Growing Family

Sprout Goes to School

Today is the last day of summer vacation, and the last day my daughter is a preschooler. Her uniform is ready, backpack, lunchbox, and school hat are all lined up for their debut tomorrow.

Her brother, Small Sun, has given her numerous lessons in preparation. She is ready.

I am ready.

I think. 

There is always the possibility of an unexpected ugly cry in the car on the way home.

"She won't even look back." The Captain predicts.

I hope she at least gives me a hug when I go.

Before we make the big jump to school-dom tomorrow, I thought I would sit down and record who Sprout is today. This is what Sprout wore to church today: A long purple halter dress I made her, with a purple tshirt underneath. Brown suede boots (an improvement over the purple suede boots with white toes from the suede rolling back - "the white looks like a mouth" she wailed when I told her they were not appropriate for church). We can't forget the accessories - purple winter gloves, the same necklace as in the above picture, a floral print purse, a vintage lace shawl the dragged the ground, and pink hair accessories. It was alottalook. She is alottapersonality.

Yesterday at the beach she was cold. "Can I wear my sweater?" When I told her sweaters don't keep you warm when they are wet, she insisted it would, and proceeded to wear it the entire time.

Sprout is completely absorbed in her imaginary world. If you can believe it, this is a tunnel cut through the bush between the campground and the beach, and this picture was before night fell. It was shadowy when we went through the first time, and pitch black upon our return. I wondered if our kids would freak out, but Sprout spent the whole time talking nonstop. There was a cellphone glowing from the person walking behind us, otherwise we were walking blind. Sprout was all breathless explaining how the light was from her friend unicorn who lights the way for her. She explained all about the unicorn and what they do together and how it helps her when she needs it.

Small Sun has crossed over into the land of reason, but Sprout will fight him firmly and surely that the tooth fairy is real! Santa is real! Fairies are real! even though we've never taught her these things. She believes in everything beautiful and special and shimmery, and no one can convince her otherwise.

Of all our children I would say Sprout has the strongest will, and she has always had a bit of a mean streak. Now, when she's angry or offended, she will go straight for the jugular. She throws out "you're not even a nice mommy!" or "you're so mean to me, why are you being so mean to me, you are so meeeeaaaaannnnnnn!" like candy at a Fourth of July parade. 

We are not indulgent parents, and we don't give in to fits, but five years of parenting Sprout has taught us that you can't really make her do things she doesn't want. If you can't convince her to do it, you cannot make her do it. She is incredibly strong. We pick our battles.

Sprout can be occupied with the tiniest details for hours. Once I sent her to clean her room. About an hour and a half later she had created an entire family out of pine needles, pompoms, and googly eyes. They had a house, and beds, and they flew like birds. They were amazing. Her room was still a frightful mess. It is most of the time. She can actually clean it to a level of organization and precision that makes even me happy, but most of the time she gets distracted in something much more splendid.

Sprout is a night-owl. I don't bother making sure she is in her bed at night, or checking to see if she is asleep in the 1-2 hours after I tuck her in. Last night she was staring quietly, so I put in my head to see her. "Still awake?" I asked. "I told you before that I go to sleep at different times." she said. She spends a lot of time puttering around her room, tidying, organizing, and playing before falling asleep. Then, I'll find her in bed with a book fallen across her chest, or a circle of My Little Ponies radiating out from her hands. She is a night owl, through and through, just like my mother and my sister.

Sprout is so very creative, and like I said, her imagination runs wild. She is incredibly feminine and loves princesses, ballerinas, pink and purple, and anything that sparkles. She has taken colored pencils from the art area, and pretends they are "eye line", she carefully applies while looking in the mirror. Today she has some nail polish on her eyelids. I don't even know how that happened. I didn't ask.

Yet Sprout is also a happy participant in "going to the moon" (a current favorite amongst all our kids), construction games, and everything else that could be deemed "boy's play". I watched her try to climb a backyard tree in her church finery earlier.

She cannot be pigeonholed or stereotyped. She is just who she is, and nobody can change her. Strong, fierce, aflutter with the magic of life, and sometimes swooning with her hand across her forehead while crying "romantic! romantic!" She is amazing, and I know school won't change that.

Wednesday-Wednesday

It was Wednesday, June 15th, about 2 pm when I got the call asking if we could receive placement of a baby boy that very day.

It is Wednesday, January 25th, and baby is gone.

Seven months of laughing and crying, of exhaustion and gratefulness.

Now it is pouring rain and The Captain is sick and we leave for four days of camping in one hour.

Just thought I should let you know.

********************************

Updated to add: The Captain crashed out with a fever and The Sprout crawled into bed and fell asleep. The car is half packed and everything else is in bags waiting for a break in the rain to finish loading...except we won't be going tonight because The Captain is crashed out with a fever.

I'm ready to close the books on today and wake up to tomorrow.

Transition

When a woman is in labor, giving birth to a new life, transition is often the hardest part. The contractions go from spaced and predictable, to intense and accelerated. The feeling of being out of control as the labor shifts into the stage that will bring out life, is the hardest part for many women. 

It is in transition that you see women shouting in the movies. It is in transition that many women change their mind "no, the baby is not coming out, I can't do this!" On the other side of transition is delivery; life.

It only dawned on me today that my life will undergo a radical shift in the next two weeks.

1. Baby is scheduled to move to permanent care with a family member. We meet tomorrow to plan the transition.

2. Our very lovely and helpful friends that have been staying with us upon re-entry to Sydney will be moving out.

3. Sprout will join Small Sun at school.

4. Finch will be potty trained (he's halfway there).

I will go from having six people here with me during every day to having one.

I will go from a dizzying ping-pong game of nappy changes and potty accident clean-ups to the occasional undie-fail. 

I will go from feeding a crowd each meal, all day long, to packing lunches and eating quietly with one two year old.

And if Finch gets a spot at preschool in May when he turns three, well I'll be completely on my own several days a week.

Part of this scenario makes me want to put on a party dress and do a little dance. Alone time? Quiet? Meeting friends for coffee? Bring it!

I have spent this year as the frazzled friend, showing up at play dates with more than appropriate numbers of children, collapsing onto couches and nursing cup after cup of tea. The idea of replacing frazzled with some other adjective to describe the state of my life is alluring. Alluring...that sounds nice.

Yet, suddenly I wonder, what will I do? I know I will want to jump into lots of creative projects on the house, and garden, and design and sew some clothes, which means I will want to spend lots of money. Only one kid to drag to stores? Shopping! The budget will love me.

I don't really know what will happen next, and what to expect. Will I love it? Will I hate the lack of color a houseful of people and creative children creates?

I guess it is only temporary as we'll probably take another foster care placement later this year, and continue to pursue adopting a sibling group. I should probably enjoy it while it lasts!

What about you, what would you dream of doing with a windfall of quiet(er) time?

PS- I'm completely ignoring the "they're growing up too fast" aspect of this situation. I'll cry over that a little bit later, I'm sure.

 

 

Back on my High Horse

Several years ago, pre-earthquake, I went through a season where I was reading a lot of blogs about the conditions for orphaned and abandoned children in Haiti. The stories were intense. The images were graphic. Often children died. 

I'd follow a story of a child coming into a clinic malnourished, or burned, or suffering from kwashiorcor. I'd rejoice when, after a few months, they would show before and after pictures and those same children would be moving towards health.

Other times I'd just shudder and cry when they died. 

I couldn't stop reading. I hated reading. For those of you who aren't on a faith journey, this will sound nutty, but it felt like Jesus just wanted me to see what He sees. When I wanted to look away He kept bringing me back. It was a season where I experienced a breakthrough in my awareness of children in need. Since then, children in crisis aren't too far removed from my thoughts, even while I'm living my comfortable life.

One of my friends was watching those same blogs. One night she and her husband made a decision. They decided to adopt one of the kids they saw on the blog. I thought Jamie Ivey was crazy. Not for adopting a child in need, but for throwing herself off the approved path. We had completed "normal" adoptions (Deacon and Small Sun) in the same time frame. I don't even think they qualified for the guidelines for the Haiti program. And if there is one thing I learned about adoption when I was volunteering in an agency office, it is that you can't fall in love with a kid in an orphanage somewhere and then adopt them. It just doesn't work like that. There are protocols and rules and, and, and, what were they thinking?

I think sometimes when Jesus pulls you into His world, and you make decisions based on what you're seeing from His angle, it just looks crazy from the outside. 

If you are interested in orphan care, and children in need, please go read Kristen @ Rage Against the Minivan as she talks about the situation for orphaned and abandoned children in Haiti 2 years post-quake. Watch the videos. Read up on UNICEF's position on international adoption and how those policies are playing out on the ground.

Right now it's like I see Jesus sitting under a tree looking at something. I want to go sit next to Him and see what He is looking at. I'm getting drawn back in to seeing the need and the devastation and the hope all tangled together. 

I heard Jesus say something to me this week that made me nervous. He said "your stomach is made from iron, and you are a lot stronger than you think you are." (And yes, now you can all really think I'm crazy if you don't believe Jesus talks to people! I'm okay with that.)

I filled out our Expression of Interest to Adopt today. I think it is Step 2 of 11. The first time we adopted we were open to any race, but wanted a healthy baby. I can tell you that the boxes we checked today were very different from the boxes we checked back then. It felt like one of those times where you just close your eyes and jump. 

 

Nesting

We moved to our new house about six months ago. Packing and moving ten minutes down the road, with four kids in tow, was even harder than moving across the globe with two!

Today I sat in my chair, in my bedroom to feed the Baby. We've been cleaning and decorating in preparation for a house-warming/isn't summer great party (yes I know, it is the year AFTER we moved in, but the house still needs the warmth of friends' christening) and I am finally seeing beautiful moments come to life in it. 

I painted a charcoal feature wall in the boys' room, and we ordered really fantastic charcoal and white bunk beds. I have the materials to hang a bunch of model airplanes from their double-height ceiling, when I get the time to do it. We also got more Trofast storage units from IKEA so all the toy storage is uniform. In the U.S. I bought matching sheets for their bunk and we finally got a mattress for Finch instead of using the toddler mattress on the bottom bunk. Their room is looking good.

Last week I painted a bright pink feature wall for Sprout. I found an antique iron bed for her on gumtree.com.au. At the Better Homes and Gardens trade show I bought twinkle lights with rosettes covering the lights and those are threaded around her bedhead. In Michigan my grandfather gave me some beautiful vintage curtains that I am going to put up in her room.

I have never lived in a new house, and at six years old this house feels soul-less and cold to me. It has massive windows and soaring ceilings and amazing views, but it lacks the patina and character of an old home. I know that hanging our art and pictures, and living our lives will start to break down the severity of it, and begin to make it home.

When I get some of the spaces closer to what I have in my mind I will post some pictures. Right now, spending the school holidays mostly playing at home is giving me lots of moments to breathe, look around me, and dream. 

Here are your Boot Straps - Pull

At this point I am leaning towards the Ethiopia program, in thinking about what I would like to do adoption-wise. I am looking for like-minded blogging families who have been there and done that (all from the U.S., if you know any down under, let me know!).

On one hand I love reading their blogs, seeing them meet their children, and crying over the video montages. Really, that moment of becoming family is so powerful, and so intense, I rejoice in it most every time.

On the other hand I feel like picking up my keyboard and just chewing the keys and spitting them at my screen. (Really? Really.)

I see families grieve over a two month travel delay, or a paper that needs to be resubmitted. From their seat it feels so, so hard. From my seat, well, chewing the keyboard, because it all looks so much easier.

I have been doing the logical math of how long this is likely to take us. I don't think we will be able to even apply until I am a citizen, and that should happen (I hope!) by the end of this year. 

The process in NSW involves 11 steps Thinking About Adoption NSW. I think it is somewhat realistic to imagine child(ren) coming home to us when Finch is about 7 years old. He is 2.5 now. Four years (remember 2012 is mostly about gaining citizenship) seems wildly optimistic to some people, but perhaps a little long to others. I don't know if I am being naive or not.

It is one of those situations where I could feel defeated before we even start. I wanted to title this post "A Little Bit of Complaining", but then I remembered my personal effort to "do everything without complaining" and I am trying to pull myself up by my bootstraps instead.

What I know to be true, whether I feel it or not, is that things in my life have always been timed well, whether they fit with other people's (or my own) time-lines or not.

I will KNOW in retrospect, that whatever path we have chosen, and however long it has taken, it will all turn out just as it should. I have four children in my life that echo that truth to me daily, if I have the heart to receive it.

It will all work out as it should.

Welcome 2012

I love boating. Canoes, kayaks, pontoons, speedboats, ferries, I love them all.

Sometimes when you are on the water you can look down and see everything you're passing over with crystal clarity. Other times, it is just a shadowy blur, and sometimes you can't see anything at all.

Even when you can't see anything, you're still moving. You are still passing markers.

Sometimes in life you have a goal and you are cruising towards it. You can measure the distance and plot a course. You can figure out how long it will take you, given different variables.

Sometimes you drift and end up somewhere unplanned.

January 1st I filled out our request for a NSW Adoption Information Package. January 2nd, the Captain went to the bank for the $40 handling fee you're required to submit with it. January 3rd I took the dog for a walk to the nearest outgoing postbox (a brisk 10 minute walk) to drop it in.

Just like that, we moved the first bit in the direction of adopting again.

If I look over the edge of the boat we are travelling in, I can't see that any progress has been made. Maybe 2-3-4-5 years from now I'll look back and realize "that was the start". 

I definitely feel like I'm crossing over from "can we do it? should we do it?" to "our kids are out there somewhere. They might even be born already and they might be living through some really tough stuff. They need us to get to them."

It seemed like the most important thing to do at the dawn of 2012.

More About Foster Care

When I went to Melbourne for Together for Adoption, I went to a session on Foster Care. Paul Magno, speaking from the perspective of a foster parent said (paraphrased),

People tell me all the time 'I could never do what you do. I could never love a child and then let them go.' I tell them, 'if you have an interest in providing foster care and that is the only reason you're not doing it, get over it. There are so many children who desperately need a stable family, you need to get the skills to help you cope because that is really a self-focused perspective.

I mean, I don't think I would say it to people quite like that, but I agree with what he said. 

So here's what has been going on. When we were considering going to the States, our social worker encouraged us to go despite the fact that Baby could not come with us, and would have to stay with another foster-care family while we were gone. 

To me this seemed like just a low-down, awful thing to do. How many biographies have I read where adults described their childhoods in foster care, and their foster families driving off for a week at the beach and leaving them behind with some scary old lady. I always hated the foster family for doing that to the poor child. I never even considered that there might be another side to that story, I only saw the painful side presented to me.

Now I know both sides are difficult. Even had we been able to gain approval to take Baby with us, we never could have secured a passport in time. When we discussed it together and with our case worker we all decided that we still need to do things that are important for our family, even if that sometimes means it is less than ideal for Baby. I mean, as a once-in-awhile super important thing, like this trip was. But making that decision was so hard, and I felt so guilty.

Two days before leaving we received a call saying "while things are not 100%, it is looking very likely that we will transition Baby to his long term placement while you are in the U.S. We'll let you know when we know. But, to be safe, pack up his things and say goodbye as a family."

I got the call while I was feeding Baby, and Finch was asleep downstairs (the big kids were at school and preschool). I'll be totally honest. I threw back my head and howled like a hurt animal. Suddenly the pain was right there, and I couldn't bear it. I help baby close and he got a pretty good tear bath. Then I had to leave to pick up the big kids, and I tried to calm my puffy eyes and avoid other parents.

The stress of packing for the trip, and preparing Baby for his new carers went into the stratosphere as I had to gather and wash and organize all of his belongings, fill out his Life Story book, compile all the photos and videos, and wrap his Christmas presents, as well as trying to help the children have meaningful moments with him.

Friday we delivered him to the office, for his case worker to take him. We had a special goodbye beforehand, and then some more hugs and kisses in the parking lot. When it was time to drive away the kids were nearly hysterical, and crying so hard. 

Sprout said "I don't feel like I will ever be happy again. All I can think about is Baby!" and Small Sun wailed "I just want to stay in my bed all day, and not come out!" Finch was unfazed, but the other two were beside themselves. The plan was to deliver Small Sun to school late, and then Sprout to a friend's house so I could pack. By the time we reached school they had calmed into the quiet, sober sadness that hangs heavy in the air and presses against the car windows.

Small Sun wanted me to come in to explain to his teacher why he was late, and why he was sad. She has supported us on our journey and it was all I could choke out to tell her "we've just said goodbye to Baby" and she held the weight of the unspoken sorrow I couldn't utter with the strength  in her eyes.

When we reached our friend for Sprout's play date, I stumbled through the door, into the arms of my friend, who immediately sprung to support me, and sat me down with a cup of tea until I had the strength to leave. 

I packed. We left for America. We had a great time.

I missed Baby. I also felt relieved to have the distraction of the trip to get us through the hardest bit. I also flung myself headlong into the luxury of not having a baby to care for, and handing my own children over to my parents, while I spent full days with friends, and shopping.

Towards the end of the trip we still hadn't heard what had happened, but finally the news came back that we would be taking Baby back with us after all. It seems that people cannot commit to caring for a child whose health needs are unknown. I simultaneously loathe and understand that concern.

So Christmas Eve Baby came back with us. He was pounds heavier, and cute as ever. He really learned to eat solids while we were gone, and was really sleeping through the night.

In the first week back he had a bit of a rough time. Probably nothing other people would notice, but I could see he was unsettled. How could we drop him off and disappear? And then how could we casually drive up and snatch him away from another family that had learned to love him and cried at his departure?

Of course he was upset. He has every right to be.

And this is where I have to swear a little, because this is f*cked up. This Baby, this wonderful baby, should be in a home with a family that will love him forever and ever. I don't hate his parents. I don't hate the system. I hate the Evil in the world that tangles into our lives like seaweed rising from the sea floor. We are all doing the best we can for him, with the capacity that we have.

But things shouldn't be like this. He shouldn't be shifted around. He shouldn't have to attach and re-attach. He should just be home. I don't know where home is, but I want it for him so badly. Every minute he is with us, he is missing time with "his people", whoever they are. I want permanence for him, and I know that you can't rush that, but I also know you can't delay too long without lasting consequence.

I approached Paul Magno after the session to get some advice from him, and upon hearing of our placement he said "you're in your first placement and it has lasted six months? Wow, you got a challenge right up front!" We are qualified as "short term carers" in New South Wales, which can mean any period from a few weeks to 1.5/2 years. So technically, Baby could be here for quite awhile longer, but for his sake, I hope he finds "home" soon.