Children from Hard Places

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qe-BkHUVGQ4


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v79-x34dEm0

I Will Never Regret

   We are called to be a part of this redemptive plan. We are called to try to mend the broken pieces. We are called to give wholly and completely with no guarantee. This calling, this desire, must be equally felt by both husband and wife. It need not be a big feeling, but I and my husband must be united completely. No nagging. No manipulating for my desires. The baby drive in some women is a strong one. My husband says, "Yes, let's adopt" and I must know I have not coerced in any way no matter how badly I want a child.

   Next when the time comes to actually bring a child or children into your it must be the same. Every situation that comes along my gut feeling is that it is my baby, my child. My gut feelings are not trust worthy when it comes to babies! How my mother heart, my woman heart, longs for that baby or child, yet I must be silent. I must quietly wait for the direction of my husband. We, together, must know this is God's will. It is foundational. 

   When our adoptions are established on this united foundation, I need never count the cost. His grace is sufficient. I believe that. I must believe that.

   No matter what the future holds, no matter what my child may do to me, no matter what roads my child chooses to go down, no matter what baggage my child carries from early trauma, no-matter-what-I-will-never-regret.

   Does Jesus count the cost when He adopts us? Does He regret the sacrifice? He loves and loves. He gives and gives and gives. No matter what we do to Him, He never counts the cost. He never regrets. Yes, maybe He grieves, but He never regrets.

   Maybe I'm too idealistic, I don't know. I know there are traumatized children who have ruined the happiness of the home. I am so sorry. I'm sure you don't regret, but how you must grieve. Broken dreams, broken hearts, ruined lives: That's what our Savior came for. May God carry you.

 (Thoughts from a mom of an autistic child)

"This experience we did not choose, which we would have given anything to avoid, has made us different, has made us better. Through it we have learned the lessons that no one studies willingly, the hard, slow lessons of Sophocles and Shakespeare - that one grows by suffering. And that too is Jessy's gift. I write now what fifteen years past I would still not have thought possible to write: that if today I were given the choice, to accept the experience, with everything that it entails, or to refuse the bitter largesse, I would have to stretch out my hands - because out of it has come, for all of us, an unimagined life. And I will not change the last word of the story. It is still love."
Clara Park - The Siege

Positive progress

So often I only write when things are tough. Writing is therapy for me. But it is only fair that I record the progress, too! By the time I posted the previous post it was already outdated. EVERYTHING has been going much better! The tears and the tummy aches have completely stopped. Emotionally she has been very strong. Academics are improving a lot. With her emotions stronger her focus is better. She has an amazing, compassionate and open-minded teacher. We have days where she can think and focus, zip, zap, zoom, --- and days where she is spaced and her mind is chaotic. The jumble in our little girl's mind comes and goes. Sometimes she is clear and sometimes she is not. We've tried to understand the triggers, but really still have very few clues. Her therapist said to not try to figure it out, we never will. So that has helped me, too, to stop analyzing every behavior, but just address the little girl that shows up! 

"Fill Up My Cup"

   This post is a lot of thoughts combined over toooo many months. I should have taken more time to separate the thoughts, but here they are! :) I keep editing, because my thoughts were not complete when I posted, so pardon the changes!


  Kindergarten started and with it tears and tummy aches. I expected this. I worried about this. I dreaded this. I'd like to keep her here, cozy, for the rest of our lives. However, we thought we should try. Yet when it happens, when you actually regress 2 years in 2 days, the weight on my shoulders is very heavy.

  The last year has been up and down. Usually the ups were longer and the downs were shorter, but we still had so many questions. When she's so obsessed with being a baby, what do we do? When she gets into repetitive, obsessive behavior, do we correct or ignore? When she cries over nothing, how should we react? When she is with other children, but is immersed in her own world and not engaged in theirs -- what should we do? Is there some deeper pain? We have tried many, many things, and prayed many, many times but it seemed we were on a plateau. We felt we needed more help, especially with school looming right around the corner. The end of December we met with a therapist, highly recommended by the Nancy Thomas camp and we. are. so. thankful. for. her. Truly. So. So. So. Thankful for her.

   Our therapist helped us to understand her more fully. The months in the womb and the first 2 yrs is the most important time in a child's life. We missed that. Our therapist put her emotional age at around 1-2 yrs old. And THAT is exactly what has left us so confused. Learning to understand that the emotional age of our daughter is not the same as her physical age and treating her likewise. The more we learn to know our daughter, the more we realize her first 3 yrs probably were not pretty.

   As the saying goes: Therapeutic parenting is an attitude. After I had someone to ask every single question I ever had and could expect a knowledgeable, practical answer, my perspective improved. Instead of pounding questions, negative feelings, and confusion, I had arrows in my quiver! I understood. My job was to keep her filled up. Filled up with touch, with love, with compliments, with eye contact, with boundaries, yes, but so much love. Hugs, so many hugs. Rocking long and slow. Rubbing her back, her feet, her hands. Singing with her. Playing. Different games to improve her ability to focus. Time, so much time.

  Do you know how hard this is for me? Do you know how independent I am? Do you know how good this is for me? Do you know how this softens me? How this tests me?

  She comes running with her blanket and squeals, "ooh, my blankie, my blankie!". She says in a baby voice, "Mama, rock me." If I am busy with something, she gets right in my face and says,"
a-boo, a-boo, a-boo, a-boo" playing peek-a-boo with her blanket. Do you know how I want to shake her and yell "GROW UP". But. I. Can't... I. bite. my. tongue. I smile. I hug. I must be patient.

  

    Children act how they feel. Children who have missed the attention loved babies get, often crave baby attention. Yes, I've tried to get her to grow up. I've let my negative feelings about her baby ways take control. I've fought it. It does no good. I feel negative. She feels negative. No one wins. She has no idea what makes her feel and act this way. But when I accept. When I look at her with tender eyes filled with compassion. When I give in and fill her everything changes. She fills up. She feels strong. She doesn't crave my attention. She doesn't act like a baby. Everyone wins.

   It is scientifically proven that the "body keeps the score". I've heard it said..."at least she's a baby, she won't remember it". How wrong. No, their mind doesn't remember it, but their body keeps the score. Their heart knows. Babies or children who have endured trauma before they are verbal many times have larger issues than children who endure trauma after they are verbal. Because, they don't remember, but their body keeps the score. Trauma comes in so many forms. Drugs while in the womb can cause pain to the fetus. A pregnant mother smoking can cause a fetus to feel like she can't breathe. Depending on the severity this can be traumatic. Babies who endure many surgeries and pain. A home that is violent or chaotic is very traumatic to the fetus or baby. A mother with lots of anxiety, depression, or other mental illness during the pregnancy directly passes that on to the baby. Abortion contemplated can terrify the fetus. Trauma? Absolutely. Even conception is important. A child conceived of rape can have hurts. An unwanted pregnancy. Tragic. Many adopted children are the result of an unwanted pregnancy. The heart keeps the score. Our emotions are our unborn babies emotions. A birth mother's emotions are her baby's emotions. Trauma of any sort causes the fetus or baby or child to disassociate, to disconnect with reality, because reality is terrifying. They withdraw or act-out, because of their terrified feelings. They don't know WHY they feel this way. All they know is that they DO feel this way. Children act how they feel.
  Understanding what is trauma to a child, makes God's beautiful plan shine even brighter. A man who loves God, marries a woman who loves God. The man loves his wife and his wife respects her man. The home is in harmony. They bear children. They love their children. The children love their parents. A recipe so simple, yet so complete. It is when sin enters that children suffer.

   I have come to the realization and acceptance that adoption is not God's perfect plan, but a redemptive plan. It cannot be His perfect Will that any infant or child be separated from it's mother. This makes me cry; this broken world.

   We, adoptive parents, are unworthily called to be part of this redemptive plan. We are called to be the humble middle-man. We are called to give meekly. We are called to love doubly. We are blessed. We are able to give a happy childhood when so many wish they could. We are called to share. I share the children I call mine. I share them with a precious person. I don't know her, but I love her.
      I have also come to the realization and acceptance that adopted children need more. More love, more time, more compliments, more hugs, more consistency, more security, more and more of me.

     I used to fight with the popular thought that many adopted children have issues. It made me mad. Yes, it's true, if an adoptee is a good child or a secure adult, you seldom hear the whispers..."ummm...she's adopted". BUT if she's not being a good person, she is immediately tagged. No, it's not right. We, wemmicks, love to label with stars or dots. So I still fight for fairness. I still fight for compassion. The fact is many children who join our families through adoption have trauma somewhere in their little life. We may think our child had a benign beginning. We may claim no drugs, no alcohol, just a perfect baby. But friends... the loss of their birth mother is trauma and every adopted child has lost their precious mother. Someday they will face it, I think. We, adoptive parents, must be humble, meek, and full of compassion. Remember, meekness is not weakness.

  

   This school thing. Our other staying-at-home 5 year old has been hugely affected. Her insecurity pokes out everywhere. Sis going to school has knocked her off her secure pedestal and the crash has been hard. For mom, too. She needs more, too. More hugs, more smiles, more holding, more time.

    School's been going over a month now. It's getting better. But. It's midnight now. I just got done holding and rocking Miss Over-Stimulated School girl for over an hour. Merlin just got done cuddling and holding Miss Insecure Not-Going-to-School girl for just as long. We've had some tough weeks. This is not so abnormal! Just life.

  Weeks when I plead... "Patience. Patience. Kindness. Compassion. Breathe. More patience. Bite tongue. Be kind. Compassion. Compassion, Lord, please."

   Fill up my cup. Fill my cup let it overflow... My song sung over and over and over. I have found great strength in song. I read a sentence in a book. It said, " Singing helps impatience." I sang. And sang. It helped. Then we went to sing at the nursing home. A little old lady who saw my 4 children around me pulled me to her and huskily whispered, "SING! When you can't stand 'em, SING!" Surely the Lord was speaking through her, because she didn't know about my difficult month. So. I. Sing. And. Sing. It helps.

The Attack

 (Well, I had several pages written for several months, but never took the time to edit or post. But with your encouraging comments I finally got the inspiration to post AGAIN! Thanks for your comments!)

 Let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us.

   For consider him that endured......lest ye be wearied and faint in your minds.

   Wherefore lift up the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees;

and make straight paths for your feet, lest that which is lame be turned out of the way: but let it rather be healed.  -first parts of Hebrews 12. 

   It had been a hard several weeks. I was struggling. I had felt the attacks come and go for several weeks. This time worse. My attitude was rotten. All I could see was the negative in her behavior. I tenaciously tried not to let it show, but it oozed out occasionally. I tried to man-handle my attitude. I couldn't change it. I wanted to pull out hair. Mine or hers or anybody within reach. I desperately prayed. No answer. No miraculous attitude change. I didn't want to feel this way about her. What had come over me? I felt empty of love. It felt awful. Lord, please.... No comment. I begged God. Silence. I went to bed. I woke up. Still no change. I combed, I fed, I clothed, I hugged, my child but was void of empathy or compassion. I gritted my teeth and chose to love, but it was a hard, methodical, choice when my heart was full of frustration and yes, even bitterness. I was even more desperate. I prayed more. "Lord, fill me! Fill me with love!" No relief. Late that morning I messaged my sister to please call me when she had time. Immediately I realized that I began to feel relief of the dreadsome battle raging in my heart. Slowly throughout the afternoon I knew I was winning. Before my sister even called me back, the spirit which had taken hold of me was mostly gone. This was a huge lesson to me in how important it is to be open about our struggles, even our darkest, most wickedest struggles. Later in the week my sister sent the above verses to me. She said she had read them and it had come to her that they were for me. Thank you, God, for sweet victory.

"Come With Me"

    It has been widely believed that children do not heal from FAS (fetal alcohol syndrome) . I watched a webinair the other night. This webinair shared briefly a story of a mother and her son. Her son was struggling with severe FAS , which causes crippling brain damage. Among many therapies to help her son heal, three words reflected the largest part of the healing process and one mother's dedication. Three words said a hundred times a day... "Come with me". "Come with me let's go wash dishes." "Come with me lets go gather eggs." "Come with me let's make some lunch." "Come with me lets go get the mail." "Come with me lets go clean the bedroom." How beautiful. When the world is screaming "go clean up your toys", "go play" , "go do your homework", this mother quietly says: "Come with me". And her son is 9 yrs old and almost healed. How I pray to be a "come with me" mom instead of a "go play" mom. Experience changes the brain. Experience can heal the brain. What my child experiences every day changes the way my child thinks. What is my child experiencing today?

"The future lies before you like a field of fallen snow; Be careful how you tread it, for every step will show.

Chickens and Faith

I have become an egg farmer's wife. Thoroughly so. The egg farmer also builds houses, which at times takes him an hour from home. Then the egg farmer's wife is responsible for the healthy cackle of 7,500 organic and free range hens. These happy hens are let out into their pasture every day automatically unless it's going to rain. Rainwater can make confined cacklers very sick. One moist cloudy day the egg farmer was working far in the mountains with no cell service. It was morning and this egg farmer's wife was busy gathering and packing pretty brown eggs and she forgot to turn off the automatic gates that let the chickens out. Chance of rain was 50%. The gates swung open and 2,000 chickens streamed out into the lovely cloudy day. They wouldn't go back in until after dark. She looked at the tumbling navy clouds and she despaired. A jillion thoughts spiraled through her mind as she wondered how to save the chickens. She went into the pasture and ran back and forth wildly flapping her arms hoping maybe the 2,000 chickens would run back into the barn. They didn't. Nothing left to do, the egg farmer's wife gave up and prayed, "Lord, please help it not to rain today". All day? No rain? When the clouds were brewing and stewing IN the morning? With dragging feet she walked to the house. Then the Lord spoke! He said,
 "I can make it not rain today, but if I let it rain...
   I can make the chickens not get sick, but if I let them get sick...
   I can make them not die, but if I let them die...
   I can help you not go under financially, but if I let you go under, let you lose lots of money...
   I'll still be there for you."
I relaxed. I let go. With a promise like that, why would I stress? Faith. A friend once said, "Stress is a lack of faith." Well, that might be a little stiff, but he may have a point we can learn from. And friends... it didn't rain all day.