for today

today is martin luther king jr. day.

it's also the second inauguration of barack obama, our nation's first black president (i don't care what your political views are, this is something to celebrate).

there are few things i can say that haven't already been said.

when we first began our adoption, i asked other black people for advice about how to successfully be a transracial family. one thing that came up over and over was that we needed to ensure that our children knew the history of black people in this country. "take them to the juneteenth celebration," one woman advised.

i had no clue what a juneteenth celebration even was.

later, when i found out that a juneteenth celebration honors the day black people were freed from slavery, i said that it made no sense for our family to partake in such a celebration, not because we don't rejoice that slavery was abolished, but because slavery wasn't our children's (or their ancestors') story.

my how i was wrong.

the history of slavery and the oppression of black people in america is the story for every person in this country with black skin -- regardless of how long they've lived here or where their ancestors are from. this is why telling my daughter about why today is so special feels like an epic task. i told her, even knowing she won't understand such concepts for awhile, how people with skin just like hers used to be slaves for white people -- how they weren't free. i told her that even when the government passed a law saying black people couldn't be slaves anymore, they were still treated badly and unfairly. i told her about how there used to be separate schools and restaurants for white and black people. i told her about MLK and how he stood up for what was right and got killed because some people didn't want to believe all people are created equally. i told her that if MLK hadn't fought for justice, we wouldn't be a family.

today is a day to celebrate, no doubt. but it's also a day to remember that racism still exists. in my wanting my daughter to see the greatness of MLK's work, i forgot to mention that many black people (and really, people of any color other than "white") are still treated badly. i don't have to look much further than social media to see that ignorant, arrogant people still use the n-word. and, in our brief experience so far as a transracial family, we have experienced people compartmentalize race so much in their minds that they make statements such as "your children won't be like them," suggesting not only that my children are somehow different from other black people simply because they have white parents, but also that there is something inherently wrong with or undesirable about being black.

my children will bear the effects of history until people start to believe the words found in our declaration of independence that obama referenced in his speech today: we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

i've cried tears of gratitude today as i've watched news coverage of the inauguration because my children do live in a country where they are free. i hope and pray that the freedom we all talk about does not come with conditions for those who have historically been considered unequals: black people, the poor, the disabled, the homosexual, etc.

because i don't want to be lying to my kids when i tell them they can be anything and do anything.

on giving

when i was in college, i worked at a lifeway christian bookstore for about six months. one evening, a woman came in the store, distraught and asking for money to help bury her child she'd just lost. i told her i'd ask our manager if we could help, and i gave her what little cash i had in my wallet. moments later, i had to tell her our store could do nothing to help. it wasn't our "policy."

after she left, the guy who was working with me that night said something along the lines of, "you know you just got duped. what an irresponsible way to steward a few bucks." i wasn't naive. i knew there was a good chance the sad story about a dead child and funeral costs had been made up. but, in the back of my mind, i had to wonder: what if it was true? what if she really needed help?

the question of how christians should respond in these situations probably comes up more often around christmas than any other time of the year. i have seen more people on street corners in my city with signs reading "broke and hungry" this month. i was approached two days ago in the parking lot of a local shopping center by a woman who said she needed help feeding her two children. i know there is real need here (several months ago, we were named the #1 city for hungry children in america...not something you really want to be #1 for), but sometimes i still hear that voice in my head: "you know you just got duped."

i don't like that christians make other christians feel guilty about being generous. and i don't want my children believing that we put conditions on how we give and who we give to. i want them to know they should never feel guilty about helping someone who they think is in need.

i love these words from the sermon of a 19th century scottish minister (found in tim keller's excellent book generous justice: how God's grace makes us just):

"now, dear christians, some of you pray night and day to be branches of the true vine; you pray to be made all over in the image of christ. if so, you must be like him in giving...'though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor'...objection 1. 'my money is my own.' answer: christ might have said, 'my blood is my own, my life is my own'...then where should we have been? objection 2. 'the poor are undeserving.' answer: christ might have said, 'they are wicked rebels...shall i lay down my life for these? i will give to the good angels.' but no, he left the ninety-nine, and came after the lost. he gave his blood for the undeserving. objection 3. 'the poor may abuse it.' answer: christ might have said the same; yea, with far greater truth. christ knew that thousands would trample his blood under their feet; that most would despise it; that many would make it an excuse for sinning more; yet he gave his own blood. oh, my dear christians! if you would be like christ, give much, give often, give freely, to the vile and poor, the thankless and undeserving."

 

a confession

let me confess: sometimes i torture myself by reading blogs of people whose parenting skills and children seem more advanced than mine. i'm pretty sure women, and mothers in particular, are really bad about comparing.

the most classic "lauren gets angsty every time she reads a blog like this" example is as follows.

the mom who does a billion crafts with her two-year-old and documents each craft with a picture post but never includes any pictures of the two-year-old ACTUALLY DOING THE CRAFT.



this is buma. he just turned two (and i never wrote a birthday post). this kid doesn't sit down for more than five seconds unless he's feeling particularly needy that day (and even then, he wants nothing to do with anything except being held).

the last time we did a craft (which was more than 2 months ago), i literally had to restrain him just so i could trace his hand. and then he had a major meltdown when i tried to put his finger in paint.

his favorite things to do with just about anything you give him are (a) put it in his mouth/eat it or (b) find a bigger container to put it in and then dump it out and then do that all over again or (c) throw it.

sure, he's maybe a tad behind developmentally (someone recently told us they thought he was 14 months old), but from what i know about most typical-didn't-spend-16-months-in-an-orphanage-two-year-olds, his behavior isn't too far off the curve.

so please, if you have a two-year-old that does crafts, at least post pictures that show your kid actually doing the craft so we know he did it and you're not just passing off the work you did as your kid's. or take and actually post some pictures of the mishaps that most certainly did occur when you let your two-year-old try to glue popsicle sticks together to make some holiday-themed bobble.

or you could do what i told my mom to do when she and my dad babysat recently and did a christmas craft with my kids: lie and say that your kid, like most of the rest of ours, can't do a craft yet.*+

*this post was written mostly in jest (i don't really condone lying). but in all seriousness, all the mom bloggers out there should make a pact that says everything you post about your parenting and your children can't be perfect. because perfect just ain't real life.
+buma laid down in the floor and tantrumed when my mom tried to get him to let her paint his hand for the christmas craft.
 

we aren't perfect: debunking myths

recently, our daughter has begun opening up about her birth mother.*

it has caused me to think a lot about the myths surrounding birth parents and adoptive parents. myths like "your children are so lucky to be adopted" (translation: your children are so lucky to live in america now and not that third world country they were born in) or "you are so inspiring and amazing" (translation: only the most saintly people can adopt) or "wow, those women who give up their children are the most self-sacrificing people ever" (translation: birth parents are perfect) or "ugh, it's so horrible that those women just give up their children" (translation: birth parents are the scum of the earth).

if it weren't a breach of my children's privacy, i wish i could invite people into my home to observe how untrue all of these myths are.

for starters, the lucky children are actually those who have never had a disruption in their family unit.

and me? i'm not a saint. sure, when you first start the adoption process, it feels like you're doing something extraordinarily radical. but then you get your child(ren) home, and you realize you're just like any other parent -- a big, fat sinner, grossly unaware up to that point of how flawed you truly are.

seeing this about myself has caused me considerable struggle recently as kal has begun asking about her birth mother.

birth parent myths are easy to perpetuate, particularly in international adoption situations where there are often few details (and even when there are details, nothing is ever guaranteed to be 100% accurate). this is why we take good care to protect our children's stories, as the tendency of most people is to add or infer information that's not really there.

it's not so much that i feel threatened by the existence of this other woman, as if my daughter hates me. in fact, i rejoice that this woman is now becoming part of our daily conversations. but when i think of her, all i hear is the resounding throng of voices championing the sacrifice of birth parents. and, in my mind, i think she must have been perfect.

i think she must have never yelled. or lost her temper. or been impatient.

i think she must have always played with kal and never needed a break. and always took every opportunity to cuddle and kiss. and always encouaged rather than criticized. and always found every, single thing kal did to be amazing (and never annoying).

i know these things aren't true, because as jamie put it to me, "she's still a sinner too."

but still, these myths can creep into the soul and fester there. some cause insecurity and sadness, others cause pride and flattery. so while it's not bad to honor birth parents because many of them have made enormous sacrifices, or to honor adoptive parents (they make sacrifices too), or to admit that some birth parents suck and are guilty of abuse, neglect, etc...we all should use caution when we speak, guarding our words and weighing the implications of them.

thankfully, i'm an adult who can see how these myths play out in my own family. unfortunately, my children don't have that perception yet, and they are particularly vulnerable to believing things about themselves and their unique situations that aren't true.

*as an aside, we do not make it a practice to discuss the intimate details of our children's lives pre-adoption. however, i do feel at ease making this statement because there is no hiding that all adopted children had birth parents regardless of how/why/when they ultimately came to be adopted.

last month

 

nothing thrills me more than to get one good picture of one of my kids.

 

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we just passed five months home and are in the midst of round 2 of post-adoption reports. speaking of pictures, i'm literally flabbergasted when i look back at the pictures we took when the kids first came home. kal has definitely grown and matured in the last almost six months, but it's rebuma that amazes me. that guy has gone from a giant baby to a little boy (he turns two next month...oh my).

 

 

if you don't take regular photos of your kids, start doing it! my husband can attest to the fact that i have a little obsession with taking pictures (if i don't have my slr camera shoved in my kids' faces, i at least always have my iphone handy). i like to catch the mundane things of everyday (seriously, i probably have a hundred pictures of my kids rolling a ball back and forth to each other outside or playing with toys in their playroom from tons of different days) because i want to be able to show them what it was like when they were little.



 

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our last month has been a little crazy. i had unexpected surgery last month for a basketball-size ovarian cyst that had been growing in my abdomen for who knows how long. it all came out of nowhere, and i found myself complaining a lot about how terrible the timing was. nobody really plans to have relatively major surgery four months after bringing home two children via adoption. we hadn't planned on our first "just the two of us" date being to an oncologist's office. and we definitely hadn't planned on some of the rules and boundaries we'd set up since coming home being temporarily thrown out the window since i spent about two weeks needing lots of help with even simple caregiving tasks. i struggled enormously the first week after surgery, fretting about attachment and whether my children would rebound from this disruption. i watched my son be confused about who his mommy was.

 

since then, i've come away with a sense of gratitude, not only because my cyst was benign, but also because i learned to cherish my children more. it's hard to be a parent, and, for me, it's been hard being a stay-at-home-mom. i see my kids every day, all day, which means i experience some of the best times with them and some of the worst (plus, everywhere in between). i often envy jamie when he comes home each night because he's got fresh grace for them and the ability to see everything they do as awesome rather than annoying. for me, having surgery and being forced to take some time off my job as mom helped me come back to my children with fresh grace. i still struggle day-to-day with my responses to them (i don't always give them grace, and sometimes i'm just plain mean), and some days being a mother (and an adoptive mother at that) still seems as overwhelming as it did when they first came home.

 

but overall, i finally feel normal and adjusted.

and my kids are seriously awesome.

 

referralversary #2!

a year ago today, we got the most amazing picture.






















it came after a week of praying that the last document for a three-year-old girl would come in quickly so that she could be referred to us. our agency had told us up front that there weren't many pictures of this little girl, and they understood if we decided not to accept her referral. maybe there really are people out there who say "no" to a child because there aren't enough pictures of them, but i can't really fathom that. when i saw that picture, i knew she was ours.

the day we got the call about kal's referral, jamie was out of town on business. it was a friday, and i was leaving work mid-morning to drive to ohio for our nephew's fifth birthday (jamie was flying directly there from his business trip). it was a bummer to be separated on such a momentous day, but i'm honestly grateful for the 6-hour drive i had that day alone. it gave me a lot of time to reflect on kal and her story, and there were many tears shed -- both happy and sad.

before we got kal's referral, we had almost given up hope that we'd be able to adopt two kids at the same time. things had been moving so slowly, and no toddlers had been referred in months. so it was not only a huge miracle to get this second referral, but it was such a surprise to be referred a girl. though we had prepared the entire adoption for two boys based on the wait times for girls being longer, i began longing for a girl.

kal is actually nothing like the first picture we got of her. she is loud and sassy and talkative and energetic. i remember studying that picture over and over again thinking this little girl was the most prim and proper, reserved, innocent girl in the entire world. time went on, however, and we started to realize as we got more pictures that this girl was quite spunky :)




















as much as i treasure that first picture of kal, i'm so glad healing has begun in her heart. we still see the scared little girl from the picture sometimes, but more often than not, we see our bubbly girl with a huge grin. and we're so glad she's ours.

referralversary #1!

today marks one year since we first saw our son's face.



we waited 28 months for that day to come -- 9 months raising money and doing paperwork, 19 months officially on a waitlist. i know it doesn't seem like a lot compared to today's wait times for ethiopia, but it felt like an eternity given the original wait times we had expected.

 

you can read about rebuma's referral day here. one of my favorite parts of that day was the meatloaf i was eating for lunch while casually talking to jamie on the phone about this child who would be our son. when we got rebuma's referral, he was 9.5 months old and had lived in an orphanage for almost all of his life.

 

rebuma has endured a lot in his little life -- he is such a miracle. the thing we heard over and over from the staff at our agency's transition home when we picked our kids up was how amazed they were at how rebuma progressed. when he arrived there in december (he'd been at another orphanage previously), he was sick and extremely malnourished. when we met him for the first time in january, he weighed just 11 pounds at 13 months old and literally didn't make noise (no crying, cooing, etc). in the months between our court date and embassy date, he almost doubled his body weight. now that he's been home for more than three months, he has grown even more, started walking, and is on the verge of a major word explosion (thanks to his big sister). he has the goofiest personality (think class clown type) and is, in general, just a really fun kid (with a name like rebuma, i'm pretty sure you're required to have a huge personality). we still have hard times with him, and it's not like the last three months have healed all his wounds. but he has come far, and for that, we are thankful.

 

he is undoubtedly living proof of God's power and grace. and we are blessed to be his parents.