THIS IS HARD!!!!!

I haven’t written in a while because I have been going through what I have dubbed my Third-Life Crisis. I am too old to be Quarter Life (unless I live to be 120, which I am really not up for) and hoping I am way too young for Mid-Life. So here we are. I spent an hour googling adoption blogs the other day looking for someone who has adopted a preschooler and had a hard time. I have come to the conclusion that either there are very few people who adopt preschoolers in the US or the majority of them are having such a hard time that they do not even bother to set up a blog to proclaim their difficulties. So I have decided it is my duty to say what I wanted so desperately to hear from someone else:

THIS IS HARD! Going from 29 years of independence, being in control of my own schedule and not having a constant current of “Why, mommy?” flowing from the backseat to…well, the opposite of all of that, is a BIG deal. It IS hard! I love my child. I would not choose any other way, but just to reiterate, this is HARD!

But it is not even about the actual change in activities. It seems to be something more. I feel as if I have spent the last two weeks in a boxing ring. The lineup has looked something like this: In this corner, we have SelfLESS, determined to live a life poured out in service to others, wanting nothing more than to spend every possible moment showering love on my child and desiring to be like the old woman in the shoe…..but younger and with foster children.

And in this corner, we have Independent Me. IM has never done well being limited in what she can do and has always valued freedom and independence above all else. Period.

So the fight has ensued. As a Christian, I have always been okay with the idea of “dying to self,” and letting God lead my life down His path for His glory. Less of me and more of Him…that’s beautiful, right? But “dying to self” for a 4 year old? Less of me and more of…a 4 year old?!

I always said (Warning: here comes a load of imaginary wisdom from someone who clearly never had kids…) that I would keep my identity when I had kids. I would still work, run and do the things I enjoy. I am happy to say that I have, just in a different way. For example, I have worked and/or gone to school since I was 14 years old in a combination that has always equaled at least 50 hours per week, and now I work a mere 25. Many of my beloved afternoon runs in the park are now done on a treadmill during nap time. And time with friends is often spent in a restaurant with a kid’s menu instead of the wonderful new vegetarian restaurant I really wanted to try. In light of all of this, I think that any parent would agree that if you are really going to care for another human being, be devoted to meet their every need, and love them with all that you have, part of you just has to go. No matter how hard that is.

As I see Round 10 in the battle for my identity coming to a close, I notice that my hair is the same color and length and I have no new tattoos or piercings. To me, this means that I am no longer 19 years old and able to solve these battles for “me” with a quick fix. Instead, I need a more long term solution. So, I believe that I will probably go back to work full-time in a few months. I feel that surge of the infamous “mommy guilt” even as I type this, but I know that I am just not meant to be at home this much. And I love my little redhead enough to know that if I don’t, he will probably end up an only child with a crazy mother. And that is way worse that a couple of hours a day with a babysitter!

So there. That is what I wanted to read last week, that THIS IS HARD! And that it gets better when the fight is over and you are able to radically accept losing a small piece of yourself in exchange for the immeasurable joy of loving someone else.

Putting the Pieces Together

I am so amazed at how well our little redhead is doing that most of the little blips and moments of pause that come from adopting an older child do not usually phase me. But I do feel like they are worth sharing.
I am a very open person, which probably goes without saying on a blog about one’s life….. I also am a huge advocate for adoption, which is one of the main reasons why I do this blog. However, I try to be ever conscious of the fact that this is not my story...it is his. Therefore, I must be careful not to share details that are his and his alone to do with as he pleases. For example, he may not want everyone at the salad bar to know he is adopted…

Last week, a lady at Jason's Deli asked me how old he was. I told her he was 4. She then said, “Oh, so it gets better….I have an 18 month old who is into everything!” My first reaction was to reply. “I have heard 3 is the worst…” But, as the mother of a 4 year old, shouldn’t I know what age 3 is like?! A simple, honest comment like that would let a perfect stranger know that my child was not my own…. So I just left it at, “Yes, 3 is worse, but 4 is much better…”

Another issue with having an older child that does bother me is the missing pieces. I have no baby pictures…except a few I found on his mother’s facebook page. Thank you, Mark Zuckerburg for this unintended bonus of social networking. It feels so unfair to me that our family will always have pictures of my nephew (who is close in age to my son) from the time he was born, but none of my son. And when he asks, “Where was I then?” as he looks at my scrapbooks, the worst part is that I KNOW where he was…and it was definitely not surrounded my doting aunts and uncles watching him try sweet potatoes for the first time.

My husband and I were asked to go to the DCFS (Department of Child and Family Services) office on Wednesday to review our son's files, which were two, 4" binders thick. Though we already knew bits and pieces of that information, we were able to piece together the pieces into a more coherent story. A very sad and heartbreakingly coherent story. I left feeling nausceous, somewhat tearful and full of rage at the people that were supposed to take care of him so long ago. But in spite of all that, I felt as I knew him a little better and am very thankful that we were able to read the records. And needless to say, he got a lot of extra hugs as I held him a little longer that afternoon.

On a more positive note, reading those records officially begins the adoption process for us! We are hopeful that will be OFFICIALLY ours before Christmas. Since there is definitely no handbook for that, we can all learn the process together. :)

The proverbial switch: 3 months!

Today marks three months of our red head actually being in our home. Three months of being a parent. Three months of living in a whole new world—for all of us!
First, I want to say thank you to everyone for all of the prayers, kind messages and shared stories after my last post! They were so encouraging and such a blessing to me! We have certainly noticed a big change over the last couple of weeks. He no longer asks for “OM” or “OD.” He no longer draws pictures that include them. (His teacher has told me that his first order of business everyday is to produce a picture to bring home to me…he is such a giver!). I do believe that the proverbial switch has been flipped and we have reached a turning point where he is wholly ours. And I could not be prouder to have such an amazing child!

I loved him from the moment I heard his name. I don’t know why…it is just something that sprung up inside of me. But now, I hear him joke around with us-- pretending not to know where his juice is, turning around to “throw” his voice and then asking “who said that?”—and I am in love. I smile as he comes home from school saying, “I have a surprise for you, Mommy…” and pulls a feather out of his backpack that he procured just for me. I watch as he picks up anything small and says in a baby voice, “Ahhh, it’s a baby leaf…” and delicately puts it down to safely “nap,” and I appreciate his loving nature. I now have a thousand reasons why I think he is the greatest. I often look at him and am overwhelmed at how much God must love me to put this precious child in my life.

I notice so many changes in him since that first day when he came to us three months ago. No matter what we asked him to do (i.e. play with sidewalk chalk), his response was “I can’t…” Now his constant refrain is, “I bet you didn’t know I could do that!” When he finds something he cannot do, he says, “You are supposed to teach me.” Already, he has so much more confidence! Now, sometimes this is taken a bit far as he thinks he should be able to drive, cook dinner, paint my nails for me….. But I will take that any day!

As we continue to move forward, I want to pause again and say “thank you!” to you for being a part of this journey! It has just begun!

Clueless

We went to the circus this weekend and neither my wife nor I can ever remember going to the circus as children, but I have pictures showing me at the circus, so I guess I went. We (the adults) were excited to go and we shared our excitement with the red head. He started getting excited a couple days before, and then it was finally circus day. Yay, we get to go to the circus today! He was excited, mostly because we were excited. We get to the arena and immediately the marketing begins, “buy a hat for your boy sir, your boy needs a hat”. We rush to the ATM to get some money to buy a hat only to find out he doesn’t want a hat. Great! Inside are more little-people-money-wasters, glowing swords, spinning wands, popcorn, candy, stuffed animals, balloon animals…..everything a little person “wants” but doesn’t need. “I want a sword, I want popcorn, I want a Spongeball balloon”. “How about a hat”, my wife says. He agreed, it was the cheapest and also the cutest, so he got a hat. The show was starting to begin and I ask the red head, “have you ever been to the circus before”? A normal question for my wife and I to ask him. In fact we ask him all the time questions about him and the things he has done….. do you like this, have you done this before, what is your favorite this or that, can you tell me when you did that, what did you do at your other house, what did your other mommy do when you did that, did you do this with your other daddy……. We are basically doing research, collecting as much data about him as possible so we can make “qualified, management” decisions……..OK, so maybe we are just trying to make it as parents and we need all the info we can get, but it sounds better when you use words like “qualified” and “management”. Anyway, I ask him “have you ever been to the circus before?” I notice the mother holding the cotton candy next to me giving me a strange look, a look that says “what kind of parent are you, don’t you know anything about your kid”. Now I could probably get some grace if the red head wasn’t a red head, maybe a completely different colored head, but unfortunately for me he and I are very similar in appearance so when people look at us there is no doubt that he is mine. As I escorted my child to his seat, the cotton candy mother gave me a final glance which pretty much said, “lazy dad out with his NEW wife because he only gets to see his kids once a month, probably doesn’t even pay child support”. TOUGH GLANCE! Those glances from all the “real parents” out there wont deter me from continuing to ask him questions about his past, his likes/dislikes, experiences and anything else I need to gather data about. It’s just part of the role of being the new dad and mommy, I’ll just make sure to try and keep the conversation between the two of us. One last experience to leave you with. So mommy and I are in the store with red head and he picks out some Pringles and says “I ate these with my other daddy”. He says it kind of loud; he likes to emphasize his “preferred choices” with some volume in his voice. I think he thinks if he yells it than he will get it. Well, the “real parents” standing in the aisle with us heard his comment. I immediately think, great they are going to call the police and issue an AMBER alert because they think we just kidnapped this kid, who tells their parents they did something with their OD, that’s “suspicious”. Of course we play it off and buy the chips, but we quickly try to head out the door……You never know if that “cotton candy mother” or “supermom” is close behind trying to write down your license plate number.
NB

Not You

I knew that my son would miss his "other" family when he came to us...That's normal. No matter how great we are for him, they were all he knew for 18 months. From a psychological perspective, it would actually be unhealthy if he didn't miss them. It would show a lack of attachment, which is never good. After all, if were (God forbid!) to be taken from us after 18 months, I would hope that he would cry for me.

He has actually never cried for them, but instead says periodically-and randomly as far we can tell- "I want my Other Daddy." (we call him OD for code) For some reason, he has really stepped up asking for OD (whom he says was not good to him) in the past couple of weeks. Ironically, he often does it when we are on our way to take him to do something. For example, this weekend as we drove to the Rainforrest Cafe and Legoland, he sat in the backseat asking for OD. But my real favorite is when he is mad that I have asked him to do something and he says, "I want my Other Mommy." Here's betting OM would make him hold her hand when he crosses the street and brush his teeth, too.

In the past few days he has started saying, "I really miss my other mommy and my other daddy," and asking "Who brought me to your house?" A few times he responds with, "I didn't want them to do that." I can understand that. No one wants to be ripped out of their home with no notice, whether they live with the Brady Bunch or not. It breaks my heart for him and I try my best, whether he is genuinely expressing sadness or just mad, to empathize and to make sure he knows that it is okay to talk about those feelings with me.

I have taken all of this like a champ. I know it is all part of the process and a healthy part of transitioning. But then today, in the middle of Target, we are having a nice time looking for a new cup for him and he says very seriously, "I don't want you to be my mommy." OUCH! That one hit like a dagger to my chest. I fought back tears as he said it a couple more times. I asked what he would like me to be and he said that he just wanted to go back to his "Other Mommy"... I know that kids just say stuff. I know that he does like being at our house. I know that it is good and healthy for him to miss his other house...blah blah blah. My head knows all of this, but that couldn't stop my heart from breaking right there in the baby aisle at Target... And they didn't even have the cups I wanted.

In psychology, there is something that happens called an "extinction burst" when you are trying to break a habit, change a behavior, etc... It works for a while, but then before it completely disappears, you do it a lot. I mean A LOT! The theory is that you are no longer getting what you want out of it, so you give it one more hardy try before completely giving it up. I can see that. My favorite little man has a lot to think about in his head and maybe it is just all bursting out now.

We have been told by everyone who has ever fostered or being fostered that there is some magical switch that gets flipped at the three month mark. We have three weeks to go until then...I will keep you posted.

Evolution of the Dance

Anyone who has ever been to our house knows that there is ALWAYS music playing. We eat with music on in the background, we read with it, blog with it (as the stereo is on at this moment), and even leave it on for our dog when we leave (Side note: I have always wondered if he really hates this and feels that we are torturing him in the same way the Feds played Britney Spears over and over at the Waco compound to try to lure them out). We also like to dance randomly and goofily from time to time... I know, this is more than you needed to know about what happens behind closed doors at our house. But it is important to understand this about us to understand how ironic it was that our son did NOT like music when he first came to our house. In fact, one of the first things he did when he arrived was turn OFF the stereo. And he proceeded to turn it off every time he noticed it was on for the first couple of weeks. He also did not like random dancing and would get very upset when my husband would do "the hot dog dance" when that catchy little tune came on the Mickey Mouse Club every morning.

Fortunately, things have changed over the past two months. I guess it happened so gradually that I did not notice much until yesterday when I told my little redhead it was time to dance. We started twirling around the livingroom, singing some song I made up about dancing in the livingroom (I know, I need more inspiration...). As I watched him dancing and laughing, my heart began to smile. I have always considered song to be an expression of joy in the heart and I believe that he has now found his joy. It's amazing what seven weeks can do!

On a different note, he started asking for a little sister this week... a lot. I have told him to direct all requests to the Lord and see what happens. :)

Behind the Scenes

It is so easy to get caught up in the crises that DO come our way that I have often thought that when I get to Heaven, I want to ask God to show me all of the things that DIDN'T come my way. I want to see the heartbreak He prevented by keeping away those who would hurt me, the mistakes He kept me from making by leading me down a different path, and the high heels He kept out of the cuffs of my dress pants (if you have ever worn such a combo, you know that it's deadly...) so that I did not trip... Okay, so I might have to ask Him why He didn't do a bit more of that last one. ;) Having a child has given me a firsthand view of that provision in two ways.

First, I get to see the ways that I keep my little redhead safe. When he plays, I move things out of the way so that he does not fall. I try to anticipate his needs by bringing his hat to keep the sun out of his eyes, even though he insists that he does not want it at that time. I try to convince him that he really does not want to pour all of the sand out of his sandbox because then he will not have anymore to play with. I am constantly aware of his needs and what I can do to meet them, which can only be a tiny fraction of how the Lord watches over us, keeping us safe and meeting our needs before we even know we need them.

Second, I see the ways that God has meets my son's needs even before he knows how to ask. For example, last week my husband was approached at work by our son's former foster care consultant, G. G said that his former foster mother would like to give us a picture of our son and their son, whom he referred to as his "baby." Of course he said yes, but did not mention it to our son.

Let me pause and fill you in. Some key things you need to know here are:
1. Our son has never mentioned his former foster brother.
2. He has never asked us to get anything from his "other house."

Moving on... That night, as my husband was putting our little guy to bed, he stated that he missed his "baby," and that he does not have a picture of him to show us. He then asked his daddy if he could get him a picture of his "baby."

That gives me chills...just to think that God takes care of us down to such tiny details as a photograph. But it doesn't end there. I toured about seven preschools months ago before our child ever even knew we existed. We picked one, feeling like it would best meet his needs. A few days ago we met his (new!) teacher who shared that she grew up in the foster care system and is very excited to meet our little guy! What are the odds?! Pretty good when God is involved....

Before I close, I want to share one more little story, just for fun. We took our guy to Pei Wei for his first Chinese food experience on Sunday. When he opened up his fortune cookie it read, "An unexpected relationship will become permanent." Yes, Lord! Amen to that!