a little bit of hope, joy, love, grace, life and all things in between infertility
When we said yes to adoption, we chose YOU.
We said yes…
to laughter and tears,
to delight and heartbreak,
to gifts and losses,
to sweet words and eye-rolls,
to the past and the future,
to hardship and grace,
to love.
Happy Adoption Anniversary Day, Sweetie.
Note: Our daughter’s adoption anniversary was on Monday but due to the flu bug (YUCK) hitting our home, I’m just now getting around to posting this on the blog.
Watched any news cycles lately? If so, have you heard the phrase, “Changing the narrative” or “change the narrative”? My guess is that you probably have heard that phrase more than once! As 2018 came to a close, I began to think about what my goal for the New Year would be. With “changing the narrative” freshly on my mind (thanks to ALL the various news guests who love to use this phrase), I began to wonder if a New Year’s goal of changing the narrative would be worthy of giving serious effort towards accomplishing.
Let me explain.
2018 was a bit rough for me. I found myself questioning a LOT about my lot in life. We faced numerous obstacles with our children. I turned away from potential career opportunities because they just didn’t sit well in my gut. I realized that I could not keep my children and husband a priority in my life if I pursued these things. I have to admit that my narrative for most of the year was filled with a big old case of the blah’s. I thought, “Well, if the kids weren’t so hard or if I didn’t have to worry about that or if our financial situation was different or if people would just see that for what it is…then I would be able to do this or that or the world would change…or…” Needless to say, I’m thankful that it is a new year.
Over the Christmas break, I took time away from work to spend with my family. During this time, I was smacked with the reality that my own perception and narrative needed to change. What the Lord impressed upon my heart is that the only way to truly change the narrative in our lives is to fully embrace changing it within our own hearts and minds. It isn’t about seeking others to change their narratives. Sure, we can lobby for that. We can advocate for changing the tone to which we disagree. However, in order to create change, perhaps, we must start from within. My goal for this New Year is to do just that.
I know I have other goals to work on in 2019. I need to eat better, exercise more and focus on a few projects that I have in the works. I need to spend more time being present, in the moment, and less time on social media (which is funny because I’m blogging right now). However, the most important goal I hope to achieve is changing the narrative to which I function on a daily basis – especially when it comes to frustrations at home, at work and in my every day life.
It is with a big lump in my throat that I read, “A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.” (Proverbs 15:1)
With a guilty conscience, I read, “Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have, for he has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” (Hebrews 13:5)
It is with a twinge of hope-filled remembrance, I embrace, “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” (Philippians 4:8)
As this first month of 2019 is drawing to a close, I realize I have already failed at this goal of changing the narrative. I slipped back into the cynicism that can create a false sense of coping. However, I have had a few successful moments of changing my narrative as well.
It has become a daily ritual that starts out in the quiet of the morning before the kids are awake. I refocus on how I want to respond to my kids or whatever else comes up in the day. I remind myself of the important things that I need to focus on – not the ones that drain me or cause contempt in my heart. I am beginning each day with a self-pep-talk of shifting my internal conversation from defensive to offensive. I am consciously choosing to say, “I love you” more often and at unexpected times. I am choosing to never forget that Jesus loves me no matter my circumstances or when I’m at my best or worst.
Keeping all of this in mind, my New Year’s goal of changing the narrative of my life is one that I believe will change me.
“As someone who thinks within himself, so he is.” (Proverbs 23:7)
What are your goals for 2019? Do you think a New Year’s goal of changing the narrative would help you? I’d love to hear your feedback. Post a comment!
P.S. Here is a pic of us as we celebrated the New Year!
Parenting is hard, isn’t it? There are times when you just wish you could step right into your children’s brains and figure out what the heck is going on in there. Your desire is to speak truth to them but sometimes, truth can come out not as loving as you want. If given the opportunity to ‘get it right’ and speak love, worth and truth straight to your child’s heart, I’m sure every single parent would soak that moment right up.
Last night, I unexpectedly had one of those moments. Our kiddo was absolutely NOT willing to do homework. Keep in mind, the work was due Tuesday but this kiddo just kept putting it off. (Thank goodness for a 504 plan that gives a few extra days!) My husband promptly removed the game controllers and iPad from our child.
“NOT FAIR!!” My child yelled and then jumped into bed and covered up completely from head to those sweet toes.
I sat down on the bed next to my child and repeated the words we had already said. “You will get your games back once you do your homework.”
“NO! I want them back now and then I’ll do my homework.”
“Nope, not gonna happen. You do the work first, then you get them back.”
Silence. This kiddo of mine was not backing down, but neither was I. We sat there for about two minutes in total silence. My child remained covered up from head to toe. I closed my eyes and prayed for us both.
My child broke the silence and said, “I want my stuff back.” I repeated, “Not until you get this done.” Now, by this time, I was getting a bit ruffled up in my feathers. It was getting late and I had two other kiddos calling out for food and drinks because kids suddenly become starving and dehydrated once it is bedtime (which is always a fun time).
I found myself getting extremely agitated. Then, all of a sudden, I felt this wave of peace flow over me and I had a vision/remembrance of my child as a little one frolicking around the house. I remembered the feeling of fighting for this one – not literally fighting the foster care team, but fighting for this child through prayer.
My eyes began to well up a bit with tears. I looked at my child and said,
“You are worth the fight.”
Puzzled, my child softened a bit and looked up at me.
I said, “You are worth fighting for. You are deeply loved. You are capable. I know you struggle with paying attention but I also know that you can do this. You have a purpose. You might think that Dad and I are fighting you, but we are fighting FOR you. We are not going to stand by and let you choose to fail or cheat yourself out of what you deserve and are able to do. You can get mad all you want, but you were always worth fighting for and you will always be worth fighting for. You have a choice right now. You can either stay mad, not do the work and not get your things back, or I can sit with you while you do the work. Your choice, but just know that Dad and I will always fight FOR you.”
My child sat there for a moment and then softly said, “Sit with me.” I watched as my child finished up the work and the night ended peacefully. As I got into bed, I had such a sense of calm mixed in with parental accomplishment. The choice to let go of my angst about the whole situation and speak truth and love into it was God-given grace over us both.
Jesus tells us this every single day. The Word speaks love into our lives every time we read it. We lose that feeling during times of hardship. We forget that in Christ, we are enough. We don’t visit the Cross enough to remember how He fought for us, but the Lord continues to pursue us because He sees our worth and yearns to speak love into us.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. (Psalm 139:14)
Just like we have to be reminded that we are worth fighting for, so do our children – especially when times are tough. Next time you are in a heated battle over homework or anything else that can cause conflict, take a step back, inhale a deep breath and speak love and truth into your child’s heart.
Pssst..hey, Momma-in-Waiting. Yes, you. Christmas is all around us, isn’t it? You overhear your co-workers talk about the sweet surprises for their kiddos. You are forced to look at picture after picture of your friend’s little one’s first Santa visit. It’s not that you don’t think the images are cute or that you don’t want to see them. It’s just that it hurts…really hurts.
Christmas morning in most houses is filled with chaos, giggling children, and mounds of bows and wrapping paper. Weary parents get up at the crack of dawn to watch their children excitedly rip open that special gift from Santa. Christmas morning at your home is a little different, though. You get up whenever you desire and exchange presents with your spouse or anyone else staying the night. It’s quiet and calm and in that stillness, your heart plunges to a depth a lot of people just don’t understand. Your mind races with the same questions you’ve cried out for way too long…
Why is this happening? When will it end? What is wrong with me? What if I never become a mother? What if every Christmas is this quiet?
Pssst..hey, Momma-in-Waiting. My own house is now filled with chaos at Christmas. I hear my giggling children and clean up mounds of bows and paper. I watch as the kids rush to the tree to see what Santa brought. I wish I could tell you that it’s not that big of a deal and you’re not missing much, but that would be a lie. You know it and so do I.
It’s a little ironic, isn’t it? We celebrate the birth of Jesus at Christmas; yet, you are wailing, wanting, and desperate to celebrate your own miracle; your own gift to the world. You are waiting to celebrate the birth of your baby. I don’t really know what to say except I was once where you are and I know that it is miserable. I knew I could never birth a child but I did not know if I would ever be a parent. It is so incredibly hard. It’s one of the worst pains any human can experience on Earth. I believe that. I really do.
From Hannah and on, barrenness is noteworthy. If it wasn’t, then I suspect it would not even be mentioned in Scripture. People tell you, “God has a plan for you.” They say, “If it’s God’s will, then it will happen.” Do you want to know something? I loathed those words. I could not stand them. I despised every single time they were said to me (and they were said more times than I can count).
Only now, after adoption and actually being a Momma-no-longer-in-Waiting, can I say that I “get it”. I understand that the Lord did have a plan and adoption was His will for my life. Yet, this knowledge does not erase the pain that I felt nor does it wipe my memory clean of my existence when I was a Momma-in-Waiting.
Pssst..hey, Momma-in-Waiting. Yes, you. Christmas is hard but so is just about every day when your steps are padded in confusion. If there is one gift I can give to you this Christmas, it is this – your feelings are valid, your frustration is justifiable and your grief is not lost on those of us who have been there or who are there right now.
At this Christmas and every single day after, I want you to know that even though it feels like it, God has not forsaken you. He never will. Even though you do not feel His presence, He is there. He is near you when test after test shows a negative, or when your doctor tells you news that you just don’t want to hear. God is with you when you are lonely, tired and weeping the most sorrowful, thick tears ever imaginable.
Perhaps, Momma-in-Waiting, this is the best gift I can give you; the hope of the Lord.
Be strong. Be fierce. Be courageous. Don’t let anyone stifle your feelings or your voice. Keep talking about infertility. Keep asking questions and all of those other laborious things you need to do when you are meeting with doctors. Don’t let others tell you how to navigate this journey for it is your own.
Pssst..hey, Momma-in-Waiting. Yes, you. At Christmas, we celebrate the birth of a child who changed the world. Today, Momma-in-Waiting, I’m thinking of you and I believe that the very baby born so long ago is thinking of you as well.
For I am the LORD your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you. – Isaiah 41:13
Author’s Note: I originally wrote this post in 2017. Typically, I do not repeat posts that I have already published. However, this is one that I hope will reach those who need some extra encouragement this time of year. Blessings, Caroline
“The children who need love the most will always ask for it in the most unloving ways.” Russel Barkley
I think of this quote when parenting my kids. It is a great reminder when I’m struggling to manage the problems and issues we often face. I have also thought of it when considering my own actions.
Sometimes, I’m not easy to love. I absolutely admit that I can be a bit of a grouch at times. I can put expectations on my kids that are probably too high for their level of functioning. My feelings get hurt, I lose my temper, and I struggle showing grace – even when I am the one who probably needs it the most.
Last week at a doctor’s appointment for a recent back injury, my doctor asked me how things are going with the kids. I sat for a minute and thought, “Do I tell him the truth that life is hard or do I grin and say things are going fine?” The word “fine” has become the one I use when things really aren’t that fine. It gives a simple response to questions that I don’t want to unpack.
As much as I tried to keep it in, I couldn’t. The tears ran down my face as I explained the issues we are having and how I have been feeling and failing, lately. The funny thing (actually, not that funny) is when you are told “maybe tomorrow will be better”, deep down you know that it probably won’t be. Instead of offering a rallying cry to me, my doctor let me cry. Soon, he brought in a counselor they have on staff and she also just let me cry. It felt good to release it. I should probably do that more often.
Fast forward a few days from this appointment to my birthday (yes, I just turned another year older). My children were having a rough night. I’ve learned not to expect nights without behaviors – even on special occasions. As I opened my gifts, one of my children handed me a letter…
Dear Mom,
Thank you for sooo much for being graceful, and loving to me and for adopting me and helping me up when I’m hurt, cheering me up when I’m sad and you love me no matter what I do. Thank you for being my mom for the best years of my life.
Did you read that?
Graceful.
Loving.
Helping.
Cheering.
Best years of my life.
I cried as I read it and looked at my child. Soon, this child’s eyes were welling up as I opened up my arms for a big hug. I will hang on to this letter. I will read it over and over again during the good times and the bad.
It is hard to explain what it is like to raise children who struggle with lots of things – mental health, academics, behavioral issues, etc. From the outside, my kids look perfect. Their outside appearances do not match what is going on internally. Because of this, there are false perceptions made about all of us.
Having been down a bit from the past few weeks of challenges, I have been in need of a lot of grace. I have wondered in desperation if I was equipped to handle the arrows aimed in my direction and at my children. I have questioned if there will ever be a relief or a miracle or something that proves the heartaches and hardships will make sense one day.
Through a child’s words, I was offered that grace. It spoke straight to the heart. I was given the gift of encouragement and a glimpse into why it is so important to keep going. I was reminded of the need to offer grace, the feeling of being loved, the importance of helping and encouragement, and that (often) we parents are our children’s entire worlds. My child’s letter thanking me for the grace I have shown actually provided me with the grace I have searched for, lately. What a powerful moment it was.
Although my child wrote the letter, I see God’s hand all over it. I hear Him saying, “There you go…there you go. See? I told you it is worth it. You do matter. Your children matter. You may not see it every day, but your children do and so do I.”
Parents of children with extra needs, moments like the one I experienced reading my child’s letter may not come around very often. I know this. You know this, as well. We find ourselves not only managing the typical antics and activities of childhood, but also managing the extra stuff; the kind that yearns to siphon whatever energy or hope we have left at the end of the day. Some days, it isn’t very much, is it?
We have to remember that we are making a difference even if we don’t see the results immediately. We must believe that even though a miracle may not occur, our actions, stability, support and love are miraculous to our children. It is okay to admit our failures. It is totally acceptable to dwell in the knowledge that we are desperate for a measure of grace on any given day.
Keep going. Keep the faith. Even if you think no one is noticing, remember that your children are.
So is the Lord.
Praise Him for that.
As a parent to kiddos adopted out of difficult situations, here are the things I totally wish someone would have said to me prior to adoption:
1) It’s not gonna feel good all of the time.
2) Nurture is awesome, but genetics are huge.
3) You might have days where you wished you had made a different decision. (don’t guilt yourself about it)
4) Raising children with extra needs causes you to live life around a schedule of medicines, appointments, triggers, and other issues.
5) It does hurt when you are told that you are not their “real parent”. (even though you pretend it doesn’t)
6) Fear causes you to overthink…a lot.
7) There will be things that come up in your child’s life that you never had to deal with.
8) Don’t compare your own upbringing or the way you were as a child to what you expect or wish of your child.
9) Adoptive parenting can be very lonely and isolating.
10) Don’t underestimate your voice in all of it.
11) Never underestimate your child’s voice in all of it.
12) Get used to advocacy. It will become one of your best assets.
13) Adoption = loss. It just does.
I never want to paint a rosy or perfect picture of adoption – not even during National Adoption Month. Instead, I want others to know that while adoption is incredible and totally life-changing, it is also hard.
In order for us (people who work and live life within the realm of adoption) to make a difference, we need to take off our rose-colored glasses. We need to tell it like it is. We have to understand that adoption is wonderful but also challenging. The gavel’s declaration of adoption does not mean that hard stuff ends. If anything, it is just beginning.
For any of you who are parents through adoption and are struggling, I see you. I get it. I am right there with you.
Keep your chin up. Keep it real.
November is National Adoption Month in the US. We set aside this month to focus on adoption stories as well as the plight of many children waiting for families. I’ve been an “official” adoptive parent now for a little over ten years. We’ve stretched out of our comfort zone, dealt with issues that we never thought we would face, and we’ve laughed…a lot.
Even on the hardest days – the ones where we have really struggled – my husband and I do not regret our decision to adopt our children. We would have missed so many precious moments.
Ones like this, 
Or, this one…
Thinking back to my “(pre)adoptive mother self”, I totally wish I could say that I was 100% prepared for parenting – not just parenting in general, but adoptive parenting. I know that there are many similarities, but I also know there are many differences.
If could go back, here are a few things I would tell myself:
Looking back to my “(pre)adoptive mother self”, I totally thought I was prepared for all of this. I thought I had a grasp of trauma-informed parenting, adoption issues, loss and grief, and a whole host of behavioral issues. I totally was not. I can’t even pretend that I was.
Yet, would I do it all again? Absolutely.
Can I imagine a life without my children? No way.
Without (foster parenting) and adoption, I could have missed this:
I glanced up towards the beverage coolers of the grocery store and noticed a pregnant woman walking by. Her skin was glowing, belly round and full, and she was beautiful. I noticed the woman in front of me noticing her as well.
In my head, I thought, “Pregnant women really are beautiful. I bet she is so happy to be carrying her baby. I wish I could have carried mine.”
Yep. Right there as I’m checking out, answering the cashier about my choice of a paper or plastic, barrenness hit me today.
I don’t think about it all of the time. Honestly, barrenness doesn’t knock on my door like it used to. Most days, it never even crosses my mind…most days.
Today, it did. Perhaps, it is because this week has been filled with teaching others about trauma that can occur in the womb. Maybe, it is due to explaining to teachers, who don’t know my children that well (yet), about their challenges. Or, it could be that both worry and sadness have visited me this week.
As soon as I got home from the store, I packed the groceries into their allotted space in our kitchen and headed back to our safe spot where we put meaningful items that belong to our family. I dug through the paperwork and pictures and found a copy of a letter that I had sent to a former pastor of mine many years ago.
I wrote it on the eve of my husband and I filing our adoption petition for our oldest son in 2008. The image above is just one section of a one-and-a-half page letter to my pastor. I’m not sure why I kept it but am glad that I did.
Life has a funny way of kicking us around a time or two, doesn’t it? Hard experiences like to sneak their way around our hearts a bit. They lay dormant for a while and then, BOOM, there they are. There.They.Are.
I’ve heard that, sometimes, you have to look back at where you were to appreciate where you are. I’m finding myself doing this more often than not; especially on days where barrenness seems to smack me upside the head. With regard to the letter, I read it again and felt as though I was typing it for the first time; my eyes filled up, my hands trembled a bit, and I exhaled deeply. I needed to visit the elation, promise and revelation, even in barrenness, that I found through the Lord ten years ago. I needed to take a step back and remember all of it.
I am 46-years-old and have known for thirty-five years that I would never have a biological child. You would think by now that I would be “over it”. In many ways, I’m so over it – like bye-bye. Yet, in other times, it seeks me out, dances around me, and teases me like a school-yard bully. It ticks me off, makes me feel insecure, and breaks my heart time and again.
I still look at pregnant women with awe but a sliver of jealousy. I still wonder what it would have felt like to announce our pregnancy to my husband and our parents. I imagine the feeling of my children growing inside of me and the passion I would have carried to give them the best in utero experience possible.
Yes, sometimes, you have to look back at where you were to appreciate where you are. For me, looking back at the empty space of barrenness and then recapturing the feelings of going through the motions of adoption, does my heart good. It does it so good.
Barrenness hit me today. It sucker-punched me at the grocery store when I was least expecting it. I didn’t have my boxing gloves on. There wasn’t a coach in the corner telling me how to handle it. Nope. None of that. It’s not that I have ever had that to begin with, though. Instead, I revisited a moment in time that has carried me through these past several years.
To recall the feelings of hope and love, to dwell for just a moment in the silence of gratitude, and to revel in understanding that comes from the Lord is by far, the best defense when hard experiences try to find a way to slither back into our lives.
No one is the keeper of our past, present and future like the Lord is. No one can turn devastation or despair into goodness like the Lord can. True peace and understanding comes from the Lord. It always has and it always will.
And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. -Philippians 4:7
