There's a side to parenting that no one really discusses. Sure people talk about the poop and pee stains, the zombie-like state due to lack of sleep, and the film of powder that perpetually coats that corner of the kitchen counter where you store the formula. They tell you to make sure you communicate with your spouse, to shower the baby with love but not too much, and that you really do need to soak in every single moment because it all moves so quickly. But no one dares mention the soul-crushing anxiety that can encompass every waking moment if you let it.
As a type-A, OCD-diagnosed, perfectionist, have-to-do-it-myself type of person, fatherhood has been difficult at times. Don't get me wrong. It's filled with wonderful moments when he looks in my eyes and grins the gummiest, sweetest grin you've ever seen; when he coos so loudly when I sing to him my favorite vocalises (momma made me mash my m&ms, red leather/yellow leather, et al); and those blissful moments when I tell him I love him and he sinks even deeper into my arms. At that point, I know that I am doing at least one thing right.
But then there are the moments when he literally will not stop screaming, despite the fact that his diaper is clean and his belly is full. There are the moments when you just want one moment for yourself in a slightly selfish way. There are times when you are so determined to be so over-the-top great and do-it-yourself that you do all the things and end up hurting your wife's feelings because she only sees herself as a warm body in the church routine. There are moments when your tunnel-visioned self literally cannot think of something as simple as standing up and walking to assuage the crying, and when your wife finally does that for you, you break down in sobs. It. is. so. hard.
And then there's the issue of dealing with all of this. Yes, I take my me time to run almost every day while I train for my next half, but sometimes that just doesn't do the trick. I've always been one who struggled with voicing my feelings, but I could easily write about them. But lately, not only has it been hard to put my feelings into words, I've struggled with the way I am perceived. It seems that my intent is not always clear on my blog, and I have turned some people away. If that is true for you, then I am sincerely sorry; this is my voice, and it's the only one I know.
Say what you will about millennials needing a safe space, but shouldn't everyone have somewhere where it's ok to speak your mind in a low-judgment arena? I don't claim to be an expert in parenting at all, or really in any area of my life, so the observations I've recorded have just been that - observations. I attempt to add humor to them to defer the anxiety, but then I wind up being misinterpreted and turning more people away. And this leads to more anxiety because I worry about how I'm going to get all these frustrations out {some of you are probably thinking a journal, right?} while still seeking some consolation that it's all going to be ok. It's a vicious cycle.
And it has to end. Parents, we HAVE to stop burning each other at the stake for every transgression that we notice about each other - whether it's recorded on social media or not. Parenthood is tough enough as it is; we don't need to be at odds with each other over the way our babies are posed in a picture, the number of times we feed our babies, or whether or not we post about our babies on social media. Do we see what's happening here, y'all? We are missing out on our blessings because of adults who are acting like children, and we are experiencing more anxiety ourselves as a result.
So here I am. An imperfect dad who struggles with the weight of this burden of raising a God-fearing son in our society. A man who loves his wife fiercely but doesn't always show it in a way that honors her. A friend who worries about the way his friends perceive his heart in all of this. An anxiety sufferer who hopes that at least one of you find comfort in these words. A child of God who prays that He receives the honor & glory in all things.
Sunday, July 17, 2016
Thursday, June 30, 2016
color blind
Let me make something abundantly clear before this goes any further: I could not love my son any more. He is my pride and joy, and I will go to battle for him to the ends of the earth. If you've been in touch with me in the last few months, you know that my son doesn't look like me and never will. I couldn't be any more ok with that fact. Regardless of his looks or the color of his skin, he is and always will be my son. Plain and simple.
A lot has been said in the past few years especially about which lives matter and which do not. The reality of this situation is that I know my son will have a tougher go in some areas of life than I did, but I can still equip him to be a man of character, a man who loves the Lord and his family, and a man who is proud to wear this last name of his that will soon be official. People have asked me if we will tell him he's adopted, and I jokingly answer "well if he doesn't know, he may need to get his eyes checked." {Humor in uncomfortable situations is my coping mechanism du jour.}
I've also been asked several times which race he will identify with. Part of our adoption education courses included a session on transracial adoption; we had always been open to the idea. But I guess I never really processed the depth of that question or the underlying sorrow. Because here's the reality y'all. He's a human, end of story. Why can't he identify as being a member of the human race? Why must we look at it through that lens so often in our society? Why can't we see this little brown baby as just a baby who brings his parents so much joy? Why do we have to label every single thing?
I know, I know. In the age of social media outcries and political correctness, this can be a touchy subject. My son is a human who was created in the image of a perfect God. It doesn't matter if he had 11 toes or webbed feet; he would still be the perfect child God had planned for us. {PLEASE don't misread that as "He thinks his child is perfect," because I know he isn't.} If you see the color of my son's skin first before your recognize those beautiful lashes, those chubby cheeks, the big feet, or his infectious grin, then perhaps you need to check your own eyes and check your heart. The truth is, we are all humans. We can all use a little more love, mercy, and grace. And we can start treating each other a lot nicer too.
I also need to apologize / clear the air over a slight ruckus I created on the book o face yesterday in posting about our court date and inviting those who could to attend. We have been asked if we plan on sharing every picture from our journey, to which we responded that we couldn't for the sake of time {seriously, 3.5 months worth x 2 oversharing parents with camera phones = too many pictures to post}. There seems to be a misunderstanding that people deserve or have a right to what has been a very intimate time for us and for our families.
Yes, we have been transparent about the adoption process and journey, partially because we feel society just doesn't have the proper education about it and we desire to be ambassadors of sorts. But we have been far from oversharers. We didn't share each time we got a birth mother summary, each mother who chose someone else and left us brokenhearted, the families we said no to simply because of the situation, leaving us absolutely broken. We haven't shared the nights we simply sat and cried in an empty nursery because of the weight of this journey.
We have not and WILL NOT share the details of our son's journey home or his entry into the world and all that that entailed. That is his and his birth mother's story first and foremost. When he is old enough to comprehend, he will hear that from us; then he can share what he feels others need to know. While we are appreciative and grateful for those who have earnestly prayed for us daily, have donated of their time and resources for fundraisers, and have actually sent us messages of encouragement, no one has a right to this story except for Christ and the 3 people in this home. And if that's not ok with you in the age of oversharing, then perhaps you need to evaluate where you are in our life. We desire to honor Christ in our adoption, not get likes on Facebook.
A lot has been said in the past few years especially about which lives matter and which do not. The reality of this situation is that I know my son will have a tougher go in some areas of life than I did, but I can still equip him to be a man of character, a man who loves the Lord and his family, and a man who is proud to wear this last name of his that will soon be official. People have asked me if we will tell him he's adopted, and I jokingly answer "well if he doesn't know, he may need to get his eyes checked." {Humor in uncomfortable situations is my coping mechanism du jour.}
I've also been asked several times which race he will identify with. Part of our adoption education courses included a session on transracial adoption; we had always been open to the idea. But I guess I never really processed the depth of that question or the underlying sorrow. Because here's the reality y'all. He's a human, end of story. Why can't he identify as being a member of the human race? Why must we look at it through that lens so often in our society? Why can't we see this little brown baby as just a baby who brings his parents so much joy? Why do we have to label every single thing?
I know, I know. In the age of social media outcries and political correctness, this can be a touchy subject. My son is a human who was created in the image of a perfect God. It doesn't matter if he had 11 toes or webbed feet; he would still be the perfect child God had planned for us. {PLEASE don't misread that as "He thinks his child is perfect," because I know he isn't.} If you see the color of my son's skin first before your recognize those beautiful lashes, those chubby cheeks, the big feet, or his infectious grin, then perhaps you need to check your own eyes and check your heart. The truth is, we are all humans. We can all use a little more love, mercy, and grace. And we can start treating each other a lot nicer too.
I also need to apologize / clear the air over a slight ruckus I created on the book o face yesterday in posting about our court date and inviting those who could to attend. We have been asked if we plan on sharing every picture from our journey, to which we responded that we couldn't for the sake of time {seriously, 3.5 months worth x 2 oversharing parents with camera phones = too many pictures to post}. There seems to be a misunderstanding that people deserve or have a right to what has been a very intimate time for us and for our families.
Yes, we have been transparent about the adoption process and journey, partially because we feel society just doesn't have the proper education about it and we desire to be ambassadors of sorts. But we have been far from oversharers. We didn't share each time we got a birth mother summary, each mother who chose someone else and left us brokenhearted, the families we said no to simply because of the situation, leaving us absolutely broken. We haven't shared the nights we simply sat and cried in an empty nursery because of the weight of this journey.
We have not and WILL NOT share the details of our son's journey home or his entry into the world and all that that entailed. That is his and his birth mother's story first and foremost. When he is old enough to comprehend, he will hear that from us; then he can share what he feels others need to know. While we are appreciative and grateful for those who have earnestly prayed for us daily, have donated of their time and resources for fundraisers, and have actually sent us messages of encouragement, no one has a right to this story except for Christ and the 3 people in this home. And if that's not ok with you in the age of oversharing, then perhaps you need to evaluate where you are in our life. We desire to honor Christ in our adoption, not get likes on Facebook.
Saturday, May 28, 2016
an education
I would like to begin by saying that my intent in writing this is not to bash any person, any school, or any system. I am writing to shed light on the harsh realities of my career, which has now included 8 years in 3 schools in both the private and public sector. The realities are the same for each.
48 hours ago, I was arriving at school for my last day with students. My plan for the day was to give my final exam to one last class, make a few parent contacts, collect some signatures on my sign-off sheet, and then kill time with some adult coloring since I had completed all I could at that point. About an hour and a half later, that all changed.
In the high-stakes world of education, a teacher without tenure can easily be non-renewed without explanation. I was the victim of that this week. And before you say, "Well that's what's wrong with tenure; it keeps good teachers out of a job," please know that I have seen and worked with just as many fantastic tenured teachers as excellent non-tenured ones. That's simply the nature of the beast in the world in which I work. I have witnessed teachers who earn their tenure thrive just as much as I have seen others receive their tenure and begin phoning it in. Also know that tenure is not job security. There are teachers who receive tenure that get mistreated to the point of packing it up just as often.
It would be one thing if I were frequently called into the front office for meetings about my job performance not meeting expectations, but that did not happen. I was under the impression that I was doing the job well enough to return next year. In fact, others in supervisory roles over me were under the same impression and were just as shocked as I was that I received that infamous letter of non-renewal. (Side bar: Why do we call it a pink slip when I've never gotten one that's pink?) In fact, parents of students often praised me to my supervisors and one had even gone so far as telling me she was going to try to request me for her next child who would be coming through the high school next year.
To summarize what followed: shock, phone calls to my moving team (shout out to my wonderful wife & fabulous fil for all of their help), packing, and saying goodbye to what I thought was home. Several tears were shed, both out of anger and sorrow. But I packed my toys and headed home. I can hang my hat on the fact that countless colleagues stopped me and told me that I would be missed, that I am a great teacher, and that I always did my job the right way - with integrity. Sometimes it really is the small things.
As a colleague and dear friend asked earlier in the week, "We are told to give feedback, provide strugglers extra help and communicate if in danger of failing. Shouldn't we offer the same to teachers?" One would think that if we expect our students to get this courtesy, our teachers should get the same. So why do we invite teachers to teach 3 different courses in their first year in a building - which means preparing countless lessons, materials, assessments, interventions, and the like - and never intervene if they are in danger of failure? Y'all, I have had colleagues in my building observe me for my techniques. I am halfway to be a Nationally Board Certified Teacher. I am really really good at my job. Why do we send administrators into the classroom to observe and offer feedback that is overall very positive and then non-renew these teachers without the knowledge of the observers? Why are we expected to share our hard work and lessons with other teachers in our subject-area-PLC without their having to work for it? How are some of these same people still around? Who do they know that I don't? Why do we pit teachers against each other into the "in club" and everyone else? These are the questions I have been pondering for the last 2 days.
So here I am, involuntarily searching for a job for the second time in thirteen months. Sometimes this adulting thing is entirely overrated. Here's how you can pray specifically for me and my family: (1) that doors would be opened for interviews with principals, (2) for favor on those interviews, and (3) for discernment for me as I sift through job offers. I want to be in the center of God's will, but I selfishly also want to earn my tenure so I don't have to do this song and dance annually. And guys, let's pray for the state of education. If we want to reform things and be on the forefront of things globally, perhaps we should change the way we value and treat our educators.
48 hours ago, I was arriving at school for my last day with students. My plan for the day was to give my final exam to one last class, make a few parent contacts, collect some signatures on my sign-off sheet, and then kill time with some adult coloring since I had completed all I could at that point. About an hour and a half later, that all changed.
In the high-stakes world of education, a teacher without tenure can easily be non-renewed without explanation. I was the victim of that this week. And before you say, "Well that's what's wrong with tenure; it keeps good teachers out of a job," please know that I have seen and worked with just as many fantastic tenured teachers as excellent non-tenured ones. That's simply the nature of the beast in the world in which I work. I have witnessed teachers who earn their tenure thrive just as much as I have seen others receive their tenure and begin phoning it in. Also know that tenure is not job security. There are teachers who receive tenure that get mistreated to the point of packing it up just as often.
It would be one thing if I were frequently called into the front office for meetings about my job performance not meeting expectations, but that did not happen. I was under the impression that I was doing the job well enough to return next year. In fact, others in supervisory roles over me were under the same impression and were just as shocked as I was that I received that infamous letter of non-renewal. (Side bar: Why do we call it a pink slip when I've never gotten one that's pink?) In fact, parents of students often praised me to my supervisors and one had even gone so far as telling me she was going to try to request me for her next child who would be coming through the high school next year.
To summarize what followed: shock, phone calls to my moving team (shout out to my wonderful wife & fabulous fil for all of their help), packing, and saying goodbye to what I thought was home. Several tears were shed, both out of anger and sorrow. But I packed my toys and headed home. I can hang my hat on the fact that countless colleagues stopped me and told me that I would be missed, that I am a great teacher, and that I always did my job the right way - with integrity. Sometimes it really is the small things.
As a colleague and dear friend asked earlier in the week, "We are told to give feedback, provide strugglers extra help and communicate if in danger of failing. Shouldn't we offer the same to teachers?" One would think that if we expect our students to get this courtesy, our teachers should get the same. So why do we invite teachers to teach 3 different courses in their first year in a building - which means preparing countless lessons, materials, assessments, interventions, and the like - and never intervene if they are in danger of failure? Y'all, I have had colleagues in my building observe me for my techniques. I am halfway to be a Nationally Board Certified Teacher. I am really really good at my job. Why do we send administrators into the classroom to observe and offer feedback that is overall very positive and then non-renew these teachers without the knowledge of the observers? Why are we expected to share our hard work and lessons with other teachers in our subject-area-PLC without their having to work for it? How are some of these same people still around? Who do they know that I don't? Why do we pit teachers against each other into the "in club" and everyone else? These are the questions I have been pondering for the last 2 days.
So here I am, involuntarily searching for a job for the second time in thirteen months. Sometimes this adulting thing is entirely overrated. Here's how you can pray specifically for me and my family: (1) that doors would be opened for interviews with principals, (2) for favor on those interviews, and (3) for discernment for me as I sift through job offers. I want to be in the center of God's will, but I selfishly also want to earn my tenure so I don't have to do this song and dance annually. And guys, let's pray for the state of education. If we want to reform things and be on the forefront of things globally, perhaps we should change the way we value and treat our educators.
Sunday, May 8, 2016
to our birth mother
It's Mother's Day, and you are heavy on my heart today. I wonder what kind of emotions you are experiencing today, and in spite of the joy of this day, my heart breaks for you. You made the bravest choice you could make when you chose to place your baby with us as his forever family. Today my wife celebrates her first Mother's Day, and I rejoice in the joy of parenting with her.
I only know your first name, I've never seen your face, & I've never heard your voice. Yet we share the most special of bonds in this little life the Lord has entrusted to us. But there are so many things I want to ask you, namely what do you want us to tell our son about you? I want to tell you that he is a long, lean snuggle bug who hates sleeping on his back and is adjusting to a swaddle after some time.
Above all, I want to tell you that he is loved. He is fiercely loved by his parents, his grandparents, his aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, and even strangers who've only seen him once. Everyone who meets him tells us how beautiful he is and how he looks so peaceful and happy.
I want to tell you that he was dedicated to the Lord on this Mother's Day. We committed to raise him in a way that will show him Jesus from an early age and to be the Godly examples he needs. He is a precious gift who would not be in our lives were it not for you.
We have prayed for you daily during our adoption process, and we continue to pray specific things over you by name today. It has been such an honor to pray for this little life & for your life as well - who you are becoming, your relationship with the Lord, your relationship with your family.
Today, I pray that you realize how brave you are, that you are loved by your Heavenly Father, and I pray that your heart is full. I pray that you know how valuable you are to this family and. I pray that he never loses sight of the fact that your intense love for him gave him and us what we needed the most - each other. I pray that we can honor you in the choices we make. And I pray that you are at peace with a decision that had to be difficult beyond belief.
"I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord." - 1 Samuel 1: 27 - 28
Sunday, May 1, 2016
dad life
Y'all. I'm a dad. As in I have a son. I am one of 2 humans responsible for the well-being of this tiny human. And hey hey, we've all remained safe & sound for 18 days now! Score one for the home team. It still hasn't sunk in that this is all real.
A little over 2 weeks ago, we were traveling to another state to meet this ball of life for the first time. I'll spare you the histrionics of that meeting, but a summary of the emotions can be described as such: nervousness, shock, fear, elation, tears, joy, tears, more fear, tears, and the reality that this is what we've worked for. {Also, more tears.}
Then reality began to sink in, so we did what any normal Millennial couple does: head to Target! Strangely in spite of all we packed, we didn't bring formula. {Praise the Lord for those specials they run where you buy 15 of one product to get a $2 gift card!} We were in a hotel for the first few nights that we were out of state, which is an experience on its own - an even more stressful one when you're carrying a newborn with you.
Our first night included, but was not limited to: multiple attempts at cosleeping because the bassinet just wasn't cutting it, several trips to the conference room on the first floor as to not disturb our neighbors, and a 2 AM Wal-Mart run for gripe water {and an impulse purchase of those amazing month-by-month stickers shaped like neckties} in my pajamas. Regardless of locale, the clientele at the Mart is always intriguing at that hour. He eventually settled into a routine in the hotel before we had to move to the camper, which turned out to be his 4th new home in fewer than 3 weeks.
{Side note in our travels: whoever drew the roads in the state to which we traveled must have been inebriated. Too many twists and turns when a straight line would have been sufficient. And for the love, why would someone make a sharp turn as you crest a steep hill in the woods?}
The camper proved to be the toughest place to stay, even though it was filled with our things, our food, our comforts. Being confined to that small of a space was exhausting. With each passing day, the walls seemed to cave in. We were free to leave the camper, but we were in an unfamiliar area with a newborn, so our options were limited. We ventured out on occasion, but we mainly stayed inside while we waited for the all-clear to head home.
When a child is adopted across state lines, both the birth state and the eventual home state have to communicate and grant approval through the ICPC process. We learned that our packet was headed to our home state within 36 hours of our meeting our son, so we were hopeful that we would get the all clear much sooner than the initial 2-3 week window that we were initially told to anticipate. I was granted a short leave for work, so there would have been a point at which I had to come home regardless, even if that meant my family was not with me.
We knew that Friday was our absolute deadline for having our prayers answered, and as Thursday afternoon rolled around, we began to get antsy. We reached out to our social worker and learned of some specific hangups that I will not mention here for the sake of my family's privacy and safety. But we took to social media to ask our friends to pray for this specific thing, and boom, that piece of the puzzle was in place by the end of the working day. I was overwhelmed with gratitude for our friends who interceded with us. I was humbled by God's goodness.
Friday came, and my anxiety was at its peak. Would it happen? Would the pieces fall into place as needed? Would we have to go grocery shopping again? {Guess what? We did. I won't spoil it. I promise.} In my anxiousness, I pulled out my adult coloring because I didn't have another good book to read with me, and I needed to soothe myself. When I finished my picture, I posted it on instagram with an anxiety-related caption. A dear Godly friend commented "It's happening. TODAY!" I later asked her if that was a specific word that she received from the Lord for us or whether she was speaking that in faith; she responded that it was the latter. My faith tank, sadly, was running on empty. I was in tears at the thought that I would have to leave my family to return to work, and it was barely lunch time. We once again asked our friends and family for a very specific prayer to be answered. I was beside myself with anticipation. We prayed together, and I simply told R that she would have to have faith for me, because I was running on empty. Within minutes of this prayer, we got THE call from our social worker that we were headed home.
We of course hastily packed the cars, loaded up our baby, and headed home. I have never been so happy to see I-65 southbound in my entire life. We got home to elated neighbors, a clean house thanks to our precious family, and more packages for this little man than we knew what to do with. After dropping our luggage, we did what was most important: EAT. In a full circle moment, we revisited the place we ate on our last night as just us. It was purely magical to be home in our space, adjusting to each other.
Then we attempted to find normal. Or something resembling normal. I've gotta say. My little man is a champ. He is such a chill baby unless he's naked and getting his diaper changed. I'm seriously considering investing in a set of stirrups for diaper time, because he will not keep his legs still. Ever. He sleeps really well, and my wife and I have worked out a system in which I take the first feeding and change of the night & she takes the second so I can at least be remotely rested for work the next day. It works for us, but we know it's all unpredictable. What works today may not work tomorrow. And that's ok, because that's pretty much the journey of parenthood.
In my short time in the realm of parenting, I've learned a lot. No one, and I mean NO ONE has it figured out. We can read as many expert-written books, researched blogs, or parenting magazines as we can get our hands on, but we will still never know it all. And guess what, y'all? We don't have to! That's the beauty of parenting. It's all so full of love & grace that we don't have to have all the answers. It's like a game of "Who's Line is it Anyway?" where the rules are made up & the points don't matter. Fellow parents, if you think you've got it all figured out, check your ego at the door and spend some time in the floor playing with your kid. Please. And each and every child is wonderfully unique and different, so what worked for all 17 of the babies on your mom's side may not work for my son. And that is OK! I've also learned that God equips parents to survive on way less sleep than we ever thought imaginable. That's not to say I'm not sleeping at all - seriously, he lets us go at least 4-5 hours in between feedings. He's great. I've also been granted patience when I needed it the most, an increased capacity for love of my son and my rockstar wife, and grace for the moment.
Who cares that I haven't read a physical book in over a week or that there's a stack of ironing that I need to do? Right now, there's a precious one-month old strapped to my chest in my sling while I write this and cry over a weeks-old episode of Grey's. And all is right in my world.
"Children are a gift from the LORD; they are a reward from him." - Psalm 127:3
A little over 2 weeks ago, we were traveling to another state to meet this ball of life for the first time. I'll spare you the histrionics of that meeting, but a summary of the emotions can be described as such: nervousness, shock, fear, elation, tears, joy, tears, more fear, tears, and the reality that this is what we've worked for. {Also, more tears.}
Then reality began to sink in, so we did what any normal Millennial couple does: head to Target! Strangely in spite of all we packed, we didn't bring formula. {Praise the Lord for those specials they run where you buy 15 of one product to get a $2 gift card!} We were in a hotel for the first few nights that we were out of state, which is an experience on its own - an even more stressful one when you're carrying a newborn with you.
Our first night included, but was not limited to: multiple attempts at cosleeping because the bassinet just wasn't cutting it, several trips to the conference room on the first floor as to not disturb our neighbors, and a 2 AM Wal-Mart run for gripe water {and an impulse purchase of those amazing month-by-month stickers shaped like neckties} in my pajamas. Regardless of locale, the clientele at the Mart is always intriguing at that hour. He eventually settled into a routine in the hotel before we had to move to the camper, which turned out to be his 4th new home in fewer than 3 weeks.
{Side note in our travels: whoever drew the roads in the state to which we traveled must have been inebriated. Too many twists and turns when a straight line would have been sufficient. And for the love, why would someone make a sharp turn as you crest a steep hill in the woods?}
The camper proved to be the toughest place to stay, even though it was filled with our things, our food, our comforts. Being confined to that small of a space was exhausting. With each passing day, the walls seemed to cave in. We were free to leave the camper, but we were in an unfamiliar area with a newborn, so our options were limited. We ventured out on occasion, but we mainly stayed inside while we waited for the all-clear to head home.
When a child is adopted across state lines, both the birth state and the eventual home state have to communicate and grant approval through the ICPC process. We learned that our packet was headed to our home state within 36 hours of our meeting our son, so we were hopeful that we would get the all clear much sooner than the initial 2-3 week window that we were initially told to anticipate. I was granted a short leave for work, so there would have been a point at which I had to come home regardless, even if that meant my family was not with me.
We knew that Friday was our absolute deadline for having our prayers answered, and as Thursday afternoon rolled around, we began to get antsy. We reached out to our social worker and learned of some specific hangups that I will not mention here for the sake of my family's privacy and safety. But we took to social media to ask our friends to pray for this specific thing, and boom, that piece of the puzzle was in place by the end of the working day. I was overwhelmed with gratitude for our friends who interceded with us. I was humbled by God's goodness.
Friday came, and my anxiety was at its peak. Would it happen? Would the pieces fall into place as needed? Would we have to go grocery shopping again? {Guess what? We did. I won't spoil it. I promise.} In my anxiousness, I pulled out my adult coloring because I didn't have another good book to read with me, and I needed to soothe myself. When I finished my picture, I posted it on instagram with an anxiety-related caption. A dear Godly friend commented "It's happening. TODAY!" I later asked her if that was a specific word that she received from the Lord for us or whether she was speaking that in faith; she responded that it was the latter. My faith tank, sadly, was running on empty. I was in tears at the thought that I would have to leave my family to return to work, and it was barely lunch time. We once again asked our friends and family for a very specific prayer to be answered. I was beside myself with anticipation. We prayed together, and I simply told R that she would have to have faith for me, because I was running on empty. Within minutes of this prayer, we got THE call from our social worker that we were headed home.
We of course hastily packed the cars, loaded up our baby, and headed home. I have never been so happy to see I-65 southbound in my entire life. We got home to elated neighbors, a clean house thanks to our precious family, and more packages for this little man than we knew what to do with. After dropping our luggage, we did what was most important: EAT. In a full circle moment, we revisited the place we ate on our last night as just us. It was purely magical to be home in our space, adjusting to each other.
Then we attempted to find normal. Or something resembling normal. I've gotta say. My little man is a champ. He is such a chill baby unless he's naked and getting his diaper changed. I'm seriously considering investing in a set of stirrups for diaper time, because he will not keep his legs still. Ever. He sleeps really well, and my wife and I have worked out a system in which I take the first feeding and change of the night & she takes the second so I can at least be remotely rested for work the next day. It works for us, but we know it's all unpredictable. What works today may not work tomorrow. And that's ok, because that's pretty much the journey of parenthood.
In my short time in the realm of parenting, I've learned a lot. No one, and I mean NO ONE has it figured out. We can read as many expert-written books, researched blogs, or parenting magazines as we can get our hands on, but we will still never know it all. And guess what, y'all? We don't have to! That's the beauty of parenting. It's all so full of love & grace that we don't have to have all the answers. It's like a game of "Who's Line is it Anyway?" where the rules are made up & the points don't matter. Fellow parents, if you think you've got it all figured out, check your ego at the door and spend some time in the floor playing with your kid. Please. And each and every child is wonderfully unique and different, so what worked for all 17 of the babies on your mom's side may not work for my son. And that is OK! I've also learned that God equips parents to survive on way less sleep than we ever thought imaginable. That's not to say I'm not sleeping at all - seriously, he lets us go at least 4-5 hours in between feedings. He's great. I've also been granted patience when I needed it the most, an increased capacity for love of my son and my rockstar wife, and grace for the moment.
Who cares that I haven't read a physical book in over a week or that there's a stack of ironing that I need to do? Right now, there's a precious one-month old strapped to my chest in my sling while I write this and cry over a weeks-old episode of Grey's. And all is right in my world.
"Children are a gift from the LORD; they are a reward from him." - Psalm 127:3
Wednesday, April 20, 2016
marathon musings
Adoption is a lot like running a marathon. You complete questionairre after questionairre. You fund raise and fund raise. You pray and you pray. That's the training.
And then you get a call that you've been chosen and have fewer than 72 hours to pack for multiple weeks worth of a stay out of state to pick up this baby that God has given to you. You hit the road for the agency several hours early in case you pass the turn (which you do) and your life changes in an instant when you lay eyes on this precious boy. That's getting to the starting line (especially if it's one of those bigguns with corrals and scattered starting times).
And then you find out your state paperwork that has to be cleared for you to return home has been submitted earlier than you imagined and you think you'll be home in a couple of days. And your hopes escalate really quickly because you think of all the people you can introduce him to before you return to work. Pretty soon you look down at your watch and find you've run the 5K portion in 22:00. Oh. Crap. {Been there!}
And then the phone doesn't ring. And the days pass. Your legs grow lethargic. You realize you've gone through 3/4 of your water pack and have one peanut butter pouch remaining before you hit the half marathon mark. So you cry. And you cry some more. You cry out to God to ease this pain and give you some rest.
You trudge along and walk some because your legs literally cannot face the hills any longer. You realize your friends who have signed up for text updates won't be receiving them as frequently so you get anxious about that. And then you pray for God to move a mountain for you to go home and ease this mounting anxiety. This is miles 14-25, during which you think you will never sign up for another one {spoiler: you will sign up. Probably within weeks of finishing this one}.
And then you realize that you're only 1.3 miles (2K) from the finish line. So you wipe your eyes, blow a mean snot rocket over your shoulder, and you forge ahead. You realize that the time may not be the PR you had hoped for, but you sill accomplished something great. I see the finish line ahead. I'm trusting God to carry me there.
"Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which Hod has called me heavenward in Christ Jeaus." - Philippians 3:13-14
Thursday, April 14, 2016
reality
Well, y'all. This is it. Our last few hours of just the two of us. In fewer than 12 hours, we will officially be a party of 3. I get to meet my SON this afternoon! And of course, it's 3:00 am, and I am wide awake with anticipation. So I do what any normal over-sharer does - go to the nursery and blog while praying my phone restore will cause it to suddenly be able to find a signal. {Update: It worked. Hallelu! Can you imagine me without a GPS?} This is real life.
Let me rewind this. At the end of October, our profile went live, and then the reality and fear of waiting set in. No after no after no. But then God. While on our way to celebrate our 4th anniversary (which was exactly a year from the day on which we began this journey), we received an info summary on a birth mother. R was reading the information to me as I drove, and as soon as we got to dinner, I prayed over us before we got out of the car. I felt God stirring in my soul, asking, "Do you trust me completely?" After further prayer & discussion, we agreed to show our profile. Looking back, I realize that I was not as anxious in the waiting with this particular birth mother as I had been in the past.
Fast forward through the weekend to a Monday that started like any other in which the calendar in the kitchen was chocked full of events. I had gotten home from work and was putting away dishes when my phone rang, and it was R. At first her words of "It's us!" confused me, since she was babysitting, and I had a thought that she was calling me with the kids in the background to sing or something (don't ask - I have no justification for this thought process now). When I asked what she meant, she simply replied, "She chose US!" Cue tears upon tears upon tears. Picture D in his fat pants, sliding down the wall rejoicing that our prayers were being answered. Driving to family dinner, I began calling my inner circle & sending frantic "please call me when you can" texts (at red lights of course, because safety) to follow-up the voicemails that followed the missed calls. My favorite reaction was one of our dearest friends whose voice got higher and higher with each word she spoke/screamed. It was truly fantastic.
We had to keep the news under wraps for a short time and could only tell the people who had to know - our families, close friends who had been praying with us earnestly, our supervisors at work. While I wanted to shout from the rooftops our good news, I knew that I could not because of the legal process. We began receiving more information from our social worker & making our plans to travel out of state. I am grateful for an awesome school district who granted me a mini baby leave for travel, bonding, & settling. I am thankful for administrators who have loved on us & who held candid conversations about the gospel with me that really did my heart good. I am thankful for my wife's school who will allow her to return to the classroom in the fall.
In the past 60 hours, our washer has seen more cycles of sanitize than in the entire 7 years it's been used. We've run errands and met up with friends who had goodies for us. We've packed and overpacked - and shockingly enough, edited some of the packed items. We've written our final payment check to the adoption agency (#debtfree). We've received an overflow of love and support from our friends and family - sentimental books with inscriptions that made me cry, bottles from friends who had plenty and knew we only had 5, diapers and wipes, onesies that are so cute I just squeal when I look at them, money to help with travel expenses as we will be out of state for a time, prayers, prayers, prayers, shoulders to lean on, and so much more. We've gotten car seats installed (spoiler alert - neither as easy as it looks nor as complicated as it was in the '80s). We've packed our diaper bags, which may or may not have caused a mini-meltdown on my behalf ("I have no idea what I'm doing, and storing things in nooks & crannies is my thing!"). Oddly, we haven't cleaned the house or ironed, two of my favorite chores; I have already said I wouldn't be ashamed or offended to pass these off to anyone who offered.
We have rejoiced over God's goodness, his provision, & his timing. Guys, we shouldn't be able to adopt debt free. But God. Every single time we needed funds, he provided. Every single time we needed comfort after a broken experience, he sent a reminder of his love for us. Every time I've gotten outside of my head and stopped listening to his heart, he has brought peace. He provided a child within a year of our filing date - an anomaly in the adoption world.
He provided so many reminders of the perfection of his timing. We received information on this baby on our anniversary. We celebrated the traditional anniversary gift of fruit by planting an apple tree in the backyard over spring break. We later discovered that we planted it ON our baby's birth day and were basically making the final purchase when he was born. I get chills every time I think of that and the way God sent a reminder that he is faithful to fulfill his promises to us.
There are so many details I want to share with you all, but I cannot at this time. When he is officially ours in our home state, know that your news feeds will be blown up with pictures and stories of this precious gift (someone remind me I used that phrase when I'm covered in puke & cleaning up a blowout diaper!). Here are some specific things you can join with us in prayer over: 1. That our ICPC packet will clear before Friday, 4/22, so that we can all return home together as a family of 3. 2. Safe travels for us today and for my in-laws as they bring the camper for us to stay in. 3. Restful time of bonding with our baby & adjust to life as the three of us.
I cannot wait to see where God takes this little one & the way that he has received & will continue to receive all the glory. May the decisions we make and the way we raise our son be indicative of his love for us & the way that he chose to adopt us into HIS family. Friends, this has been a crazy ride, but I have a feeling that that was just the first loop around the track. Thank you for your support & prayer. And thank you for reading the random ramblings from my heart.
Let me rewind this. At the end of October, our profile went live, and then the reality and fear of waiting set in. No after no after no. But then God. While on our way to celebrate our 4th anniversary (which was exactly a year from the day on which we began this journey), we received an info summary on a birth mother. R was reading the information to me as I drove, and as soon as we got to dinner, I prayed over us before we got out of the car. I felt God stirring in my soul, asking, "Do you trust me completely?" After further prayer & discussion, we agreed to show our profile. Looking back, I realize that I was not as anxious in the waiting with this particular birth mother as I had been in the past.
Fast forward through the weekend to a Monday that started like any other in which the calendar in the kitchen was chocked full of events. I had gotten home from work and was putting away dishes when my phone rang, and it was R. At first her words of "It's us!" confused me, since she was babysitting, and I had a thought that she was calling me with the kids in the background to sing or something (don't ask - I have no justification for this thought process now). When I asked what she meant, she simply replied, "She chose US!" Cue tears upon tears upon tears. Picture D in his fat pants, sliding down the wall rejoicing that our prayers were being answered. Driving to family dinner, I began calling my inner circle & sending frantic "please call me when you can" texts (at red lights of course, because safety) to follow-up the voicemails that followed the missed calls. My favorite reaction was one of our dearest friends whose voice got higher and higher with each word she spoke/screamed. It was truly fantastic.
We had to keep the news under wraps for a short time and could only tell the people who had to know - our families, close friends who had been praying with us earnestly, our supervisors at work. While I wanted to shout from the rooftops our good news, I knew that I could not because of the legal process. We began receiving more information from our social worker & making our plans to travel out of state. I am grateful for an awesome school district who granted me a mini baby leave for travel, bonding, & settling. I am thankful for administrators who have loved on us & who held candid conversations about the gospel with me that really did my heart good. I am thankful for my wife's school who will allow her to return to the classroom in the fall.
In the past 60 hours, our washer has seen more cycles of sanitize than in the entire 7 years it's been used. We've run errands and met up with friends who had goodies for us. We've packed and overpacked - and shockingly enough, edited some of the packed items. We've written our final payment check to the adoption agency (#debtfree). We've received an overflow of love and support from our friends and family - sentimental books with inscriptions that made me cry, bottles from friends who had plenty and knew we only had 5, diapers and wipes, onesies that are so cute I just squeal when I look at them, money to help with travel expenses as we will be out of state for a time, prayers, prayers, prayers, shoulders to lean on, and so much more. We've gotten car seats installed (spoiler alert - neither as easy as it looks nor as complicated as it was in the '80s). We've packed our diaper bags, which may or may not have caused a mini-meltdown on my behalf ("I have no idea what I'm doing, and storing things in nooks & crannies is my thing!"). Oddly, we haven't cleaned the house or ironed, two of my favorite chores; I have already said I wouldn't be ashamed or offended to pass these off to anyone who offered.
We have rejoiced over God's goodness, his provision, & his timing. Guys, we shouldn't be able to adopt debt free. But God. Every single time we needed funds, he provided. Every single time we needed comfort after a broken experience, he sent a reminder of his love for us. Every time I've gotten outside of my head and stopped listening to his heart, he has brought peace. He provided a child within a year of our filing date - an anomaly in the adoption world.
He provided so many reminders of the perfection of his timing. We received information on this baby on our anniversary. We celebrated the traditional anniversary gift of fruit by planting an apple tree in the backyard over spring break. We later discovered that we planted it ON our baby's birth day and were basically making the final purchase when he was born. I get chills every time I think of that and the way God sent a reminder that he is faithful to fulfill his promises to us.
There are so many details I want to share with you all, but I cannot at this time. When he is officially ours in our home state, know that your news feeds will be blown up with pictures and stories of this precious gift (someone remind me I used that phrase when I'm covered in puke & cleaning up a blowout diaper!). Here are some specific things you can join with us in prayer over: 1. That our ICPC packet will clear before Friday, 4/22, so that we can all return home together as a family of 3. 2. Safe travels for us today and for my in-laws as they bring the camper for us to stay in. 3. Restful time of bonding with our baby & adjust to life as the three of us.
I cannot wait to see where God takes this little one & the way that he has received & will continue to receive all the glory. May the decisions we make and the way we raise our son be indicative of his love for us & the way that he chose to adopt us into HIS family. Friends, this has been a crazy ride, but I have a feeling that that was just the first loop around the track. Thank you for your support & prayer. And thank you for reading the random ramblings from my heart.
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