Sometimes They Listen

Granny and I finished my daughter's life book earlier this week.  Her life book describes how she was adopted and became a part of our eternal family.  Her book describes Dad and I getting married in the temple, adopting her brother, and having more love for another child.  Then, how she came to us and was sealed in the temple and received a baby blessing.  Granny had a chance to read it to her a couple of times before leaving town, and we've read it to her at least once.

So today, she hasn't been listening, and has been in a little bit of trouble today.  Our family had a fun day, but we were very ready for it to be bedtime tonight.  She gave me a kiss and hug, then started to walk away.
As she did, she put her hand on the bed post and very slowly said, "I was born, so I could go to the temple with you."
"What was that?"
She looks at me with a smile and with more confidence says, "I was born, so I could go to the temple with you.  And you are a princess."
"Come here ...   come here."  As I held her on my lap, "I am very glad you were born."
"Yeah." (with a smile)
"And I think you're pretty wonderful."
"Yeah." (more smiles)
And before she escapes, "And even when I'm angry because you're disobedient, I will ALWAYS love you."
"Can I go now?"
"Yep, go to bed."

Beggars Can't Be Choosers

I'm a mother of two beautiful, smart, wonderful, caring children.  And we adopted them.  But I want the world to know that I did not "settle" for them.  My children are not some kind of door prize given to those sad souls who can't conceive children on their own.  My children are the once-in-a-lifetime, Publisher's Clearing House, win the BIG lotto type of prize.  They are the Golden Ticket -- and I got two of them.

I have read articles, comments on articles, and talked to people (even former family) who have the attitude that since adoptive parents can't conceive on their own, they should accept whatever child is offered to them.  They cite the thousands of older children above the age of 5 yrs old who are still in foster care because they are considered "un-adoptable".  They cite the thousands of special needs kids in America who need loving homes.  Basically, I have often heard one of two things: 1) "beggars can't be choosers" or 2) you need to be more lovingly, like Mother Theresa.

I have spent some time with older foster kids, and they are wonderful.  I love them dearly.  I am privileged to know them.  Every day, they and they're families fight to overcome the craziness of their early childhood years.  To stabilize, to love, and to nurture.

But let me clarify a few things.  Some of these kids are still in foster status because our system is trying very hard to give their bio-parents every opportunity to re-unite their families.  Many of the children aren't available for adoption, because bio-parents keep taking two steps forward and one step back.  Kids go home to live with bio-parents for 6 months, things fall apart again, and the kids are back in the system.  Basically, they are unavailable for adoption, not "un-adoptable".

Additionally, social workers are trying very hard to put kids in homes where the placement will work "for good".  They try very hard to match personalities, race, culture, etc.  They try very hard to blend this new family just right and still fit within all the state-mandated requirements on number of children in the home, boys in one room and girls in another, and age separation between child and parents.  I don't always agree with the decisions, but I'm glad I'm not a social worker.

My goal in adopting children wasn't to relieve societal or family pressure on myself.  It wasn't to feel fulfilled as a woman.  It was simply to be a "mom".  My dream was to watch that toddler start to express themselves and get to know everything that was happening in that little brain.  My dream was to hold a tiny baby and watch that tiny baby take everything I had or had not provided or taught and turn into a wonderful adult.

I read all those questionnaires from the agencies, and did countless hours of soul-searching with my spouse on what we wanted in our future family, and we answered those very seriously.  No one teaches you how to "be flexible" without twisting your spouse's arm.  Those probably had to be some of the most difficult conversations of our marriage.  Knowing that every "No" meant less opportunity to adopt, but still trying to respect the other's opinions and feelings.  And no, in the end, we did not ask for perfection.

As adults, we realize that sometimes we have to "settle".  We trade old dreams for new ones.  We sacrifice something we once thought we wanted, for something we want more now.  Sometimes, we have remorse.  We call it "settling".  Other times, we realize that we have grown and our dreams have changed, and we are at peace with those decisions.

My dream was to have brand new, completely healthy babies ... and know that someday, when they hate me or when I'm totally aggravated by their decisions --- that all of it, EVERY SINGLE NURTURING INFLUENCE OR LACK THEREOF, was completely my fault.  That's crazy, yes, but I wasn't settling on this.  

And I am NOT Mother Theresa.  My children are not "lucky to have me".  Heck, they will be lucky to survive me.  I'm not a "tiger mom", but pretty close  -- I constantly fight my hovering instinct.  I am lucky to know my children.  They are beautiful people.  They have saved my life in ways no one will ever understand.  They help me laugh when I forget to, they motivate me to be a better person, and they remind me that there is more to life than just work.

Adoption Message of Hope

This will be short as I actually have house chores tonight, now that everyone's in bed.

I just wanted to send a blast to all my unknown friends out there -- all those adoptive parents in waiting.
A few people have asked me lately, "Oh! You adopted your kids!  So, how is that process, 'cause I've heard a few things?"  My response, "Yes, its awful.  Its stressful, and exhausting, and unfair, ....  BUT I now have two wonderful children."

I would throw myself in front of a bus for my two beautiful children.  I would walk on hot coals for my kids.  So, yes, I would even go through the adoption process all over again for them.  Every intrusive question, every monthly inspection, every form, every long day of waiting.  Every sleepless night wondering if the adoption would ever finalize.  Every fear.  Every terrible nightmare.  Every tear and every prayer.  Every strain it has put on my body, on my family relationships, and on my marriage.

Yes, I would do it again -- for one day like today.  A swim lesson, a little friend's birthday party, two kids tracing their mother's outline with sidewalk chalk, a movie at home, one kid falling asleep in the highchair and another snuggling close.

Keep hoping, because eventually the judge will say "it is as if they had been born to you".

He Goes To Kindergarten

"The baby grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was...." almost five years old. And he begged his mom to wear his church shoes to his first day of Kindergarten because he wanted to "be fancy". And he stood there in long pants of dark blue corduroy, a white polo already bearing the mark of a morning's granola bar, gray dress socks, and black leather shoes waiting just long enough to tolerate pictures with his mother's cell phone. And it was all she could do to hold it together in a maze of parents and excited children, even though she wanted to scream from the rooftops, "This is my son. My baby. He is special because I say so. And listen up world... you will not harm him, and you will be kind to him!" Then in a flash, that boy, ran off toward a table of Lego’s, and never looked back. (And the subtle humor of that moment was not lost on his engineer-mother, for she saw herself in him.)

And even though this was not the first morning she had said good-bye to him, it was a significant morning. The baby she had waited for, fought for, and prayed for, who had miraculously appeared via a phone call on an average Monday (literally by special delivery from God, Himself) ... who had turned her life, her house, and her heart upside down ... was no longer a dream. He was hers. He was a boy who would someday be a young man, who would someday leave her. And she would have to trust him to the world and to the Lord. Trust him to be safe and good and kind and righteous ... trust him to be whom she saw that very first day she held him in her arms.

And when that almost five year old was safely at school, she opened the door to her car, sat down, and she cried. She cried and she cried and she cried. And somewhere, she found the strength to let him grow.

(The quote and inspiration are from Love You Forever written by Robert Munsch with illustrations by Sheila McGraw.)