You're a Good, Good Father

Whew!  What a whirlwind these last few months have been!  We've had birthdays, 1 year gotcha anniversary, surgery, and now we can add pregnancy to the list!  While we wanted to share our good news immediately, I knew I didn't want people fussing over me during Little Man's surgery, so we decided to keep it to ourselves for a while.  His surgery went as expected and he has healed up nicely.  We hope to begin to see significant improvement in Little Man's weight in the coming months.

While I typically use this blog to write out the things God is teaching us through life as adoptive parents, it seems that He has new lessons for us to learn and it feels appropriate to share some of that here. 

When we began talking and praying about growing our family several months ago, we agreed that while we would love to have a new baby to love on, we were content (and plenty busy!) with the two He had already given to us.  Another child would simply be an added joy to our family, so we prayed sincerely that God would only allow what He saw best.  We were thrilled when we saw that He indeed gave us the desire of our hearts and a new little was coming our way. 

The pregnancy progressed as well as can be expected.  There was more morning sickness and exhaustion than I experienced with Baby Girl, but I counted it as a blessing for the reminder of the little life growing inside of me, because let's be honest, when this is child #3, you're doing good to remember at some point during the day that you're pregnant while being distracted by the other two kids!  Not at all like the constant awareness of a first child.  ;) 

We told the kids, friends, and family our good news at Baby Girl's birthday party.  I was happy that we had managed to keep the secret so well, judging by the complete shock of everyone there!  Unfortunately, the next night, joy quickly turned to fear. 

As I pulled onto the street driving to the ER that night, a familiar song came onto the radio.  - -
When I was a young teenager, I started having frequent and severe migraines behind my eye.  To rule out more serious problems, my doctor scheduled an MRI.  I was extremely nervous as the test started, and you have to remain completely still-  impossible to do when you are trembling from nerves (and cold!  Why is it so cold in there?!)  They had given me headphones, and just as the test started a song by MercyMe came on:

"Word of God speak
Would You pour down like rain
Washing my eyes to see
Your majesty

To be still and know
That You're in this place
Please let me stay and rest
In Your holiness
Word of God speak"

The trembling stopped and I was able to be still for the rest of the MRI.  I should not have been surprised that God would use that same song on this night to calm my fear, knowing it would instantly remind me of His faithfulness and nearness over all of these years.  I drove the rest of the way in complete peace, knowing that regardless of what happened, He will never leave my side.  A visit to the ER and a doctor's appointment the next day showed that our little baby was strong and healthy, but that the placenta had started to tear away and I was bleeding between the placenta and wall of the uterus. 

A week and a half of bed rest has proved to at least stop the tear from progressing, but it is still there.  The big, bold words "Threatened Pregnancy" still at the top of my chart.  For now, I am still on bed rest, hoping the tear will heal itself.  There are a host of risks related to this, most notably, death of the baby and hemorrhaging for me, not an easy thing to think about when I'm already so far along- the baby the size of my palm.  Each time I feel the pain start again or see the stark reminder of how quickly things could change, I have to throw myself into the arms of this Father.  He loves me.  He loves my family.  And He loves this baby.  Baby Girl and Little Man have memorized Psalm 139:14 "I am fearfully and wonderfully made."  They recite it sometimes throughout the day, a reminder to their little hearts that God has always known them-- and a loud reminder to me that this baby is also formed under the fingerprints of this same God.

After my appointment with my OB where she told me what was happening, I drove home praying that He would remind me that He is GOOD.  I know that He may choose to take this child from my womb.  But I know that even in the darkest days, in the deepest grief, He is good.  He hasn't changed.  He never will.  There is no way I could read this blog, the story of our lives, and come to any other conclusion. 

He reminded me of that same chapter Baby Girl and Little Man love to quote:
¹³ For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
¹⁴ I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.
¹⁵ My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
¹⁶ Your eyes saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be.
¹⁷ How precious to me are your thoughts, God!

I smiled at the reminder that only He can knit together in the secret place.  He knows the number of days this baby will kick and wriggle, and I will rejoice over every single one.  Even with the reminder of Elohim the strong Creator God, I asked again that He would remind me that no matter what, He is good.  For surely, if this baby was ripped from me before ever being cradled in my arms, I would be tempted to doubt His goodness.

And literally that moment another song came on the radio.  Only I didn't know this one.  Go ahead and listen to what I heard (or what I think is a better version of it anyway):  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NjEYtaD-Ywg

I sobbed for the rest of the drive.  Not for fear, but at the overwhelming reality of His nearness.  His listening to my desperate pleas.  His love.  His goodness. 

No Matter What

How is it already the end of September?!  The individual days of the past few months have dragged, but the weeks and months have flown by so quickly, I can barely keep track of what day it is.  I am hopeful that the weather will change soon!

Little Man's birthday has come and gone.  He was thrilled and confused at just how much celebration there was in honor of his life.  He could not believe the stack of presents that his friends brought were just for him.  It was great to see him so happy and surrounded by people that have loved him almost as long as we have.

A few days later, Little Man received his first wheelchair.  Words cannot express how much that chair has changed his life.  He has been able to be almost completely independent for the first time in his entire life.  His face beamed for the whole first week he had it.  It also offered him dignity that he has not had up until now.  Instead of scooting around at people's feet, he is now eye-level with his peers and able to go where he pleases.  We are incredibly thankful that he is finally strong enough to be able to have a wheelchair that he can maneuver on his own and the difference it has made for him.

Those are some of the things we have been up to since I posted last.  Unfortunately, Little Man's weight has not improved, and so we are in a position that having a feeding tube surgically placed is our only option at this point.  Seeing the diagnosis "failure to thrive"  has been very difficult for me.  I saw it frequently on patient charts in nursing school, but now having tried our absolute best for the past year to get him to gain weight, and know that we have still failed in that mission is incredibly disheartening.  In many ways, it has been a very silent struggle in our home.

While Little Man looks very "normal" from the outside, only those who are intimately involved in our lives really know the whole story.  The emotional scars of adoption and all of the trauma associated with the past manifest themselves in different ways in different children.  For Little Man, a part of his daily life is extreme anxiety.  It is not something an average person would recognize.  In fact, most adoption specialists say that it is not even recognizable to people who frequently interact with adopted kids- it takes a trained eye or someone who lives with the child.  We are forever thankful for the close friends and family who have rallied around us in the past year and have been a source of refuge for us as we learn to navigate these tumultuous waters, for while they don't always see firsthand the daily effects, they do believe our crazy stories and actively seek to support and comfort us.  In our eyes, they are angels in human flesh.

While anxiety is not the only daily hurdle we tackle, we feel that it is best to limit our discussions about our struggles with a select few in order to protect Little Man's dignity.  I think most parents would agree that posting things about their child that seem cute or even naughty for the world to see is not in the child's best future interest.  (Think how it would feel to know there are potty training pictures of yourself floating around on the internet, or stories written about every naughty thing you did as a child!  Yikes!)  This is true for Little Man, except at an even more extreme level.  Our struggles as parents are not ours to broadcast because they are not just our struggles- they are his too.  Our hope is that as an adult, Little Man will be able to read these stories and know that we told the truth of our lives, while maintaining his privacy and dignity.

Anxiety is certainly not the only thing we are navigating on a daily basis, but possibly the easiest way to combine all of the issues into an easily recognizable word.  I joked with my parents last night that I had NO idea what being a special needs parent actually meant a year ago.  I remember thinking when Baby Girl was an infant that her severe acid reflux and insanely fast teething (seriously- 11 teeth by her first birthday!) was a difficult hurdle- now I laugh at that person I was.  I had no idea just how complicated it is to juggle multiple doctor appointments every single week, much less keeping all of those different therapists, doctors, and specialists on the same page.  God has truly blessed us with a core group of friends that have helped us keep our sanity as we were thrown into this crazy world of special needs adoption!  It is an amazing view when we step back and survey our life around us.  I believe we have truly experienced what Christ wanted for His body- a group of people who love each other more than themselves and are willing to lay down their own lives and comfort to support each other.  On the days that I am too tired and emotionally exhausted to even pray for our own situation, I know there are people who are storming the Throne Room on our behalf.  It is a very humbling experience. 

I don't say all of those things to say that life is all doom and gloom.  The opposite is quite true!  There are pizza picnics and movie nights in the living room, play time with friends, weekly special Saturday breakfasts as a family, trips to visit family, ballet class, Sunday night dinners with special friends, and all sorts of fun adventures each week.  (I had to think really hard to be able to list some that don't revolve around food!  Ha!  If our family is involved, it is likely that there is good food there too!)  While special needs certainly affect every single aspect of our lives, it simply adds extra steps to each activity, it does not in any way remove the joy of life.   Even now knowing that Little Man's needs are far more extensive than anyone could have predicted a year and a half ago, we'd still fight to bring him home all the same if we had to do it again.  We appreciate the good days so much more now that we have trekked through the low valleys!

This week will present new challenges for our family as Little Man will be undergoing surgery to have a feeding tube placed in his stomach on Thursday.  We are hoping the surgeon will also be able to do the planned procedure that will help prevent Little Man from suffering from reflux and intentional vomiting.  Unfortunately, all of the trauma of his past causes him to refuse many meals, has prevented him from eating an acceptable amount when he does eat, and even when he does, he often has so much anxiety that he vomits it all up.  This has become an insurmountable problem because he was already so severely underweight when we picked him up from the orphanage.  In his year home, despite our very best efforts, we have only been able to get him to gain 2 pounds.  At just over 4 years old, he weighs only 21 pounds.  We have tried everything else imaginable, and now all of our medical specialists agree that this is our only option.  This feeding tube will allow us to feed him throughout the day, in addition to what he will consume orally, as well as hook him up to a pump at night so that he also gets those extra calories when he would otherwise just be sleeping.  If the procedures go as planned, he will also no longer be able to throw up all of these desperately important calories. 

We appreciate your specific prayers that the surgery will go as planned and that all of his extra risk factors will not be an issue.  He is especially at risk for his hydrocephaly shunt becoming infected (since the end of his shunt is in his abdomen, if any of his stomach acid leaks into his abdomen, it can travel up the shunt towards his brain- which obviously is not a good thing).  Please also pray for his heart to be calm and to trust that we will be there to love him through all of this.  It will be extremely difficult for him to fall asleep and then wake up with extra tubes and wires all over him.  We are hoping for the best, but definitely expecting and bracing for the storm we feel is coming this week.

In addition to these feeding issues, we believe his tethered cord is causing the side effects to progress rapidly.  His left leg has started to pull up significantly.  We can't even get close to straightening it anymore.  Because of that, we are almost 100% sure that Little Man will also undergo serious spinal surgery and scoliosis surgery sometime before Christmas.  We need this feeding tube to work and go smoothly so that he will be strong enough to heal from spine surgery in the coming weeks.

While we were drawn closer to the Father during the long, agonizing adoption process, it has been His faithfulness since we have been home that continues amazes us.  He has continued to provide the strength, friendships, and respite care (because let's be honest, being a stay-at-home mom is hard enough without adding 100 other difficulties to it- by the end of the week, I'm beyond ready for a break from small children!).  I told the Hubs just a few days ago, that I am amazed at the things I have desired for my life have changed so drastically over the years of getting to know Him better.  Things that seemed important, now seem outrageously frivolous.  But still there have been things that He asked me to release in order to follow the plan He had planned for me- something that was painful at times.  An example being nursing school.  I thought He was crazy for telling me to go to nursing school, but it turns out that I LOVED nursing, even though I always thought in the back of my mind that I'd end up being a teacher.  When I laid down the opportunity to be a nurse to stay at home with Baby Girl, I thought I would never get the fulfillment of an "occupation" like I had always planned.  But He knew that while I was training to be a RN, in a small town on the other side of the world, a little boy would be conceived that would need a nurse for a mommy- and one that didn't work at a job in order to take care of his daily needs at home.  In the past month, I have marveled that in the small flicker of a dream I once had as a little girl, He has given me the opportunity to be a teacher to the pupils I love more than I could ever love any other student- my own children.  What a FAITHFUL God He is!  It has been a joy to see that in delighting in Him, He sometimes changes the desires of our heart to match His own, but sometimes, He also hands us our dreams in His own timing, and in ways that are far better than we ever could have imagined.

Because I have seen His goodness, I know that no matter what this week brings, He will continue to be faithful. He will wheel into the operating room with a sleeping little boy that He loves enough to die for.  He will sit on His holy throne regardless of what fits are thrown by a terrified little boy in the recovery room.  He will fold His wings over an exhausted mama sleeping on a hospital couch, who is likely sobbing over her first night spent away from her Baby Girl.  He will provide stamina for a daddy learning to use a feeding tube for the first time.  And He will wrap His arms around a little sister who will be spending more time away from her parents than she ever has before. 

No matter what, He will be faithful and He will never leave. 

Psalm 139

For the director of music. Of David. A psalm.

¹ You have searched me, Lord,
    and you know me.
² You know when I sit and when I rise;
    you perceive my thoughts from afar.
³ You discern my going out and my lying down;
    you are familiar with all my ways.
⁴ Before a word is on my tongue
    you, Lord, know it completely.
⁵ You hem me in behind and before,
    and you lay your hand upon me.
⁶ Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
    too lofty for me to attain.

⁷ Where can I go from your Spirit?
    Where can I flee from your presence?
⁸ If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
    if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
⁹ If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
    if I settle on the far side of the sea,
¹⁰ even there your hand will guide me,
    your right hand will hold me fast.
¹¹ If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
    and the light become night around me,”
¹² even the darkness will not be dark to you;
    the night will shine like the day,
    for darkness is as light to you.

¹³ For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
¹⁴ I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.
¹⁵ My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
¹⁶ Your eyes saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be.
¹⁷ How precious to me are your thoughts, God!
    How vast is the sum of them!
¹⁸ Were I to count them,
    they would outnumber the grains of sand—
    when I awake, I am still with you.

¹⁹ If only you, God, would slay the wicked!
    Away from me, you who are bloodthirsty!
²⁰ They speak of you with evil intent;
    your adversaries misuse your name.
²¹ Do I not hate those who hate you, Lord,
    and abhor those who are in rebellion against you?
²² I have nothing but hatred for them;
    I count them my enemies.
²³ Search me, God, and know my heart;
    test me and know my anxious thoughts.
²⁴ See if there is any offensive way in me,
    and lead me in the way everlasting.

Make It Count

We are just a couple of weeks away from our one year celebration of GOTCHA Day.  Can you believe it?  As I've said before, it is hard to believe it has been a whole year already, but it is also hard to believe he hasn't been here all along.  I am hoping that in the next few weeks, my dear husband will write a post from his perspective.  :)

We are also quickly approaching his birthday!  I am quite excited to be able to finally celebrate his birthday at home.  His 2nd birthday was the day we asked to have his adoption file from our agency (we found out later that was his birthday).  His 3rd birthday was the day after we picked him up from the orphanage.  He was extremely overwhelmed, but he did eat a piece of chocolate cake and wear a birthday hat.  We were thrilled to have him in our arms that year.  Now, we get to have an actual party to celebrate his life, this precious year we have spent together, and look forward to what God will do in the coming year.   I have been asking him what he wants for his birthday, and I am always amused with his answer: pizza, macaroni, and cake!  I am both amazed and proud that when I ask what he wants for a gift, he simply starts naming friends and family he wants to share his cake with. 
We are very hopeful that Little Man will also make tremendous progress participating as Baby Girl begins homeschooling this year.  He is still learning shapes, colors, and letters, so he isn't quite ready for worksheets, but I know he will learn a lot by being in the room while Baby Girl starts her first year of preschool.  The hope is that Little Man will learn these fundamentals as well as work on motor skills so he will be able to hold a pencil and begin school next year.  He is very excited to start on the coloring pages and projects I have shown him that I have ready just for him. 

It has been a busy two weeks as the Hubs has recently returned from his trip to Little Man's first country.  He greatly enjoyed his time there and made some wonderful friendships.  While Hubby was overseas, Little Man had a check up at a children's hospital that works specifically with children who have certain disabilities.  While they were SUPER impressed with his walking, they did have some disappointing news for us.  It appears that Little Man's spine has curved about 10 more degrees since our last visit around February.  Before, his curve was around 40 degrees, so it only required bracing at night, but now that it is over 50 degrees, he must wear his back brace all the time and will also likely require surgery.  Because his scoliosis has progressed so suddenly, they believe his spinal cord has tethered-forcing his spine to curve, which also requires surgery.  Unfortunately, since his hydrocephaly shunt has metal in it, we do not feel a MRI is a safe option, so we will be unable to determine if his cord has tethered until the surgeon begins the surgery to correct the scoliosis. 

So that is not news that we wanted to hear, and was honestly a surprise, even though we know with his spina bifida, it is not uncommon.  In addition to those things, he has also not gained any weight.  We are praying about whether to pursue further tests, or to submit to a surgery to have a feeding tube placed.  If we go for a feeding tube, we will need to have that surgery done before the surgery on his spine so that he will be able to have that nutrition while recovering from surgery. 

That is a lot of information for us to process, and many small, daily details and choices we are navigating that I won't bore you with here. 

~

I don't think it is a surprise to anyone who knows us well that the heartbeat of our marriage, from the very beginning, has been for the nations.  This past year has left us conflicted and a little confused at the Father's plan for our lives as Little Man's medical needs have become more apparent.  We wholeheartedly believe that God led us specifically to Little Man, while we also believe He has a specific plan for us in missions.  Right now, it is a little difficult to see how those two things will work together, as Little Man requires more and more medical intervention here at home, while our hearts long to be in his first country.  I told the Hubs when he came home, that while it was very difficult to get the news of Little Man's impending surgeries while he was so far away, I believe God orchestrated it that way.  I know had I not called him to tell him the news from the doctors, Hubby would have come home ready to sell the house and get back on a plane.  I believe God was protecting his heart so that when he came home, he would already knew we'd have to stay here for at least some time longer. 

During the adoption, long after we had committed to and met Little Man, we had hoped that God would miraculously heal Little Man, and we could in turn, all return to Eastern Europe to tell others of His glory.  But as the story unfolds, it seems that is not the Father's plan after all.  BUT, He has been faithful to continue to cover the four of us with His wings as we walk down this unknown path.  Just a week before Hubby left for Eastern Europe, a precious couple who have given up everything to follow Jesus blessed us by coming over for dinner one night.  We talked of God's work among the nations, our desires, and the medical complications hindering us from leaving.  (At that point, we had no idea we were facing surgeries.)  Our friend gently patted the table and said, "His plan may not make sense right now, but ten years from now, you will look back and say, 'Oh, I see what You were doing, Father.'  And you will be amazed."  I have replayed that in my head many times since that dinner.  I am so thankful for the people God puts in our lives and the encouragement they bring.  Even while overseas, Hubby recounts telling the team the news about Little Man and the tears and prayers that were offered on his behalf.  A recent call from those new friends left him humbled as they continued to pray over Little Man, on the other side of the world.

I have learned many, many things in the past few years; things that have been painful to learn at times.  Most of them seem so simple, it is easy to nod, whisper "Amen" and scroll along.  But, time has taught me that they are not so simple that it takes away from how profound these lessons are. 


The Father is good.  He is so, so good to His children. 

God can be trusted.  I still struggle with this, but as I told the Hubs, all I have to do is re-read some of the posts on this blog, and it all comes flooding back.  I can trust Him.

Adonai is faithful.  Again, I am thankful for the passing of time with the Father.  We have marked our trail well, so there is no doubt where we have come from and Who led us to this point. 

Elohim is strong.  There have been days in this journey that it has been too much to even put one foot in front of the other.  Those are the days the Shepherd lifts me up, like a little lamb who continues to run astray, and carries me on the strength of His broad shoulders. 

The I AM is eternal.  My life is but a vapor.  But He is already sitting at the table ten years from now, waiting to show me how He is orchestrating these years.  And these days of doctor appointments and planning, are such very insignificant strokes in the magnificent masterpiece He is painting over all generations. 


So as we take a deep breath and begin walking into these next few months and years, we are reminded that we only get so many trips around the sun.  We were extremely humbled at the final whispers from the funeral of a friend's husband, "Make it count.  Make it count."

Make.  It.  Count.

Learning to Laugh

One year ago today, Little Man's case was brought before a judge on the other side of the world, and he was legally declared our son.  I think back to this time last year and I can remember the overwhelming flood of emotions- the relief that he was finally ours and no power on earth could take him away from us, and the conflicting realization that while he was ours, we were separated by an entire ocean.  We then began yet another season of waiting (of unknown duration) as we anticipated being told we could return to Little Man and collect him from the orphanage.  That wait was brutal, and I would like to never experience it again.

It has been quite some time since I have dedicated a blog post to an update on Little Man's medical progress, so I figured today was a good day to do that.  Many have asked how he is doing, but since that simple question has so many facets, I normally respond with, "He is doing great!"

I have mentioned before just how much life changes after adoption, but goodness, I think life has changed just as much with simply adding a child with special needs to the family.  Those who have sweet kiddos with complicated needs will certainly agree with me.  Our weeks are FULL with medical appointments and therapy, not to mention the day to day activities that take longer because of extra complications (like getting in and out of a chair, or not being able to open doors, or the sensory overload that causes you to spiral into distress for several days, etc).  It affects every single aspect of daily life.

In order to keep track of all of his specialists and procedures, I've had to put together a binder.  It has already come in handy several times having all of his information together as we bounce from one appointment to another.

Little Man has made tremendous progress with physical therapy.  He is able to walk independently with his walker and braces, although it take a tremendous amount of energy and concentration.  Because his braces are from his toes to his armpits, it is not possible for him to wear them throughout the day since he can't really sit or crawl in them.  So we limit using those to specific times that we practice walking with him.  Eventually, as he gains more control and strength, those braces will go lower on his torso and hips so that he will be able to wear them throughout the day and walk as he pleases.

We have also started the paperwork to get him a wheelchair.  I was amazed at how custom it will be made for his specific needs.  Since his spine is curved so significantly, there will be extra support to help him stay upright in the chair, as well as extra pieces to prevent him from slipping down out of the seat.  When he tested the model, he learned how to wheel himself around in a matter of seconds (literally!), so we are VERY excited to get his finished so that he will have more independence.

He also has ankle braces called AFOs that he wears during the day, and knee immobilizers (a foam brace that is strapped from the groin to his ankles to keep his knees in a straighter position) and a back brace that he wears at night.

Just finding room to store all of that equipment is sometimes a challenge!  :)

We have struggled significantly to get him to gain weight.  Most kids gain weight pretty quickly after coming home, but Little Man is still only 1 or 2 pounds heavier than when we got him.  At almost 4 years old, 21 pounds just isn't really cutting it anymore.  We are working very hard to make each bite count while also prayerfully considering a feeding tube.  We hope to avoid the feeding tube at all cost as it is a surgery to insert a tube into his stomach, which will partially remain on the outside of his abdomen.  Throughout the day and night, we would be able to pour high-calorie liquid directly into it to help him gain more weight.  The serious concern is that he would pull it out, which would cause a lot of damage.  We would greatly appreciate your prayers for Little Man to EAT without ceasing and that each calorie would add to his weight.

In addition to those things that we have been learning to balance throughout the year, several of Little Man's doctors believe he has started having partial seizures.  At this point, they aren't exactly dangerous, but rather something that we are aware of and monitoring closely.   Another section in our medical binder.

Several months ago, Little Man chipped his front tooth almost all the way down to the nerve.  It was not only very painful, but because of his sensory issues, getting it repaired was quite traumatic.  As I laid across him to help hold his arms and legs down, I had to choke back the tears.  "Your life has been SO unfair.  God, this is NOT fair.  Why do You allow this?" I thought and prayed.  There is nothing that is easy for Little Man.  It seems that almost each week brings some kind of new challenge.  Many people meet Little Man and remark, "You are a very lucky little boy, do you know that?"  I try to respond politely, but in my heart I know "the hand he has been dealt" and what a fighter he is.  There is more strength and determination in his little finger than in most adults, I think.   He has been challenged in literally every aspect of life- physically, mentally, emotionally, relationally.  He has known the life of an orphan and the stress of being taken from the only home he ever knew to a completely new country.

I am amazed at the little boy God has given us.  There are days that our new life is all so overwhelming that I become easily frustrated, but even so, it is difficult to not see God's fingerprints on the whole thing when I take a step back to see the whole picture.  We have seen His faithfulness emotionally as He gives us the rest and insight we need to parent Little Man.  He has continued to provide financially for all of these extra expenses, despite the days we are overwhelmed at the numbers.  He has taught us perseverance and love.  He has taught Baby Girl how to love even when it is difficult.  We have seen Him teach Little Man self-control and patience and love and true joy.

Did you know that Little Man didn't always like being tickled?  Every time we would tickle him, he would force a laugh because that is what he assumed he was supposed to do after watching Baby Girl.  But today, if we reach out and tickle his sweet neck, he will throw his head back, mouth wide open and laugh with complete abandon.  What a precious picture of the transformation God has made in all of our hearts.  The ability to trust our security into His hands, tilt our head back and laugh.

What a great Father we have.

Always Victorious

Little Man has been home for 9 months now.  I marvel at the changes we see in him on a weekly basis. It seems that things have truly settled into a normal routine.  Things do not feel "new" anymore.  Instead, life has become a beautiful phase of rest in the new-found security of our relationships with each other.  We no longer feel that Little Man sees us as strangers who have captured him, but I believe he feels now as we do- that we have been a family all along.

I say these things remembering that in the very recent past, I thought we would never make it to this point.  While Facebook is overwhelmed with pictures and stories of smiling children, the events taking place behind closed doors was drastically different.  I have mentioned before the trauma that is in the hearts of little ones who have come from the "hard places" but the extent of it is so far-reaching, that it is impossible to describe without damaging relationships.  We are incredibly thankful that the Father has seemingly healed Little Man, to an extent, from some of this past trauma.  Many children express that trauma in different ways, and normally in a complex combination of those.  Some experience severe depression, acting out, anger, and anything else you can imagine.  I would say that the underlying expression we have witnessed is rage.  The walls of our home have witnessed so many episodes of screaming, violence, anger and tears, that it would stun those who see our son on a regular basis as a happy, smiling miracle boy.  Do not misunderstand.  He is those things.  But trauma is a very real, intense, and many times a private, process that most eyes don't witness.

One of the things that we have recently learned about is Secondary Trauma.  This is basically a term that describes how people intimately involved with others who have experienced trauma can absorb that trauma into their own hearts and lives, and in turn, potentially act on it.  This is why many adoptive families experience depression, PTSD, and a host of other complications after bringing home these precious, yet wounded, little lives.  Have you ever wondered how trauma counselors are able to cope with their daily lives?  How do they function after hearing stories of horrendous abuse, neglect, etc.?  And how can they possibly witness the effects they have on their patients' lives and in turn be able to help them find healing?

The answer is they go home.  They emotionally pull back.  They have to be able to separate these things in their own minds so that they do not crack.  For adoptive parents, this is not an option.  The hurt is at home.  When you see the devastating effects of trauma, there is no opportunity for parents to process and compartmentalize it on their way home from work.  Instead, you must pick up that child and continue on with your daily routine, meeting all of these very intense needs for love, sensory processing, and attachment, as well as feeding them dinner, bath time, play time, and laundry.

Adoptive parents: you are my heroes.  And the longer your child has been in an institution, the more and more respect I have for you.  If you also have to juggle severe medical needs and appointments in addition to all of these things, I don't even have words to describe my admiration for you and your resolve.

My news feed has changed drastically over the last two years.  About 50% of the stories I see are of children who are coming home or who have come home from these hard places.  Each picture and story I see causes my heart to break, knowing what life behind that post looks like, but I also rejoice with these families, because I know that it. is. worth. it.  Most of these friends I have never met, but often after our children are asleep, we chat and find strength, hope and encouragement in each others' stories.  So for all of you adoptive families, this post is for you.  I too have had my parenting judged and questioned.  I've been told I am "exaggerating it," just as you have.  But know this: You are so loved.  And your role is so important.  You are making a difference.  I thank God upon each remembrance of you.  And don't ever forget that He. sees. you.

I hope that this sheds some light on how difficult the adoption process is for those who have not adopted or are waiting for their babies to come home.  Adoption isn't just the act of bringing that child home, but the continuous process of making that child a son or daughter.

We have seen tremendous improvement in Little Man's ability to function, but I am learning that the trauma that grips his heart so tightly doesn't seem to ever go away completely, it just loosens its grasp over time.  As recently as last night, I spent the better part of an hour attempting to regulate his breathing from his hysterical screams, while holding his hands tightly to prevent him from pulling out his hair and eyebrows.

While adoptive families are learning to navigate these very new waters of trauma parenting, they are also trying to form their own attachments to these children they now call their own.  I know well the feeling of overwhelming, all-consuming love that possesses you when you see the first photo of your child.  But I also know the confusion between your heart and brain when you attempt to snuggle this new child and he doesn't smell like your baby.  God has orchestrated so many beautiful things into the heart and biology of a mother that enables her to attach to and love her new baby, even in those first exhausting, sleep deprived days.  He causes the scent of your child to be intoxicating as you breathe her in.  The shape of her face is etched into your heart as you trace those chubby cheeks with your finger during midnight feedings.  There is a bond that is formed, and I'm convinced it is stronger than any other force on earth, when your baby gazes into your eyes as you cradle her.

But for adoptive mamas, many times your new child is unable to even look into your eyes.  His scent is foreign to you and reminds you of the heartbreak of your time spent in his orphanage.  The curves of his face are unfamiliar, and he can't tolerate being touched as he falls asleep, much less snuggled.

So in addition to the traumatic behavior that makes you want to run for the hills some days, you are fighting biology to form your own attachment to this new child.  Your heart screams, "This is my child."  But your brain whispers, "You don't know this person."

My dear friends, THIS is the miracle of adoption.  That the Father can bring hearts together from across oceans and weld them into a family.  He alone can master biology- for He created it.  He alone can make the stranger a son.  And He alone can mend the broken pieces of a little boy's heart, for He makes all things new.

This is why our hearts beat so strongly for adoption.  Church, we simply can not be content to go about our lives while these little hearts are crumbling.  Their very lives are crumbling.  Their bodies wasting away.  Is adoption hard?  YES.  Is it necessary?  YES.  We cannot leave these babies confined to their cribs and institutions when we have the room and love to give away.  Christian, the Father has given you love in abundance.  It is not for us to hoard away for ourselves.  No.  It is to be given away.  After all, we can't out-love the Father.

So as we reflect on our last 9 months together, and I look down and see Little Man scooting his way across the floor, I can confidently say that we love Little Man, as if he had been born to us.  Our journey to bring him into our family is an ongoing reminder of what a blessing he is.  As we dig our heels in and fight to redeem the shattered pieces of his heart, we remember that the Father fights for us as well.  He fights for us and He fights for these kids.  What a beautiful thought!  The Holy King going to battle on our behalf.



And He is always victorious.

Then they will be brave and free...

Little Man has been in our arms for just over 8 months now.  Can you believe it?  I can't.  He has learned SO much in the last two or three months.  We were recently at an appointment with a new doctor when he remarked, "Wow!  That's amazing that they taught him English in the orphanage."  We chuckled a little and said, "They didn't."  He was dumbfounded that his language skills were so strong after only learning English 8 months ago.

Little Man has started attending physical therapy regularly and he seems to enjoy most of it.  He can cruise in his walker without much assistance, which is amazing to me!  To remember that he could barely sit unassisted a few months ago and now see him walking down the hallway is a miracle!  Even in the midst of tantrums, I sometimes can just almost hear a gentle, "Take up your mat, Little Man, for I know the plans I have for you..."

We have gone through multiple transformations of our own as well.  The Hubs and I see the world entirely differently than we did before the adoption.  I feel like a completely new person.  And I'm grateful.  Three years ago, I probably didn't think I needed to evolve very much.  Now I can't imagine God leaving me in that place.  It is painful to grow and change, but now a welcome necessity in our home.  I think the most notable change we see in ourselves is love.  We love more deeply and sincerely than we did before, and it is not just the love for the four souls that reside inside our walls, but all people.  We see the nations differently- not as groups separated by borders, but as individual people, stories, and hearts, all with the same need for a Perfect Love.

I think we sense the Father beckoning us again.  This stage of life has settled into some kind of "normal", so of course there is another stage right on its heels.  I have no idea what He has in store for our future, but I can't imagine that He intends to teach all of us lessons and not use them.  Loving Him has become like a dance in my mind.  He extends His holy hand.  A decision must be made.  Will I stand against the wall or follow Him to the dance floor?  If I decline, I will simply watch as others complete the dances He destined for them.  When I choose to take His hand, He gently leads me, and I must completely trust His ability to guide me.  If not, I will stumble or crash into someone else's waltz.  Each stage of life is like a different dance.  Just when you think you have mastered the steps for the waltz, you realize the music has become a tango.  But there He is.  And He knows all of the steps for each dance.  Yes, He has choreographed each one before time began, so we must trust that He can lead us through each step, each dip, and each turn.  I think all of these dances have one subtle but mandatory thing in common: each one requires movement.  You can't enter the ballroom unless you dare to move your feet.  What a beautiful picture I see painted in my mind of all of His children dancing with the Father in time together!  As we each dance our dance simultaneously, we work together to complete the breathtaking choreography He planned long ago.

A few days ago, I was driving the kids to a physical therapy session and the song I have fondly named "Little Man's song" came on the radio.  I don't hear it played much anymore, but a lump still catches in my throat every time it comes on.  For anyone reading who has not been a part of our journey since the beginning, the Hubs and I were praying about adoption and were hesitant to take that step onto the dance floor.  One day, I heard Audio Adrenaline's "Kings & Queens" on the radio and I almost had to turn off the road to pull myself together.
Here is the song.  Go ahead and listen to it.  I'll wait:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rAlE2EnUP5A&list=RDrAlE2EnUP5A&index=1

This is the part that completely wrecked me:
"Little hands, shoeless feet
Lonely eyes looking back at me
Will we leave behind the innocent to grieve?
On their own, on the run
When their lives have only begun
These could be our daughters and our sons"

I knew in that moment, I couldn't sit idle.  Would I be content walking in circles for the rest of my life if it was Baby Girl who was waiting for a family?  NEVER.  So, what made the lives of other kids any less valuable?  About three days later, the Hubs came home and with tears in his eyes said, "I heard a song on the radio.  It's time."  The line that got him was:
"And just like a drum
I can hear their hearts beating
I know my God won't let them be defeated
Every child has a dream to belong and beloved"

And that was the beginning of Little Man's adoption story and the birth of this blog.

Every single line of that song can still move me to tears, but I realized something a few days ago that I haven't caught before.  When we were adopting, I always held onto how "when we love the least of these" they become kings and queens (princes and princesses of the Father King, if you will), wrapped in His majesty.  Loving a forgotten child gives him the opportunity to hear the name of Jesus, and to one day choose to be adopted into His family.

But the next lines made me catch my breath this week.
"When we love, when we love the least of these
Then they will be brave and free
Shout your name in victory
When we love, when we love the least of these"

You see, this Sunday, Little Man will be able to participate in his own baby dedication- a very special event in our church where parents promise to raise their baby in a house that loves God and to teach their baby about His perfect love.  There is not really any specific significance to this event; any parent could decide to raise his child this way.  This is just a special way to introduce your baby to people who attend your church who may not have met him and celebrate his life.

The reason that this Sunday will be so very special for Little Man is because he is not a baby.  He has grown into a wonderful little boy.  We grieve that we were not able to present him as a drooling infant, because we missed those very precious moments in his life.  But this will be a wonderful way for Little Man to know that his life is valuable.  That he is wanted.  That he is loved.

In addition to his baby dedication, Little Man will also have a very special opportunity to lead everyone in a precious song.  For me, this is the completion of his adoption song.  He will be brave, not the terrified little boy placed in our arms 8 months ago.  He will be free, not confined to a crib or a mental institution- his former destiny.  And he will shout His name in VICTORY, because He has conquered and declared Little Man victorious.  

Praise God for His glorious grace that redeems us!

Sanctification

Hello, friends!

Tomorrow will mark 6 months since Gotcha Day for Little Man!  This is the marker I have been waiting for.  Half a year.  We have survived half a year.  Most experts say by six to twelve months home, we should be settling into some kind of "normal."  Although, for the life of me, I don't know what normal is anymore.

I haven't posted since Christmastime because, well, life.  Christmas was a whirlwind of activity, and honestly it hasn't been until the last two weeks that I've felt that Little Man has completely recovered and adjusted back to "normal."  Day to day has begun to have some type of rhythm again, with his outbursts becoming less frequent and less severe.   He still has a lot of things he struggles with, but I pray that over time, those will become easier for him as well.

In about 3 weeks, we will be going back to the specialist to pick up new equipment to help him WALK!  When we went for his appointment in January, they had some impromptu braces and walker for him to see if he could manage.  Since he did so well, they decided he is ready for the real deal in bracing.  We had him measured and they should be ready in a few weeks!  I know he is so desperately ready for independence, and I am ready for him to have it!

We discovered that his scoliosis is more severe than anyone realized, so he will also have a brace for his back.

As I have been turning this post over in my head for the last few weeks, knowing this 6 month mark is coming, I have been trying to compile all of my thoughts into a nice, neat little post on what I have learned and what adoption really is.  But honestly, the last six months have been a roller coaster.  We have had some major highs, and some very low lows.  In the last month, I think we have finally grasped just how far-reaching institutionalization and adoption are in the heart of a child.  We have seen  him struggle to process things because his brain has been conditioned to think certain ways.   There is a long list of examples, but I'll spare you.  It is very difficult and exhausting to try to predict what sensory triggers will send him into panic which will sometimes require days to adjust back to normal, or how his mind will process every day activities.  Church nursery is fun for most kids, but to Little Man, that looks an awful lot like we are dropping him off at an orphanage.  Most kids love to be swung around in the air, but Little Man is certain we are doing it out of anger and to hurt him.  There is so much we have to gradually expose him to, sometimes even nudge him out of his comfort zone a little.  We have had to learn what type of discipline will be effective for his tender heart.  We have had to push him to be a little more independent, because he would rather live in his little bubble for the rest of his life.  There are a lot of little things that are just COMPLETELY different for a child coming from an institution than a child born to you.

There is little in our life that has been the same as 6 months ago.  We are different people than we were.  We have a different marriage than we did.  We are different parents than we were.  We love differently.  We minister differently.  We are different.

Several people have approached me privately to say they are considering or beginning an adoption process.  The one thing that I tell them consistently is that they will learn things about the Father that are impossible to learn any other way.  I'm sure the same is true for a lot of different paths in life, being married, being a parent, a missionary, a pastor, etc, as well, but it is certainly true for adoption.  If you ever want to understand the Gospel, adopt.  If you want to see the Father's heart for the nations, adopt.  If you want to see how unbelievably loved you are by a relentless Father, adopt.

I understand better now why Christ's coming was such a monumental event.  I don't only see Jesus sacrificing Himself, I also see a Father, in agony, waiting to bring His children into His arms.  I see now that He thought I was worth pursuing- that I was worth giving everything for.  His ransom for me was His own Son.  Do you want to feel the depth of that?  Here:

Would you give the child in your arms in exchange for a child on the other side of the world?

For a child who doesn't even know what he is missing?  Would I have given Baby Girl as the ransom for Little Man?  This Father's love is RELENTLESS.

I have decided now that adoption is sanctification.  Sanctification is the process of being made holy.  It is quite literally sanctification, being that as He makes us His children through adoption, He makes us holy, but also in physical adoption in this world. During that actual adoption process, I was certain that I could not possibly grow any more.  He was changing me.  He was changing my heart. I could not be stretched any more than that.  I would break.

And then Little Man came home.

God clearly thinks I have more changing to do.  Frankly, it is the most painful thing I have ever endured.  He has brought to my attention the darkest things tucked away in my heart.  And now I have to stand face to face with who I actually am.  It isn't fun.  Honestly, it is embarrassing to see the things I didn't even know were swirling in my own heart.  But as I stand ashamed in front of the Holy King, He gently reminds me of the lessons that He just taught me.   He knew the depths of my sin.  And He came for me anyway.  He paid the ransom.  For me.

When we picked Little Man up from the orphanage, we weren't allowed to take him away in the clothes he was wearing.  We had to give the nanny a new outfit to dress him in before she would bring him to us.  I thought it was odd then, but now I see.

I kneel before the Holy King and He casts off my filthy wretchedness and clothes me with mercy and grace.  No longer unwanted, now a daughter.  Nothing but the memory of my former self can be left.

I have learned that He must break us in order to build us into who He has destined us to be.  I have a long way to go in understanding the totality of who He is.  I would say that the one thing He has shown me repeatedly in the past two years is His faithfulness.  He has proven it to me again and again.  And yet, sometimes I still shake with fear at the unknown.  As the full extent of Little Man's struggles are revealed to us, I sometimes want to crumble.  Struggles that only we see.  The hubs and I sit at night sometimes and talk about what the future will look like for our family.  As we kneel in the trenches of this adoption and parenthood, sometimes we can't see past next week.  How can I possibly parent a child who needs so much?  Do I even have enough to give him?  What about everything we have planned?  Will the lives we envisioned ever even be possible?

I told Hubby one time that I feel like I did once at the beach as a little girl.  Playing in the shallow water, I was knocked down by a wave.  Close to the shore, the waves come so quickly and powerfully, that sometimes when you are down, before you can even stand up, you are tumbling again. I can remember rolling around, flashes of light from the sun just above the water, darkness of the sand beneath, and salty water stinging my eyes.  I couldn't tell which way was up and which way was down.  The whole episode may have lasted all of 5 seconds, and I seriously doubt I was ever actually in danger, but it was panic enough to leave the memory of it.  Some days I feel that same way.  I feel like every time I am getting my footing, another wave comes from out of nowhere and I'm tumbling around wondering if God will ever bring us to steady waters.

I heard a song on the radio a few weeks ago, and the first few times it played, I didn't really like it.  But as I have heard it more and more, it has begun to really resonate with me.

You Make Me Brave by Bethel   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGvqcjIZKTA

As Your love, in wave after wave
Crashes over me, crashes over me
For You are for us
You are not against us
Champion of Heaven
You made a way for all to enter in

God has shown me that His love and faithfulness are more constant than the waves.  The waves come, but His faithfulness is our rock on which to stand.

As I look to the future, a lot of times the overwhelming feeling I have is fear.  There are so many unknowns.  But He has been so faithful to remind me that He is the same Father King who invites me to sit in His lap as He commands the winds and the waves from His throne.  How could I feel anything but courage knowing the One who paid my ransom is the same one that causes men to look around and say, "Who can this be?  Even the winds and the waves obey Him!"

For those who know me well, you know that I am a very timid person by nature.  I can force myself outside of my comfort zone, but naturally, I want to mostly stay curled into myself.   As I stand on this shore and see the waves rolling in, I want to panic.  I know they can knock me down.  What if we drown?

You make me brave
You make me brave
You call me out beyond the shore into the waves
You make me brave
You make me brave
No fear can hinder now the love that made a way

His love has already made a way.  He has already made a future for Little Man, for us.   No fear can hinder now that His love has made a way.