a run. And we can have family game nights and won't even have to have friends to invite over. So while we're redefining fun right now, by giving time to our kids while they're young, it's going to pay off big time when the real fun starts. At least, that's what we keep telling ourselves ...
Having kids has taught me a lot about what unselfishness means. I'm learning how selfish and self-centered I really am. When I'm getting angry at Malachi for taking his brother's toys and not sharing with his friends, I hear myself muttering, "You are so selfish! It's annoying!" But you know, this selfishness is exactly what I struggle with every day. Putting others first isn't easy, for a toddler or an adult. But sacrifice, as Christ showed us, is exactly what love is all about. And love as a mom means redefining fun, at least for now.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Bringing Up Bebe
As an English and French teacher, there was something extremely appealing about reading a book written by an American about life as a mom in France. And, let's be honest, the thought of reading a book period right now was pretty darn appealing too. So when our computer crashed for a week, I spent my "free" time (i.e. when the two oldest were asleep and I was nursing the baby) reading the book Bringing Up Bebe by Pamela Druckerman. I don't normally do book reviews as part of this blog, but this one was so good I thought I'd give it a shot.
Druckerman and her husband were living in Paris when she got pregnant with her daughter, so she got to experience pregnancy, birth, and then raising a child while in France. Her experiences were so different from what parents experience in the U.S. that she started digging to figure out why. And for the most part, she concludes that French parenting is much better than American parenting. After reading the book, I'd have to agree. Now the French aren't perfect (they rarely nurse their children at all, and if they do, it's only for 3 months), and they don't exactly teach their kids the kind of morals I'd like to instill in my own children (i.e. affairs aren't good for a marriage, and having sex when you're 15 isn't acceptable to me), nor do they give a darn about religion (they might claim to be Catholic, but very few French people actually regularly attend church). However, their kids tend to be polite, well-behaved, and can sit through a 4-course meal at a restaurant starting before the age of 2 without the parents bribing them with Goldfish crackers and cookies or sitting an iPad in front of them for the duration of the meal. How do they do this?! Well, here's some of my takeaways from the book:
1. French parents do not feel guilty about putting their kids in childcare. It helps that childcare is subsidized by the government and extremely high quality. In fact, most French women go back to work after taking 3 months off following the birth of their children. Even women who choose to stay at home often send their kids to what we call daycare (they call them "creches" -- the same term used for the nativity at Christmas). They firmly believe that kids need to learn to socialize with their peers and become independent of their parents. Reading about this has helped relieve my guilt over sending my two oldest to a 4-hour once a week preschool program. Maybe it won't cause them to grow up to be terrorists after all.
2. French parents firmly believe that children should be a part of the family, not the center of attention. Kids are included in activities, but they don't get to rule the house. Parents think it's good for everyone if the parents still have their own lives outside of their kids. This mentality affects everything they do -- they don't sign kids up for a million activities every night of the week and then spend their time bussing kids from one thing to the next. They might have one or two activities, but parents aren't expected to attend practices. If you have a playdate in France, you drop your kid off at the friend's house and then leave to do your own thing. Unlike here in the states, you aren't expected to stick around and help corral the kids (the same goes for birthday parties -- a 3-year old's parents aren't going to stick around for your kid's birthday party; they will, however, return at the end for champagne). Kids have to go to bed early enough that their parents get some time to themselves. At the park, kids play while the parents sit on benches on the edge and socialize with each other. (French mothers do NOT go down slides or narrate every activity their child is doing: "Look, you're swinging! Whee!") The list goes on and on, but when you don't make your kids your entire life, but instead teach them to be part of your life, it changes your focus on everything.
3. French kids will eat almost anything. I still don't know quite how they do it, except that parents believe that kids must be "educated" on what foods to eat, and their tastes must be cultivated. They don't force their kids to eat all the peas on their plate, but they do require that kids try at least one bite of everything. And they don't fix a substitute meal in case their kids don't like what's on the menu for the night. Of course, I think my kids would be much more likely to eat what's on the menu if it included fresh ingredients bought that day from the local grocers (kind of hard to do here in the U.S.). But I can't say I do a great job of expanding their palates (heck, I like PB&J and grilled cheese more than they do!). Oh, and French kids don't snack. Ever. They eat 4 meals a day: breakfast, lunch, gouter (the 4:00 snack), and dinner. A common gouter: a chocolate sandwich. Yes, please! But you won't see parents at the park mid-morning with snack cups of graham crackers, pretzels, and raisins. Nope -- kids learn from a very early age to get on schedule with the rest of the country (yes, most of the country eats at the same time every day). I think this is genius. Our kids probably would eat more of the meal we gave them if we (and I do mean I) didn't fill their bellies with crackers and dried fruit all day!
4. French kids are independent. Starting at the age of 4, French schools have week-long "field trips" without parents to the countryside or the beach or some place like that. Are you kidding me?! And parents don't freak out, aren't expected to sign a waiver saying they won't sue the country if their kid gets a scraped knee, etc. And apparently kids are fine with this! While this idea scares the heck out of me, the thought of sending my kids off for a week in the summer sounds awesome! Crazy, but awesome. But what if they got homesick? What if they got hurt? How many chaperones will their be? Can my kid even get in bed by himself? Will he brush his teeth at all that week? That teacher must be insane to spend a week with a bunch of 4 year olds! Maybe it's just the American in me, but I don't know if I want my kids to be that independent. But French parents value independence. They aren't "helicopter parents" who worry all the time that their kid is going to fall and break his leg. They are much more trusting and relaxed. I like that. I even let Malachi tackle his brother yesterday and held my tongue from crying out "Be careful!" when they were chasing each other around the basement. It's kind of freeing -- kids will be kids, and they'll be fine!
5. French parents rarely talk about "discipline" and "punishment." Instead, they use the term "education." I LOVE this mentality, and it's kind of a paradigm shift for me. Rather than get angry when my kids do things that are wrong or annoy me, if you think of it as educating them, you use it as a teachable moment. You explain things to them more rather than just yelling "No!" You stay calmer when you think of yourself as a teacher rather than a disciplinarian. I'm still working on this. I keep trying to "teach" my kids and ask them politely to stop doing such and such because it's dangerous, etc., but by the third time of asking and explaining and they're still not listening, I'm done educating and quickly move on to raising my voice or threatening with timeouts or the occasional spanking. I'm too quick to get angry, but I'm working on being a better "teacher." It doesn't help that patience isn't exactly my greatest spiritual gift (shocker, I know).
Anyway, this got long, and there is a ton of stuff to read about in this book. I don't agree with all of French parenting (an education system where a 16/20 is the highest score you can hope to attain, because teachers grade you on an impossible ideal?), but I think Bringing Up Bebe gives you a lot to think about, and is definitely worth reading. Even if you're not a parent, but love everything French like I do, it's a great book to learn more about French culture. My only warning: be prepared to find yourself daydreaming about moving to France, renting an apartment with a view of la Tour Eiffel, sitting in a cafe eating chocolate sandwiches, and watching happily as your kids play quietly by themselves in the Tuileries Gardens. If only ...
Druckerman and her husband were living in Paris when she got pregnant with her daughter, so she got to experience pregnancy, birth, and then raising a child while in France. Her experiences were so different from what parents experience in the U.S. that she started digging to figure out why. And for the most part, she concludes that French parenting is much better than American parenting. After reading the book, I'd have to agree. Now the French aren't perfect (they rarely nurse their children at all, and if they do, it's only for 3 months), and they don't exactly teach their kids the kind of morals I'd like to instill in my own children (i.e. affairs aren't good for a marriage, and having sex when you're 15 isn't acceptable to me), nor do they give a darn about religion (they might claim to be Catholic, but very few French people actually regularly attend church). However, their kids tend to be polite, well-behaved, and can sit through a 4-course meal at a restaurant starting before the age of 2 without the parents bribing them with Goldfish crackers and cookies or sitting an iPad in front of them for the duration of the meal. How do they do this?! Well, here's some of my takeaways from the book:
1. French parents do not feel guilty about putting their kids in childcare. It helps that childcare is subsidized by the government and extremely high quality. In fact, most French women go back to work after taking 3 months off following the birth of their children. Even women who choose to stay at home often send their kids to what we call daycare (they call them "creches" -- the same term used for the nativity at Christmas). They firmly believe that kids need to learn to socialize with their peers and become independent of their parents. Reading about this has helped relieve my guilt over sending my two oldest to a 4-hour once a week preschool program. Maybe it won't cause them to grow up to be terrorists after all.
2. French parents firmly believe that children should be a part of the family, not the center of attention. Kids are included in activities, but they don't get to rule the house. Parents think it's good for everyone if the parents still have their own lives outside of their kids. This mentality affects everything they do -- they don't sign kids up for a million activities every night of the week and then spend their time bussing kids from one thing to the next. They might have one or two activities, but parents aren't expected to attend practices. If you have a playdate in France, you drop your kid off at the friend's house and then leave to do your own thing. Unlike here in the states, you aren't expected to stick around and help corral the kids (the same goes for birthday parties -- a 3-year old's parents aren't going to stick around for your kid's birthday party; they will, however, return at the end for champagne). Kids have to go to bed early enough that their parents get some time to themselves. At the park, kids play while the parents sit on benches on the edge and socialize with each other. (French mothers do NOT go down slides or narrate every activity their child is doing: "Look, you're swinging! Whee!") The list goes on and on, but when you don't make your kids your entire life, but instead teach them to be part of your life, it changes your focus on everything.
3. French kids will eat almost anything. I still don't know quite how they do it, except that parents believe that kids must be "educated" on what foods to eat, and their tastes must be cultivated. They don't force their kids to eat all the peas on their plate, but they do require that kids try at least one bite of everything. And they don't fix a substitute meal in case their kids don't like what's on the menu for the night. Of course, I think my kids would be much more likely to eat what's on the menu if it included fresh ingredients bought that day from the local grocers (kind of hard to do here in the U.S.). But I can't say I do a great job of expanding their palates (heck, I like PB&J and grilled cheese more than they do!). Oh, and French kids don't snack. Ever. They eat 4 meals a day: breakfast, lunch, gouter (the 4:00 snack), and dinner. A common gouter: a chocolate sandwich. Yes, please! But you won't see parents at the park mid-morning with snack cups of graham crackers, pretzels, and raisins. Nope -- kids learn from a very early age to get on schedule with the rest of the country (yes, most of the country eats at the same time every day). I think this is genius. Our kids probably would eat more of the meal we gave them if we (and I do mean I) didn't fill their bellies with crackers and dried fruit all day!
4. French kids are independent. Starting at the age of 4, French schools have week-long "field trips" without parents to the countryside or the beach or some place like that. Are you kidding me?! And parents don't freak out, aren't expected to sign a waiver saying they won't sue the country if their kid gets a scraped knee, etc. And apparently kids are fine with this! While this idea scares the heck out of me, the thought of sending my kids off for a week in the summer sounds awesome! Crazy, but awesome. But what if they got homesick? What if they got hurt? How many chaperones will their be? Can my kid even get in bed by himself? Will he brush his teeth at all that week? That teacher must be insane to spend a week with a bunch of 4 year olds! Maybe it's just the American in me, but I don't know if I want my kids to be that independent. But French parents value independence. They aren't "helicopter parents" who worry all the time that their kid is going to fall and break his leg. They are much more trusting and relaxed. I like that. I even let Malachi tackle his brother yesterday and held my tongue from crying out "Be careful!" when they were chasing each other around the basement. It's kind of freeing -- kids will be kids, and they'll be fine!
5. French parents rarely talk about "discipline" and "punishment." Instead, they use the term "education." I LOVE this mentality, and it's kind of a paradigm shift for me. Rather than get angry when my kids do things that are wrong or annoy me, if you think of it as educating them, you use it as a teachable moment. You explain things to them more rather than just yelling "No!" You stay calmer when you think of yourself as a teacher rather than a disciplinarian. I'm still working on this. I keep trying to "teach" my kids and ask them politely to stop doing such and such because it's dangerous, etc., but by the third time of asking and explaining and they're still not listening, I'm done educating and quickly move on to raising my voice or threatening with timeouts or the occasional spanking. I'm too quick to get angry, but I'm working on being a better "teacher." It doesn't help that patience isn't exactly my greatest spiritual gift (shocker, I know).
Anyway, this got long, and there is a ton of stuff to read about in this book. I don't agree with all of French parenting (an education system where a 16/20 is the highest score you can hope to attain, because teachers grade you on an impossible ideal?), but I think Bringing Up Bebe gives you a lot to think about, and is definitely worth reading. Even if you're not a parent, but love everything French like I do, it's a great book to learn more about French culture. My only warning: be prepared to find yourself daydreaming about moving to France, renting an apartment with a view of la Tour Eiffel, sitting in a cafe eating chocolate sandwiches, and watching happily as your kids play quietly by themselves in the Tuileries Gardens. If only ...
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
I thought your husband would be black!
It is a very good thing that I have a sense of humor and never get offended. Because I've heard it all when it comes to adoption. And I've noticed lately that the comments have been coming more frequently: "Is your husband darker?" "So, are you the babysitter?"
A friend asked if I thought the personal questions flow more freely because we live in the midwest now, surrounded by mostly white people who aren't used to more, um, "culture." However, I don't think that's really it. I think people are totally confused by the idea that we could have adopted two kids first, and then have gotten pregnant. Before I was pregnant, people kind of wondered, but for the most part they usually assumed the boys were adopted. But once they saw a pregnant lady out with two African American kids ... well, you could see their brains working as they looked at me and tried to figure the whole thing out. And if Aaron happened to be out with me somewhere, they were totally lost. And now that I have a little white, blond haired, blue eyed baby, they're even more confused. Am I babysitting the other kids? Do the boys have different daddies? Was I an unwed mother?
And of course, some people have no filter, and so they just ask. That's why if you're considering adoption, and especially a transracial adoption, you'd better have a sense of humor and be able to let things just roll off your back. You have to think through how to respond to the questions, when it's appropriate to share about adoption and when it's better to just leave people confused (I love when people ask if they're all mine, and I just say "Yes!" with a smile and move on, knowing they want more details). And you have to know that the mothers will get all kinds of questioning glances and that people will probably assume things that aren't true. But what do I care if some stranger thinks I've been married 3 times?! People who know us know our story, and who cares about the rest?!
Now I'm working on coming up with ideas for things my sons can say back to people who ask them questions as they get older. I prefer things that make people confused, things that are kind of an inside joke to us. I love the idea that all 3 of our boys will be able to stand together and say, "Yep, we're brothers" and know that people will be totally confused. I hope they learn to laugh at people's ignorance, rather than be hurt by it. Because really, if you're part of an adopted family, you'd better have some thick skin and be able to extend a lot of grace to people who just don't think before they speak.
P.S. A couple of months ago I wrote a blog on "What Not To Say" to adopted families. Check it out if you're really curious about how crazy the questions can be!
A friend asked if I thought the personal questions flow more freely because we live in the midwest now, surrounded by mostly white people who aren't used to more, um, "culture." However, I don't think that's really it. I think people are totally confused by the idea that we could have adopted two kids first, and then have gotten pregnant. Before I was pregnant, people kind of wondered, but for the most part they usually assumed the boys were adopted. But once they saw a pregnant lady out with two African American kids ... well, you could see their brains working as they looked at me and tried to figure the whole thing out. And if Aaron happened to be out with me somewhere, they were totally lost. And now that I have a little white, blond haired, blue eyed baby, they're even more confused. Am I babysitting the other kids? Do the boys have different daddies? Was I an unwed mother?
And of course, some people have no filter, and so they just ask. That's why if you're considering adoption, and especially a transracial adoption, you'd better have a sense of humor and be able to let things just roll off your back. You have to think through how to respond to the questions, when it's appropriate to share about adoption and when it's better to just leave people confused (I love when people ask if they're all mine, and I just say "Yes!" with a smile and move on, knowing they want more details). And you have to know that the mothers will get all kinds of questioning glances and that people will probably assume things that aren't true. But what do I care if some stranger thinks I've been married 3 times?! People who know us know our story, and who cares about the rest?!
Now I'm working on coming up with ideas for things my sons can say back to people who ask them questions as they get older. I prefer things that make people confused, things that are kind of an inside joke to us. I love the idea that all 3 of our boys will be able to stand together and say, "Yep, we're brothers" and know that people will be totally confused. I hope they learn to laugh at people's ignorance, rather than be hurt by it. Because really, if you're part of an adopted family, you'd better have some thick skin and be able to extend a lot of grace to people who just don't think before they speak.
P.S. A couple of months ago I wrote a blog on "What Not To Say" to adopted families. Check it out if you're really curious about how crazy the questions can be!
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
1 Week Down ...
Elias is a week old today! And today was the first day since he arrived that things almost felt "normal." And by "normal" I mean, I didn't want to strangle my oldest two boys or myself. That's a good day! So I thought that in between feeding Elias, I would share a few of the lessons I've learned in the first week:
1. A week after giving birth, I still don't understand why people use words like "amazing" and "wonderful" to describe their birth experience. The only words I think of are 4-letter words that shouldn't be written in a family friendly blog. Everyone keeps saying that if I give it time, I'll feel differently. Nope, I'm pretty sure I won't. Labor sucks. I never want to do it again. Period. Don't try to change my mind. And no, I don't feel like my life is now complete since I got to experience the birth of my third son. I would have been perfectly fine without that.
2. I don't feel any differently about Elias than I did the other two boys. I've had people ask me if it's different -- do I feel more attached or something like that. Nope. I adore him, just like I adored the other boys, but it's not really any different. In fact, Malachi was probably the easiest one for me to attach to, because I could give him all of my attention. Isaiah was probably the hardest, because he was in the hospital for so long and then when I finally brought him home, it was the day before Aaron returned from deployment, and then Isaiah was the hardest baby known to mankind, so ... I was actually worried that I wouldn't feel that close to Elias (being #3 with 2 older brothers vying for my attention, it didn't look promising), but as Aaron pointed out, I should probably be grateful that I had a c-section. It gives me 4 weeks where the only child I can really "parent" is my new baby (as both of the other boys are over my 10 pound weight limit). I hate not being able to pick up Isaiah and hold him or chase Malachi around or play like I did before, but it is a perfect opportunity for me to sit and hold Elias and stare at him and focus on him for a month without feeling guilty about it (or at least knowing that feeling guilty is just going to have to happen, because I have to follow doctor's orders).
3. Breastfeeding is actually not that bad. It was the thing I dreaded most about having a biological child, and I'm still not nearly as comfortable with breastfeeding as bottle feeding (too much worry about is Elias getting enough, is my milk "letting down" whatever the heck that means, will my boobs ever stop hurting, will they ever return to a normal size, etc.), but it's actually kind of cool to feed another human being. And it's a great excuse to eat more food. And while it made my stomach hurt pretty bad when the uterus that had been cut open started contracting, it is making it shrink (I think). And it has definitely helped with bonding. Aaron likes it too -- no reason for him to get up in the night for night feedings when he can't do a darn thing about it (though I have heard that you can milk anything with nipples ...).
4. 2-year olds and 1-yeard olds do not understand the pain you are in when you have a c-section. If my mom weren't here, I would die. Literally die, probably of my stomach exploding when one of the kids jumped on it. Have I mentioned that my mom is awesome? Because she is. I'm pretty sure she and Aaron have it way harder than I do right now, trying to take care of 2 toddlers. At least all I have is a tiny infant. But you can all feel sorry for me when I finally heal up and then I have 3 boys under 3 to take care of by myself. I expect a lot of pity and sympathetic looks then.
5. Getting sleep with a newborn is a whole lot harder with 2 other boys. I can't just take naps during the day when I want to, and the older two wake up before the infant does in the morning. 3 kids is exhausting. I'm tired. So if this blog is in no way coherent, cut me some slack.
P.S. I decided to change the name of the blog to reflect the fact that our story is about more than adoption -- it's about raising our three sons. I plan to continue blogging on adoption issues, but I will also post stuff on what it's like to be a mom of 3 boys who are less than 3 years apart. It could get interesting ...
1. A week after giving birth, I still don't understand why people use words like "amazing" and "wonderful" to describe their birth experience. The only words I think of are 4-letter words that shouldn't be written in a family friendly blog. Everyone keeps saying that if I give it time, I'll feel differently. Nope, I'm pretty sure I won't. Labor sucks. I never want to do it again. Period. Don't try to change my mind. And no, I don't feel like my life is now complete since I got to experience the birth of my third son. I would have been perfectly fine without that.
2. I don't feel any differently about Elias than I did the other two boys. I've had people ask me if it's different -- do I feel more attached or something like that. Nope. I adore him, just like I adored the other boys, but it's not really any different. In fact, Malachi was probably the easiest one for me to attach to, because I could give him all of my attention. Isaiah was probably the hardest, because he was in the hospital for so long and then when I finally brought him home, it was the day before Aaron returned from deployment, and then Isaiah was the hardest baby known to mankind, so ... I was actually worried that I wouldn't feel that close to Elias (being #3 with 2 older brothers vying for my attention, it didn't look promising), but as Aaron pointed out, I should probably be grateful that I had a c-section. It gives me 4 weeks where the only child I can really "parent" is my new baby (as both of the other boys are over my 10 pound weight limit). I hate not being able to pick up Isaiah and hold him or chase Malachi around or play like I did before, but it is a perfect opportunity for me to sit and hold Elias and stare at him and focus on him for a month without feeling guilty about it (or at least knowing that feeling guilty is just going to have to happen, because I have to follow doctor's orders).
3. Breastfeeding is actually not that bad. It was the thing I dreaded most about having a biological child, and I'm still not nearly as comfortable with breastfeeding as bottle feeding (too much worry about is Elias getting enough, is my milk "letting down" whatever the heck that means, will my boobs ever stop hurting, will they ever return to a normal size, etc.), but it's actually kind of cool to feed another human being. And it's a great excuse to eat more food. And while it made my stomach hurt pretty bad when the uterus that had been cut open started contracting, it is making it shrink (I think). And it has definitely helped with bonding. Aaron likes it too -- no reason for him to get up in the night for night feedings when he can't do a darn thing about it (though I have heard that you can milk anything with nipples ...).
4. 2-year olds and 1-yeard olds do not understand the pain you are in when you have a c-section. If my mom weren't here, I would die. Literally die, probably of my stomach exploding when one of the kids jumped on it. Have I mentioned that my mom is awesome? Because she is. I'm pretty sure she and Aaron have it way harder than I do right now, trying to take care of 2 toddlers. At least all I have is a tiny infant. But you can all feel sorry for me when I finally heal up and then I have 3 boys under 3 to take care of by myself. I expect a lot of pity and sympathetic looks then.
5. Getting sleep with a newborn is a whole lot harder with 2 other boys. I can't just take naps during the day when I want to, and the older two wake up before the infant does in the morning. 3 kids is exhausting. I'm tired. So if this blog is in no way coherent, cut me some slack.
P.S. I decided to change the name of the blog to reflect the fact that our story is about more than adoption -- it's about raising our three sons. I plan to continue blogging on adoption issues, but I will also post stuff on what it's like to be a mom of 3 boys who are less than 3 years apart. It could get interesting ...
Thursday, June 7, 2012
The Arrival of Elias
I am one of those people who likes to be prepared for every possibility. I read about 5 books on childbirth, went to the childbirth class at the hospital, and, of course, wrote up a birth plan. Everyone said to make sure I was flexible with my birth plan, but I didn't make it too complicated. There were really only 4 things I was set on: no meds (pain or labor inducing), no c-section, immediate contact with the baby after birth, and not Dr. P. to deliver if my doctor couldn't be there (apparently he goes to my church and is very good looking, and I just found that weird). Unfortunately, not one of my desires happened.
First, the doctor was concerned, because I was measuring small. But after my doctor's appointment Monday night, I started having contractions lasting about 60 seconds and 7 minutes apart. I was excited because I knew that I had an ultrasound on Tuesday and if my doctor thought things didn't look good, he would induce me. I was hoping that having contractions would mean I could avoid being induced.
Tuesday morning I went in for an ultrasound and the doctor noticed that the amniotic fluids were low and told me we were going to have a baby that day and to head straight to the hospital. I told him I'd meet him there in an hour after I called Aaron at work, told him to tell his patient goodbye and get his butt home. When we arrived at the hospital around 11:30, they checked me and I was dilated 2cm and 100% effaced and already having contractions! They decided to let me continue labor on my own, but after about an hour, the doctor decided to get things going a little quicker and came and broke my bag of waters. Labor intensified then, but I was still progressing pretty slowly, despite having 90 second contractions that were about 3-4 minutes apart. And I continued to have mostly back labor (which really sucks, in case you didn't know). However, they let me move around, get in the hot tub (best place ever!), sit on a ball, walk around, etc. Contractions got stronger and closer together, but after several hours, I still wasn't more than 4cm dilated. But when the doctor checked me, I was already a +1 (if you know labor terms, it means Elias' head was really low -- much lower than it should have been at 4cm. Many people don't get to a +1 until they've started the pushing phase of labor).
The doctor decided to start me on pitocin, but I convinced him that my contractions were really strong and I thought I could continue to labor without it. Labor got even more intense, and I was convinced I was dying, but Aaron was AMAZING and helped me through all of the crazy long contractions, and after a couple of hours I was 7cm dilated! Things were looking up! Then the contractions came long and hard with almost no break between contractions, which should have meant I was getting close to the end. Unfortunately, my cervix wasn't dilating anymore. I made it to an 8 and wanted to die. They kept letting me move around and sit in the hot tub, but after another hour and not progressing past an 8 despite the awful contractions, I gave in and did what I said I'd never do -- I got an epidural. The doctor was hoping it would help me relax my pelvic muscles, because I kept tightening them due to the back labor. The hope was that I could relax and the baby could just come on out since he was already a +1 and I was close to a 9. I sobbed uncontrollably for about 15 minutes while they gave me the epidural. I knew I didn't want the pain meds, but I didn't think I could take it anymore. Talk about feeling like a failure! However, when the pain relief came, I was pretty glad I had the meds. It slowed down labor for about 20 minutes, and then contractions started up again 2 minutes apart and nice and strong. But that's when things got bad.
2 hours after the epidural, despite the continuous contractions and then pitocin at the end, I hadn't dilated anymore -- I was stuck at 9cm. Then all of a sudden, as my feeling was coming back, I started having severe lower abdominal pain that didn't coincide with contractions. Along with the pain, Elias' heart rate started rising and dropping and rising again. That was when the doctor came in and said it was time do to a c-section. C-sections are pretty much my worst nightmare -- I'd had a previous abdominal surgery 4 years ago that was almost the same thing as a c-section, and it was one of the most painful experiences of my life. I did not want to deal with recovering from major surgery while caring for a newborn and trying to take care of my two other sons. But at that point, Elias' health and safety was more important than my pain level, so off we went to the surgery room. Nothing was going as I had hoped and planned, and then what doctor should show up in the operating room to help out -- yep, Dr. P., the one doctor I said I didn't want to deliver my baby. He was great and very personable, and he and Dr. G. did an awesome job getting Elias out, but I had to laugh -- could everything I wanted to happen be opposite of what really did?! Of course, I also couldn't hold Elias right away, because they were stitching me up, but I got to watch him being weighed out of the corner of my eye, and Aaron was able to be with him from birth to the nursery. He came out with the biggest conehead I've ever seen in my life (I guess that's what happens when you're stuck so low in the pelvis for over 12 hours) and looked more like an alien than a baby, but he was healthy and strong and crying (as was I). I was just glad it was over and that he was okay.
Aaron and I have been reflecting a little on the whole experience (and how it made me never ever want to give birth again). We were talking about how having natural childbirth had potentially become an idol for us. It was definitely a pride issue for me -- I wanted to prove I was as tough as everyone else. Of course I know it's better for the baby to not have meds, etc. and of course we question if there were things we could have done differently so that a c-section wasn't necessary, but in the end, we have a healthy, happy baby boy. Why does it matter how he got here? Why do women look down on each other for not doing things naturally? Why does it have to be a competition? In the end, there are more important things in life than whether or not my birth plan was followed. I think God was reminding me again that I'm not in control. And that when you're raising kids, you have to be flexible. And just maybe He was trying to humble me a little bit and show me that life isn't a big competition, and no, I don't have to "win" or do something to impress God or others. He loves me no matter what.
So even if Elias' birth didn't go as planned, I still have a healthy baby boy, and I won't let his birth define me or him. It's time to move on and enjoy him now -- not look back with regrets on 29 hours that could have been different. Because in the grand scheme of things, 1 day isn't really all that big of a deal. Except as the day I finally got to meet my third son!
First, the doctor was concerned, because I was measuring small. But after my doctor's appointment Monday night, I started having contractions lasting about 60 seconds and 7 minutes apart. I was excited because I knew that I had an ultrasound on Tuesday and if my doctor thought things didn't look good, he would induce me. I was hoping that having contractions would mean I could avoid being induced.
Tuesday morning I went in for an ultrasound and the doctor noticed that the amniotic fluids were low and told me we were going to have a baby that day and to head straight to the hospital. I told him I'd meet him there in an hour after I called Aaron at work, told him to tell his patient goodbye and get his butt home. When we arrived at the hospital around 11:30, they checked me and I was dilated 2cm and 100% effaced and already having contractions! They decided to let me continue labor on my own, but after about an hour, the doctor decided to get things going a little quicker and came and broke my bag of waters. Labor intensified then, but I was still progressing pretty slowly, despite having 90 second contractions that were about 3-4 minutes apart. And I continued to have mostly back labor (which really sucks, in case you didn't know). However, they let me move around, get in the hot tub (best place ever!), sit on a ball, walk around, etc. Contractions got stronger and closer together, but after several hours, I still wasn't more than 4cm dilated. But when the doctor checked me, I was already a +1 (if you know labor terms, it means Elias' head was really low -- much lower than it should have been at 4cm. Many people don't get to a +1 until they've started the pushing phase of labor).
The doctor decided to start me on pitocin, but I convinced him that my contractions were really strong and I thought I could continue to labor without it. Labor got even more intense, and I was convinced I was dying, but Aaron was AMAZING and helped me through all of the crazy long contractions, and after a couple of hours I was 7cm dilated! Things were looking up! Then the contractions came long and hard with almost no break between contractions, which should have meant I was getting close to the end. Unfortunately, my cervix wasn't dilating anymore. I made it to an 8 and wanted to die. They kept letting me move around and sit in the hot tub, but after another hour and not progressing past an 8 despite the awful contractions, I gave in and did what I said I'd never do -- I got an epidural. The doctor was hoping it would help me relax my pelvic muscles, because I kept tightening them due to the back labor. The hope was that I could relax and the baby could just come on out since he was already a +1 and I was close to a 9. I sobbed uncontrollably for about 15 minutes while they gave me the epidural. I knew I didn't want the pain meds, but I didn't think I could take it anymore. Talk about feeling like a failure! However, when the pain relief came, I was pretty glad I had the meds. It slowed down labor for about 20 minutes, and then contractions started up again 2 minutes apart and nice and strong. But that's when things got bad.
2 hours after the epidural, despite the continuous contractions and then pitocin at the end, I hadn't dilated anymore -- I was stuck at 9cm. Then all of a sudden, as my feeling was coming back, I started having severe lower abdominal pain that didn't coincide with contractions. Along with the pain, Elias' heart rate started rising and dropping and rising again. That was when the doctor came in and said it was time do to a c-section. C-sections are pretty much my worst nightmare -- I'd had a previous abdominal surgery 4 years ago that was almost the same thing as a c-section, and it was one of the most painful experiences of my life. I did not want to deal with recovering from major surgery while caring for a newborn and trying to take care of my two other sons. But at that point, Elias' health and safety was more important than my pain level, so off we went to the surgery room. Nothing was going as I had hoped and planned, and then what doctor should show up in the operating room to help out -- yep, Dr. P., the one doctor I said I didn't want to deliver my baby. He was great and very personable, and he and Dr. G. did an awesome job getting Elias out, but I had to laugh -- could everything I wanted to happen be opposite of what really did?! Of course, I also couldn't hold Elias right away, because they were stitching me up, but I got to watch him being weighed out of the corner of my eye, and Aaron was able to be with him from birth to the nursery. He came out with the biggest conehead I've ever seen in my life (I guess that's what happens when you're stuck so low in the pelvis for over 12 hours) and looked more like an alien than a baby, but he was healthy and strong and crying (as was I). I was just glad it was over and that he was okay.
Aaron and I have been reflecting a little on the whole experience (and how it made me never ever want to give birth again). We were talking about how having natural childbirth had potentially become an idol for us. It was definitely a pride issue for me -- I wanted to prove I was as tough as everyone else. Of course I know it's better for the baby to not have meds, etc. and of course we question if there were things we could have done differently so that a c-section wasn't necessary, but in the end, we have a healthy, happy baby boy. Why does it matter how he got here? Why do women look down on each other for not doing things naturally? Why does it have to be a competition? In the end, there are more important things in life than whether or not my birth plan was followed. I think God was reminding me again that I'm not in control. And that when you're raising kids, you have to be flexible. And just maybe He was trying to humble me a little bit and show me that life isn't a big competition, and no, I don't have to "win" or do something to impress God or others. He loves me no matter what.
So even if Elias' birth didn't go as planned, I still have a healthy baby boy, and I won't let his birth define me or him. It's time to move on and enjoy him now -- not look back with regrets on 29 hours that could have been different. Because in the grand scheme of things, 1 day isn't really all that big of a deal. Except as the day I finally got to meet my third son!
Friday, May 4, 2012
Fear Factor
So, I'm 34 weeks pregnant, and I'm starting to freak out a little bit. Not because of the whole giving birth thing (people pop out babies every day, right?) or the fear of having a newborn (this isn't my first time, you know), but because I have no idea how I'm going to survive the 3 boys under age 2 1/2 thing. Life right now is anything but easy -- a potty training 2-year old, a 14-month old who has just started sleeping through the night again after 2 months of waking up, but who will be transitioning to share his big brother's room starting tonight, a scramble to find a minivan before Kid 3 comes, a mom who is planning on helping me take care of the boys when I go into labor and after the baby comes but who just had an emergency appendectomy ... and the list goes on. What if I go into labor early and my mom can't be here? What if he comes early and we don't have a minivan yet and I go to jail for holding the poor kid on my lap? What if Isaiah and Malachi stay up all night in their shared room playing and talking for the rest of their lives and we never sleep again? Or what if Malachi climbs into the crib with Isaiah and squashes him, or hits him hard enough to give him a concussion, or picks him up and throws him out of the crib (if you know my son, you know that all of these are perfectly logical fears)? Can I really do this?
It doesn't help that 99% of the people I meet look at me with pity when they realize I'm pregnant. Friends and family members alike are constantly asking, "How are you going to do this?!" What kind of answer am I supposed to give? No one seems genuinely excited that I'm going to be having a third son -- instead they feel sorry for me, tell me they're going to pray for me, etc. Believe me, I appreciate the prayers, but seriously?! I'm feeling bad for Kid 3, because it feels like others (and sometimes myself) see him as a burden rather than the amazing blessing that he is. To be truthful, I have no idea how I'm going to do it, but I figure if God can give me another son, he can give me the strength and wisdom to raise him. I want to be excited about the new little guy, not scared out of my mind. I want to celebrate his birth, not dread it. He's a little miracle baby who's going to be born into a crazy, chaotic house, but he's going to be loved. And heck, I was a teacher for 5 years -- my whole job was to corral 30+ kids and keep them from killing each other daily. Surely I can handle 3!
If you really want to know how you can help encourage us and celebrate the new little guy, here's what I need: PRAYER. Not prayers of sympathy or feeling sorry for me, but specific, daily prayer. Prayer that the new guy will be a good eater and a good sleeper (if he ends up being anything like Isaiah was as a baby with colic, reflux and a host of other problems, I will probably die). Prayer that Isaiah and Malachi will transition well into sharing a room and that Isaiah will continue to sleep through the night. Prayer that Kid 3 stays put until very close to his due date so my mom can come out and stay with us. And prayer that we will have a peaceful transition to a family of 5.
We've been so focused on not making a big deal out of having a biological child that I think we may have made it so that he doesn't feel celebrated and welcomed either. Yes, adoption is our passion, but having children is always a blessing from the Lord, no matter how you get them. I hope Kid 3 will feel as special and loved as our other two, by both us and those around us. And while I don't need a baby shower, I'm thinking maybe I should throw a big party to celebrate this little guy -- something to show him that he's loved, and that we're excited for him to be part of our family. And something with a Dairy Queen ice cream cake ... :)
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Community
This is going to be less of an adoption blog, and more of a "mom" blog, but I've been thinking about it for awhile and decided to try to get my thoughts down to help me sort it all out.
I realized the other day that while I absolutely love our new town, our home, our church, our LIFE group, I don't have any really good friends here. Why don't I have a single person in town that I call just to talk? Why don't I have any friends that I hang out with or laugh with or who I can call when I'm having a bad day or when I'm craving Dairy Queen but feel guilty going there by myself (though I totally get over the guilt and go anyway)? I've lived in 4 cities in 4 years, and I still call friends from the last 3 cities I've lived in; I still follow them on Facebook; when I'm really upset about something, I still call them for advice and to calm me down and help me think rationally. So why, after being here 6 months, have I not found anyone here that I feel that close to?
Answer: KIDS
I realized that the first two cities I lived in post-marriage, we didn't have any kids. We hung out with people. We babysat for them, helped them move, helped them paint, helped them clean. We watched baseball games together, we watched movies together, and I spent hours upon hours going running with about 6 different ladies and getting to know them pretty darn well (when you're running for 2 hours at a time, you cover a lot of topics!). And when we lived in Seattle, I had the Navy community and our husbands were deployed for most of the time we were there, so we hung out together. And with just one kid, it was still pretty easy to get together for coffee or go for a run or have a playdate.
But we moved here, and I had 2 kids under age 2. I didn't know a single person here, so there was no previous connection to turn to. And I've pretty much become known as the lady with the 2 adorable but insane kids who must be insane herself because she's pregnant with her third boy. I don't go to coffee anymore. Playdates are great, but lately they mostly involve me keeping Malachi in time-out for chucking some toy at another kid's head and trying to keep Isaiah from wailing every time I'm out of his site. And I don't really run right now, and even if I did, I'm so slow pushing 60+ pounds in the double stroller that it's more like a slow waddle than a run, so I don't really think it's fair to ask someone to join me.
So not only do I not have a chance to just hang out with other women, but even when I do, our conversations mostly center around our kids and life as a mom. I mean, what else can I talk about? My whole day revolves around my kids -- did they sleep, are they throwing tantrums, did we go to storytime at the library, which park did we try, etc. As a mom, it's like you somehow lose your identity as anyone else. I used to have conversations with people about things like politics, religion, Cardinals baseball, running, lifting weights, cooking, going green, France, clothes, ministry opportunities, etc. Most people I know now wouldn't even know what I'm interested in, outside of my kids and adoption. And it's not because people don't care -- it's because I've changed too. I don't run or lift "heavy" weights right now; cooking involves a griddle, two pieces of bread and a slice of cheese; my clothing selection is sweats and a tank top; France is a long-ago memory, etc. I'm realizing how hard it is to get close to people and allow them to get close to you when you have no previous before kids experience with them. It's not like I'm asking my new friends questions about who they are outside of their kids either.
Is this new "Mom identity" going to be forever? Will I ever talk about fashion (or my lack thereof), France, and food again? Will I meet people who have common interests with my old interests that will help spark a friendship outside of my kids and my role as a mom? Will I ever get to go for a run with someone and not talk about our kids the entire time? Or is this the new me, my new life, my new identity, and I might as well get used to it? Are my friendships going to be dominated by who my kids' friends are from here on out? Will I be just another soccer mom surrounded by other soccer mom friends (except I hate soccer)?
While living in 4 cities in 4 years was a blast, and I've gotten to meet a ton of people, it's biggest drawback is how hard it makes it to maintain good, deep, close relationships. It's nearly impossible to find and keep a "best friend." But maybe that's okay. And maybe it's okay that I'm just a "mom" now who talks about sleep schedules and toddler woes and tries to justify the health benefits of eating grilled cheese at least once a day. Perhaps I need to embrace my "Mom identity" and just roll with it. At least my kids are cute and totally worth talking about, so that makes it easier.
I realized the other day that while I absolutely love our new town, our home, our church, our LIFE group, I don't have any really good friends here. Why don't I have a single person in town that I call just to talk? Why don't I have any friends that I hang out with or laugh with or who I can call when I'm having a bad day or when I'm craving Dairy Queen but feel guilty going there by myself (though I totally get over the guilt and go anyway)? I've lived in 4 cities in 4 years, and I still call friends from the last 3 cities I've lived in; I still follow them on Facebook; when I'm really upset about something, I still call them for advice and to calm me down and help me think rationally. So why, after being here 6 months, have I not found anyone here that I feel that close to?
Answer: KIDS
I realized that the first two cities I lived in post-marriage, we didn't have any kids. We hung out with people. We babysat for them, helped them move, helped them paint, helped them clean. We watched baseball games together, we watched movies together, and I spent hours upon hours going running with about 6 different ladies and getting to know them pretty darn well (when you're running for 2 hours at a time, you cover a lot of topics!). And when we lived in Seattle, I had the Navy community and our husbands were deployed for most of the time we were there, so we hung out together. And with just one kid, it was still pretty easy to get together for coffee or go for a run or have a playdate.
But we moved here, and I had 2 kids under age 2. I didn't know a single person here, so there was no previous connection to turn to. And I've pretty much become known as the lady with the 2 adorable but insane kids who must be insane herself because she's pregnant with her third boy. I don't go to coffee anymore. Playdates are great, but lately they mostly involve me keeping Malachi in time-out for chucking some toy at another kid's head and trying to keep Isaiah from wailing every time I'm out of his site. And I don't really run right now, and even if I did, I'm so slow pushing 60+ pounds in the double stroller that it's more like a slow waddle than a run, so I don't really think it's fair to ask someone to join me.
So not only do I not have a chance to just hang out with other women, but even when I do, our conversations mostly center around our kids and life as a mom. I mean, what else can I talk about? My whole day revolves around my kids -- did they sleep, are they throwing tantrums, did we go to storytime at the library, which park did we try, etc. As a mom, it's like you somehow lose your identity as anyone else. I used to have conversations with people about things like politics, religion, Cardinals baseball, running, lifting weights, cooking, going green, France, clothes, ministry opportunities, etc. Most people I know now wouldn't even know what I'm interested in, outside of my kids and adoption. And it's not because people don't care -- it's because I've changed too. I don't run or lift "heavy" weights right now; cooking involves a griddle, two pieces of bread and a slice of cheese; my clothing selection is sweats and a tank top; France is a long-ago memory, etc. I'm realizing how hard it is to get close to people and allow them to get close to you when you have no previous before kids experience with them. It's not like I'm asking my new friends questions about who they are outside of their kids either.
Is this new "Mom identity" going to be forever? Will I ever talk about fashion (or my lack thereof), France, and food again? Will I meet people who have common interests with my old interests that will help spark a friendship outside of my kids and my role as a mom? Will I ever get to go for a run with someone and not talk about our kids the entire time? Or is this the new me, my new life, my new identity, and I might as well get used to it? Are my friendships going to be dominated by who my kids' friends are from here on out? Will I be just another soccer mom surrounded by other soccer mom friends (except I hate soccer)?
While living in 4 cities in 4 years was a blast, and I've gotten to meet a ton of people, it's biggest drawback is how hard it makes it to maintain good, deep, close relationships. It's nearly impossible to find and keep a "best friend." But maybe that's okay. And maybe it's okay that I'm just a "mom" now who talks about sleep schedules and toddler woes and tries to justify the health benefits of eating grilled cheese at least once a day. Perhaps I need to embrace my "Mom identity" and just roll with it. At least my kids are cute and totally worth talking about, so that makes it easier.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Isaiah's 1st Birthday
I can hardly believe Isaiah will be 1 year old tomorrow! It seems like only yesterday I was booking a flight to South Carolina and sitting for 2 weeks in a hospital room, followed by another week at some strangers' house (who became like family) until we were able to go home. Oh, how life has changed! But I really wanted to blog about the amazing weekend we had celebrating Isaiah's birthday with Heather, his birthmom.
We drove to Kansas City on Saturday to get things ready for the party, and then Heather flew in on Sunday around noon. We hadn't seen her since Isaiah's finalization in October, so we were pretty excited, but a little nervous too, since she had never met our families, let alone our entire extended family who were coming to the party (around 30 people in all). Our biggest fear is that someone might say something unintentionally that would make her feel awkward or uncomfortable, and we prayed for days that things would go smoothly. Our other fear is that Isaiah, who tends to be a bit clingy and somewhat of a mama's boy, especially around large groups of people, would be fussy and unsocial. Praise the Lord, however -- everything went awesome.
Isaiah was all smiles for Heather and everyone else (though he still preferred to be held by me, he was willing to walk around and play and go to other people for short periods of time). He was in a great mood, devoured his cake, and generally stole the show. And my family was amazing. They made Heather feel welcome and comfortable, talked to her and treated her like one of the family. She told us later that everyone was really nice and didn't make her feel weird at all (THANK YOU FAMILY!). And she had to stay with my mom for about 18 hours after we'd left to go home because her flight wasn't until the next day, and when she left she told my mom that she was like a second mother to her. I love my mom. And I'm so glad Heather felt comfortable. We're even hoping that next time Heather and her parents can all come and visit!
I know it seems unconventional to have such an open adoption, but I absolutely love it. I'm not threatened by Heather and I'm not scared that Isaiah will be confused about our roles or why she's there. He'll always know he has a birthmom and an adoptive mom. Heather always calls herself "Heather" and signs her cards to Isaiah that way, and she calls me his mom. We both know our roles, and I know how important Heather is in Isaiah's life. I don't ever want to deprive him (or us!) of a relationship with her. She's part of our family, which only enriches our lives and his.
Anyway, here's a list of highlights from the weekend:
* Isaiah smiling at Heather when he woke up and saw her for the first time
* Watching Isaiah annihilate his birthday cake and love it
* Malachi freaking out because Isaiah was "dirty" while he ate his cake
* Malachi jumping in Heather's lap and basically treating her as his best friend
* Playing Balderdash after the party and laughing so hard it hurt
* Heather getting to come experience Isaiah's first haircut
* The confused looks on people's faces when Heather, Aaron and I brought Isaiah to get his haircut -- no one can figure out who is who and it's hilarious
* Taking Heather to get BBQ in Kansas City and having both boys be absolute angels
* When the waiter at the BBQ restaurant introduced himself and Aaron, Heather and I all knew immediately what the name of Boy #3 will be (and no, we're not telling)
Okay, just a few highlights from the weekend, but as you can tell -- it was fabulous. Happy 1st Birthday, Isaiah! We love you!!!!
We drove to Kansas City on Saturday to get things ready for the party, and then Heather flew in on Sunday around noon. We hadn't seen her since Isaiah's finalization in October, so we were pretty excited, but a little nervous too, since she had never met our families, let alone our entire extended family who were coming to the party (around 30 people in all). Our biggest fear is that someone might say something unintentionally that would make her feel awkward or uncomfortable, and we prayed for days that things would go smoothly. Our other fear is that Isaiah, who tends to be a bit clingy and somewhat of a mama's boy, especially around large groups of people, would be fussy and unsocial. Praise the Lord, however -- everything went awesome.
Isaiah was all smiles for Heather and everyone else (though he still preferred to be held by me, he was willing to walk around and play and go to other people for short periods of time). He was in a great mood, devoured his cake, and generally stole the show. And my family was amazing. They made Heather feel welcome and comfortable, talked to her and treated her like one of the family. She told us later that everyone was really nice and didn't make her feel weird at all (THANK YOU FAMILY!). And she had to stay with my mom for about 18 hours after we'd left to go home because her flight wasn't until the next day, and when she left she told my mom that she was like a second mother to her. I love my mom. And I'm so glad Heather felt comfortable. We're even hoping that next time Heather and her parents can all come and visit!
I know it seems unconventional to have such an open adoption, but I absolutely love it. I'm not threatened by Heather and I'm not scared that Isaiah will be confused about our roles or why she's there. He'll always know he has a birthmom and an adoptive mom. Heather always calls herself "Heather" and signs her cards to Isaiah that way, and she calls me his mom. We both know our roles, and I know how important Heather is in Isaiah's life. I don't ever want to deprive him (or us!) of a relationship with her. She's part of our family, which only enriches our lives and his.
Anyway, here's a list of highlights from the weekend:
* Isaiah smiling at Heather when he woke up and saw her for the first time
* Watching Isaiah annihilate his birthday cake and love it
* Malachi freaking out because Isaiah was "dirty" while he ate his cake
* Malachi jumping in Heather's lap and basically treating her as his best friend
* Playing Balderdash after the party and laughing so hard it hurt
* Heather getting to come experience Isaiah's first haircut
* The confused looks on people's faces when Heather, Aaron and I brought Isaiah to get his haircut -- no one can figure out who is who and it's hilarious
* Taking Heather to get BBQ in Kansas City and having both boys be absolute angels
* When the waiter at the BBQ restaurant introduced himself and Aaron, Heather and I all knew immediately what the name of Boy #3 will be (and no, we're not telling)
Okay, just a few highlights from the weekend, but as you can tell -- it was fabulous. Happy 1st Birthday, Isaiah! We love you!!!!
Thursday, January 26, 2012
What's Your Excuse?
My mom and husband have both mentioned to me that I'm not exactly very kind in my posts; I can tend to be heavy on truth and light on grace. Well, this post isn't going to change that (and may be worse than previous posts). Because sometimes things need to be said and they need to be said bluntly. If you want to read something nice and sweet, go find another blog, because this post ain't it.
So here's my question: What's your excuse for not adopting? I can't tell you how many times I've met people both young and old who have told me that they always wanted to adopt, but things happened and they just never got around to it. I think that's lame (sorry if I hurt your feelings, but there it is). If you're not adopting even though you've felt called to do so, just because you don't want to take the time to look into it, you are lame. And if you call yourself a Christian, you are commanded in the Bible to take care of widows and orphans (James 1:27). Are you?
People have a lot of reasons why they're not adopting. I'm going to shoot down some of your excuses:
1. It's too expensive. I've written about the money issue in the past, but let me summarize a little. First, if you want to do a domestic infant adoption, it will probably cost you around $10,000-$30,000 (depending on which agency you use, lawyer fees, state fees, etc.). However (and this is a big however), the government is currently giving around a $13,000 tax credit to families who adopt (i.e. a big fat check in the mail for close to $13,000). The kicker is that you don't get it until your adoption is finalized, so you pay your costs up front, but you do get reimbursed quite a bit. Also, adoption of older children and children with special needs (from the foster system, for instance) is usually FREE. Yes, that's right, free. And if you still don't have the money, consider fundraisers, or the multitude of organizations that help cover adoption costs if you only apply for it.
2. What if the child has problems? This usually means you're afraid they'll have physical, mental, or emotional problems. But couldn't that happen to any child, adopted or biological? Of course there are all kinds of issues that you could find out about with an adopted child (some known, and some unknown before the adoption). But if God is calling you to do something, don't you think He'll give you the strength, wisdom and patience to do it?
3. The process takes too much time; I'm not that patient. Sometimes adoption can seem like it takes forever. Sometimes you wait for years before you get matched with a child. Yes, there is paperwork to fill out (and lots of it), but I think I got all of our paperwork done in just a few weeks. Start to finish with Malachi was 5 months total; Isaiah's took a little longer because we stopped in the middle due to Aaron's deployment, but once we found out about him, he came in about 5 weeks. In both cases, the adoption waiting was shorter (and for Malachi, much shorter) than a pregnancy. And the cool thing about the paperwork is that it actually forces you to sit down and do things like write out your budget, find out your family medical history, get a physical, learn CPR, etc. -- things you should probably do before a pregnancy anyway.
4. What if we don't bond with the child or he or she doesn't get along with our other children? That's a possibility, especially if you adopt an older child or adopt internationally. It can take time and patience and counseling and lots of prayer to incorporate a new person into your family. But I don't think fear is a very good excuse for not considering your options.
5. How will people respond to us and/or the child if he or she doesn't look like us? This was a fear of ours, esp. adopting two kids transracially. Will you get stares? Probably. Will people ask you dumb questions (see previous post)? Most definitely. Will strangers wonder who the real father is or ask you if you're the nanny? It's likely. Has any of this harmed me? Not a bit. You prepare for it, you know it's going to happen, and you deal with it with a smile. If fear of what other people will think about you keeps you from adopting, that's probably sin (some kind of idolization of the acceptance of other people, to make this post more Tim Keller approved).
Okay, these are just some of the excuses I've heard about why people don't adopt. And I don't think adoption is for everyone (again see previous post about people who distinguish between their "own" kids and adopted kids). Some families already have 10 biological kids and honestly can't squeeze another one into the 12-passenger van (does that actually exist, or are there just 15-passenger vans?). Some people have never felt called to adopt. But that doesn't get you off the hook. You should still be helping widows and orphans. Here are a few random suggestions of how you can do that (these are off the top of my head -- I'm sure someone wiser and nicer and more educated than I am has written an extensive list, so google it):
1. Consider foster care. If you're not ready to commit to adoption, perhaps you could do foster care. You can foster children from newborn infants up to teenagers -- there are tons of options. I grew up having foster brothers (and one sister) who were anywhere from 1 day old to 1 month old. We usually only took care of them for 2-4 weeks before they went to their adopted home. If you like babies but aren't ready to commit to raising a child through college, this could be for you. And if you hate babies but love kids and/or teenagers, you can foster older children. There are tons of options.
2. Do respite foster care. This is where you're a foster family that takes care of kids briefly, usually to give the regular foster parents a break (because taking care of kids is hard work). It might be a weekend or a couple of weeks, but it's not long-term, and still is an amazing blessing to both parents and kids.
3. Give money. Donate money to families that do want to adopt and are struggling to find the money. Host a fundraiser. Get your church excited about adoption and get them to donate money. Help families who have adopted and are struggling to make ends meet with the burdens of extra children (and feel free to start with a donation to our "Buy a minivan fund" -- 3 kids in carseats means no more cool cars like our Honda Civic). Throw families a baby shower or a welcome home shower for older adopted kids -- things to help them get started with diapers, clothes, etc. And bring over food. Lots of food. After any adoption, food is greatly appreciated, because there is a lot of transition going on. If you want to continue bringing meals over the span of a year or more, that will also be appreciated.
4. Be a mentor. There are lots of kids and teens in the foster care and orphanage system who don't really have anyone there for them to look after them and help them with schoolwork and throw a football around, etc. Sign up to be a Big Brother or Big Sister. Talk to your local school and see if there are any kids that would benefit from having someone help them out. Volunteer with your church youth group and get to know these kids. You can make a huge impact that can change a kid's life!
I guess that's probably enough of a soap box for the day, but I do think it's our job as human beings, "rich" Americans, and especially Christians to be taking care of widows and orphans. Sometimes you have to be creative to figure out what that looks like for you, but don't let laziness be your excuse for not looking into adoption, foster care, and/or other orphan ministries. You have the chance to change lives. So why don't you?
So here's my question: What's your excuse for not adopting? I can't tell you how many times I've met people both young and old who have told me that they always wanted to adopt, but things happened and they just never got around to it. I think that's lame (sorry if I hurt your feelings, but there it is). If you're not adopting even though you've felt called to do so, just because you don't want to take the time to look into it, you are lame. And if you call yourself a Christian, you are commanded in the Bible to take care of widows and orphans (James 1:27). Are you?
People have a lot of reasons why they're not adopting. I'm going to shoot down some of your excuses:
1. It's too expensive. I've written about the money issue in the past, but let me summarize a little. First, if you want to do a domestic infant adoption, it will probably cost you around $10,000-$30,000 (depending on which agency you use, lawyer fees, state fees, etc.). However (and this is a big however), the government is currently giving around a $13,000 tax credit to families who adopt (i.e. a big fat check in the mail for close to $13,000). The kicker is that you don't get it until your adoption is finalized, so you pay your costs up front, but you do get reimbursed quite a bit. Also, adoption of older children and children with special needs (from the foster system, for instance) is usually FREE. Yes, that's right, free. And if you still don't have the money, consider fundraisers, or the multitude of organizations that help cover adoption costs if you only apply for it.
2. What if the child has problems? This usually means you're afraid they'll have physical, mental, or emotional problems. But couldn't that happen to any child, adopted or biological? Of course there are all kinds of issues that you could find out about with an adopted child (some known, and some unknown before the adoption). But if God is calling you to do something, don't you think He'll give you the strength, wisdom and patience to do it?
3. The process takes too much time; I'm not that patient. Sometimes adoption can seem like it takes forever. Sometimes you wait for years before you get matched with a child. Yes, there is paperwork to fill out (and lots of it), but I think I got all of our paperwork done in just a few weeks. Start to finish with Malachi was 5 months total; Isaiah's took a little longer because we stopped in the middle due to Aaron's deployment, but once we found out about him, he came in about 5 weeks. In both cases, the adoption waiting was shorter (and for Malachi, much shorter) than a pregnancy. And the cool thing about the paperwork is that it actually forces you to sit down and do things like write out your budget, find out your family medical history, get a physical, learn CPR, etc. -- things you should probably do before a pregnancy anyway.
4. What if we don't bond with the child or he or she doesn't get along with our other children? That's a possibility, especially if you adopt an older child or adopt internationally. It can take time and patience and counseling and lots of prayer to incorporate a new person into your family. But I don't think fear is a very good excuse for not considering your options.
5. How will people respond to us and/or the child if he or she doesn't look like us? This was a fear of ours, esp. adopting two kids transracially. Will you get stares? Probably. Will people ask you dumb questions (see previous post)? Most definitely. Will strangers wonder who the real father is or ask you if you're the nanny? It's likely. Has any of this harmed me? Not a bit. You prepare for it, you know it's going to happen, and you deal with it with a smile. If fear of what other people will think about you keeps you from adopting, that's probably sin (some kind of idolization of the acceptance of other people, to make this post more Tim Keller approved).
Okay, these are just some of the excuses I've heard about why people don't adopt. And I don't think adoption is for everyone (again see previous post about people who distinguish between their "own" kids and adopted kids). Some families already have 10 biological kids and honestly can't squeeze another one into the 12-passenger van (does that actually exist, or are there just 15-passenger vans?). Some people have never felt called to adopt. But that doesn't get you off the hook. You should still be helping widows and orphans. Here are a few random suggestions of how you can do that (these are off the top of my head -- I'm sure someone wiser and nicer and more educated than I am has written an extensive list, so google it):
1. Consider foster care. If you're not ready to commit to adoption, perhaps you could do foster care. You can foster children from newborn infants up to teenagers -- there are tons of options. I grew up having foster brothers (and one sister) who were anywhere from 1 day old to 1 month old. We usually only took care of them for 2-4 weeks before they went to their adopted home. If you like babies but aren't ready to commit to raising a child through college, this could be for you. And if you hate babies but love kids and/or teenagers, you can foster older children. There are tons of options.
2. Do respite foster care. This is where you're a foster family that takes care of kids briefly, usually to give the regular foster parents a break (because taking care of kids is hard work). It might be a weekend or a couple of weeks, but it's not long-term, and still is an amazing blessing to both parents and kids.
3. Give money. Donate money to families that do want to adopt and are struggling to find the money. Host a fundraiser. Get your church excited about adoption and get them to donate money. Help families who have adopted and are struggling to make ends meet with the burdens of extra children (and feel free to start with a donation to our "Buy a minivan fund" -- 3 kids in carseats means no more cool cars like our Honda Civic). Throw families a baby shower or a welcome home shower for older adopted kids -- things to help them get started with diapers, clothes, etc. And bring over food. Lots of food. After any adoption, food is greatly appreciated, because there is a lot of transition going on. If you want to continue bringing meals over the span of a year or more, that will also be appreciated.
4. Be a mentor. There are lots of kids and teens in the foster care and orphanage system who don't really have anyone there for them to look after them and help them with schoolwork and throw a football around, etc. Sign up to be a Big Brother or Big Sister. Talk to your local school and see if there are any kids that would benefit from having someone help them out. Volunteer with your church youth group and get to know these kids. You can make a huge impact that can change a kid's life!
I guess that's probably enough of a soap box for the day, but I do think it's our job as human beings, "rich" Americans, and especially Christians to be taking care of widows and orphans. Sometimes you have to be creative to figure out what that looks like for you, but don't let laziness be your excuse for not looking into adoption, foster care, and/or other orphan ministries. You have the chance to change lives. So why don't you?
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
What Not to Say
So being a little over 2 years into this adoption thing, and having adopted transracially, where it's obvious my kids are adopted, believe me when I say that I've heard it all. Now, I am not an overly sensitive type person and I don't really get offended, so don't start apologizing all over yourself if you've said one of the following to me. I probably just laughed at your ignorance behind your back and moved on. This is more to educate you so that other adoptive parents who are sensitive don't get their feelings hurt by you. So without further ado, a list (with explanations) of what not to say to adoptive parents:
1. "Are they brothers?" Um, yes, they are brothers. They're both our sons, which makes them brothers. Of course we know that you mean are they biological brothers, but seriously -- my kids don't need to grow up wondering whether or not they are brothers. They are. The end. If you can't tell by looking at them that they don't have the same genetics, you're an idiot.
2. "Do you know who their mom is?" Yep -- I live with her every day. And yes, I do know you mean their "biological mom", but please use that term instead. I love talking about my kids' biological parents, but I try to refer to them as such. I'm their mom, Aaron's their dad. They also have two biological moms and dads, but we're the ones they call Mommy and Daddy.
3. "Could you not have kids of your own?" "I've always wanted to adopted, but I want my own kids first." Okay, people. These kids ARE MY OWN!!! If you say you want to adopt, but you're going to distinguish between your "own" kids and those you adopt, please do us all a favor and let the poor kid go to a family who will actually think of him or her as their own. My sons are my sons. If you read the Bible, you'll see several verses saying God has adopted us as His children. He calls us His own. I'm not going to distinguish between my adopted kids and my biological kids -- they are all my own kids. Period.
4. "Did you try to have your own kids?" See #3 about "my own" kids, but seriously people. Do I have to tell the entire world about my health problems? I've been asked this question by people in the checkout line at the grocery store. My business is my business. Now, I happen to be a very open person about adoption and PCOS, and I'm not shy about my medical history, but some people are. And I love it when people ask me questions about it because they may be dealing with infertility or considering adoption themselves. If that's you, ask away! But please don't approach people you don't know in Aisle 5 at Wal-Mart and start taking down their medical history. It is not appreciated.
5. "You'll probably get pregnant as soon as you adopt!" I don't know how many times I've had people tell me this, or tell me about the 2 people they know who adopted and then got pregnant. Here are the problems with this: A) There are many people who will seriously never be able to have children. Why tell them they're going to get pregnant after they've dealt with years of infertility treatments and have come to the decision to adopt, when quite honestly, it's not as common as you think to get pregnant after adopting. It just seems that way because those cases stick out to you. And B) It makes it sound like adoption is a plan B. Like oh good -- you'll adopt so that you can finally get pregnant. Folks, I didn't care one bit if I ever conceived a child and gave birth to some biological mini-me. Of course I'm excited that I'm going to have a child, but frankly, I'm less excited than I was about adopting my other 2 boys. Adoption is awesome. It's a Plan A. It's biblical (perhaps more biblical than having kids the "old-fashioned" way). I didn't adopt in hopes that God would open the heavens and my womb and give me my "own" kids (See #3 again). Nope -- I've wanted to adopt since I was a kid. And I'm actually hoping that we may someday adopt another child (yes, after giving birth to a biological son -- gasp), because it's amazing. Everyone should do it. Well, everyone that doesn't distinguish between their "own" kids and their "adopted" kids. So please be excited for me to be pregnant; please congratulate me and tell me how great it is; but please do not act like this is God finally blessing me after I sacrificed to adopt two kids. My 3 kids are awesome. I will love them equally, treat them equally, and they will all know that they are my "own" kids.
I tried to keep this somewhat lighthearted, but consider yourself educated. And don't worry if you slip-up. Every once in a while I'll refer to Malachi or Isaiah's birthmom as their mom. I get it -- it's hard to change your vocabulary. But maybe try a little to be more sensitive to adoptive parents and how you talk to them. Except for me, because I'm not sensitive, and I love to laugh at people's ignorance, so continue to spout off your crazy questions and observations -- you may end up on my blog someday! :)
1. "Are they brothers?" Um, yes, they are brothers. They're both our sons, which makes them brothers. Of course we know that you mean are they biological brothers, but seriously -- my kids don't need to grow up wondering whether or not they are brothers. They are. The end. If you can't tell by looking at them that they don't have the same genetics, you're an idiot.
2. "Do you know who their mom is?" Yep -- I live with her every day. And yes, I do know you mean their "biological mom", but please use that term instead. I love talking about my kids' biological parents, but I try to refer to them as such. I'm their mom, Aaron's their dad. They also have two biological moms and dads, but we're the ones they call Mommy and Daddy.
3. "Could you not have kids of your own?" "I've always wanted to adopted, but I want my own kids first." Okay, people. These kids ARE MY OWN!!! If you say you want to adopt, but you're going to distinguish between your "own" kids and those you adopt, please do us all a favor and let the poor kid go to a family who will actually think of him or her as their own. My sons are my sons. If you read the Bible, you'll see several verses saying God has adopted us as His children. He calls us His own. I'm not going to distinguish between my adopted kids and my biological kids -- they are all my own kids. Period.
4. "Did you try to have your own kids?" See #3 about "my own" kids, but seriously people. Do I have to tell the entire world about my health problems? I've been asked this question by people in the checkout line at the grocery store. My business is my business. Now, I happen to be a very open person about adoption and PCOS, and I'm not shy about my medical history, but some people are. And I love it when people ask me questions about it because they may be dealing with infertility or considering adoption themselves. If that's you, ask away! But please don't approach people you don't know in Aisle 5 at Wal-Mart and start taking down their medical history. It is not appreciated.
5. "You'll probably get pregnant as soon as you adopt!" I don't know how many times I've had people tell me this, or tell me about the 2 people they know who adopted and then got pregnant. Here are the problems with this: A) There are many people who will seriously never be able to have children. Why tell them they're going to get pregnant after they've dealt with years of infertility treatments and have come to the decision to adopt, when quite honestly, it's not as common as you think to get pregnant after adopting. It just seems that way because those cases stick out to you. And B) It makes it sound like adoption is a plan B. Like oh good -- you'll adopt so that you can finally get pregnant. Folks, I didn't care one bit if I ever conceived a child and gave birth to some biological mini-me. Of course I'm excited that I'm going to have a child, but frankly, I'm less excited than I was about adopting my other 2 boys. Adoption is awesome. It's a Plan A. It's biblical (perhaps more biblical than having kids the "old-fashioned" way). I didn't adopt in hopes that God would open the heavens and my womb and give me my "own" kids (See #3 again). Nope -- I've wanted to adopt since I was a kid. And I'm actually hoping that we may someday adopt another child (yes, after giving birth to a biological son -- gasp), because it's amazing. Everyone should do it. Well, everyone that doesn't distinguish between their "own" kids and their "adopted" kids. So please be excited for me to be pregnant; please congratulate me and tell me how great it is; but please do not act like this is God finally blessing me after I sacrificed to adopt two kids. My 3 kids are awesome. I will love them equally, treat them equally, and they will all know that they are my "own" kids.
I tried to keep this somewhat lighthearted, but consider yourself educated. And don't worry if you slip-up. Every once in a while I'll refer to Malachi or Isaiah's birthmom as their mom. I get it -- it's hard to change your vocabulary. But maybe try a little to be more sensitive to adoptive parents and how you talk to them. Except for me, because I'm not sensitive, and I love to laugh at people's ignorance, so continue to spout off your crazy questions and observations -- you may end up on my blog someday! :)
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