Telling the Story to Ourselves

I feel sad and overwhelmed today as the sunshine streams through my window on this pretty spring day.  And that's the way it is sometimes.

We'd like to think change is just good and not accompanied with stress and exhaustion and regression.  That healing is only triumph and will erase all trauma.  That progress means that you'll never get stuck again.  That you won't feel gloomy anymore once the sun is shining again.  

Last spring, we went through an intensive training program in order to become certified to teach a set of parenting strategies that we feel passionate about to others.  The program is called "Empowered to Connect," (ETC) and it was developed to support parents & caregivers of children "from hard places."  That phrase "from hard places," gets thrown around a lot as a popular phrase in adoption circles now, but in essence, it refers to a child who has experienced trauma of any form.  (That can include children who were involved in high risk/high stress pregnancies/births, spent time in the NICU/hospital, experienced childhood illnesses, or experienced any kind of traumatic event in their life.  That includes many more children than those who came to their families through adoption!)

We have loved and used this material since it was first presented to us when we were preparing to become adoptive parents.  We've read Dr. Karyn Purvis's book, "The Connected Child," multiple times, attended the Empowered to Connect Conference, participated in both the pre-adoptive ETC course as well as the post-adoptive parent Connect course, and then we were trained to be trainers.  We have had lots and lots and lots of practice with this material over the last six years.

And yet, I felt a heaviness yesterday as I attended a simulcast here in Memphis of the annual ETC conference.  No matter how much training I've received, how many books I've read, how many seminars I use to remind myself of the principals that promote connection and healing with my children...it's still really hard.  It's HARD.  Because trauma and pain and feelings and growing and BEING A PERSON is hard.  For everyone.

We've had a big year.  We're having a big year.  I joked the other day (in the context of forgetting to take a family picture on Easter) that "I don't do 2015."  So many plates are spinning and they're overwhelming and complex, and everything else has been pared down to the bare bones.  I didn't do my "12 Days of Christmas" this year or put ornaments on the tree or travel for New Year's or make Nick's chocolate peanut butter layer cake or compile Rhet's annual birthday video or do anything out of the ordinary for our 9th anniversary or hide eggs to hunt in the back yard.  We are keeping it so so SO simple.

And we're all feeling it, those big changes.  I've been honest with friends about how we're dealing with transition and regression with our kiddos.  But it struck me yesterday as I tried to hold the guilt and shame at bay while listening to experts talk about these parenting principles and values that I feel so passionate about...WE'VE regressed too.  Stress just does that.  It knocks you off your feet...pushes you back a couple steps.  I'm not peeing in my pants, but I might as well be...because I sure am regressing back to that yelling voice and angry eyes and lecture, lecture, lecturing...and so much despair that what I'm doing doesn't matter, that it's not making a difference, that I'm just spinning my wheels...

This is why the story matters.  This is why His Story matters.  We struggle to connect and and we repair our mistakes and we do our best, and then we do it all again the next day.  And through that mess, He is healing, restoring, redeeming.  WE are the WEAK ONES.  He is the strength.  We lose sight of the progress, and we feel like everything is sliding backwards, but He is writing the story.  And when we tell it, we see where we've come from and how we got here.

This whole time I've been thinking, "I need to tell them Brooklyn's story.  I need to tell them how God is at work in the world and in her life.  I need to tell them for His glory.  I need to tell them to strengthen their hearts and faith."  But this whole time...I've needed it.  I've been telling the story to myself.

He is not finished.  There is more to come.  And some of it will be so freaking hard.  And some if will be blindingly glorious.  But I'm going to keep telling this story...her story...His Story...to myself.  Because it's just what I need to keep doing this today. 

Those Sweet Cheeks

I'm interrupting the crazy stories of how God worked to write a little "everyday" post of what life is like on a daily basis with sweet B.  Hoping I can satisfy some curiosity as well as educate a little on how best to pray for us and treat Brooklyn when you see us out and about.

First, I can't remember if I ever told you what "biliary atresia" is!  So for those of you who haven't asked Google yet, my most simple explanation is this: Everyone has ducts that lead from the liver to the small intestine.  The liver produces bile, and the ducts remove it from the liver and dump it into the small intestine.  This is what makes your poop brown.  (Gross, I know, but now you have your fun poop fact for the day!  I know you needed one of those, right?)  A person with biliary atresia (BILL-ee-airy uh-TREE-shuh) was born with ducts that are blocked, so the bile can't make it out of the liver.  Bile is toxic and causes liver damage and ultimately liver failure.  Sometimes a surgery called the "Kasai procedure" can be done, which reroutes the flow of bile and extends the life of the liver, but it needs to be done early enough in life (by 3 months old) to keep the liver from sustaining significant damage.  Without a successful Kasai procedure, a child cannot typically live past the age of 2 years old with biliary atresia.

So, there's my non-medical and probably not 100% accurate explanation.  But now you know.  {Cue shooting star with rainbow.}  In terms of Brooklyn's little body, she was given the Kasai procedure at around 4 months old, which is too late.  Her liver was already damaged and thus the older she got, the more that liver started shutting down.  We found out about her when she was 9 months old.  She weighed 10 lbs.  (The liver processes certain fat-soluble vitamins like A, D, E, & K, and they're needed for proper nutrition.  Since children with liver damage/failure cannot process those vitamins, they often have trouble putting on weight and getting the proper nutrition to help their little bodies grow.)  She had a big "buddha belly," caused by acites (ah-SITE-ees, which means there is fluid in her belly as a complication of liver failure), but her chest, arms/hands, legs/feet, and little booty were so, so tiny.  The doctors in China gave her a 50% chance of living 4-6 months.

PS: We are now at 6 months from that original prognosis!  {High five!}

Since October, Brooklyn has made it up to 15 lbs and grown 1 inch taller!  Yeah, girl!  And her development in all areas is just flourishing.  We're so proud of our Little Biscuit!  Lots of people (including us) are so surprised when they first meet Brooklyn, because she is tinier in person than she appears in pictures.  She has these sweet chubby cheeks and that big buddha belly, and they don't realize that her feet don't even fit in 3-6 month-size shoes!

(Her latest trick: saying "cheeeeeese!")

So, a day in the life with Brooklyn looks like this:

7-8a - She wakes up and we give her 3 vitamin supplements: a water-soluble combination of vitamins A, D, E, & K, a water-soluble version of vitamin D, and a water-soluble version of vitamin E.

When she first came home, she was gagging on pureed foods, but now she can feed herself finger foods and loves being fed with a fork or spoon.

More poop talk: B's poop is grey/white because it doesn't have bile in it.  Don't worry, it still stinks to high heaven.  ;)

9:30a - Brooklyn drinks a bottle of formula and usually takes a morning nap.
Normally, a 15-month old wouldn't still be drinking formula, but B drinks Pregestimil, which is specially formulated to be easier to digest for babies with fat-soluble digestion issues.  It's also $40/can at retail cost.  {Cha-ching!}  Totally worth it for the weight she's able to continue putting on!

11a - B wakes up, and we eat lunch and play.  She loves pulling up and cruising, she'll obsess over anything paper or plastic (or iPhone--ha), and she adores music.  (If she meets you, she will ask via hand motions if you know "The Itsy Bitsy Spider.")

1-2p - Time for another bottle and another nap!  I call the two-nap phase "nap jail" because you can only really get out of the house between those two naps.  But look at all the napping, uh I mean blogging, oops I mean housework I can get done!

2:30-4p -B wakes up and it's time for more playing!  We usually go pick up Rhet from school around this time.

5p - Dinner time for everyone--Brooklyn eats little bites of what everyone else is having.  Plus Annie's Cheddar Bunnies: her one true love.  ;)

6p- Brooklyn loves splashing in the water at bathtime.  She drinks one more bottle before going to bed around 7p.  I usually give her Benadryl, because hightened amounts of bilirubin (a result of bile) in the blood make your skin jaundiced (as you can see) and itchy.  (B's bili level is up to 23.  A normal level is 0.)  Especially when she's tired, Brooklyn scratches and scratches, and she will often scratch herself so much that she starts bleeding somewhere.  The Benadryl often helps alleviate some of the itchiness.  And thank you Old Navy, for making the only pj's B wears these days because the sleeves fold over and cover her hands in her little 6-9 month jammies!

10:30p - We wake B up to drink a bottle right before we go to bed.

2-4p - On a "good" night, B usually only wakes us up once to drink a bottle in the middle of the night.  (When we first came home, we were on "ever hour/every 2 hours" duty.  {Zzzzzzz})

Also, every minute of every day, have our phone turned on and nearby, because once we get "the call," we'll drop everything and follow our "Liver Call List."  We have an hour to return the call if we miss it, and we have 24 hours to get there after we receive it.

After transplant, Brooklyn will be in-patient at the hospital for about 2 weeks (barring complications) and then we'll stay in the Chicago area for another 2 weeks (totaling a month) so they can keep an eye on her.  Then, we'll come back every week for a month for check-ups, then every other week for a couple months, and then eventually once a month until we reach the one year anniversary of the transplant.  So far, we love Chicago, and we love Lurie, so we hope it stays that way!

One more thing: before transplant, we have to be diligent to keep Brooklyn from getting sick, because she can't be cleared for surgery if she is.  (And because transplants are so time-sensitive, that could cost us a liver!)  Post-transplant, she'll be on immune-supressing medications to keep her body from rejecting her liver, so it will be very very easy for her to catch illness.  That being said, we are being trying to be super vigilant about not exposing her to illness and germs (short of putting her in a bubble).  EVERYONE wants to touch those sweet cheeks of hers, but we're asking everyone (kids AND adults) not to touch her face or tiny little hands.  Thanks for using your super-human willpower!  (Because you guys, she's just so dang adorable!)

Thanks for praying for her and for us.  God is so good to us, and we are enjoying this sweet post-home/pre-liver time to grow our attachments nice and strong.  :)

I've Just Seen a Face

{Psst: There's a new medical update over here today... }

The weeks leading up to seeing Brooklyn's sweet face for the first time are remarkable when I look back and think about them.

I was still sorting out the medical bills/insurance mix-up hassles.  Rhet and I had started back to school that fall, and we were adjusting to our new schedule.  I inevitably got a respiratory virus that was being passed around, and it took me almost a whole month to shake it off.  After it came back with a vengeance, I high-tailed it to my parents' house in Atlanta for help and rest.  We had fall break that week, and Rhet and I went early in the week and Nick joined us later for a few days.

The day we arrived, I had a missed call on my phone from a number I didn't recognize.  It's here in the story that I need to push rewind for a second...

****
A year and a half earlier, I had been praying for a 7-month-old little girl in China.  A friend had been advocating for her, and her picture just stuck with us.  Her file was not complete (nor was it being worked on at the time), so I just prayed and prayed for her family...and I prayed for us...that maybe we could be her family.  She had a medical condition I had never heard of before: biliary atresia.  I googled it and internet-researched it (yeah, the best kind of research right? ;) ) and just prayed.  Biliary atresia seemed big and scary.  And yet I just prayed....Lord, please find her a family.  Lord, please let us be the family.  Nick wasn't feeling it.  We had just gotten rolling on our Dave Ramsey quest--we still had all of our debt.  We didn't have any space for a new kiddo.  He didn't feel led to say yes.  And that is the way things go.  One person feels the pull, the other person isn't on the same page.  You live in the tension.  You pray and talk and one of you moves.  It requires lots of respect and communication and open hearts and a commitment not to harbor resentment, and it is really hard.  I think most adoption stories for most families probably include a piece of that.  But you move forward, knowing that you both have your family's best interests and God's leading on your hearts, and you'll make a decision...together. We decided that I could fill out a Family Profile for the adoption agency in order to find out more about her if and when her file was completed, but otherwise, I moved--this time was a "no."
****

So I listened to the voicemail from the unknown number.  A year and a half later, it is a representative from the adoption agency whose voice I'm hearing.  The message was vague: Can you please call me back?  I have something I need to ask you.  The voicemail was out of the clear blue and it perplexed me.  I stood in my parent's driveway, alone, just wondering.  I called her back and got her voicemail.  I googled her name--she is the coordinator for the China Hosting Program.  Ahhh, she wants to know if we could host a child next summer, I guess.  Um, lady?  Do you know we are already stacked on top of each other in our itty bitty house?  I dismiss the message in my mind.

But all week, my mind went back to it.  Is that what she really wanted?

I received a text from my dear friend Brooke, a matron of honor in my wedding, on the same day that I received the voicemail from the adoption agency.  The message says: We must talk.  Been way too long.  You've been showing up in dreams!  For real!  I figure it's a sign.  We played phone tag for the next couple of weeks.

The week at my parent's house was just what we needed.  Relaxing, recovery from illness, playing, sunshine, date nights, just enjoying being together. Nick and I even took the plunge and updated our "archaic" phones.  Our family of three drove back to Memphis at the end of that week feeling lighter and more restful.

Nick was unpacking the car that night while Rhet helped, and I flopped on the bed for a minute to stretch out from the long roadtrip.  I went to Facebook on my phone, and my eyes were drawn to the picture of a baby girl staring back at me.  A friend had reposted her picture from a China Waiting Child Advocacy page.  She was 9 months old.  With biliary atresia.  (Yep, I know what that is.  I've been sitting with that idea for a year and a half.)  Her name was Brooke.  (Brooke!  She's been having dreams about me...)  Nick came in the house with another suitcase and I called out to him, "Hey Nick!  Come look at this little girl..."

"Oh geez..." he mutters with a smile as he takes my phone.  He looks at her a second longer than usual.  "She is adorable," he says, his voice softening.  My heart leaps--NOT Nick's usual response.

I've written about what our decision-making process was like that week.  What I didn't include is that we'd seen a house we were interested in the previous week when we were in Atlanta.  We contacted our realtor and set up a time for me to go see it while Rhet was in school on Monday.  It was small--not much bigger than what we currently live in now.  But it was cute and staged well and it was in a neighborhood close to where Rhet and I went to school.  I brought Nick and Rhet to see it on Tuesday, and in those 24 hours between Monday and Tuesday we ran the numbers with our mortgage broker and talked seriously about living there.  There wasn't a lot of room in the house to play, but it had a big yard.  There wasn't room for family/friends to stay with us when they visited, but we could just pile into one bedroom and put our guests in the other.  There wasn't an extra room for an another kiddo, but we could just put Rhet in the master bedroom with the alcove off of it and put a crib in the alcove.  We all walked out of the house talking about the purchase.  We promised to be in touch, Nick got in his car parked on the street and waited for us to back out of the carport, which I'd parked under due to the rain.

Scrrrrraaaaaape.  My driver's side mirror scraped along the side of the house.  AUGHH!  I immediately re-centered the car and tried again.  Scrrrrrraaaaaape.  My passenger's side mirror scraped along the other side of the carport.  No no no!!!  I can't explain what physiologically and emotionally happened to me in that moment.  I know I'm sounding melodramatic, but as I finally got the car backed out the carport and backed down the driveway and scrrrrrrrraaaaaped the bottom of the car as I pulled onto the street, it was like a clean break.  I rolled down the window and said to Nick, "Did you just see that?"  "Yeah, bummer," he replied.  And in my mind, it was done.  There was no way we could buy that house.  The scrapes on my mirrors had just snapped me back to reality.  Nope, not our house.

Now as I think about that day, it feels like God was saying "You can NOT buy this house."  There wasn't enough room for Brooklyn over the next 5 years, and more importantly, if we had put that sale into motion, we could not have pursued her adoption.  The agency wanted someone who was already paper-ready for a China adoption (meaning their dossier was already sent to China).  We were not, but we promised to move swiftly.  USCIS requires that you re-submit paperwork for any address changes--we would have had to wait 30 days to close on that house and then get new clearances on several different levels.  It just would've set us too far back.

The day after we committed to pursuing Brooklyn's adoption, I finally got in touch with the woman from the other adoption agency with whom I'd been playing phone tag for a good two weeks.  She was actually calling to offer me a referral for a little girl with congenital heart disease.  My jaw dropped.  What if I had answered her call that first day of fall break?

****
I've just seen a face
I can't forget the time or place
Where we just met

She's just the girl for me
And I want all the world
To see we've met
Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm mmm mmm

Had it been another day
I might have looked the other way
And I'd have never been aware
But as it is I'll dream of her tonight
La, di, di, da di di

Falling, yes I am falling
And she keeps calling
Me back again

Home Again Home Again Jiggity Jig

Hello from the land of bottles, bibs, and baby babbles!  Over here on the blog, no news has been good news--in the true fashion of this adoption process, we received last minute travel approval to go get Brooklyn, and we jumped on a plane 2 days later.  Fifteen days later, we returned to Memphis with our new daughter!

The past couple of weeks have been a blur of transition, but I'm ready to tell the story God has been writing about His glory and His great love for Brooklyn.

First things first, though, because I know you guys are wanting an update.  Here it is, in bullet points:

- We were able to get Brooklyn in to see our GI Team in Memphis a day and a half after returning from China.  Her blood labs returned with some good (normal) numbers and some pretty bad numbers.  We expected this, so there were no surprises there.  She is in liver failure, she does need a transplant, but her health for the time being is stable.

- Later that first week we were home, we got some news that initially disappointed us: our health insurance will not cover a transplant here in Memphis.  They require that we go elsewhere to a designated "center of excellence," which are centers that meet a certain criteria set by the insurance company (including number of transplants done per year, success rates, cost effectiveness, etc.).  While we were still dealing with our first week home and jet-lagging, this news was a little overwhelming to take in.  The closest center of excellence to us does not have any direct flights to it, and it takes about 5 hours of driving time.  But we started looking at the list of approved centers for pediatric liver transplants, and we realized something that changed our perspective: yes, traveling elsewhere is inconvenient and uncomfortable, but we have the change to CHOOSE where our child will receive care.  And we had some great choices as far as programs go.  So, we looked at that list with new eyes, pitting programs against each other, looking at success rates & wait times, and considering national rankings.  We chose Lurie Children's Hospital of Chicago--they have relatively inexpensive and short direct flights from Memphis, they are ranked #2 in the nation for GI/GI surgery, and most providentially, Chicago is the home of a very special person to us--the woman who found Brooklyn in her orphanage and advocated for her, which led to our agency working to complete her file and find a family for her, and you mostly know the rest of that story!  ;)  Another friend who just took the enormous burden of fundraising off of our plates lives just 2 hours away from Chicago.  Between the two of them, they have an army of friends who have already supported us financially and in prayer.  We are confident (and oh-so-humbled!) that we will be well taken care of in Chicago.  (Also, you may remember my fun little tag-along trip with Nick to Chicago back in June--I fell in love with the place and had a lot of fun exploring with the trains and buses.)

- We're set up for an evaluation next Tuesday (February 17th) at Lurie, after which Brooklyn will be placed on the transplant list.  More to come about what all of that will involve.

- Our family transition has been fun, hard, joy-filled, frustrating, lots of work, and completely covered with help and prayers from people we love.  (THANK YOU, Team Brooklyn!!!)

Many people have asked how they can help, so here are some immediate needs:
- Formula!  Brooklyn's liver can't process the some of the nutrients in regular formula, so we are feeding her special formula called Pregestimil.  You can order it online through Amazon, Walmart, Walgreens, etc or I can also order it through my local pharmacy.  It ranges in price from $28-38 per 1 lb can, and we go through 1 can every three days or so.  (Cha-ching!!)  We would be SO grateful, if you want to send us formula or a gift card to help us purchase it!

- My friend Elizabeth set up a Meal List for us, and your food has been manna from heaven!  I can't tell you how awesome it is not to have to worry about grocery shopping and cooking as we deal with transitioning and getting our medical help lined up!  Several friends from out of town even signed up, and have told us they'll have something delivered.  (In the process, I found this nifty meal delivery service that will deliver from several restaurants in our area!)

- Giftcards to Target--we're still making those "oh, I forgot we would need that for a baby" trips.  :)

- Cash to help with our many trips to Chicago this year!  We're keeping the Razoo site open for now to help with medical costs, but we may switch over to something more medically related in the future.

- Diapers are always welcomed--Little Biscuit is currently a size 2, and we've been using Pampers Swaddlers.  (We also like Pampers Cruisers once she's big enough, but her little 14-lb self is so teeny that they don't sell them in her size yet!)

- We are good on clothes for a bit, although I know it is so much fun to shop for baby girls!  (In fact it is so much fun, I like to do the shopping!  Old Navy, Baby Gap, Target, and Carter's are our favorites for little girl clothes.)

We are so, so thankful for all of your prayers and well-wishes.  I can't even begin to tell you how much God has done and used you to do, but I'm going to attempt to tell the story of His provision and power over the next few weeks during naptimes!  

Life in the Fast Lane

Just a quick update tonight to let you know where we are in the process, which is: ALMOST DONE. Seriously. 

I had grand plans of writing about all of the crazyawesome things God has done in the last 11, but things just keep zipping along. Don't worry...the stories are coming! But I think I'm going to have to save them for Brooklyn's naptimes or as a post-bedtime activity. 

Because we are waiting for the very last step before we get on a plane: TA, also known as Travel Approval. An important packet of documents is getting picked up tonight (Monday) in China and sent somewhere else, after which we're praying we'll receive TA as early as tomorrow night (Tuesday). (It's weird how everything happens "in the future"--because China is 12 hours ahead, their tomorrow is done when ours is just getting started!) We are praying, praying, praying that we can get on a plane to go get our little gal this next weekend!!! 

Please continue to pray for appointments and approvals to be issued as needed, for travel arrangements, for sweet Rhet as she handles transitions and our absence during the trip, for Brooklyn's health and healing and transitions, and for peace for all in the midst of all this crazy! 

Star of Wonder

Throughout our adoption process with Brooklyn (all 8 weeks of it so far!), we've experienced so many instances in which we could say "only God."  Now looking back, I am seeing even more ways God made a way for us to pursue Brooklyn.  I'm hoping to share as many as I can remember here, as a testimony to the power of God and for my own memory's sake.

But first, I have to start with Facebook.  Ohhhhh, Facebook.

I was late to the game, having graduated college before FB was sweeping the collegiate nation.  I remember hearing about the concept one evening when I was hanging out with a younger friend, and I thought it was the dumbest idea ever.  You just make friends with your friends?  And then you poke them?  And yet, shortly before Facebook opened its gates to the general public, I weaseled my way in with my old Auburn email address.  It was the summer of 2006, and I was already married, thus missing out on the thrill of changing my relationship statuses.  Those were good times, with statuses like "Jesse is wearing a scarf today, even if everyone else thinks it's silly" and photo albums for every month...

Ah, the dawn of social networking.

But Facebook lost its luster along the years for me.  Shortly before Rhet came home, I remember feeling really sensitive to what I was going to put "out there" about my child.  I felt a new desire for privacy.  I didn't love reading all of the judge-y rants or knowing everyone and their Great-Aunt Sue was weighing my own words with a critical eye.  (And I hated myself for doing the same.)  Over the past several years, I used FB mostly as the tool to keep up with my long-distance friends' happenings.  I had even deleted the app from my phone this year, finding that I was happier to spend my time elsewhere.

Please don't read that has a "high and mighty" state of being.  I just feel it's important to start there with what happens next...

On the evening of Sunday, October 12th, our family had just gotten home to Memphis from a roadtrip.  We had unpacked, had a quick dinner, and I was finally laid out and catching up on Facebook within the browser of my phone.  And I saw her face.

That face.  It gripped me.  And I immediately passed the phone over to Nick.  I can't remember his exact reaction, but it was probably a light-hearted eye roll or a snarky comment to make me giggle.

Brooklyn's picture and a short plea for a family had been posted on a waiting child advocacy page by the adoption agency social worker that day.  And a close friend of mine had shared the link.  There were 90 likes and 103 comments on the original picture.

Something in me needed to know more.  I emailed the social worker that night asking for more information on the little girl they were calling "Brooke."

The rest, as your mostly know, is history.  There were other things happening during this time period, but I'm sticking with the Facebook-centric stories for this post, so we'll fast forward to the night we asked God for a clear answer that we needed to say yes to Brooke.  I shared a little bit about that in this post, but just to remind you, the answer we received came via a (then) stranger's personal message sent to me on Facebook.

We've befriended a couple strangers over Facebook through that first personal message, and they have become not only dear friends but part of Brooklyn's larger family in the way we regard them.  I can't wait to share more about them in another post!

The day we announced on the waiting child advocacy page that Brooke had found a family and the family was ours, we had something like 90 likes within 10 minutes.  (The post ended up receiving 293 total likes!)  I'm not sharing that to highlight the the popularity, but to show the way this little girl of us just grips people.  When you see her picture, you keep looking.  You want to know more.  This interest on Facebook, in my opinion, has brought many people to their knees in prayer for her.  And it is these prayers that have influenced the hand of God in her paperwork and our process.

Shortly into the process, a friend added me to a group of a small number of families completing medical expedited adoptions in China.  This group has been like GOLD, helping me learn the fastest way to complete the paperwork for our medically fragile child.

Last week, we started on online fundraising campaign.  We were asking for $22,000 to cover travel expenses and fees for the rest of our adoption process with Brooklyn.  It was a very large amount to try to raise.  And it was during the holidays.  But we had been given the hope that if things continued on the trajectory they were on, we could be traveling to bring our girl home in January, so something needed to be done.  3 days.  THREE DAYS.  The news went out over Facebook, over this blog, over a few personal emails.  And the amount was raised in three days.  By family, by friends, by strangers.  We were amazed but not surprised.

And here is what I'm left thinking about Facebook: of all vehicles, of all platforms, of all ways that God could bring us to this little girl...it was this one.  And it has been how He has spurred on prayer and given wisdom and brought provision.  All through this social network that I had very recently pretty much despised.

He does that.  He can take our avenues of common culture and lead people to Himself.

Many years ago, three wise men were studying the stars.  As in, I'm guessing, astrology.  And what did God send?  A star.  The brightest one.  And it led them to worship.  

Fundraising Update

We are completely floored, overwhelmed, humbled, honored, blown away, overjoyed, in awe {ETC!} of your donations toward our fundraising to bring Brooklyn home!! 

All $22,000 of our goal has been raised, plus some extra.

Be assured that the extra will go toward our "bringing Brooklyn home expenses," which will include multiple post adoption reports from our home study agency after she gets home and medical expenses, of which we're sure there will be many.

We'll be drawing the raffle winner on Friday.  If you gave or shared, PLEASE fill out the Rafflecopter form below OR contact me via Facebook or email--I will take your entries and put them into our "Random Picker" raffle generator.  I want to make sure everyone is entered that wanted to be!

THANK YOU from the bottom of our hearts for your gifts.  You are all amazing, and we are in awe of God's hand in every step of Brooklyn's adoption process!!!

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Raffle for Brooklyn

*** UPDATE ON RAFFLE: Friends, we are having such exciting responses from our fundraising efforts that I'm changing the program that we'll use to draw our winner.  We will be using "Random Picker," an internet raffle drawing generator.  Continue to purchase raffle entries for $10 (worth 2 pts each) and share our fundraising website on Facebook, Twitter, or your blog for an entry (worth 1 pt each).  You can purchase as many tickets or share as many times as you'd like!  IF YOU HAVE DONATED OR SHARED, PLEASE TELL US IN SOME WAY SO WE CAN ADD YOU TO THE "RANDOM PICKER" LIST--THRU FB COMMENT, BLOG COMMENT, EMAIL, OR BY FILLING OUT THE RAFFLECOPTER BELOW.  We also have friends hosting their own private fundraisers, and therefore we're accepting offline donations (which go into a separate account we have just for adoption expenses).  We're looking into how to reflect the change in offline donations given, and we'll be showing that as soon as we can.  We are blown away by your generosity, friends!!! ***

Immediately after sharing our exciting news, some dear friends of ours jumped into action.  One of them was Brian Crenshaw, a fellow adoptive parent, student ministry director of our church (Fellowship Memphis), and a very talented artist.  He expressed a desire to paint a piece for us to put in a raffle or auction off.  He got right to work on it, and brought it over shortly thereafter.

Isn't it beautiful?  It is entitled "For Brooklyn."  It is approximately 24x24 painted on wood plank and trimmed with a simple wood frame.  I am in LOVE with this painting--the colors are some of my favorites, and it makes me feel peaceful.

But alas, it's not "For Jesse," so here's what we're going to do blog friends: we're going to raffle off this painting.  It is worth an estimated retail price of $400+.  It would make an unforgettable Christmas gift for a loved one...or for yourself!  I'll ship this beauty anywhere within the United States, and shipping is on us! 

TO ENTER THE "FOR BROOKLYN" RAFFLE:

1. Entries can be purchased for $10 each by donating on our Razoo fundraising website.

(If you purchase more than one ticket, just let me know in the the appropriate place on Rafflecopter and I'll adjust your number of entries manually.)

2. Tickets can also be "earned" by sharing our Razoo fundraising website on Facebook, Twitter, or your blog and asking your friends to donate!
(One ticket per social networking platform per day--just let me know if you share on more than one platform and I'll adjust your number of entries.)

**PURCHASED ENTRIES receive 2 POINTS PER ENTRY, and social networking entries will receive 1 point her entry.  However, you never know which entry will win!  May the odds be ever in your favor!

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White Lightning Christmas

Hello from the land of warp speed!  I've been a little radio silent lately due to some crazy paper-workin' and holiday travel and post-holiday illness.

But I'm back with great news: our dossier heads to China this week!

For you international adoption novices, let me do my best to catch you up to speed, but first let me cut to the chase: WE NEED YOUR HELP!  Our timeline is just moving along supercrazyfast, and it is likely that we will be able travel to get Brooklyn in JANUARY!  Whoa, people.  WHOA.

We need to raise $22,000 in a month.  Can you help us?  Can you ask your friends to help us?  It takes less than 5 minutes to click over to our Razoo crowdsourcing site and give as you feel led.  We would be incredibly grateful if you would take part in Brooklyn's story!

Back to how this is all going down:
There are two labor intensive, paperwork-heavy processes that you participate in when you get started on an international adoption...

(1) The home study: This is basically a report that a social worker will write up on your family, ultimately giving their official and trusted "thumbs up" for adopting.  You have to provide your social worker with LOADS of proof that you will be a good parent to the child/ren you wish to adopt.  (Proof = medical reports, financial analyses, letters of recommendation, autobiographies from both spouses, birth certificates, marriage certificate, ok you get the idea, etc etc)

(2) The dossier: This is confusing, because the home study IS PART OF the dossier.  The dossier includes a lot of the aforementioned types of documents plus more legal proof of your family stability--it is a collection of documents that get authenticated to the highest level and then translated and sent to the country you're adopting from. Two of the last documents that join this collection are (1) your home study and (2) your immigration approval to adopt from the specific country (which also requires your completed home study before it is issued).

See how this whole thing becomes a revolving door of papers?

Every document in your dossier is notarized by a local notary, and then (if it's notarized in some states like here in Tennessee) you must go to your County Clerk and get them to authenticate your documents--they basically stamp the documents and say, "yes, this notary from our county is legit."  Then the documents go to the Secretary of State in your state's capital city and those guys say, "yep, that county clerk is legit."  Then the documents (if you're in certain states such as Tennessee) travel to Washington DC, first to the US Department of State who vouches for your Secretary of State's authentication and then on to the Chinese Embassy who sees the Department of State's ok and puts their seal of approval on it as well.  THEN and only then does it get translated into (in this case) Chinese and sent to the appropriate government people in China.

You guys.  All of that process has happened in 7 weeks.  That is awesomecrazy. (Awezy?  Crawsome?)

Here's what we have ahead of us:
Our dossier gets "logged in" when it makes it into the appropriate Chinese office.
We will receive a "Letter of Approval" from China to adopt Brooklyn.
US Immigration will issue an approval for us to adopt Brooklyn (specifically).
Some other paperwork happens behind the scenes that sends that approval through the appropriate channels.
Then, China issues us "Travel Approval" and we can fly on over 1-2 weeks later to scoop up our brand new daughter!

This process usually happens in an average of 3 months for an average special needs case.  We are praying that this process will take 4 weeks.  Y'all, the Lord has moved mountain after molehill to plow through these checkpoints.  We are just along for the ride.  And we're so glad you're with us! 

GodSpeed

Four weeks ago, we officially decided to pursue Brooklyn's adoption.

Every yes that led us to that decision kept leading us to more and more yeses.  And then picture a dam crumbling and flooding us with the blessing and yeses and provision and presence of God after that big yes.

In four weeks, we have completed the home study and dossier.  (For frame of reference, that took four MONTHS with Rhet, and I had thought we were being speedy!)

There have been so, SO many answered prayers and God-instances in this four-week journey.  The Lord has truly THROWN open the doors to get us to our girl.

And then I was given a humbling reminder...

This past weekend, we had a series of events that had the appearance of everything unraveling.  We'd had some rooms painted last week and the painter took a day longer than agreed.  All the furniture was in the middle of the floor on the morning of our home visit.  The TV wall mount wouldn't work as planned.  One of our vehicles surprised us by refusing to show any signs of life.  My last document for our dossier had been promised by Friday and had yet to show up.

We worked like crazy people getting the furniture back in place.  Friends came to help with the TV.  At least we still had one working vehicle.  And our needed document appeared in the mailbox. Home visit went smoothly.

But the TiVo.  It was not working.  I mean, eh, it wasn't a big deal, right?

But it just bugged me.  Here I am moving heaven and earth to get all of this paperwork finished and we can't get the TiVo working.  So I did what anyone used to being on a mission would do: I put all of my adoption paperwork fervor into this one small task of getting the TiVo up and running.

But wait, it turned out the hard drive had crashed.  We can work with that--I found out how to replace the unit inexpensively and ran right out and purchased a new unit.  But wait, TiVo didn't want to honor our past subscription price.  Well, I worked something out with the customer service reps.  But wait, when we pulled the new unit out of the box, we realized we didn't have a way to hook it up.  (Our HDMI port is "burnt out" on our TV.)  Ok, I'll find a way to convert it to the ports we can use.  But wait, the promised conversion box was not in stock at the store.  But wait, I'll try another store.  No luck there either.  But wait, here's a different port that may work--let's try it.  But wait, it needs an extra cord.  That can be fixed by yet another store run.  But wait, they don't carry that specific cord.  I reached the end of the night with nothing fixed.

And as I laid my head on the pillow, I sensed the Lord reminding me:
Hey Jesse?  I am the one moving heaven and earth to get all of this paperwork finished.  If you want to keep working out of your OWN efforts, they will all end up like this TiVo.

BOOM.  He was so right.

And lo and behold, we hit a snag with the final home study completion this week.  Something that threatened a long delay.  And I wrung my hands and stressed and blamed last night.  And God is already fixing it.  (You can pray about that, by the way!)

Getting to Brooklyn is not by our OWN efforts and in our OWN speed.  It is all Him, my friends.

Please pray for our immigration clearance and dossier authorization, which are the next steps after this home study gets signed off.

My mom sent me this quote last night, and you can pray this over us as well:
"When I feel anxiety begin to rise up in me, it helps to hold an empty bowl--a reminder that my soul is made to receive from God rather than achieve for God."  (Emily Freeman)

Oh, and our dead vehicle was raised to life yesterday.  Costly repairs?  Naaaahhhh.  Just a dud battery that had been installed last month.  Under warranty, of course.  Grace upon grace upon grace...

Via Brim Papery (and hanging on our freshly painted wall!)

The Someone is Us: A "Big News" Post

A couple of weeks ago, we were just minding our own business.  Living normal life.  And then things changed.

They changed on an evening when we saw a picture of a little girl.  And we were faced with a decision: between wishing someone would do something and doing it.  

We wrestled.  We prayed.  And we decided.

WE ARE ADOPTING AGAIN!  

Meet Brooklyn Faris!  She is 10 months old in China.  She has a condition called biliary atresia, where the ducts that carry bile from the liver to the small intestine are blocked and damage the liver.  She is currently in liver failure and needs a liver transplant ASAP.

We found her through a good friend who had just seen a post about her on a China Waiting Child Advocacy Facebook group.  There were many inquiries and comments.  Maybe someone will adopt her, we hoped.  Maybe the someone is us, we wondered.

We prayed and discussed and prayed some more.  It's not like this is terrible timing...we were planning on adopting in the next year.  It's just, we hadn't planned on this.  And it was out of "order"--we were looking for a house to buy first.  We haven't saved at ALL or planned a bit yet!  And...it's just plain scary.  We we were afraid of big things: What if we can't get her home in time?  How will this affect Rhet or change us as a family or as parents?  We were afraid of small things: How will we pay for all of it?  What will the transition be like from one kiddo to two?  Where can we put her in this little ole house?  But still, the wondering lingered...

Maybe the someone is us.

It weighed heavier and heavier on our hearts.  We talked about it daily.  We started gathering information "just in case" we said yes.  We weren't putting the cart before the horse.  We were just...getting ready.  Just in case.  And the doors were opening, opening, opening...

Maybe the someone is us.

We had one of our nightly long conversations about the possibility of pursuing the adoption last week.  We each shared feelings and thoughts of fear that were holding us back.  We prayed together, for specific things, for specific direction, for specific leading from the Lord.  It was a big prayer...a vulnerable prayer.

I checked Facebook 30 minutes later, and there was a message from a stranger on my phone.  She was writing to tell us that our names had been shared with her, and she wanted us to know she was praying for us.  And we could not finish reading her message without breaking down in tears, because her words were direct responses and echoes of the prayer we had just offered half an hour before.  We sat there reading her message, and we knew.

We knew that the someone is us.

Pursuing adoption often means walking into the fear, pushing into the hard places, following God into the dark. We don't know how Brooklyn's story will unfold--our fears persist about how it might...but we do know that she deserves a family that loves her, that will fight to get to her, that will push through the hard for her. Every child deserves a family who will do that. We could spend our lives wondering if anyone will, or we can make bold choices to follow the Lord wherever He leads.

We are working lightning fast to start and finish a home study and dossier in a month's time.  We are trusting God to provide each expense and fee as it presents itself.  We have stepped off the cliff.

This will be a medically expedited case--the faster we can get B home, the better.

We need your help!  Please lift Brooklyn up in prayer constantly.  We confidently believe God will move mountains to sustain her health and to get her home.  (Home!!! :) )  Please pray for us, that the Holy Spirit will continue to give us His peace to move boldly with faith.  We'll let you know soon some other ways you can help.  We're all in this together, friends.

The someone is us!

4th Day of Advent: Redemption

Today's verse is the verse I continually pray as a blessing over Rhet.

I've already poured out my heart on this subject here, & here.  (I love how adoption brings us face to face with God's character, His heart for us, His experience with us...)

What is broken in your life? 

Someone once said, "Everything will be okay in the end.  If it's not okay, it's not the end."

For those who hope in the Lord, that statement is anything but trite...

Click on image above to enlarge, save to computer, & print

Click on children's activity above to enlarge, save to computer, & print

6th Day of Advent: Waiting

{FOR TODAY, FRIDAY, DEC 20th}

For today's thought, I leave you with a link to this post from December 2010, when waiting was my all-day-everyday activity.

(Quote from the post:)

"For many people, waiting is an awful desert between where they are & where they want to go...[yet,] all the figures who appear on the first pages of Luke's Gospel are waiting...waiting with a sense of promise...Active waiting means to be present fully to the moment, in the conviction that something is happening where you are, and that you want to be present to it...The spiritual life is a life in which we wait, actively present to the moment, trusting that new things will happen to us, new things that are far beyond our own imagination, fantasy, or prediction. That indeed, is a very radical stance toward life in a world preoccupied with control."

- Henri Nouwen ("Watch for the Light")

Click on image above to enlarge, save to computer, & print

Click on children's activity above to enlarge, save to computer, & print

Girly Game-Changer

Hair gets a big piece of the pie chart in regards to how we spend our time at the Faris house.  I adore being the mom of a little girl so much that I occasionally tease Nick about having a big ole house full of them...and then I fear I would do nothing BUT hair all day every day.

This post could be an entire novel if I started at the beginning of our "hair journey."  Here would be my chapter headings:

Chapter 1: Overspending on Professional Haircare Products out of Fear of the Unknown and Overzealousness

Chapter 2: Practicing on a 17-Month-Old with One Inch of Hair

Chapter 3: 1,001 Comments Made to Me in Public Regarding My Daughter's Hair  (or Hair Knows No Strangers)

Chapter 4: How to Wash a Child's Hair with Non-Tear-Free Products Without Losing Your Religion

Chapter 5: Styling Hair or Leaving it Free with an Added Hair Accessory: A Lesson in How You Can't Make Everyone Happy All of the Time

(And so on...)

Haircare seems like such a personal subject to me, and at the same time, it is THE subject friends & strangers alike discuss with me everyday.  (This is not a complaint--she has great hair, and people either feel impressed or concerned or curious or all of the above, and they feel the need to share that with me!  It is just a normal part of our everyday life.)  I say haircare seems personal because everyone's hair is different and has a life all of it's own--this is true no matter what type of hair you have.  

When Rhet first came home and people would offer me unsolicited advice in public, I always went right out and bought the recommended product or practiced the recommended technique because I felt intimidated, unknowledgable, and experimental.  This was not necessarily wrong of me, but I definitely feel much more confident 2+ years and several inches later...I have been a student of Rhet's hair, and while I still have a lot to learn, I feel good about what I already know and about what works for us.

At one point in my chasing after each and every single piece of hair advice, I realized that I would not be blindly following strangers' advice on other subjects, such as discipline.  When strangers or friends offer advice on how to discipline my child and it is not in line with what I practice or believe, I don't even bat an eyelash!  So why was I thinking that every single piece of hair advice would fit Rhet's hair type or our lifestyle?

That having been said, I need to share our recent breakthrough discovery with you.  Detangling & shingling Rhet's hair had recently reached an all-time high in hours (THREE POINT FIVE!) for us recently, and no one was feeling very happy about that.  In my curiosity and growing desperation, I found a YouTube video that described a "magic potion" for which I had ingredients but had never tried.  Voila!  It cut our hair time in half or even by 2/3rds, and it has allowed me to moisturize Rhet's hair more often (and therefore more efficiently).  

Here is what we use for our new magic elixir: 

Your favorite oil (we use coconut oil):

You can buy this big tub of coconut oil at Costco for around $10!

Your favorite leave-in conditioner:

We use Shea Moisture Raw Shea Butter Restorative Conditioner

Ok, you take a spray bottle and put a little oil in it.  (In our case, I had a couple small scoops of coconut oil.  It's okay if it's solidified--just get it in your spray bottle and the warm water will melt it.)  Then you add a little leave-in conditioner--I use 4-5 pumps of our Shea Moisture bottle.  Then you add a small to moderate amount of warm or hot water and shake it all up.  (You can experiment with the ratios of your oil/product/water.  I'm finding that I don't want the oil and product to be too watered down, so I add about 4-6 oz of water or so.)

Spray this magic potion on hair by sections and gently start running it through hair with your fingers.  It detangles and moisturizes, and you will praise the good Lord for all of the time you have saved.  If I am shingling Rhet's hair, I still like to use Miss Jesse's Baby Buttercream over the section I have just detangled.  Otherwise, I use this spray to help quickly refresh & redefine hair every other morning or so.  

Next Year...

There are two things that really drive me bonkers.  (Not just two, but for the sake of this post, here are two):

1. Not completing a project I started

2. Not following through with something I say I'll do

So I pretty much drove myself bonkers during the holiday season.  I completely ran out of steam.  Not only did I only provide 2 days of our Advent activities and verses on the blog instead of all 12, but we didn't even do all of them in our own family.  I found myself feeling like a huge hypocrite for emphasizing the importance of a simple, meaningful Christmas and then spinning myself into my own holiday tizzy.  I kept hearing myself repeat the same sort of mantra about "next year."

In many ways, things have changed so much in my 2012, and I feel like I'm just now getting up to speed.

I am a huge New Year's resolutions girl, but I find myself stumbling into 2013 without anything on paper.  Oh sure, I have huge ideas for just about every area of life, but no specific goals.  I think it proves my restless mind and overwhelmed spirit...

I'm headed to the Created for Care retreat in a few weeks, and I'm getting excited about it.  I signed up on a whim, due to the rave reviews from a few of my friends.  It's a retreat designed to provide rest & encouragement for adoptive moms.  

I'm still exploring my identity when it comes to being an adoptive mother.  It's the way my husband and I chose to start our family, and we think it will be the way we continue to add to our family.  It was our first choice instead of a decision we reached after journeying through disappointment.  (I do not belittle choosing adoption through infertility at all--it just hasn't been a part of our journey so far.)  I think because I "stick out" already everywhere I go as having made a different choice for my family, I haven't really put myself out there in terms of full-blown adoption advocacy.  I'm not really sure if that's why, but it's the only reason I can come up with.  And I think that's okay for now.  I'm still finding my way in the world of motherhood, and our child is just now in her almost-3-yr-old way starting to explore her identity, too.  I don't want her to grow up thinking we adopted her because we love adoption...I want her to grow up knowing we adopted her because we wanted to love HER.  (Not that the two are mutually exclusive, but sometimes it feels like they can become that way?)

So, I'm looking forward to this retreat...to processing my feelings about this past year, to resting up with some good friends, to spending time figuring out who I want to be as a person and a mother and how adoption plays into both of those.

I have a feeling I'm subconsciously putting off any major thinking until that weekend.  :)  In the meantime, I'm planning on working out my blogging muscles in both trivial & meaningful subjects.  (And for ramblings on all things food, I'm on a roll over at Frugal Foodie this week!)

Ode to the 'Hood

We're coming up on 10 months with the Little Miss at home in our lives.  In some ways, I can't remember when it began, and in other ways, I feel like I'm still begging forgiveness and grace for my "new mommy-ness."

{For example, please forgive the measly handful of posts I've offered up this past year, bloggie friends!}

New mommy-ness in adoption world is quite strange--in many ways, I should have a 9-turning-10-month-old.  Instead, I feel like I'm tricked into believing I've been doing this a lot longer than I really have...!

Grace, grace, grace.  It is a wonderful thing.

Even though we are several months from "a year" of parenting, next week marks the first day we met our beautiful little then-baby.  And something about Mother's Day has me feeling an annual-ness about this point in time.

I have struggled with Mother's Day in the past...
For some reason, I thought I had blogged a ton about it.  But lo and behold, this is the only blurb in part of a post in which I mention any type of issue with the holiday.

I was never quite sure "when" to celebrate Mother's Day.  We were in-process for several years, and I likened it be being pregnant...but...it was not the same.  Last year, I had "a child," but I still hadn't met her yet, and I certainly wasn't caring for her full-time.  I so badly wanted to celebrate.  (Do I raise my hand in worship service for "who is the newest mother??")

 And as is true in adoption-world, my Mother's Day will always be shared with other women on the other side of the world.  I did not become a mother on my own--it was another woman who birthed the child I now raise.  My daughter was someone else's daughter first.  And there were precious women who selflessly filled in the gap when Rhet needed food, clothing, shelter, and arms to hold her.  I recognize all of those women as mothers in Rhet's life--women who nurtured and cared for her before I could.

I do not feel threatened by this.  I feel humbled.  You are kidding yourself if you think you've done this whole motherhood thing on your own, no matter who you are or how you became a mom.

In the spirit of my annual-ish pondering over the past year (and in light of the most recent holiday), this post is an ode to Motherhood.

Motherhood, you have kicked my butt.
I thought you would come naturally.  And in many ways, you have.  But every day, you push me to my limit so that I have to cry "mercy" and run to the Holy Spirit for help.  (That's not such a bad thing.)

Motherhood, you may not have stretched out my belly, but you have stretched out my heart.
My capacity to love (my family, others, unselfishly) is growing, growing, growing.

Motherhood, you have hidden me under your wings this year.
I feel like I am just now emerging from this transition, like that 10-month-old I "should" have, who would be standing up on wobbly feet.  I am that wobby-feet-kid-mom.  I feel ready to try new things again...like having a social life...pursuing hobbies...being a good friend...ok, maybe just being A friend... ;)

I have a lot of mom-guilt that this has been such a big transition for me.  I wish I was cooler and way more breezy and go-with-the-flowish and oh, it was nothing-y.  But this was a big life-change.  A big budget-change.  A big marriage-change.  A big time management-change.  Motherhood, you are a guilt-magnet, but I know you do not intend to be so.  You are just trying to teach me that I'm not all that.  Which is okay.

Motherhood, I love you.  You bring little hands holding my bigger hands.  You bring little squeezes around my neck and little lips smooching my cheeks.  You bring giggles and gorgeous smiles for sometimes no reason at all.  Motherhood, sometimes you irritate the crap out of me.  You bring little elbows and knees out of nowhere, jabbing me in the most vulnerable places.  You bring tantrums and time outs.  You bring stains on every single piece of clothing ever to be worn by anyone.  I love you and I dislike you, Motherhood, but mostly I love you.

But you are not my idol.  You are part of me, Motherhood, but you are not all of me.  But you are gracious like that.  You let me be bigger and wider and reach farther than you--you want me to grow beyond you.

Happy Mother's Day to all of you who are part of the 'Hood.
And Happy Mother's Day to all of you who carry a mother's heart in one way or another--you may not get your maple donut with bacon crumbled on top or your handwritten card, but you deserve a thousand thank you's for the ways you bless God's children.

And Now You Know...

We have some sweet Memphis friends who are in Ethiopia this week to bring home their new daughter, AKA Rhet's new bestie.  My feelings about our life eight months ago have been flooding my heart as I read their emails from Addis Ababa.

I love the way the three of us became a family, but something unique about adopting our first child internationally is that I am mostly incapable of separating our adoption experiences from my parenting experiences.  For example, becoming a mother changed my life.  But so did my time in Ethiopia.  Diving head-first into the world of a 16-month-old was quite jarring, but I'm guessing birthing a baby and diving head-first into infantdom is not smooth sailing either...  {wink, wink}  The transition of teaching our daughter to trust us, of proving ourselves to her as faithful and good, was both precious and challenging altogether.  Is it different than the patience required of a constantly crying newborn?  I have no way of knowing...

I guess that's the way everyone's life is.  You just know what you know.

On the subject of adoption, here's what I know that you can now know too...

1. Did you know that the phrase "put up for adoption" came from the orphan train days when children were actually put up on auction blocks to be sold into families?  Kind of a negative connotation.  A more appropriate phrase is that the parent "made an adoption plan."  Or the child was "placed for adoption."

2. While we're on the etiquette of language, please, please, PLEASE consider adopted children "our own" children.  I know what you mean when you ask if I have or will have children "of my own."  But the phrase implies that Rhet is not my child.  If you're extra defensive, you might even want to argue that Rhet is NOT "my" child.  But see, that is where you are wrong.  She is not my biological child.  But she is MY child.  A judge in Ethiopia looked me in the eye in May of 2011, making sure I knew what she said could not be reversed, and then she told us, "Congratulations.  She is YOURS."  While I try to extend as much grace as possible when the phrase is used (after all, you only know what you know, right?), a better way to phrase what you mean would be "biological child" or "giving birth."  As in: "Do you have any children through birth/biological children?"  (And by the way, "Do you plan to have biological children in the future?" is a very personal question that is probably not your business, unless you are my dear friend.)

On a similar note, it is not necessary to distinguish between adopted and biological members of the family when you are discussing or introducing them.  ("This is their adopted daughter, Rhet.")  First of all, I'm pretty sure most people know Rhet is adopted when they see her with us.  (I do not tan well.  Ha.)  And more importantly, it doesn't matter.  Our adopted child is just...our child.

3. When we first arrived home with Rhet at the end of the summer, these are the things I craved:
- An encouraging voicemail, email, or card without expectation of a response
- Food in any form with a quick hello and exit
- Grace and understanding

My time in Ethiopia was adventurously tough.  It was difficult to become a mother in a third-world country without anything familiar and without simple luxuries.  However, bringing Rhet to the US was adventurously tough for HER.  She was still becoming our daughter in a brand new country without anything familiar to HER and without the smells, sights, and sounds she was used to.  The time zone was all wonky.  The weather was unbearably hot (especially when we came from the "winter" season in Addis).  Everyone looked at her as if they'd known her for months (because they had), but she didn't know a soul except for us.  And she didn't really even know us very well--she was still trying to discern in her little 17-month brain if she even liked us and found us trust-worthy.

She was completely terrified of our dogs, whom she met after her first weekend at home with us.  (They had been at the vet, and we brought them home on Monday--unfortunately, the jet-lag and schedules did not match up and Nick brought the dogs home while Rhet was taking a forever-long nap.  Neither party knew the other existed in the very house in which they lay.  Until we woke Rhet up for dinner and she was dismayed to learn that there were two huge animals in her living room.  And they were dismayed to learn they had been demoted in family status!)

Because of her fear of our big sweet dog-children and overwhelming feelings due to transitioning into a new culture and family in general, Rhet required that we hold her in our arms for the first four weeks or so.  (I would now like to dedicate the feeling in my arms to the Ergo company for making such a life-saving baby carrier!)  I told close friends that I likened my life to joining a very expensive gym--every morning I would wake up, summon up my energy and courage and say "Let's do this," and I would work out harder than I ever had before.  At the end of the day, I fell into bed (it took me at least two months to regain the ability to stay awake past 9pm), with positive feelings of accomplishment, thinking I had just had the best/worst workout ever.

After about six months, I could finally cook dinner in the kitchen while Rhet watched a television show in the room next to me, running in every few minutes or so to check on me.  We've just hit seven months since we've come home with Rhet, and she is stilling learning to feel comfortable playing on her own or being in a different room.  I threw a birthday party for a two-year-old last week when it felt like I had an 8-month-old!

I have no idea which of my experiences in those first months were universal to all new mothers and which were unique to adoption.  All I know is that it was/has been an incredibly sweet and challenging time.  My communication with friends has been pretty much non-existant as I've hunkered down and devoted most of my time and energy to this transition, which has caused occasional guilt and loneliness.

I say all of this to say: encouragement, grace, and understanding are the sweetest gifts I've received!  And they are the sweetest gifts you can give to a new adoptive mom...probably any new mom?

4. You can not adopt on accident.  It's true.  And therefore, there is a lot (a LOT) of preparation and effort that goes into the adoption process.  Some of that includes education and research.  So when you hear some hair-brained idea from me about how we are choosing to parent our child, please do not treat us like crazy people.

For example: We asked that friends and extended family not hold Rhet, comfort her, feed her, or meet any basic need of hers for several months after we returned home with her.  I know, I know.  It just sounds WEIRD.  But there was a reason.  When a child has been with many other children in an orphanage, receiving care from many nannies, there are two things that have undoubtedly occured:

(1) That child at some point in time (and most likely many points in time) needed something.  Food, drink, a diaper change, affection, consoling, etc.  And that child either had to wait to have that need met (until after other children were attended to or until she was noticed) or it was never met at all.  The child learned that she could not trust people to meet her needs.

(2) When a child had a birth parent and then experienced loss of that birth parent, and then had multiple adults caring for her, she learned that caregivers change and go away.

In order to establish in Rhet's tiny toddler mind that we were her new parents...that we were the people she would look to to meet her needs and that we could be trusted to stick around forever...it was necessary for us to prove ourselves.  We had to show her, "Look, Mommy & Daddy fed you this morning, this afternoon, and this evening.  And we will do it again tomorrow and the day after that.  When you cried, we picked you up and soothed your hurting heart.  When you needed clothes or a diaper change, we helped you as quickly as we could.  We love you and we are not going anywhere."  The only way to show her that was to put ourselves in a position to be "her people."  So see?  There is a good reason for those weird requests and parenting styles.  It is good for our child, even if it was inconvenient for us or offensive/strange to those around us.

(Just the other day, I politely asked a well-meaning stranger at the playground to let me be the one to guide my child back and forth from the slides and up the stairs--I explained that I had adopted her and was still trying to teach her to come to me for help.  She drew her hand away from Rhet as if I had just accused her of child abuse.  I felt bad, but I also saw the way Rhet was looking at her as if she was a third grandparent.  And how else can I teach my child who a stranger is?)

I am a people-pleaser, and therefore it pains me to inconvenience others or worse, to offend them.  So in turn, any support and encouragement I've received about the special pains we take to do the best thing for our child has gone a LONG way.

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I can't wait to share the joy of our friends' daughter's homecoming at the end of this week.  Even though their experiences will be different, I do know that they will be exhausted, overjoyed, relieved, overwhelmed, and ready to settle into their new normal.  I am ready to support them as best as I know how.

And now that you know what you know, you can support your favorite adoptive families too.  :)

Happy Face Day!

A little over a year ago, we saw the face of this cutie-pie:

On January 13th of this year, we decided to start a new family tradition: Face Day. We will celebrate the day we saw a picture of our child(ren) for the first time, be it referral pictures or ultrasound pics.

Face Day was celebrated with face cupcakes (glazed donut cupcakes!)...

...and a special gift that will be "refreshed" each year on Face Day!

Each number also coordinates with past 12 months of pictures we have of sweet Rhet, starting with Face Day.

I'm such a sucker for traditions and celebrations. They don't have to be costly or extravagant to be special!

Like it's Nineteen-Ninety-Nine

It was (past) time for a change.  I apologize to all of you who were diehard fans of the vintage title.  "Your Mom's Blog" will be changing names, but the same ole' substance is sticking around so do not despair.  

And just to recap for my own dignity's sake: Your Mom's Blog was created circa 2005 when I simultaneously finished my Master's Degree AND learned from a family friend that my mother had been secretly blogging under an anonymous name.  I wanted to write about my new experiences in the "real world" while also feeling a bit competitively inspired by my mother to try out the new-fangled blog thing.  "Your mom..." was already an outdated phrase, I know, but now it's just prehistoric.  (The Artist Who Was Formerly Known As Prince but is now just Prince reminded me that partying is different than blogging.  And while I'm fairly extroverted and love a celebration, I'm not really a party girl anyways.  And 1999 was kind of over-hyped in my personal life history.  Sad, but true.)

I love the new blog name because it has about 1999 meanings to me.  So pick the one you love and keep reading.

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Life in the last three months has been:

An adventure

Full of change

Flexible

But structured

On a learning curve

Fun

Even super fun

But challenging

And exhausting

(But in a good way...like a ridiculous workout)

I am looking forward to writing about my favorite things about Ethiopia (and adoption) soon--I've been collecting a mental list.  In the meantime, I'm going to let you in on a little secret: I'm kind of a drama queen.  (HA.)  And I feel a bit of guilt over dramatically recounting the suffering and trauma regarding the huge life change we underwent over the last two+ years without giving you perspective that includes gratitude & grace.  I was muddling through it all and pouring my life out in words.  And now that I'm seeing redemption, I need to paint another layer on the picture.  

For now, I will share that after a lot of reflection, I think the hardest part of my tough trip to Ethiopia was the fact that I became a (first-time) mother of a toddler there.  (Duh.)  

In some ways (in most ways?), I think it would have been just as difficult & overwhelming anywhere with any age child.  The first few weeks of motherhood are pure bootcamp.  You are learning to do something that requires so much more of you than was ever required before.   

In other ways, to go to an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people without your own "things" and food and comforts and support systems...and sometimes without "necessities" like power and water...this made my bootcamp particularly challenging.

When we returned home to Memphis, I entered a honeymoon-like-stage in my time with Rhet.  Everything seemed so much EASIER.  I could go places.  In my car.  (And with Rhet in a safe carseat.)  I could cook meals for both of us to eat.  I could sleep in my own bed.  (Rhet could sleep in HER own bed!)  I could sit on my own fully-flushing toilet.  I could drink water from and brush my teeth under the tap.  I had my full supply of clothes, diapers, cups, plates, utensils, bibs...okay, you get the picture....  It was AMAZING and it balanced the tough parts of our transition home.

It was kind of awesome how the hard part would have been hard anyways, but I dealt with it in such a challenging way that the rest of the hard part seemed easy.  Did you catch that?  :)

The temperature was still at 100+ degrees, but I didn't care because I'd missed half the summer.  Rhet was terrified of our dogs and required us to hold her every second we were at home for several weeks straight, but at least it was OUR home with OUR stuff.  It took several weeks to get back to sleeping through the night, but at least those first nights with interrupted sleep were in our own bed with our baby monitor to watch and listen for Rhet.  

And there were the joys of the firsts.  First taste of ice cream.  (Blech, she hated it.)  First cupcake.  (Blech, she hated it.)  First fresh peach from the farmers' market.  (Blech, she hated it.)  Okay, well maybe it was more like the joys of the fourths & fifths.  Because there WAS a first time that she did like ice cream.  And cupcakes.  And peaches.  And watermelon--oh, her love for watermelon was insatiable.  To see her clap her hands for joy with her twinkling eyes glued to that slice of watermelon.  Well, it was just plain fun.  

 So much has morphed and changed that I am constantly reminding myself we've just been home three months.  There is a LOT that I'm still trying to get the hang of.  And it is physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually challenging.  But I mostly feel overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude for this sweet time in life.  There is a line in a JJ Heller song that I am experiencing and pray the same for you, friends:  "May you see redemption on this side of heaven..."