I've gone back and forth trying to decide whether to actually write anything about this. I generally try to write things that may be of some encouragement to someone else, maybe give someone a little giggle, update friends and family on happenings in our adoption journeys, etc.
You know, something of some small value to others.
This post does none of that. This post is really just to make me feel better.
Feel free to stop reading if you want. I won't be insulted.
__________________________________________________________________________________
This post is to make me feel a little "normal." Please take it in the spirit in which it is intended, which is not to make anyone else who has walked the journey we have feel that they are not normal. You are. We all are, in that we are all humans struggling with the human condition. This post is just to re-affirm that for me.
Ok. Enough throat clearing.
A couple weeks ago, I received a letter from our local research hospital. They were asking me to participate in a clinical trial for the treatment (reduction) of endometriosis. They apparently got my name because they were looking for patients who had a surgical diagnosis of moderate-severe endometriosis. I had a laparoscopy back in 2009 that revealed some endometriosis. Isn't that a HIPAA violation or something for my other doctor to release my name to this researcher?
Anyhoo, the letter sat on my desk for many days. I didn't know whether I wanted to respond to it.
I finally did. I received all of the information about it. Investigational study. A pill. Six month treatment cycle followed by another 12-18 months of monthly monitoring. Stipend of $2300.
But, buried in the disclosures, something caught my eye. This medicine could stop ovulation while taking the pill.
Last summer, my ob/gyn put me on Clomid to determine if I ovulate. He determined I didn't. It was a surprising (and upsetting) diagnosis to me, but I grew to at least tolerate it.
But, something caused me to wander into my doctor's office last week to get a blood test. It just so happened that I was at a place in my cycle where it would be ideal to get a blood test to determine if I do actually ovulate. If I don't ovulate, I told myself, I'll do the clinical trial. If I do, I won't.
Sure, we have only like a 1% chance (seriously, we've been told that figure) of getting pregnant on our own. Yes, we are happily pursuing adoption through the state. But, getting these results was not really about any of those things. It wasn't really about the hopes of a pregnancy (although that's definitely still there), and it wasn't about veering off course from our adoption pursuits (we are still doing that).
It was about trying to feel like a "normal" (non-infertile) woman. Or, at least moving more into the acceptance that maybe if I wasn't "normal" in that way, I was still "normal" in many other ways, and blessed beyond belief.
If I ovulate, I told myself, then I will feel more "normal." That's it. It doesn't increase our chance of pregnancy (still 1%), and it doesn't change our path to our next child. It just makes me feel better. If I don't ovulate, I told myself, then okay, the chance of us ever getting pregnant pretty much closes, and perhaps I can stop daydreaming that it will ever happen, and take the next step toward accepting how God will build our family.
I got the test results back the next day.
I do, it turns out, ovulate. Regularly. On schedule. Just fine.
A brief moment of normalcy after 7 years of feeling abnormal.
It's kind of nice.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Adoption Update
Just a quick update about our adoption status. As you may know, we are proceeding to adopt a little one(s) through our state's foster care system. It's an incredibly long process that we started last September.
We have completed all the required classes, submitted all the required paperwork, gone to all the required medical appointments, and are now waiting in line to begin our homestudy.
The caseworker assigned to us only works part-time (budget cuts). But, she is also supposed to have a smaller caseload. When we got on the list, there were 3 families ahead of us. Now, there are 2.
At one point, we had hoped to be on the wait list by Sienna's 2nd birthday in June. Now, I think we will be lucky to have started our homestudy by then.
It's very hard waiting to wait.
I'm just praying that the little one(s) that God has for us are not suffering right now, that they are with a loving foster family, and that God is impressing a picture of us on their little hearts so that when we meet, they will know we are their forever family.
We have completed all the required classes, submitted all the required paperwork, gone to all the required medical appointments, and are now waiting in line to begin our homestudy.
The caseworker assigned to us only works part-time (budget cuts). But, she is also supposed to have a smaller caseload. When we got on the list, there were 3 families ahead of us. Now, there are 2.
At one point, we had hoped to be on the wait list by Sienna's 2nd birthday in June. Now, I think we will be lucky to have started our homestudy by then.
It's very hard waiting to wait.
I'm just praying that the little one(s) that God has for us are not suffering right now, that they are with a loving foster family, and that God is impressing a picture of us on their little hearts so that when we meet, they will know we are their forever family.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Mortified.
That pretty much summed up my first gut reaction a week ago today. Since that time, that feeling has morphed into frustration, anger, confusion, sadness, and heartbreak.
Every Sunday after church, for about the past year, Tygh and I have taken the kids to Gymboree. For those of you who don't know, Gymboree is like a gym for little kids. We go to the "Family" class, where kids from birth to age 5 can run around, jump, climb, and just get some energy out. The parents are on the floor with the kids, and our kids love it.
For the longest time, it was just Brae and Sienna in the class. Recently, the class has started to fill up with several more parents and their kids, all who are much younger than Brae.
Last week, I received a phone call from the owner of our local Gymboree. He said another parent had complained that she felt her child was "unsafe" in the class with Brae.
Mortified.
I talked to the owner for an hour, and all I learned was that this parent wanted to remain anonymous, and she thought that Brae was too rough in the class, and that he "hits" other kids.
We have never seen Brae hit any other kids. Apart from his sister. And, "hit" is really not the right word for his interaction with his sister. It's more like tackle. He loves his baby sister, and he loves to get rough n' ready with her on the floor. Little Miss can hold her own, and while there may be an occasional cry if she gets tackled too hard, she generally growls at him, hits him, or bites him back. (I'm not saying any of her behavior is acceptable - just that she's used to big brother's antics and she fights back). And, growing up in a family of 5 kids, and 3 older brothers who used to pin my sister and me down and fart in our faces, this behavior is not completely surprising to me.
After I hung up the phone with the owner, I cried. It broke my heart that anyone would ever think that Brae was dangerous or unsafe to be around. And then, I got angry. How can a parent level such an accusation, and then refuse to give her name? Schools no longer allow parents to lodge complaints about another child without giving their name. It cuts down on false complaints. And, credibility evaporates if you aren't willing to stand behind your claim.
But, we went to the gym the following Sunday, determined to not let this mother get the best of me. Brae and I had a "serious" talk before walking into class, and I told him that there were lots of little kids in the class, to keep his hands to himself, and to not play with anyone but his sister.
The class went fine. As suspected, the object of Brae's affection is his sister.
Relieved.
And, then came the second call.
A few days after this class, the owner called me again, at work. He said that there was another complaint about Brae's behavior this last week. The concern this time was that when another little boy wanted to play with Brae and approached him, Brae shouted at him to get away from him because he's not his sister.
I was there when that incident occurred. Brae didn't hit the boy, or even touch him. This little boy's mom gently ushered her son away, and I told Brae that it was okay, this little boy just wanted to play with him. I also smiled, on the inside, because I know Brae was just trying to be obedient in response to our earlier conversation to not play with anyone but his sister (in response to the complaint the prior week).
Infuriated.
This time, when talking to the owner, I respectfully gave him a piece of my mind. Things had gone too far. Gymboree is supposed to be a place where kids can learn, in a safe and nonjudgmental environment, how to interact with others and socialize. To be attacked anonymously while in that learning process seems unfair. Brae just turned 4, and there need to be reasonable expectations about what behavior is appropriate for a 4-year-old boy.
If Brae really was hitting children (again, we've never seen that), that's a valid complaint. However, I expect that before I'm called at work about this complaint, there are details confirmed from the parent about what happened, when, where was I, etc., and I expect the owner to have personally substantiated the concern with a visit to the class, witnessing Brae's behavior. I also expect to have the opportunity to talk to the other parent, in a respectful and adult manner, about her concerns.
As for this second complaint, I told him that it should have been nipped in the bud without ever feeling the need to call me. Sure, I wish Brae had been more polite and asked the little boy to please leave him be, but quite frankly, that level of social maturity is a feat many adults have not mastered.
Brae is learning to navigate social norms, and we are there to help and guide him, but I do not expect perfection from him. He's going to say and do things that bother me and others, and I simply ask that grace be extended to us during that process.
But, I felt I owed it to these other parents, and to my son, to vet these concerns with his teachers at preschool. These teachers see Brae in and out every day, and they have a lot of experience with kids Brae's age.
These teachers eased my mind, and provided salve to my hurting heart. They confirmed our suspicions that Brae is an active, physical, social boy. He loves to play with his friends, and yes, sometimes he gets a little carried away with his physicality. And, yes, sometimes he misbehaves and he goes to timeout. But, he is a normal 4-year-old boy.
To hear those words was like music to my ears.
It's been a really hard week. But, for now, I'm
Satisfied.
Every Sunday after church, for about the past year, Tygh and I have taken the kids to Gymboree. For those of you who don't know, Gymboree is like a gym for little kids. We go to the "Family" class, where kids from birth to age 5 can run around, jump, climb, and just get some energy out. The parents are on the floor with the kids, and our kids love it.
For the longest time, it was just Brae and Sienna in the class. Recently, the class has started to fill up with several more parents and their kids, all who are much younger than Brae.
Last week, I received a phone call from the owner of our local Gymboree. He said another parent had complained that she felt her child was "unsafe" in the class with Brae.
Mortified.
I talked to the owner for an hour, and all I learned was that this parent wanted to remain anonymous, and she thought that Brae was too rough in the class, and that he "hits" other kids.
We have never seen Brae hit any other kids. Apart from his sister. And, "hit" is really not the right word for his interaction with his sister. It's more like tackle. He loves his baby sister, and he loves to get rough n' ready with her on the floor. Little Miss can hold her own, and while there may be an occasional cry if she gets tackled too hard, she generally growls at him, hits him, or bites him back. (I'm not saying any of her behavior is acceptable - just that she's used to big brother's antics and she fights back). And, growing up in a family of 5 kids, and 3 older brothers who used to pin my sister and me down and fart in our faces, this behavior is not completely surprising to me.
After I hung up the phone with the owner, I cried. It broke my heart that anyone would ever think that Brae was dangerous or unsafe to be around. And then, I got angry. How can a parent level such an accusation, and then refuse to give her name? Schools no longer allow parents to lodge complaints about another child without giving their name. It cuts down on false complaints. And, credibility evaporates if you aren't willing to stand behind your claim.
But, we went to the gym the following Sunday, determined to not let this mother get the best of me. Brae and I had a "serious" talk before walking into class, and I told him that there were lots of little kids in the class, to keep his hands to himself, and to not play with anyone but his sister.
The class went fine. As suspected, the object of Brae's affection is his sister.
Relieved.
And, then came the second call.
A few days after this class, the owner called me again, at work. He said that there was another complaint about Brae's behavior this last week. The concern this time was that when another little boy wanted to play with Brae and approached him, Brae shouted at him to get away from him because he's not his sister.
I was there when that incident occurred. Brae didn't hit the boy, or even touch him. This little boy's mom gently ushered her son away, and I told Brae that it was okay, this little boy just wanted to play with him. I also smiled, on the inside, because I know Brae was just trying to be obedient in response to our earlier conversation to not play with anyone but his sister (in response to the complaint the prior week).
Infuriated.
This time, when talking to the owner, I respectfully gave him a piece of my mind. Things had gone too far. Gymboree is supposed to be a place where kids can learn, in a safe and nonjudgmental environment, how to interact with others and socialize. To be attacked anonymously while in that learning process seems unfair. Brae just turned 4, and there need to be reasonable expectations about what behavior is appropriate for a 4-year-old boy.
If Brae really was hitting children (again, we've never seen that), that's a valid complaint. However, I expect that before I'm called at work about this complaint, there are details confirmed from the parent about what happened, when, where was I, etc., and I expect the owner to have personally substantiated the concern with a visit to the class, witnessing Brae's behavior. I also expect to have the opportunity to talk to the other parent, in a respectful and adult manner, about her concerns.
As for this second complaint, I told him that it should have been nipped in the bud without ever feeling the need to call me. Sure, I wish Brae had been more polite and asked the little boy to please leave him be, but quite frankly, that level of social maturity is a feat many adults have not mastered.
Brae is learning to navigate social norms, and we are there to help and guide him, but I do not expect perfection from him. He's going to say and do things that bother me and others, and I simply ask that grace be extended to us during that process.
But, I felt I owed it to these other parents, and to my son, to vet these concerns with his teachers at preschool. These teachers see Brae in and out every day, and they have a lot of experience with kids Brae's age.
These teachers eased my mind, and provided salve to my hurting heart. They confirmed our suspicions that Brae is an active, physical, social boy. He loves to play with his friends, and yes, sometimes he gets a little carried away with his physicality. And, yes, sometimes he misbehaves and he goes to timeout. But, he is a normal 4-year-old boy.
To hear those words was like music to my ears.
It's been a really hard week. But, for now, I'm
Satisfied.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Is it any wonder?
Given Sienna's background, is it any wonder:
1) The girl loves the cold. I mean, prefers the cold over any other temperature. She would happily frolic all day long in the snow.
2) Popsicles are her singular favorite dessert.
3) She's extremely independent. In fact, that's the adjective we receive most often from strangers in describing her.
4) But, at the same time, you can tell that she was just meant to have other siblings. She loves being a little sister and, although Brae probably poses the greatest threat to her safety, she adores him.
5) She's a very patient little girl. She understands what it means to wait her turn, and to allow others go before her. She must know that the wait is generally worth it.
We sure know that.
1) The girl loves the cold. I mean, prefers the cold over any other temperature. She would happily frolic all day long in the snow.
2) Popsicles are her singular favorite dessert.
3) She's extremely independent. In fact, that's the adjective we receive most often from strangers in describing her.
4) But, at the same time, you can tell that she was just meant to have other siblings. She loves being a little sister and, although Brae probably poses the greatest threat to her safety, she adores him.
5) She's a very patient little girl. She understands what it means to wait her turn, and to allow others go before her. She must know that the wait is generally worth it.
We sure know that.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
The Twins: How they changed my perspective
My friend is pregnant with twin girls. Through IVF.
These are her first children.
A couple weeks ago, she asked me to go with her to do some baby registry shopping. I was honored and humbled. And, a little apprehensive.
As someone who longs for another child (miracle pregnancy or otherwise), I thought the idea of roaming around Babies R Us with a scanner gun and a noticeably pregnant woman may be too much to bear for my sensitive psyche.
But, I cleared my throat, and said I'd be happy to join her.
And, somewhere between the aromatherapy pillows and the zip-up nightgowns, I had a revelation.
I've been here before. I've done this stage. It was really fun and amazing while it lasted, but I've moved on.
As I was driving home after the excursion, I explored this revelation a little more.
Yes, I really want to be pregnant again. Yes, I really want another child - in whichever way God allows. And it may not be an infant. I may never again be pregnant. I may never again have an infant in my house to care for. And while that is really sad to me, I also rejoice and am thankful for the times that I had a baby in my belly, and an infant in my house.
And I'm really excited for things to come: kindergarten, soccer games, homework, boyfriends/girlfriends, Disneyland.
So while I can't say that I've settled into the House of Complete Contentment, at least as of today, I've walked over the threshold.
And, it's a beautiful house.
These are her first children.
A couple weeks ago, she asked me to go with her to do some baby registry shopping. I was honored and humbled. And, a little apprehensive.
As someone who longs for another child (miracle pregnancy or otherwise), I thought the idea of roaming around Babies R Us with a scanner gun and a noticeably pregnant woman may be too much to bear for my sensitive psyche.
But, I cleared my throat, and said I'd be happy to join her.
And, somewhere between the aromatherapy pillows and the zip-up nightgowns, I had a revelation.
I've been here before. I've done this stage. It was really fun and amazing while it lasted, but I've moved on.
As I was driving home after the excursion, I explored this revelation a little more.
Yes, I really want to be pregnant again. Yes, I really want another child - in whichever way God allows. And it may not be an infant. I may never again be pregnant. I may never again have an infant in my house to care for. And while that is really sad to me, I also rejoice and am thankful for the times that I had a baby in my belly, and an infant in my house.
And I'm really excited for things to come: kindergarten, soccer games, homework, boyfriends/girlfriends, Disneyland.
So while I can't say that I've settled into the House of Complete Contentment, at least as of today, I've walked over the threshold.
And, it's a beautiful house.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Brae (and Sienna!) - isms
Brae:
1) On a random Saturday afternoon, I was driving the kids home from a playdate, when this dialogue ensued:
Brae: "Mommy, I want to go on a bear hunt."
Me: "Ok."
Brae: (increasing in intensity) "Tomorrow."
Me: "Ok."
Brae: (now a little agitated by my apparent lack of resistance): "By m.y.s.e.l.f."
Me: "Ok."
(Long pause)
Brae: (now apparently resigned). "But," he started, "I may need you to drive me."
***
2) I picked Brae up from school the other day. While I was tending to Sienna, one of Brae'sfriends classmates (let's just call him Bully), came up from behind and shoved Brae into the front door. When I came to see the commotion, Bully's mom was trying to discipline him and get him to apologize to Brae. Bully refused. So, sensing the increasing awkardness of the situation, I directed the kids out to the car. On the way home, this dialogue ensued:
Me: "Brae, I'm very proud of you that you didn't push or hit Bully back. That was the right thing to do. That's what Jesus would have done."
(Long pause)
Brae: "Yeah. Bully doesn't listen to God."
***
3) Say what you will about kids and Santa Claus, but I had a lot of fun this year with Brae and Ole' St. Nick. When I was growing up, there were no presents under the tree on Christmas Eve. Then, on Christmas morning, my sister and I would run out to see all the presents under the tree. It was magic.
Carrying on that same tradition in our home, I had to find a place to hide all the presents before Christmas morning. I finally decided to hide them in a guest room, and lock the door. When Brae asked why he couldn't go in the guest room, I stammered, and told him that was Santa's workshop. That's where Mommy and Santa Claus pow-wowed. He seemed to accept that.
One night, as I was wrapping gifts in the guest room (which is me simply throwing gifts in old "Happy birthday" and "It's a girl!" gift bags), I heard Brae tip toe up to the closed door. He was supposed to be in bed. I could hear him breathing on the other side of the door. I decided to have a little fun.
Me (to the empty room): "Now, Santa, I'm not sure if Brae has been a good boy today. I'm not sure if he should get that present."
Me (now in my best elderly, stout, male voice): "Ho, ho, ho!"
Me (again to the empty room): "Mrs. Claus, you really need to teach Mr. Claus better manners."
And on went my faux dialogue with these two characters.
When I was sufficiently pleased with myself, I turned off the light, and opened the door. Brae was standing in the hallway, bug-eyed.
"Mommy?!" he managed, "Who were you talking to in there?"
***
Sienna:
1) Little Miss is fascinated with the toilet. She wants to watch everyone in the house going potty. And she wants to be the first to flush the toilet. In fact, she often flushes the toilet when there is nothing in it.
The other day, I watched as she meandered into the bathroom by herself. I started to get a little excited. Maybe she was going to try to go potty herself.
As I poked my head around the corner into the bathroom, I saw her stand over the toilet, lift up the first lid, then lift up the second lid. She then proceeded to pull down her pants and pull up her shirt. She stood over the toilet. And waited. She was trying to pee like Daddy and Brae. When nothing happened, she sighed. She pulled up her pants. She let her shirt drop, and she closed both lids. Then, she flushed the toilet. And she left.
2) This is really a Brae and Sienna story, but because I suspect that Little Miss's curiousity started the whole ordeal, she should take credit.
I was out with my family one afternoon. Tygh was "watching" the kids. I came home to find the guest room's toilet clogged. Not a huge surprise. In the last 2 years, we've made friends with Mr. Rooter. I expected Brae had just put too much toilet paper in the toilet when trying to clean himself up.
For the next week, Tygh and I alternated trying to unclog the toilet. No luck.
Tygh finally admitted that when he had been watching the kids, Sienna had come out into the living room soaking wet. And with a long wooden spoon. That's when Tygh had gone into the bathroom to find Brae standing over the toilet, also holding a long wooden spoon. But nothing seemed to be in the toilet.
After a week of no success unclogging the toilet, I caved and called Mr. Rooter. Again.
Long story short. I bet you've never had a plumber pull 11 bath toys out of your toilet before.
1) On a random Saturday afternoon, I was driving the kids home from a playdate, when this dialogue ensued:
Brae: "Mommy, I want to go on a bear hunt."
Me: "Ok."
Brae: (increasing in intensity) "Tomorrow."
Me: "Ok."
Brae: (now a little agitated by my apparent lack of resistance): "By m.y.s.e.l.f."
Me: "Ok."
(Long pause)
Brae: (now apparently resigned). "But," he started, "I may need you to drive me."
***
2) I picked Brae up from school the other day. While I was tending to Sienna, one of Brae's
Me: "Brae, I'm very proud of you that you didn't push or hit Bully back. That was the right thing to do. That's what Jesus would have done."
(Long pause)
Brae: "Yeah. Bully doesn't listen to God."
***
3) Say what you will about kids and Santa Claus, but I had a lot of fun this year with Brae and Ole' St. Nick. When I was growing up, there were no presents under the tree on Christmas Eve. Then, on Christmas morning, my sister and I would run out to see all the presents under the tree. It was magic.
Carrying on that same tradition in our home, I had to find a place to hide all the presents before Christmas morning. I finally decided to hide them in a guest room, and lock the door. When Brae asked why he couldn't go in the guest room, I stammered, and told him that was Santa's workshop. That's where Mommy and Santa Claus pow-wowed. He seemed to accept that.
One night, as I was wrapping gifts in the guest room (which is me simply throwing gifts in old "Happy birthday" and "It's a girl!" gift bags), I heard Brae tip toe up to the closed door. He was supposed to be in bed. I could hear him breathing on the other side of the door. I decided to have a little fun.
Me (to the empty room): "Now, Santa, I'm not sure if Brae has been a good boy today. I'm not sure if he should get that present."
Me (now in my best elderly, stout, male voice): "Ho, ho, ho!"
Me (again to the empty room): "Mrs. Claus, you really need to teach Mr. Claus better manners."
And on went my faux dialogue with these two characters.
When I was sufficiently pleased with myself, I turned off the light, and opened the door. Brae was standing in the hallway, bug-eyed.
"Mommy?!" he managed, "Who were you talking to in there?"
***
Sienna:
1) Little Miss is fascinated with the toilet. She wants to watch everyone in the house going potty. And she wants to be the first to flush the toilet. In fact, she often flushes the toilet when there is nothing in it.
The other day, I watched as she meandered into the bathroom by herself. I started to get a little excited. Maybe she was going to try to go potty herself.
As I poked my head around the corner into the bathroom, I saw her stand over the toilet, lift up the first lid, then lift up the second lid. She then proceeded to pull down her pants and pull up her shirt. She stood over the toilet. And waited. She was trying to pee like Daddy and Brae. When nothing happened, she sighed. She pulled up her pants. She let her shirt drop, and she closed both lids. Then, she flushed the toilet. And she left.
2) This is really a Brae and Sienna story, but because I suspect that Little Miss's curiousity started the whole ordeal, she should take credit.
I was out with my family one afternoon. Tygh was "watching" the kids. I came home to find the guest room's toilet clogged. Not a huge surprise. In the last 2 years, we've made friends with Mr. Rooter. I expected Brae had just put too much toilet paper in the toilet when trying to clean himself up.
For the next week, Tygh and I alternated trying to unclog the toilet. No luck.
Tygh finally admitted that when he had been watching the kids, Sienna had come out into the living room soaking wet. And with a long wooden spoon. That's when Tygh had gone into the bathroom to find Brae standing over the toilet, also holding a long wooden spoon. But nothing seemed to be in the toilet.
After a week of no success unclogging the toilet, I caved and called Mr. Rooter. Again.
Long story short. I bet you've never had a plumber pull 11 bath toys out of your toilet before.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Adoption Tax Credit Renewed - Permanently
Coming through from a variety of sources, the federal adoption tax credit has been permanently renewed as a result of HR 8 (the "Fiscal Cliff" bill). Check out for yourself:
1) http://www.gop.gov/bill/113/1/hr8senateamendments
2) http://adoptiontaxcredit.org/
3) http://www.domesticpartnershipflorida.com/adoption-tax-credit-permanent-2013/
4) http://holtinternational.org/blog/2013/01/great-news-adoption-tax-credit-made-permanent/
5) http://childrensmonitor.wordpress.com/2013/01/02/adoption-tax-credit-included-in-budget-deal/
1) http://www.gop.gov/bill/113/1/hr8senateamendments
2) http://adoptiontaxcredit.org/
3) http://www.domesticpartnershipflorida.com/adoption-tax-credit-permanent-2013/
4) http://holtinternational.org/blog/2013/01/great-news-adoption-tax-credit-made-permanent/
5) http://childrensmonitor.wordpress.com/2013/01/02/adoption-tax-credit-included-in-budget-deal/
Monday, December 31, 2012
A Christmas in Pictures
Sienna pondering the meaning of Christmas at Christmas Eve service.
Christmas morning.
Christmas at Grammy and Guapo's house. Brae keeping Canon from blowing out the Advent wreath candles too soon.
The story of Mary and Joseph and Baby Jesus in a friendly kid format.
Finally!
We had too much fun this year!
Merry CHRISTmas and Happy New Year!
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
First came the letter, and then came the call
A couple weeks ago, we received the letter from the State of Oregon, Department of Human Services, stating that our paperwork was complete and we were now assigned a case worker.
Finally.Ok, so it hasn't really been that long (maybe a few months), but after the State initially losing all of our paperwork, it's a relief to just have it done with.
I was so excited, I immediately called the name and number listed on the letter. After a few voicemail exchanges, I finally connected with our case worker. She said there are 2 families ahead of us in the homestudy process, and another family that may/may not make it all the way through.
Our goal has long been that we be "on the wait list" by the time Sienna turns 2 in June. Our case worker said that seemed reasonable.
I know the journey to #3 will likely feel like the longest, and most winding road so far. Adopting through the state is not for the faint of heart. It's a brutal, agonizing process. It's long. It's a bureaucracy. These children are waiting for a forever family, and yet there are so many hoops for a forever family to jump through.
But, we do trust God's timing, and will wait patiently (or, at times, maybe not that patiently) for the next child to come.
Although I still long for (and pray for) a spontaneous miracle pregnancy (and probably always will), I am really excited about this process, and hopeful for the child(ren!) God has for us.
As Tygh and I were driving to his company's Christmas party this last weekend, I mentioned, with some sadness, that we wouldn't be able to name our next child. Our next child will already come with a name. I remarked that I hoped we at least liked the name.
Tygh quickly put me in my place with this, "We will love their name. Whatever it is. It will be the most beautiful name we've ever heard."
And, he's right.
And with that, some levity following a heavy-hearted week:
Finally.
I was so excited, I immediately called the name and number listed on the letter. After a few voicemail exchanges, I finally connected with our case worker. She said there are 2 families ahead of us in the homestudy process, and another family that may/may not make it all the way through.
Our goal has long been that we be "on the wait list" by the time Sienna turns 2 in June. Our case worker said that seemed reasonable.
I know the journey to #3 will likely feel like the longest, and most winding road so far. Adopting through the state is not for the faint of heart. It's a brutal, agonizing process. It's long. It's a bureaucracy. These children are waiting for a forever family, and yet there are so many hoops for a forever family to jump through.
But, we do trust God's timing, and will wait patiently (or, at times, maybe not that patiently) for the next child to come.
Although I still long for (and pray for) a spontaneous miracle pregnancy (and probably always will), I am really excited about this process, and hopeful for the child(ren!) God has for us.
As Tygh and I were driving to his company's Christmas party this last weekend, I mentioned, with some sadness, that we wouldn't be able to name our next child. Our next child will already come with a name. I remarked that I hoped we at least liked the name.
Tygh quickly put me in my place with this, "We will love their name. Whatever it is. It will be the most beautiful name we've ever heard."
And, he's right.
And with that, some levity following a heavy-hearted week:
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Sienna: 18 month stats
Little Miss continues to enjoy the larger side of life (I say that with the utmost affection). I'm starting to think basketball, volleyball, modeling (!) may be in her future. I've long since known I would be the shortest of the bunch. However, now it seems that Brae may be joining me there (sorry, buddy).
There is an old wives' tale that for boys, you double their height at age 2.5 to see how tall they will be as an adult. Brae is "supposed" to be 5'10". Not super tall, but not short, either. Right smack at average.
For girls, you are supposed to double it at age 2, because they grow faster than boys. Little Miss just needs a little over an inch to grow in the next six months before she will be 3 feet tall, and thus, 6 feet tall as an adult. Seeing as how she grew more than an inch just in the last three months, I think it could be a safe bet she will be at least 3 feet tall by her second birthday. (She has always been at least 2 inches taller than Brae at his same milestone).
Here's her stats:
1) Height: 34 5/8 inches. Off the charts. Again.
2) Weight: 27.2 lbs. Scaled down to the 80th percentile.
Doctor reported that her 18 month checkup showed no signs of autism. She is generally growing and functioning at a typical age/rate. She is feisty and fearless.
And I love her.
There is an old wives' tale that for boys, you double their height at age 2.5 to see how tall they will be as an adult. Brae is "supposed" to be 5'10". Not super tall, but not short, either. Right smack at average.
For girls, you are supposed to double it at age 2, because they grow faster than boys. Little Miss just needs a little over an inch to grow in the next six months before she will be 3 feet tall, and thus, 6 feet tall as an adult. Seeing as how she grew more than an inch just in the last three months, I think it could be a safe bet she will be at least 3 feet tall by her second birthday. (She has always been at least 2 inches taller than Brae at his same milestone).
Here's her stats:
1) Height: 34 5/8 inches. Off the charts. Again.
2) Weight: 27.2 lbs. Scaled down to the 80th percentile.
Doctor reported that her 18 month checkup showed no signs of autism. She is generally growing and functioning at a typical age/rate. She is feisty and fearless.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Brae's 4 year stats, and some -isms
Brae's 4 year stats:
1) He weights 37 lbs; 8 oz. 60th percentile.
2) He is 3 feet, 4 3/4 inches tall. 50th percentile.
Both of these are shifts for him. He's always, up to this point, been below 50% for weight, and above 70% for height. Guess he's evening out!
3) Doctor said that he is physically developing on track. He did give me some pointers on getting him to eat better at home. We tried one last night, which included he has to eat what the family eats for dinner, and has to sit at the table with us. When he cried and refused, we just put the dinner on the table, and he eventually came over and ate it.
4) Doctor said he was very impresed at how smart he is, and that he is intellectually ahead of the curve. (Warmed the cockles of my heart).
And with that, here are some frequently confounding, but always amusing, Brae-isms:
"No," Brae said, matter-of-factly. "But the chair sure was hurt."
***
Silence.
"Brae, did you hear me? I said I love you."
More silence.
Different tact. "Brae, do you love Mommy? Can you say, 'I love you, too'?"
At that, he spoke. "No, Mommy. I can't say that. If I said that, it would make me sick again."
***
***
Love you, Brae. Thanks for always keeping me laughing.
1) He weights 37 lbs; 8 oz. 60th percentile.
2) He is 3 feet, 4 3/4 inches tall. 50th percentile.
Both of these are shifts for him. He's always, up to this point, been below 50% for weight, and above 70% for height. Guess he's evening out!
3) Doctor said that he is physically developing on track. He did give me some pointers on getting him to eat better at home. We tried one last night, which included he has to eat what the family eats for dinner, and has to sit at the table with us. When he cried and refused, we just put the dinner on the table, and he eventually came over and ate it.
4) Doctor said he was very impresed at how smart he is, and that he is intellectually ahead of the curve. (Warmed the cockles of my heart).
And with that, here are some frequently confounding, but always amusing, Brae-isms:
- In the car, after just picking Brae up from preschool, he announced: "Mommy, my friend Captain bonked his head on a chair today at escuela (school)."
"No," Brae said, matter-of-factly. "But the chair sure was hurt."
***
- A couple weeks ago, I stayed home from work with Brae because he was sick. He'd been throwing up frequently. Finally, at the end of the 2-day stint, I put him in the stroller and we went for a nice brisk walk. It was a beautiful fall afternoon, and I was feeling particularly affectionate toward my little boy, so sickened by this little bug.
Silence.
"Brae, did you hear me? I said I love you."
More silence.
Different tact. "Brae, do you love Mommy? Can you say, 'I love you, too'?"
At that, he spoke. "No, Mommy. I can't say that. If I said that, it would make me sick again."
***
- While watching football on TV the other night, Brae asked, "Mommy, why do all the football players line up to scratch the grass?"
***
- Brae's preschool was closed a couple weeks ago in observance of Veteran's Day. So, he and Sienna were with my parents. Apparently, during a conversation with Brae's grandma about why Mommy and Daddy have to work, Brae commented: "I know that both Mommy and Daddy work. But only Daddy makes money. Mommy just rides a bus."
Monday, November 26, 2012
Not an itchy birthday
Seven years ago today, I married. It was the day before my 26th birthday.
They say that in the 7th year of marriage, people get "itchy." They get restless. They start looking for a way out. They get divorced.
The U.S. census in 2011 cites the average length of marriage is 8 years. Couples seem to file for divorce around the 7 year mark, and then complete their divorce in the 8th year.
Why?
Statistics say that around 7 years is when people are burnt out on caring for young children, there are burgeoning financial pressures, and there is an accumulation of negative experiences or incidences that come to a boiling point.
People who are unhappy in their marriages generally know that within the first few years, and then take a few more years to get to the state of divorcing.
I am the product of divorce. I know how painful it is. Divorce is an epidemic in my family. Each of my grandmothers was married three times.
My parents survived the 7 year itch, only to get divorced at the 10 year mark. But, they each re-married and have been remarried for over 20 years. I have great stepparents as a result.
Tygh's parents have been married for over 35 years.
I have no shame in saying that Tygh and I do not have a perfect marriage. But, we have a very good marriage. We are teammates. We genuinely enjoy one another. We "get" each other.
So, on this milestone anniversary, and the day before my 33rd birthday, Tygh, I salute you:
"You are my rock. You are my touchstone. You keep me grounded. You support me. You love me, and all my idiosyncricies. It's been quite a journey to get where we are now, and I'm genuinely very excited for what lies ahead. We have been so blessed. We have two amazing, beautiful children. We have a roof over our head, food on the table, and careers we enjoy. We have family that love us, and friends that stand beside us.
I love you."
They say that in the 7th year of marriage, people get "itchy." They get restless. They start looking for a way out. They get divorced.
The U.S. census in 2011 cites the average length of marriage is 8 years. Couples seem to file for divorce around the 7 year mark, and then complete their divorce in the 8th year.
Why?
Statistics say that around 7 years is when people are burnt out on caring for young children, there are burgeoning financial pressures, and there is an accumulation of negative experiences or incidences that come to a boiling point.
People who are unhappy in their marriages generally know that within the first few years, and then take a few more years to get to the state of divorcing.
I am the product of divorce. I know how painful it is. Divorce is an epidemic in my family. Each of my grandmothers was married three times.
My parents survived the 7 year itch, only to get divorced at the 10 year mark. But, they each re-married and have been remarried for over 20 years. I have great stepparents as a result.
Tygh's parents have been married for over 35 years.
I have no shame in saying that Tygh and I do not have a perfect marriage. But, we have a very good marriage. We are teammates. We genuinely enjoy one another. We "get" each other.
So, on this milestone anniversary, and the day before my 33rd birthday, Tygh, I salute you:
"You are my rock. You are my touchstone. You keep me grounded. You support me. You love me, and all my idiosyncricies. It's been quite a journey to get where we are now, and I'm genuinely very excited for what lies ahead. We have been so blessed. We have two amazing, beautiful children. We have a roof over our head, food on the table, and careers we enjoy. We have family that love us, and friends that stand beside us.
I love you."
Monday, November 19, 2012
This is what she said.
Saturday, November 17 was National Adoption Day.
I had forgotten.
Brae's birthmom had not. This is the text message she sent me that morning:
"Happy National Adoption Day. I thank God daily that in one of the darkest seasons I've had yet in my life, He loved me enough to bless me by sending you guys. You two have been a light in my life since I first saw your picture on the Bethany website. I have been unselfishly loved and supported by you both and your families. I'll never be able to explain the gratitude I have for the both of you. Thank you so much. I love you."
Wow.
Is it any wonder that National Adoption Day is less than a week away from Thanksgiving?
I think not.
Thank you, God, for adoption and blessing me with my two kiddos through the miracle of adoption.
Infertility: I just punched you in the face.
And in that spirit, here are some token photos from Tygh's family's pre-Thanksgiving at Black Butte Ranch this weekend.
P.S., there are now 4 grandkids in the Colton family. And not one is genetically related. How many families get to say that? Very cool. Proof that blood does not make a family.
I had forgotten.
Brae's birthmom had not. This is the text message she sent me that morning:
"Happy National Adoption Day. I thank God daily that in one of the darkest seasons I've had yet in my life, He loved me enough to bless me by sending you guys. You two have been a light in my life since I first saw your picture on the Bethany website. I have been unselfishly loved and supported by you both and your families. I'll never be able to explain the gratitude I have for the both of you. Thank you so much. I love you."
Wow.
Is it any wonder that National Adoption Day is less than a week away from Thanksgiving?
I think not.
Thank you, God, for adoption and blessing me with my two kiddos through the miracle of adoption.
Infertility: I just punched you in the face.
And in that spirit, here are some token photos from Tygh's family's pre-Thanksgiving at Black Butte Ranch this weekend.
P.S., there are now 4 grandkids in the Colton family. And not one is genetically related. How many families get to say that? Very cool. Proof that blood does not make a family.
 |
| Watch Sienna's face through this progression... |
 |
| There's my baby cousin! Yay. Now, I'm happy. |
 |
| Making a volcano |
 |
| Colton grandparents with their 4 grandkids and their hand-made Thanksgiving shirts. Yes, Tygh's mom is Martha Stewart. |
 |
| Carving the turkey. |
 |
| Making Oreo, Candy Corn turkeys. Yummy. |
Thursday, November 15, 2012
My hairdresser...
... is gorgeous. Kind of a cross between Natalie Portman and Amanda Seyfried. You get it. Gorgeous.
But that is beside the point. At least of this post.
At my last visit to her, somewhere between the blowout and the trimming of the bangs, my hairdresser mentioned that she is adopted. She doesn't know her birthmom. She doesn't even know if she's still alive. She thinks her birthmom was a teenager when she got pregnant with her, and connected with her parents through mutual friends at church.
She thinks, through a series of third-hand information, that she has a couple of siblings. She is very interested in finding her siblings.
I told her that there are websites out there that can help adoptees locate their birthfamilies. I also said that, in my experience, she should know that not a day has gone by that her birthmom hasn't thought of her. And, that her birthmom loves her.
In the mirror, I saw tears well up in her eyes as she brushed my hair. She nodded.
If, she said, she did meet her birthmom, she has some things she would like to say to her. She has no hard feelings toward her. She loves her parents. She had a great childhood. She may have a couple lingering questions of "why?," but mostly, according to my stunning hairdresser, who also happens to be adopted, this is what she wants to tell her birthmom:
"Thank you. Thank you for choosing life for me. Thank you for giving me a great life. Thank you."
Adoption is a beautifully painful thing.
It's beautifully painful because even though a child leaves your arms, they never leave your heart.
It's beautifully painful because a child doesn't need to come from you, to belong to you.
But that is beside the point. At least of this post.
At my last visit to her, somewhere between the blowout and the trimming of the bangs, my hairdresser mentioned that she is adopted. She doesn't know her birthmom. She doesn't even know if she's still alive. She thinks her birthmom was a teenager when she got pregnant with her, and connected with her parents through mutual friends at church.
She thinks, through a series of third-hand information, that she has a couple of siblings. She is very interested in finding her siblings.
I told her that there are websites out there that can help adoptees locate their birthfamilies. I also said that, in my experience, she should know that not a day has gone by that her birthmom hasn't thought of her. And, that her birthmom loves her.
In the mirror, I saw tears well up in her eyes as she brushed my hair. She nodded.
If, she said, she did meet her birthmom, she has some things she would like to say to her. She has no hard feelings toward her. She loves her parents. She had a great childhood. She may have a couple lingering questions of "why?," but mostly, according to my stunning hairdresser, who also happens to be adopted, this is what she wants to tell her birthmom:
"Thank you. Thank you for choosing life for me. Thank you for giving me a great life. Thank you."
Adoption is a beautifully painful thing.
It's beautifully painful because even though a child leaves your arms, they never leave your heart.
It's beautifully painful because a child doesn't need to come from you, to belong to you.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Sometimes I tell, and Sometimes I don't
Daughter,
How you came to be our daughter is a complete miracle. Your origins are unique and sacred. I will do everything I possibly can to honor them, treasure them, and not exploit them.
I want you to know everything you would ever want to know about how you came to be ours. Please, ask any and every question your little heart desires. I will withhold nothing.
You are nothing to be ashamed of.
You are everything to be esteemed.
But, dearest daughter, I want you to know something. Because of everything I just mentioned, you may notice that I don't always freely tell others about your precious journey to us. Certainly, those who matter know. But, when some sweet old lady at the grocery store comments on how you must have inherited your Mommy's blond hair (hello! I was simply born to be a blond), or where did you get your sky blue eyes, or don't you and your brother look so much alike, sometimes I just smile and nod.
Sometimes, daughter, I don't share.
And I want you to know that it is not because of any other reason than that I simply want to employ my mother bear instincts and protect you from puzzled looks, awkward facial reactions, or uncomfortable pauses.
The sweet old ladies of the world can continue to believe you to be mine, genetically, and I will leave it to the embryo adoption ambassadors of the world to preach your message to the masses.
Love,
Mommy
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Happy 4th birthday, my Pumpkin Boy
To my precious Pumpkin Boy, born Halloween, 2008:
1. I love you more than I could ever possibly say. Four years ago, you made me a Mommy, and I have never been the same since.
3. You love chocolate. In every form -- liquid, solid, and probably even gaseous.
4. You are smart, quick-witted, energetic, infectious, and absolutely loveable.
5. You have one of the biggest hearts I've ever seen. And you use it to tackle your sister every morning.
5. You are a ball of energy. I could chase you around all day long. And, I do.
6. You love life. You are curious about it and all the people in it. I know this, because you ask "why?" after every little thing I say.
7. I can't write much more because the tears are already starting to well up in my eyes when I think about how much I love you. The sheer idea of you not being in my life physically sickens me. You are a complete miracle, ordained to be ours from the beginning of time. Yet, I recognize that I don't own you. You aren't mine to belong to. You are your own, unique, amazing person. You are a gift to us. Simply on loan, for a short time.
May you come to know, love, and trust the God who made you, who loves you, and who has spectacular things in store for you.
I love you, son. Happy birthday, baby boy.
Love, Mommy.
1. I love you more than I could ever possibly say. Four years ago, you made me a Mommy, and I have never been the same since.
2. You have one of the best personalities I have ever met, in any human. You make me laugh, without fail, every single day.
3. You love chocolate. In every form -- liquid, solid, and probably even gaseous.
4. You are smart, quick-witted, energetic, infectious, and absolutely loveable.
5. You have one of the biggest hearts I've ever seen. And you use it to tackle your sister every morning.
5. You are a ball of energy. I could chase you around all day long. And, I do.
6. You love life. You are curious about it and all the people in it. I know this, because you ask "why?" after every little thing I say.
7. I can't write much more because the tears are already starting to well up in my eyes when I think about how much I love you. The sheer idea of you not being in my life physically sickens me. You are a complete miracle, ordained to be ours from the beginning of time. Yet, I recognize that I don't own you. You aren't mine to belong to. You are your own, unique, amazing person. You are a gift to us. Simply on loan, for a short time.
May you come to know, love, and trust the God who made you, who loves you, and who has spectacular things in store for you.
I love you, son. Happy birthday, baby boy.
Love, Mommy.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Brae-isms
1. Scene: an early Monday morning, in Mommy and Daddy's closet.
Brae (to Daddy): "Daddy, I'm going to pick out a shirt for you to wear today at work."
Daddy: "Ok."
(Several minutes elapse. Mommy at bathroom counter getting ready. She doesn't see the following conversation, but just hears it).
Brae: "Ok! I've got a shirt for you, Daddy! Here."
Daddy: "No, Brae, I'm not wearing that shirt to work."
Brae, crying: "What? Why not, Daddy? I picked it out special just for you. I want you to wear it today. You need to wear it today!"
Daddy: "No, pick out another shirt."
Brae: "No!" (full on crying now, temper-tantrum mode, on the floor, kicking and screaming). "Wear this shirt! I picked it out just for you! Why won't you wear the shirt I picked out special for you? That hurts my feelings. Wear this shirt, Daddy!"
Daddy, very calmly: "Brae, I'm not wearing Mommy's shirt to work. Pick out another one."
***
2. Scene: a park, on a sunny Fall day. Brae walks to the middle of the grass, pulls down his pants, and his underwear, and then bends down to touch his toes, bare bum high up in the air.
Mommy, walking quickly over to him, trying to act calm: "Brae, what are you doing?"
Brae: "Mommy, my bum needs some sunshine."
***
3. Scene: Brae, at the coffee table, going through his preschool workbook.
Brae, talking to himself, pointing in the book: "Smallest, largest, ummm... mediust. Biggest, littlest, mediust."
***
4. Brae is into storying. This means that he does not want me to read him stories anymore; he wants me to make them up in my head and tell him a story. And, in what ever story of what ever version of what ever I can possibly come up with in my head, Brae has to be a kung fu warrior.
***
5. Scene: Brae, at his friend's birthday party. His friend is also adopted.
Mommy: "Brae, did you know your friend [Gabriel] is adopted, just like you? That makes you both so special."
Brae: "You mean Gabriel came out of [birthmom]'s tummy, too?
***
6. Scene: In car, driving home.
Mommy: "Brae, your birthday is coming up. Are you excited?"
Brae: "Yeah, but Mommy, I don't want to get pushed out of [birthmom]'s tummy ever again."
Mommy: "Okay, I think that can be arranged. Can I ask why not?"
Brae (wide-eyed): "Because I didn't like it. It was scary."
Mommy: "Well, maybe that's because you were born on Halloween."
Brae (to Daddy): "Daddy, I'm going to pick out a shirt for you to wear today at work."
Daddy: "Ok."
(Several minutes elapse. Mommy at bathroom counter getting ready. She doesn't see the following conversation, but just hears it).
Brae: "Ok! I've got a shirt for you, Daddy! Here."
Daddy: "No, Brae, I'm not wearing that shirt to work."
Brae, crying: "What? Why not, Daddy? I picked it out special just for you. I want you to wear it today. You need to wear it today!"
Daddy: "No, pick out another shirt."
Brae: "No!" (full on crying now, temper-tantrum mode, on the floor, kicking and screaming). "Wear this shirt! I picked it out just for you! Why won't you wear the shirt I picked out special for you? That hurts my feelings. Wear this shirt, Daddy!"
Daddy, very calmly: "Brae, I'm not wearing Mommy's shirt to work. Pick out another one."
***
2. Scene: a park, on a sunny Fall day. Brae walks to the middle of the grass, pulls down his pants, and his underwear, and then bends down to touch his toes, bare bum high up in the air.
Mommy, walking quickly over to him, trying to act calm: "Brae, what are you doing?"
Brae: "Mommy, my bum needs some sunshine."
***
3. Scene: Brae, at the coffee table, going through his preschool workbook.
Brae, talking to himself, pointing in the book: "Smallest, largest, ummm... mediust. Biggest, littlest, mediust."
***
4. Brae is into storying. This means that he does not want me to read him stories anymore; he wants me to make them up in my head and tell him a story. And, in what ever story of what ever version of what ever I can possibly come up with in my head, Brae has to be a kung fu warrior.
***
5. Scene: Brae, at his friend's birthday party. His friend is also adopted.
Mommy: "Brae, did you know your friend [Gabriel] is adopted, just like you? That makes you both so special."
Brae: "You mean Gabriel came out of [birthmom]'s tummy, too?
***
6. Scene: In car, driving home.
Mommy: "Brae, your birthday is coming up. Are you excited?"
Brae: "Yeah, but Mommy, I don't want to get pushed out of [birthmom]'s tummy ever again."
Mommy: "Okay, I think that can be arranged. Can I ask why not?"
Brae (wide-eyed): "Because I didn't like it. It was scary."
Mommy: "Well, maybe that's because you were born on Halloween."
Monday, October 15, 2012
How to Protect Your Child from a Predator
A few weeks ago, we took a class on children and sex abuse. It's part of the class series we have to take to complete our application for adopting through the state. It was definitely the hardest of the 8 classes we have to take.
After listening (for 3 hours!) about the different types of sex abuse (thanks to the Internet, so many child victims don't even know they are being victimized), and about the different forms a predator can take (a grandmother!?), I was feeling pretty deflated.
How can we possibly protect our children from predators?
Predators are a sneaky bunch. They find their victims, "groom" them (gain their trust), "groom" the parents (gain our trust), and then the abuse starts slowly.
By far, most predators are people that the child, and the parents, know. Which makes it all the more insidious. And just plain scary.
So, I couldn't leave the class without an answer. I had to know: How can we possibly protect our children from predators?
Up went my hand.
And the answer they gave was, I found, very profound.
The best way to protect your child from a sex abuse predator is to encourage your child to develop his/her own gut instinct.
Sounds simple, right?
Well, I speak for myself when I say that I have unknowingly discouraged my child's own gut instinct on several occasions.
I've done it nearly every holiday when Ipush encourage Brae to go give his second cousin, thrice removed, a big ole' hug and kiss, even though he hasn't seen her since the last holiday. And when he cowers behind my legs refusing to go over there, I tell him he's being impolite.
Or, when Iforce encourage him, every Christmas, to go sit on the lap of some strange man with a long beard wearing a funny red suit, whisper in his ear what gifts he wants, and then smile for a camera.
And what am I doing each time I do this? Well, according to the "experts," I am telling my son to not trust his own gut instinct. I'm telling him to ignore that little voice in his head, or that pit in his stomach, or those goosebumps that those warning signs are not to be trusted.
Ignore them. Go ahead, take candy from a stranger.
Go ahead, get into the back of some man's van because he tells you he has ice cream.
Go ahead, get in someone's car because they tell you they are taking you to Mommy and Daddy.
Sure, maybe I'm going to a bit of an extreme, but I'd rather have the second cousin, thrice removed, feel slighted by a 3-year-old than to quash my son's own gut instinct.
So, Mr. Santa, we will not be sitting on your lap this Christmas if my kids don't want to. Thank you, very much. And they will still get presents on Christmas morning. If for no other reason than to teach them that there is no punishment for going with your gut.
After listening (for 3 hours!) about the different types of sex abuse (thanks to the Internet, so many child victims don't even know they are being victimized), and about the different forms a predator can take (a grandmother!?), I was feeling pretty deflated.
How can we possibly protect our children from predators?
Predators are a sneaky bunch. They find their victims, "groom" them (gain their trust), "groom" the parents (gain our trust), and then the abuse starts slowly.
By far, most predators are people that the child, and the parents, know. Which makes it all the more insidious. And just plain scary.
So, I couldn't leave the class without an answer. I had to know: How can we possibly protect our children from predators?
Up went my hand.
And the answer they gave was, I found, very profound.
The best way to protect your child from a sex abuse predator is to encourage your child to develop his/her own gut instinct.
Sounds simple, right?
Well, I speak for myself when I say that I have unknowingly discouraged my child's own gut instinct on several occasions.
I've done it nearly every holiday when I
Or, when I
And what am I doing each time I do this? Well, according to the "experts," I am telling my son to not trust his own gut instinct. I'm telling him to ignore that little voice in his head, or that pit in his stomach, or those goosebumps that those warning signs are not to be trusted.
Ignore them. Go ahead, take candy from a stranger.
Go ahead, get into the back of some man's van because he tells you he has ice cream.
Go ahead, get in someone's car because they tell you they are taking you to Mommy and Daddy.
Sure, maybe I'm going to a bit of an extreme, but I'd rather have the second cousin, thrice removed, feel slighted by a 3-year-old than to quash my son's own gut instinct.
So, Mr. Santa, we will not be sitting on your lap this Christmas if my kids don't want to. Thank you, very much. And they will still get presents on Christmas morning. If for no other reason than to teach them that there is no punishment for going with your gut.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Five Things You May Not Have Known About My EA Journey
Five things you may not have known about my EA journey:
1) Sienna was one of 9 embryos frozen. Six were adopted by another family. None survived the thaw. We adopted the remaining 3. One didn't survive the thaw. Two were transferred. Only Sienna made it. She's one of 9 genetic siblings to have survived the 10-year wait.
2) We almost chose anonymous adoption. However, it was my husband's comment that because we already have a son who has an open adoption, it didn't seem right to not also have an open adoption with any other child brought into our home.
3) We almost didn't go through NEDC. We actually simultaneously pursued 2 other agencies. Living in Oregon, traveling to Tennessee (twice) seemed like a huge effort. However, after talking to 2 friends who had done EA with NEDC, I was convinced NEDC was the place for us.
4) I am Sienna's biological mom. Her genetic makeup is not my own (thank you, donors!), but it was my heart, my womb, my body that was her home and kept her growing for those 9-10 months. And, I'm so grateful Sienna doesn't have my genetic makeup. Because, then, she wouldn't be Sienna.
5) On the day we were to find out our beta number, I had written down a list of positive truths I wanted to read if the results were negative. I still have that list. Here is what some of it reads:
-- I did not fail. This was not my fault.
-- The road and wait to get to Brae was long and hard, but in the end, we received the best of what God had in store for us.
-- My faith will get me through this. God was not surprised by this. He's sad because I'm sad, but He smiles at what lies ahead for me. GOOD gifts.
1) Sienna was one of 9 embryos frozen. Six were adopted by another family. None survived the thaw. We adopted the remaining 3. One didn't survive the thaw. Two were transferred. Only Sienna made it. She's one of 9 genetic siblings to have survived the 10-year wait.
2) We almost chose anonymous adoption. However, it was my husband's comment that because we already have a son who has an open adoption, it didn't seem right to not also have an open adoption with any other child brought into our home.
3) We almost didn't go through NEDC. We actually simultaneously pursued 2 other agencies. Living in Oregon, traveling to Tennessee (twice) seemed like a huge effort. However, after talking to 2 friends who had done EA with NEDC, I was convinced NEDC was the place for us.
4) I am Sienna's biological mom. Her genetic makeup is not my own (thank you, donors!), but it was my heart, my womb, my body that was her home and kept her growing for those 9-10 months. And, I'm so grateful Sienna doesn't have my genetic makeup. Because, then, she wouldn't be Sienna.
5) On the day we were to find out our beta number, I had written down a list of positive truths I wanted to read if the results were negative. I still have that list. Here is what some of it reads:
-- I did not fail. This was not my fault.
-- The road and wait to get to Brae was long and hard, but in the end, we received the best of what God had in store for us.
-- My faith will get me through this. God was not surprised by this. He's sad because I'm sad, but He smiles at what lies ahead for me. GOOD gifts.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Our news.
A couple weeks ago, I mentioned that we would have some "news" to share. And the time has come to share it.
It's no secret I want a bigger family. From age 2-6, it was just me and my sister. I was the oldest; she the youngest by 2 years. After my parents divorced and each remarried, I had 3 new, older stepbrothers that I grew up with from age 8 until each brother left home. I went from being the oldest to being a middle child.
I love being a part of a bigger family. I love the chaos, the noise, the laughter, the tears, the joy, the sorrow, I love it all.
However, our road to growing our family has not been easy. It has been the most difficult trial of my life. And, I've had quite a few trials. This one takes the cake.
We adopted our son through private, domestic infant adoption. It was a phenomenal journey of faith. And, if you've ever adopted, you know what a ride adoption can be.
We adopted our daughter through private, embryo adoption. Again, another phenomenal journey of faith, but of a different kind.
We've done our fair share of fertility treatment, and to be honest, I'm open to doing it again. I want to be pregnant, again. Which, for those of you who walked that journey with me, it's astonishing for me to say that. Pregnancy was an odd experience for me. But, I'd love to do it again. And, if I'm honest, I still pray for a spontaneous pregnancy miracle one day that results in a live birth.
My husband, not so much.
He's content with two and has resisted every time, for the last year, that I have tried to broach the idea of more kids.
Given our fertility struggles, I'm thankful to have a husband who has absolutely no desire for a genetic child, and also could not care less to see me pregnant again. And yet, since Sienna was born, I've beenpestering encouraging my husband to talk about growing our family.
Eventually, he agreed to revisit the conversation over Labor Day weekend (fitting). So, for months, I bit my tongue and waited for that weekend to come.
It came. We had the whole long weekend to ourselves, kids with my parents, and it was a perfect time to reconnect,and talk about more kids!
As the weekend drew to a close, the time had come to revisit that conversation that had been smoldering in my heart since Sienna's birth. I had written a letter to my husband, which I read to him, and explained my desire for a third child, and how I'd love to experience pregnancy again. I was open to doing embryo adoption again, or even more fertility treatment. In my heart, I just believed (and still do) that either of those options would work for us.
After I was done with my letter, my husband closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and paused.
And paused.
And paused.
I was certain he was going to say that he was content with two kids, end of conversation, and I needed to get on board.
But then, he spoke. And the words that came out of his mouth were nothing short of completely remarkable to me.
"So," he began, "I've been thinking and praying about this for months. No more fertility treatment. No more shots, money, time, doctor's appointments, no more. No more worrying about whether we're pregnant or whether the pregnancy is going to stick. So, no more pregnancy. And, I'm not a big fan of the infant stage."
My heart sank. I felt the tears coming.
"But," he started again, "I'm open to more kids. But, I want to do things differently this time. I want us to adopt a child who really needs a home. I want us to adopt a child through our state's foster system. And, I'm even open to adopting a sibling group. God has softened my heart to these kids who are in unfortunate circumstances through no fault of their own. We can give them a home."
A surge of hope welled up in me, and I leaped to him and gave him a big hug.
We had never talked about this before. This was never an option that we had ever sit down and discussed. And yet, although I was filled with a new sense of hope and excitement, it was quickly replaced by fear and trepidation.
Aren't these children "damaged"? I don't want an older child. I want a baby. Don't these children have significant special needs? We can't take that on. This means I won't be pregnant again.
And, shortly after sharing our news with friends and family, those same fears were confirmed. Others had the same reaction.
What are we doing?
Well, in a nutshell, we're trusting God.
So where are we now in the process? Well, first let me say that adopting through the state is a very different experience. It is much more intense, and many more families get weeded out than in private adoptions. But, we're staying the course. This week we will complete our sixth of eight classes we need to take. We've submitted our formal application. Background check is underway. In two weeks, we will be assigned a case worker and wait for the homestudy process to begin. Then, we wait.
And wait. We expect the wait will be a couple years given the criteria we've chosen (so far). We do want a younger child, but are open to more than one child. We also recognize we don't have the capacity to care for a child with "significant" special needs. We are going into this process with our eyes wide open, recognizing that we are making a lifelong decision. The child(ren) need to be a right fit for us, and we need to be a right fit for them.
But the more that we've dived into this process, the more Tygh's enthusiasm is wearing off on me. God has given me a heart for these children.
And, although I still desire to have a miraculous spontaneous pregnancy, it is quietly being supplanted with the desire to adopt one (or more!) of these children. I no longer want a pregnancy and a newborn in place of adopting; I want it in addition to.
I keep speaking about a miracle pregnancy. And yet, as I write this, I'm realizing that my husband's change of heart, and his heart condition in general, is a miracle in itself. For that, I am so thankful.
Brae, for one, is also very excited about growing our family. He will tell you that he wants a younger brother and sister, and after that, an older brother and sister.
In closing (and sorry this is so long), what has me most excited about sharing this news with you is that this is an option open to most e.v.e.r.y.o.n.e who wants to start a family. It's not available to just the fertile, or just those with money. This is an option for you, if you have walked a path similar to mine and the journey to growing your family has not been easy.
This could be your solution.
Your "Plan B" may have been God's "Plan A" all along. It may be time for you to get on board.
I encourage you, if your heart has at all been pricked by the adoption bug, to learn more about it. If money has ever been a hindrance to you pursuing adoption, I encourage you to go to an informational session about adopting through your state.
It's not at all what you think.
It is so much better.
It's no secret I want a bigger family. From age 2-6, it was just me and my sister. I was the oldest; she the youngest by 2 years. After my parents divorced and each remarried, I had 3 new, older stepbrothers that I grew up with from age 8 until each brother left home. I went from being the oldest to being a middle child.
I love being a part of a bigger family. I love the chaos, the noise, the laughter, the tears, the joy, the sorrow, I love it all.
However, our road to growing our family has not been easy. It has been the most difficult trial of my life. And, I've had quite a few trials. This one takes the cake.
We adopted our son through private, domestic infant adoption. It was a phenomenal journey of faith. And, if you've ever adopted, you know what a ride adoption can be.
We adopted our daughter through private, embryo adoption. Again, another phenomenal journey of faith, but of a different kind.
We've done our fair share of fertility treatment, and to be honest, I'm open to doing it again. I want to be pregnant, again. Which, for those of you who walked that journey with me, it's astonishing for me to say that. Pregnancy was an odd experience for me. But, I'd love to do it again. And, if I'm honest, I still pray for a spontaneous pregnancy miracle one day that results in a live birth.
My husband, not so much.
He's content with two and has resisted every time, for the last year, that I have tried to broach the idea of more kids.
Given our fertility struggles, I'm thankful to have a husband who has absolutely no desire for a genetic child, and also could not care less to see me pregnant again. And yet, since Sienna was born, I've been
Eventually, he agreed to revisit the conversation over Labor Day weekend (fitting). So, for months, I bit my tongue and waited for that weekend to come.
It came. We had the whole long weekend to ourselves, kids with my parents, and it was a perfect time to reconnect,
As the weekend drew to a close, the time had come to revisit that conversation that had been smoldering in my heart since Sienna's birth. I had written a letter to my husband, which I read to him, and explained my desire for a third child, and how I'd love to experience pregnancy again. I was open to doing embryo adoption again, or even more fertility treatment. In my heart, I just believed (and still do) that either of those options would work for us.
After I was done with my letter, my husband closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and paused.
And paused.
And paused.
I was certain he was going to say that he was content with two kids, end of conversation, and I needed to get on board.
But then, he spoke. And the words that came out of his mouth were nothing short of completely remarkable to me.
"So," he began, "I've been thinking and praying about this for months. No more fertility treatment. No more shots, money, time, doctor's appointments, no more. No more worrying about whether we're pregnant or whether the pregnancy is going to stick. So, no more pregnancy. And, I'm not a big fan of the infant stage."
My heart sank. I felt the tears coming.
"But," he started again, "I'm open to more kids. But, I want to do things differently this time. I want us to adopt a child who really needs a home. I want us to adopt a child through our state's foster system. And, I'm even open to adopting a sibling group. God has softened my heart to these kids who are in unfortunate circumstances through no fault of their own. We can give them a home."
A surge of hope welled up in me, and I leaped to him and gave him a big hug.
We had never talked about this before. This was never an option that we had ever sit down and discussed. And yet, although I was filled with a new sense of hope and excitement, it was quickly replaced by fear and trepidation.
Aren't these children "damaged"? I don't want an older child. I want a baby. Don't these children have significant special needs? We can't take that on. This means I won't be pregnant again.
And, shortly after sharing our news with friends and family, those same fears were confirmed. Others had the same reaction.
What are we doing?
Well, in a nutshell, we're trusting God.
So where are we now in the process? Well, first let me say that adopting through the state is a very different experience. It is much more intense, and many more families get weeded out than in private adoptions. But, we're staying the course. This week we will complete our sixth of eight classes we need to take. We've submitted our formal application. Background check is underway. In two weeks, we will be assigned a case worker and wait for the homestudy process to begin. Then, we wait.
And wait. We expect the wait will be a couple years given the criteria we've chosen (so far). We do want a younger child, but are open to more than one child. We also recognize we don't have the capacity to care for a child with "significant" special needs. We are going into this process with our eyes wide open, recognizing that we are making a lifelong decision. The child(ren) need to be a right fit for us, and we need to be a right fit for them.
But the more that we've dived into this process, the more Tygh's enthusiasm is wearing off on me. God has given me a heart for these children.
And, although I still desire to have a miraculous spontaneous pregnancy, it is quietly being supplanted with the desire to adopt one (or more!) of these children. I no longer want a pregnancy and a newborn in place of adopting; I want it in addition to.
I keep speaking about a miracle pregnancy. And yet, as I write this, I'm realizing that my husband's change of heart, and his heart condition in general, is a miracle in itself. For that, I am so thankful.
Brae, for one, is also very excited about growing our family. He will tell you that he wants a younger brother and sister, and after that, an older brother and sister.
In closing (and sorry this is so long), what has me most excited about sharing this news with you is that this is an option open to most e.v.e.r.y.o.n.e who wants to start a family. It's not available to just the fertile, or just those with money. This is an option for you, if you have walked a path similar to mine and the journey to growing your family has not been easy.
This could be your solution.
Your "Plan B" may have been God's "Plan A" all along. It may be time for you to get on board.
I encourage you, if your heart has at all been pricked by the adoption bug, to learn more about it. If money has ever been a hindrance to you pursuing adoption, I encourage you to go to an informational session about adopting through your state.
It's not at all what you think.
It is so much better.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)