So THIS is Open Adoption

We've been texting, mailing and messaging photos,since the day we brought him home. We've even talked on the phone...and Monday, God willing, we will see her again. And she will hold Levi. And meet the other children. And I'm nervous. I find myself wondering if she will approve of him--of how we are taking care of him. And then I tell myself, how stupid that is. Because I know that he is where she wanted him to be and far over and above that fact: Levi is where HE wanted him to be. He was meant to be here in our family. But then I notice that his nails need a trim, and I think, "Oooh, I gotta get the clippers, can't let D see him with unkept nails..."
And then there are The Children. Their cute little mugs staring up from the pages of our Dear Birthmother Book might very well have been the deciding factor in her choice. But Monday she will meet the real show--coming to her live, loud, and in person--and probably in her lap. And I wonder what they might say..or ask. Should we coach them with a list of do's and dont's? Or will that make our meeting all the more stilted and forced? Will they meet her and automatically and effortlessly invite her into our circle as they do with church friends, neighbors, the Wallmart Check-Out Lady? Oh, I hope so. And why is it so easy for children to do that?
The last time we talked on the phone, I said, "I love you." It just popped out. I always say that to my family. But I didn't know; I didn't realize she would feel like family. I was surprised to hear myself say it, but I instantly realized it was true. I do love her. And if that sounds a little...off...to you, well, I can relate.
I remember our very first homestudy interview for Marina's adoption. The social worker asked, "How did I anticipate feeling about the birth family and the birth mother in particular?" At first blush, I thought that was a stupid question. Ummm...duh, we are here for a Russian adoption. What birth family? The child will be in an orphanage, without family, abandoned. But of course I knew that wasn't a good, open-minded, adoption savvy response. So I distinctly remember telling her that I didn't anticipate any strong negative emotions (and having positive ones never crossed my mind) toward the child's biological relatives--perhaps, in their situation of extreme poverty, leaving the child in the orphanage was in every one's best interest. However, I indicated that I might feel differently if I knew my child had suffered at their hands. When she prompted, "Such as..?" I gave her a long list: "abuse, neglect, alcoholism, drug addiction..."
My babies by adoption have endured all of these evils and then some. And yet, I am not angry at their birthmothers. Sometimes I am angry--but it is at the darkness at work in the world. For them I feel only sadness, regret, pity, hope and yes, love.
And D? When I told her I loved her, she choked on a sob. What kind of a life does one live that hearing that sentiment overwhelms you? I cannot imagine.

Train Up a Child?

Through a set of recent, sad events at church (some of those non-bloggable topics), I’ve learned that a general criticism of our family is that we are “too tough” with our children. I find it ironic, as pastor’s children usually carry the stigma of wild hellions, and pastors have historically been faulted for not exercising better control over their households. You certainly cannot please everyone. The idea is that this carries over into the way I teach the children in my (church) classes and the way the master councils families in crisis. Apparently, we come off as not being mercy givers, full of love and understanding.
I’m trying to shake it off. No one has said anything directly to me, and perhaps that is what is most upsetting. An upfront critique is preferable to hearsay and innuendo. Then again, I don’t know how I would respond should someone accuse me face to face. Probably not as Christ-like as I should.
And, after all, this Great Experiment is still in the works. Who am I to say that my kids will turn out all right when the youngest is still in diapers and the oldest hasn’t hit puberty? Even in my few years of experience, I’ve known children who were buck wild heathens who grew up to be fine upstanding citizens and vice versa. Is there really no rhyme or reason to it? I am set adrift by this idea: all of our careful study, hard work, and heartache…for nothing?

My children do not tell me “no.”
They ask for permission before doing something.
They do not ask again if the answer is no.
We tell them what to do. Once.
Our children are expected to take on responsibilities in their own care, that of their younger siblings, and the running of the household.
They are punished swiftly and firmly for disobedience.
We do not remove natural consequences
We do not offer bribes for our children’s obedience.
We demand respect—including the manner in which we are addressed—from our children and require them to extend it to others

Does this strike you as particularly oppressive? They seem to be healthy, happy children. Are they really just chafing under this “heavy yoke,” waiting for the day they can throw it off in exchange for shame and humiliation? It may sound as though I am being facetious, but truly I am in earnest. Though we have read extensively and incorporated many parenting strategies (particularly in regard to bringing up Marina) that were not used on us as children, for the most part, we parent as we were parented. Among my peers, I always felt (and was told) that I had the “meanest” parents growing up, but I never felt unloved, and never struggled with true rebellion. As a young child, I feared deserved punishment and as a teen I had too great a respect for them. By that point, I was—for lack of a better phrase—in the habit of doing as they asked. My parents have a three of three record and the masters’ a four of four. But is it just a crap shoot in the end?
I remember when we were going through the process of adopting Cara, the agency director, a lady who we greatly respect and admire, made several comments about our parenting style during the time we were having our homestudy and following. Once—when complaining about her grown children not lending a hand when they came to visit—stating, “Of course, I didn’t raise mine the way you are raising yours.” I didn’t know whether to feel complimented or censured. I am uneasy any time this woman, whose career it is, to a large extent, to evaluate how good of a parent a person will make, points us out as odd or unusual. It is as though she, too, is curious to see how our method is going to play out in the end. It all strikes me as grossly unfair; the results only becoming apparent when it is far too late for remedy.

Family Opinion

My friend Debbie wrote a post about the decision to adopt--specifically in regards to the degree your family's opinion influenced that decision. This post is for her.

Al*n J*ckson sings a song, "Chasin' That Neon Rainbow," that contains these lines.

"Daddy won a radio

Tuned it to a country show

I was rockin' in the cradle

To the cryin' of a steel guitar.

Mama used to sing to me

She taught me that sweet harmony

Now she worries cause

She never thought I'd ever

Really take it this far."

I think that about sums up my parents, when it comes to the master and I adding to our family. The lessons I learned on their knees and at their breast--lessons about love and strength, redemption and family, sacrifice and significance--have indeed influenced my desire and decision to give birth to and adopt children, as well as provided me with emotional resources and values to care for them.
But they, "worry cause they never thought I'd ever really take it this far." And that's not only with adoption. On the day we found out that I was carrying a girl, my mom exclaimed, "Great! You have a boy and girl now, so you can stop!" It just made perfect sense to her. Over the years I've tried to explore their concerns and fears about our ever expanding family.
*worry over finances--Will we be able to support them? Where would we live? How will we live? By far, the number one issue.
*concern over my long term ability to cope--Why do I pursue a life that in many ways is such hard work? Will I crack under the strain leaving them with 3...4...5...6... children to raise?
*concern over limited resources--can we give each individual child the love and attention they deserve?
Still to this day my dad will lament that I "have ALL these children." He says 'all' as though it is not a good thing. To which I will respond, "O.K. Daddy, I'll have the kids line up and you can choose which one we should get rid of." He will chuckle. He knows I've got him there.

When my older sister could not carry children, it made perfect "sense" to my parents that they adopt. But when I the middle daughter with three borned children in tow come up with the hair-brain scheme to fly around the world and adopt a baby from Russia it was quite a different matter. They had new and old worries mixed and compounded by two daughters in the adoption process at the same time:
*worries over finances!!! When I told my dad what it was going to cost for Marina's adoption, I thought he was going to have a stroke.
*fear they wouldn't love an adopted child like they did a birth grandchild
*worse fear--they would bond with the child and he/she would be taken back (my sister was trying to adopt through the foster system.)
*worry about the child's medical diagnosis and prognosis
*a sense of awkwardness trying to explain our reasoning to their friends, co-workers, and extended family when they themselves do not understand it
*concern for their daughters' heartbreak if the whole thing did not work out.

Time cured or made them face those fears. I know each of them--all of which are fairly valid--stems from a sincere love and concern for me and my family, so I don't let it hurt my feelings. Love covers a multitude of sins. I don't know how I would feel or react if I doubted that or believed they came from selfish motives--which may be your case, Debbie. I listen with respect and try to hear what they are saying. They are my parents and I honor their opinion, even if, in the end, we must make a different decision. And I must say they have done splendidly despite their misgivings--it just takes them a little while to come around. They love their adopted grand-daughters every bit as much as their birth grand-children. If anything, they are more protective and tender towards them.

All that to say:

Yes, my parents opinion is important to me. No, my parents have not always approved of our decision to expand our family--either by birth or adoption. Yes, in the end, we did adopt/have more children despite that. Yes! Thankfully, they did accept these children. And--purely hypothetically--should we sit down one day and say, "Mom, Dad, we're flying to Uganda to adopt two children from Am*ni Baby House," I won't expect them to like it. They will share all the reasons we shouldn't do it. They will blush in their Sunday school class as they tell their friends the news. They will worry that they will not be able to accept a black child. They will be concerned for the children's health. They will worry about them growing up in a white family in a still very prejudiced south. They will want to know how much it is going to "set us back." They will be convinced that their middle daughter is insane for having EIGHT children and they will wonder if I will ever stop. BUT, they will ask for prayers on our behalf from that same Sunday School class, they will become champions of equal rights, they will keep the other children so I can take the babies to check-ups, Mom will find "the cutest" outfits for them, Daddy will secretly slip us cash, and when we step off the plane, they will be the first ones to hold them.

At least, I'm betting they will. ;0)

Daycare Down and Dirty

Don't want to be accused of holding out on ya'll regarding the daycare plans. It's just not altogether interesting. Overwhelmingly complicated, yes, but fascinating reading material? No. Since this building fell in our laps in February, I've been struggling with the "ifs" and "whens" of opening a childcare center. I've prayed and prayed for the Lord to tell me one way or the other what He wants me to do, but the Spirit has--so far--remained silent. The master, on the other hand, has not. He is like a freight train barreling faster and faster toward the Sunnys*de K*ds station, and ladies, it is hard to stop a train.
And frankly, I'm out of options. We are closing on this building within days. We haven't really been living in the real world since moving here six months ago. We've just been wallowing around, soaking up God's unexpected showers--make that a downpour--of blessing. We moved into a 10,000 square foot facility full of furniture, electronics, baby equipment, diapers, books, toys, food, etc. We were told to keep whatever we wanted. We don't pay rent. We don't pay utilities. And we don't fund any of the improvements we make to the property. But by the end of the week, that is all going to change. Our payment will be nothing near what you would expect to pay for a building this size, but it still must be paid. And then there is water, electricity, and gas. We don't have any idea what that is going to run us.
I tried to get a job teaching public school, but no luck. I don't know if it is the three year break on my resume, or that we've moved three times, or that fewer teachers are retiring because of the economy, but whatever it is, THEY AREN'T CALLING. I'm not qualified to do anything but work with children in a professional setting, so any other job I could get would be minimum wage. Minimum wage job - two children in daycare = bubkiss.
It is not that I don't enjoy teaching and working in childcare. I do! I loved each and every one of the children I kept in my home last year, and had we not moved, would have continued in the home daycare business indefinitely. But, there is SO. MUCH. INVOLVED. If it was just loving the kids, and teaching them their ABC's, and wiping hinies and noses, I would have been open yesterday. But it is dealing with the state, and insurance, and standards, and Food Programs, and ratios, and affidavits, and legal risks, and payroll, and asphalt in my play yard.
I could go on for hours listing pros and cons but what it all boils down to is this:
Should we continue to "live in faith" and trust God to provide? After all, He has been doing a superb job of it. I know my capabilities. I can't do it all. At least, not well. I can't run a quality daycare and keep up the pace of full-time mom to six. Not to mention an active pastor's wife of a growing congregation. Should we concentrate on our family, making a happy, stable home for them, and ministering in our church? Trusting with our whole hearts that He is able to make a way--even when the numbers don't add up?
OR
Maybe He gave us this building to be used for a purpose? Perhaps NOT opening a daycare would be poor stewardship of His gift? Am I being selfish and lazy? Doesn't the Proverbs describe a worthy woman as one "who considers a field and buys it; from her earnings she plants a vineyard?" From a purely business standpoint, this daycare has every opportunity of being a success. It is--if you will--a handsome field. Shouldn't I turn it to the best advantage for my family? Also it is, without a doubt, what my husband (the one I'm supposed to submit to) intends for me to do.
Now you see why I have stayed up nights.

Feeling Like a Mommy

Debbie and Suz posted this week regarding bonding with their children. Since this is a topic that has fascinated me for some time, I thought I would post regarding how I've bonded with each of my babies. At times I've been surprised, others amazed, and even disgusted by my responses to motherhood. I'll try to keep it brief, as it could get lengthy with six kids, and honest. This is a journey I'm on and I haven't arrived. Far from it! In so many ways, I'm learning to love my children more and more.
K--instant love vs. instant panic. I remember at first sight of him, from behind the nursery glass, pressing my hand to the pane and whispering with a post-anesthesia croak, "That's my baby...that's my baby." In the most literal sense of the word, it was an incredible thought. I couldn't believe I was a mother. I was just turned twenty and HAD NO IDEA WHAT I WAS DOING WITH A BABY. Any ooey gooey "love" feelings were shadowed by an overwhelming sense of responsibility. I remember thinking, "There is no possible way they are going to let me out of this hospital with a kid," but they did. The master and I had taken a parenting class before he was born, and we clung to it for dear life. If the book said do it, we did. If it said don't, we didn't. Bless his heart, the child was treated more like a science experiment than a baby...but we were so afraid of screwing up! I just knew we were headed down the road to disaster when K didn't take to the breast well, and I had to supplement him with the bottle. I went back to class two weeks after he was born, which compounded my new mommy guilt. I'd failed him! It wasn't until he was around three months old that I stopped looking for the baby police to show up at my door, and it wasn't until six months that I thought, "Wow! This mommy thing is kind of fun. I think I'm going to like this job." As for K himself, he was an adorable baby with a happy, content disposition, which always helps. I do wonder if our stress in parenting him has made him put undo pressure on himself. He can be quite critical of himself. He is mature for his age with many responsibilities and I sometimes forget that he still needs to be treated like a child.
Abby--like mother, like daughter. When Abby arrived two years later, I was much more confident in my role as mother. I was out of school and only working a few days a week. She came on the day she was scheduled, a beautiful child, nursed like a champ and slept through the night by two months. It was easy to bond with her. As she grew and developed personality, we soon realized that she and I are very much alike--to an eery degree. With Abby there are few surprises. I can predict how she will respond to most anything; it's exactly as I would. Now, I'm not saying that is always a good thing, but it is comfortable.
Ian-my Mansie. Ian's pregnancy was not planned. It wasn't that we didn't want more children. We just didn't plan on them making an arrival any time soon. To be honest, I wasn't excited at all to hear I was expecting, and I felt guilty for that. It was my most difficult pregnancy physically (though I know that none of them were truly "difficult" when compared to others'), and I was swollen and miserable. The last two weeks, I was on total bed rest. I have no memories of his birth or the three days following his delivery that we spent in the hospital. What I do remember is the first night we brought him home. He became sick and I sat up with him all night in the rocking chair. That is when I started to fall in love with him. The next day, he was admitted back in the hospital. The nursery being full, we were placed on the otherwise empty pediatric hall, where we spent the next ten days alone together. Me and him. Him and me. Nursing, snuggling, and sleeping. It was the best thing that could have happened to us. To this day, he is my most affectionate baby and I have spoiled him terribly.
Marina--a process. I've tried to share openly on my blogs about our struggles and our victories. I don't know what kind of picture that leaves you with. There are days I'm not certain what our relationship looks like, and I'm living it. Please have no doubt that I love my daughter. I've loved Marina since the day we were handed her referral picture, or at least, I've been in love with the idea of her. And maybe that was part of the problem. I believe the unnatural length of time pre-adoptive parents are "expecting" hinders more than helps the attachment process. It wasn't that we were uneducated about attachment in adoption or the post-institutionalized child, we were. And it wasn't that we didn't know she could very well have special needs; her prenatal exposure and risks were clearly explained. But head knowledge and heart knowledge are two vastly different things. On the one hand, I can honestly say that--if anything--I love Marina more fiercely than the others because ours is a bond that has been tested by fire. On the other hand, in the day-to-day stuff of life, she gets under my skin the fastest and I stay irritated with her the longest. That's the ugly truth, but I'm working on changing it.
Randy--we're all good. I was battle worn and weary from parenting an angry, confused, traumatized toddler (none of which was her fault) and baby Randy restored my faith in myself. Here was something I knew, here was something I was good at. Believing wholeheartily that Randy would be my last infant, I made up my mind to savor the moments. From late night nursings, to first steps, and yes, even potty training...this was my last time, I might as well enjoy it. That philosophy made for a sweet, strong bond with my son. Wish I had caught on to it sooner!
Cara--miracle child. She was a surprise blessing which made her all the more special and, as with Ian, I was able to spend the first three weeks alone with her in the hospital. Being with her from the beginning, I can tell you there is no difference in the way I bonded with her and my birth children. She is my second "last time," and we are loving every minute. I have the most tender, protective feelings for her. She is a living, breathing miracle and not a day passes that I am not again awed that God chose us to be her parents. If she ever becomes ill, my heart will break in two.

Birth Order Musings

I'm finishing up Dr. Lehman's book, The Birth Order Book. While I'd heard this and that regarding birth order before, it was good to read a thorough work on the subject. It was most helpful for me in understanding the two major "first-borns" in my life--the master and K. If your spouse is a first born or last born, I would definitely recommend reading this book.
I am not first born, but since my older sister is seven years older, I exhibit many first born tendencies. Unfortunately, first borns tend to always think their way is the right way, and it is their job to convince everyone else to see it their way. You can see how this can be problematic in marriage!
A neat statistic that Dr. Lehman brought out was that 80% of pastors are first born and another 10% are the first born males in their families. Only 10% are middle born and babies. I guess it makes sense that they develop a natural affinity for helping people along in life. I think of how often K serves as a kind of shepard--patiently herding kids one direction or another.
Speaking of K, Reading the chapter on compliant first borns was eerie when I applied it to my oldest son. Dr. Lehman could have used his picture in the margin with the words, "Exhibit A." He fits exactly. First borns tend to expect perfection--from themselves and others--so they can be prone to depression as adults when they and the people they love fail to live up to their ideal. I learned that, with K, it will be important for us to be transparent when we make mistakes and fail. The worse we mess up, the better. WOW! That takes the pressure off, doesn't it? He needs to see that God forgives us, we forgive ourselves, and we forgive each other. For years I've wondered why K had such a hard time making decisions. He would agonize over any and every choice. Silly stuff, like, "K, do you want Cheerios, or Shredded Wheat?" I must admit, after waiting several minutes for his answer, I often found myself blurting out, "Just pick something already!!" The Birth Order Book helped me see that it isn't that he doesn't know what he wants, it is that he is afraid he will make a bad/wrong decision. The first born is often paralyzed by this fear, which seems so foreign to me. Again, very helpful to see things from the first born's perspective.
There is less in the book regarding middle borns. SEE??!! We're always left out. Family photo albums are just the beginning....Nah, as I said, while I am the middle child of my family, I showed up seven year's later (any age difference of more than five years, will affect birth order traits--so says Lehman). Also I came on the scene after a four year battle with infertility, so I made a pretty good showing in the family album. My younger sister, Jen, is the one with the sore spot on number of photos. One thing that I'd never thought about before was that middle children often make more friends and put a far greater investment into these relationships than first or last borns. This was very true for me growing up. From the time I was a little girl, I had a large, close circle of friends that I was always out doing things with. Both of my sister's had maybe one or two good friends and rarely went out, which always struck me as strange. I had no idea that this tendency was somehow linked to my birth order. Middle born children are also extremely loyal to these relationships, that is what makes them good spouses. And, they are the ones that are the first to break away from the family and start independent lives (I married the master at 19).
I garnered the least amount of helpful information on last borns. But as I started to analyze my family and friends, I realized that I am close to few babies of the family. My younger sister and I, born 16 months apart, were raised as virtual "twins," so maybe that accounts for why she exhibits more middle-born tendencies than baby tendencies. And my sister-in-law (the baby), is more of a perfectionist than the master! Personality wise, she is a dead ringer for a first born. It could be my small sample size, but it was definitely with the last borns that I saw the most discrepancy in his theory. I do see what he calls "baby" tendencies with Ian and Randy, but I think that comes from my babying of them! This is his list of general baby characteristics:
"manipulator, charming, blames others, attention seeker, tenacious, people person, natural salesperson, precocious, engaging, affectionate, loves surprises."

So what do you think? Are you a last born? Know any last borns? Is he off, or am I?