Lately I've had a lot of questions about our adoption process and how it's going. This seemed like an easier way of sharing that information. So, after the grueling process of creating our album and profile and getting all the needed items for the website, we began an official "active" profile. You can actually view it here. Feel free to share it as the more shares it gets the more likely we are to find a match. Once we officially become an "active" profile we enter into what Dr. Seuss might call "the waiting place." In his book "The Places You Will Go" the waiting place is described as a "most useless place." And I have to agree. This is the part of the process that we really have no control over except to keep adding entries about our family and try and get our profile shared as much as possible. Since we are specifically seeking a baby girl our wait time is going to be longer. The agency will not show our profile to any expectant mothers, only women who have given birth to a baby girl and have not made an adoption plan for their baby yet. The other way we might get a call is if there is a safe delivery that matches up with our profile and we are next on "the list." So, you can imagine, those situations are not super common which means that we wait. It's not a time without any work required on our part. Of course, there are the quarterly payments that we have to make simply to be a part of the agency's network. There are quarterly "continuing education" articles we have to read and offer a reflection on. And if we hit a year from when we had our homestudy and have not had a placement we must pay for and undergo a homestudy update. Yeah... so not only a boring waiting place... an expensive boring waiting place. And anyone who knows me knows that I am not good with waiting without purpose or something to do. This is a time that very distinctly reminds me that God is God and I am not. (good song you can hear here) So, this time is filled with a lot of waiting, praying, frustration and hope. It is filled with anger and second-guessing. "Why couldn't I get pregnant?" "Maybe we should re-think IVF. I know it's expensive and not guaranteed, but hey, at least we'd be DOING something... anything..." Yeah, poor David may have been subjected to that conversation the other night. Followed by tears from me and a request for stress ice cream. Oh, and I forgot to mention the delightful part of this time. With the quarterly updates about how many placements they've done, how many waiting families they have, and our quarterly homework, they also send out a number... A number that tells you how many times your profile has been shown to a birthmother. (Your profile is only shown if you and she match up on many different points in the profile). Our profile has been shown a grand total of....... . . . . ZERO times. David and I have incredibly different opinions on this. He would rather we don't receive that number. He doesn't see what good could possibly come of it. But me? I NEED that number. I need to see what has happened. I need to see that SOMETHING is happening. I don't know how I'll feel when that number is something other than zero, indicating we were not chosen, but for now, I need that number.
So, I guess the answer to the question: "How is the adoption coming along?" is simply: "We're waiting. We wait and we pray and we dream and we hope for the day that God finds us our baby girl. And that day will come. We just don't know when. But thank you for asking us. Thank you for caring enough to follow up. And thank you for not avoiding us because you don't know what to say. Things like "I'll keep you in my prayers" or "That's gotta be hard" or even just "Ok, I hope you hear something soon" help me remember that we do not wait alone but in a community of loving, supportive friends and family. We love you all!
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Not too long ago there was an article on Facebook that really spoke to me. It was titled: "Dear Parent, About THAT kid." (if you have read it, you should and you can find it here) This article discusses "THAT kid" in your child's class that you worry about. The one that detracts from your child's classroom experience. The one dropping inappropriate words in the classroom. The child that hasn't quite learned personal space. In the article the teacher goes on to tell you everything she can't tell you about "THAT kid." By the end I was in tears and I hadn't even realized how deeply it had affected me. Because I am the mom of "THAT kid." I love my son to the moon and back but I am also aware of his growing edges. My dear son has developmental delays in speech and language comprehension, fine motor skills, and social interaction. All of that means that he has trouble communicating, he doesn't always understand what is being asked of him, and he is still learning all the appropriate ways to interact with others. We are also going to see if he needs help for his sensory tendencies. Oh, did I mention the incredibly strong prescription glasses he needs to help his wandering eye so that he won't need surgery later. He chose a delightful shade of red rims for these glasses and I think he looks quite dapper. If you've ever seen my son you'd know that he is... well.. above average size for his age. Above 99th percentile in everything. He's tall and thick and STRONG. When you're big for your age people tend to have elevated and even unreasonable expectations about what you should and should not be able to do. Of course, my son doesn't understand any of this. Yet, when it was all brought to David and I for the first time it was completely overwhelming. In fact, the first phone call I received from the school system special education program was to schedule the testing for his developmental delays and possible autism. A possible autism diagnosis had not come up prior to this phone call and I started to cry at that point because I had absolutely no concept of how to help my beautiful son. I was overwhelmed. I was heartbroken because I had all these ideas of what might be that now might not be. God got an earful from me that night... and many nights since... about why God would possibly think I was the right person to be a mom for this incredibly amazing and special boy. Seeing as God has very distinct mothering tendencies, why couldn't She have known that I was not up to this task? As a loving father, couldn't He have given me and Lucas a break on this? I bent God's ear many a night. Because, here's the other thing that goes along with having "THAT kid." I'm also "THAT kid's mom." And until we started through this journey with Lucas I had no idea how many dirty looks could be given during an hour long library program. My heart didn't know the pain that could be caused by the other parents standing away from you and talking about "THAT kid" who causes disruptions. Never would I have thought I'd be trying to arrange my work schedule so I could be close to his preschool in case the seemingly inevitable call came that the teacher needed help "handling" my son. I couldn't have known that it would be like the walk of shame to come out of your child's classroom about 5 minutes before the end of class carrying your screaming son because he was just done for the day. The comments made to me were ones I never thought anyone would say: "Looks like someone can't control their child." "Isn't he a little old for that behavior?" "Watch out four-eyes, it doesn't seem those glasses are working very well." And more. Yes, these are from adults. I would become painfully aware of the fear of trying to make friends with other parents because I didn't want to expose him to possible rejection or judgement. I would learn that in spite of the massive amount of love and gentleness he has to offer he would be turned out of a daycare because he was deemed "uncontrollable." Despite the joy he can bring, sometimes even the best sitters in the world would need a break from him. That I would weep because he struggles to understand why he can't go back and see certain friends or why he hasn't seen someone in a while. I would learn that my heart would shatter at the rejections he experienced. I didn't realize until this all began how lonely and isolating being the mom of "THAT kid" would be. It felt like I was on an island unable to find any kind of support. I was embarrassed to talk to other mom's because I felt like I should know how to DO this. Shouldn't it be an instinctual thing for a mom to care for her child? I scoured the Facebook groups and Reddit feeds looking for other interactions that were similar to mine so I didn't have to ask. And that's one of the main things I want you to know about the moms (and dads, and grandparents) of THAT kid. Remember that many times they are trying their best to help their littles navigate this confusing, loud, busy world. This is not an easy task for parents/guardians to do for their children without any added hurdles. When navigating it with delays, syndromes, setbacks, etc, it becomes downright terrifying. You see, my darling son doesn't mean to be that kid. He doesn't set out to be mean or cause harm. He is simply doing his best to traverse this new terrain that is unfamiliar and scary. Not everything makes sense and he is attempting to learn in spite of not having all the tools others his age might have. For every tantrum you might see my son experience, you're missing that he is already sight-reading words above his age level. For every time he gets up and dances and plays piano while I'm trying to preach, you don't see him sitting reverently beside me as he prays the Lord's prayer with fellow believers. For every time he pushes a child too hard because he doesn't understand how strong he is, you don't see the tears that start and his immediate empathetic response to try and help the other child back up. For every time he runs when he should walk and ignores his caregiver's correction, you don't see when he runs to a friend who has fallen to make sure they are ok. My son has incredible empathy. He wants to care for others and just make them okay. Lucas loves worship and music absolutely moves his spirit AND his body. Sunny days automatically lift his mood and make him long for the beach. You haven't seen the way he loves our dog Chloe and if she gets scared by a storm he sits by her to tell her it's going to be all right. It wasn't until the other day that a dear friend reached out and gave me words to comfort my anxious heart. She said:
"I just want to say that - if you are going to bed at night wondering if you did the right therapy, the right intervention, the right diet, the right discipline, the right combination of all the things - and worrying yourself sick over it: it does all come together eventually. One day, you will be able to take a deep breath and know you are getting it right. I have spent SO many nights worrying and wondering and now, when I look at my son, I know deep in my soul that he has exactly what he needs to be exactly who God intended him to be. And I have gotten really good at not letting anyone or anything take that away from us." This is the same friend I made a deal with to not ever worry whether or not we were overstepping when trying to support, offer advice or encouragement. Every child is unique and going to go through their experiences in their own way. But this journey is so much easier when you can be "the mom of THAT child" with a tribe of other moms of those children cheering for you, crying with you, and picking you up when the world's knocked you down. The tribe that helps you to look at your child and, as my friend so beautifully put it, "he has exactly what he needs to be exactly who God intended him to be." So from one of the many mom's of THAT kid, please take a moment to remind yourself to be kind. Remember that your reaction is noticed even if you think it's not. Give one more moment of thought to wonder what that family may be going through before you cast judgment or decide you would be a better parent. And maybe even beyond all that, if you see someone struggling - whether it's with bags while a child is using the floppy defense, or if it's with trying to get the door open while carrying a screaming child - be the one who helps. You might be the glimpse of sun, the moment of grace, that gets them through the rest of their day. Well, if you couldn't tell from the title, I'm feeling more than a little cranky. I'm telling you, getting old ain't for sissies. Now that I've got that out of my system... What really prompted this post is not the fact that I'm aging (and it would seem poorly, at that). It's that there is a lot of pain in the world and a lot of pain happening for a lot of people I know here. My heart is heavy and breaks for them. It's one of those things that you know if you could do something... anything... to relieve the suffering of a friend you would but there is simply nothing that can be done except to be present and listen. And that is something that can be a struggle for me (and I'm guessing some of you, too). The pain being experienced around me is everything from grief to sickness to loss to growing pains. It is truly important to say here that just because someone is experiencing a different pain it in no way diminishes your own. All too often I hear people say: "Yes, this is hard... but I try not to feel bad/talk about it because I know so many people have it so much worse." Ok, that is probably true, but that does not change the fact that this painful situation is your reality right now and you have absolutely no reason to hide it, deny it, or apologize for it. You are allowed to be sad and to hurt if something happens. It doesn't have to be the worst pain that was ever felt in the world in order to matter. You matter therefore your pain matters. I do have to add possibly one of my favorite things having said that you matter... I'm not even a science person and that makes me giggle. Anyways... back from that tangent. Pain. It really does seem to be everywhere. Something I read once said: "Don't just see the reaction, see the pain behind it." Basically, it is along the lines of the theory that behind every person who hurts others is a person who has been hurt. When people are in pain we do some of the darnedest things. We may lash out. It might be that if we hurt we want everyone around us to feel some of that pain, too. Because pain is lonely and we generally don't like to feel lonely. Or we may withdraw. Perhaps it is just too much and we don't want to have to keep answering the question: "Are you ok?" or "What's wrong?" This can be especially true when you can't quite put a finger on why you don't feel right, you just don't. Saying that can sometimes result in quizzical glances that can feel heavy with judgment. Or you might just plaster a smile on your face, say everything is fine, but those who know you can see the lines of stress around your eyes and around your smile. It's hard to force a smile to reach your eyes when you're in pain. Regardless, this world is hurting. I see it all the time on social media. Posts that are derogatory, which we know is not going to change one single thing, are shared repeatedly. People spend exorbitant amounts of time debating some topic on Facebook and both parties are just going to walk away feeling righteously indignant and as though they "won" the argument. (Let me just tell you, no one "wins" on a Facebook argument... we ALL lose.") How, then, can we respond to the pain a friend is experiencing? One common way I see happen that really isn't super helpful to the person in pain but really helps the comforter feel better is to play "magic fixer." This is where you try to "solve" the other person's problem, even if it's not something necessarily "fixable." Typical responses tend to be: "Well, maybe if you..." or "Don't worry, it will get better" or "the pain gets less, I swear." They are characterized by the feeling that if you can just 'fix' it or the person the pain disappears. The reasons this approach is often unhelpful are: 1) A lot of times there isn't a way to "fix" the problem. It's an issue that cannot easily be resolved. 2) More than likely your "solution" or quick-fix has either been tried or dismissed as not effective. So, unless the person you're talking with says: "Hey... I've got this problem, can you help me figure something out?" Offering solutions is not going to ease the pain. My husband is notorious for this. It got to the point where I had to learn to preface statements with: "I don't want you to try and fix this..." He appreciates the heads up and cue for what to do and it saves me the frustration of having to nix or shoot down unrequested "fixes." If it is unclear to you as to whether or not the person would like your help trying to fix the situation the best course of action is just to ask: "Would you like me to help you think through some possible solutions?" or "Would it help to try to talk through different avenues?" More than likely what your friend/partner/spouse/child is looking for when they come to you hurting is not a list of possible solutions, but rather just someone to listen. Not to listen with the intention of responding with a solution. But just to really hear what they are saying and to acknowledge their pain. It's truly a holy space when someone chooses to share in this way because it is an indicator of trust in you that you will hold their pain without belittling/dismissing them or trying to turn them into a project. This is also incredibly difficult as I mentioned earlier. Because most of us have been taught to listen with the intention to formulate a well-crafted response. Pain isn't rational. Pain does not expect nor need a well-crafted response. Pain demands to be felt. And sometimes that pain can be too much for one person to endure and so they seek out someone they trust to share their suffering and hopefully find a partner in shouldering this burden to make it even just a fraction lighter. Why is this hard? Most people do not like to see others in pain, especially those for whom we care. Our natural instinct becomes to try and get rid of what is causing the pain regardless of it is actually something that can be gotten rid of. In essence, then, we are fighting against our natural impulse to fix and instead, choosing to enter into the pain with the other person and just being. Acknowledging to them that, yes, this does indeed suck, and it is painful, and that their feelings aren't completely out of whack. It's providing a space to be angry, upset, and hurt without fear of judgment or repercussions. There aren't a lot of places that it is socially acceptable to just completely break down and react with whatever primal feeling is within you. To find that kind of space in a trusted person is like finding gold. It's something to be treasured and held dear. David is often that space for me. The space where I can go and yell or scream or cry about how unfair it all is, how much it hurts, and how I don't want this to be my reality without having to backtrack and explain or make excuses or apologies. He gives me the safe space in my life to just finally breathe. When I saw my therapist the other day, one of the first things out of my mouth was "I feel like I can't breathe. It's like I can't take a deep breath or everything is going to fall apart and hurt so much." In the midst of painful situations or difficult times we might hold our breath - figuratively or literally - just trying to power through. Yet, unfortunately, it can happen that you get through that first awful thing and find yourself walking right into another one. If this happens enough times in a row you haven't had the chance to stop and take that deep breath that will clear your mind and let you think rationally. This is why it's so important to have that person or people in your life who can be your breathing space. And it's why it's so important that we learn and practice the art of simply being with one another. Because you have no idea how long it's been since the other person has been able to take a deep breath. Well, I guess what I want to boil this all down to is to ask you to walk gently with anyone you encounter. You have no idea what weight, grief, sorrow or hurt they are bearing. Live gently. Leave space in your life for loved ones to breathe. And if you feel sorrow pulling you down find that safe person in your life who will just listen and provide you the room to finally breathe deeply once more.
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AuthorI've been Robyn for my whole life. I've been a wife for 10 years and a mom for 5 years. I've been a pastor for about 10 years. I'm still stumbling, but I'm still standing. Archives
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