Leg overboard

We thought that a walk through the mall would be a great way to give Little Man some needed practice walking on two legs.  The floors are nice and smooth, the stroller is fun for him to push, and there is always something to look at – perfect.

He did great.  By the time we hit the Apple Store he had earned a well deserved break.

It was like any other time in a very crowded Apple Store.  Daddy was drooling over the devices, big kids happily playing at the computer stations and Little Man chill’n in the stroller.  That is when I noticed the stares.  Not the normal “look at the bi-racial family, are those kids adopted?” peeks and then quick looks away.  I am talking straight right out starring with looks of complete horror.

Little Man had decided that he had enough.  He yanked off his leg and pitched it out the side of the stroller.

If only we had a video camera – I am sure we would be the proud $10,000 winners of this seasons AFV.

The folks around us were sure some grave accident had taken place as they saw a limb of my child fall to the floor.  For some it took seconds, for others a few moments, until the looks of relief, giggles, and yes even a few frowns of disdain followed.  It’s not every day you see a leg flying!

We walked away from the apple store with a leg in the bottom of our stroller.  I am sure a few folks turned to look twice at that as well! 😉

The adjustments of adding Little Man to our family actually have been quite few.  Like any additional child our family has had to rearrange ourselves to accommodate our added blessing, but it has been easier than I ever thought it could be.  We enjoy the funny moments that have been added to our lives like running around the house before church yelling – “where is your brother’s leg?”  It makes the kids crack up every time!

The part that I am not sure I will ever get used to….the folks who choose a look of disdain rather than laughing with us.

In China I expected prejudice against those with disabilities and visual differences.  But this is the United States, where the underdog can make it.  Here all are equal.  If you pull yourself up by your boot straps you are applauded and the News stations swarm in for the good story of a man without legs who has made it to the Olympics.  But in real life – at the park – my son is called “a freak” by the children who never have been exposed to someone who isn’t deemed “perfect” and doesn’t look like them.   I actually can forgive the children easily.  My fury rises up as the parents shrug a shoulder and say, “oh she has never seen anything like that before.”  Caught off guard they don’t know what to say.

A leg overboard in the apple store…..hilarious as I watched the faces of people in an unguarded moment confronted with something they have never seen before.  It will be a memory our family laughs over for years to come.  But it also gave us pause.  We have begun to think of a deeper issue that lays dormant in the hearts of many.

What does a teacher really think when he or she discovers after months that a child who they thought was “normal” turns out to be adopted?   When a prosthetic leg falls off at a soccer game will the other families act out in shock?   What would my child say at the park?  Is freak in their vocabulary?

Our little Man is like any two year old.  He makes a motor sound every time he says the word car; he is obsessed with Big Bird and Cookie Monster; he grunts when he says the word poop and makes a big smacking sound when he declares, “bye, bye LOVE YOU!”   I hope people slow down and look twice rather than making judgements based on our family’s story or his limbs.

What shapes a family

As I watched my two year old take steps with his new prosthetic leg with the other three children cheering him on, I took a deep breath.  I didn’t want to breathe just so I would always remember this feeling.

You ever have one of those moments?  Time stops.  I am totally aware of all that is around me and I realize, “This is what I was created for.  God made me for this moment.”   This is my life.

Being a mom and adoption is hard work….harder than anything else I have done thus far.  But when I watch these four amazing little people….I truly can say I will never regret who our family has become and my role in their lives.

I am thrilled that Soccer Dude has wanted to make every trip to Shriner’s with his little brother.  “He needs the encouragement and I need to learn how his new leg will work.”  It warms my heart that Roo does not throw away the Barbies that are missing an arm or leg.  “She is no less a barbie with one arm,” I heard her explaining to Little Monkey.  (You can imagine the questions from little sister when one Barbie lost its head.  That was an interesting conversation as well!)  With each wheel chair that Little Monkey makes out of Legos, I see Little Man’s influence on our lives.  He is shaping our family in a way that would never have happened without him.  We are more compassionate, more aware, more loving and he inspires us to overcome obstacles that in the past would have seemed daunting.

We get questions about why we adopted and why we would choose a child with special needs.   It is not because we are amazing people, or because we have some mystical divine calling on our lives, or that we wanted to save an orphan.   What began as prayerfully considering our role in living out James 1:27 “caring for orphans and widows” ended up with an understanding that we needed these children in our lives.  We are better for it.  Adoption is God’s gift in my life that has brought me closer to understanding His heart.

After three grueling days of physical therapy, Little Man walked out of the hospital.  I was trying to lead him to our van so we could get him to the hotel for a nap….he wanted to head down the sidewalk and take the world by storm.   He had learned to walk so why not run head long into the next adventure!

This is my life.  I couldn’t be more blessed or content.

Our miracle

Many folks question if miracles take place today.  We have read Biblical accounts of healing, bread and fish being multiplied, and animals getting along on a big boat.  But what about today?

Just for reference, our Little Man (2 years old missing one leg and the other deformed) can crawl at neck breaking speed, climb to the highest point of my kitchen cabinets and undo ANY child safety lock.   The day he figured out he could pull himself up on the hinges of a cabinet thus pulling the door down ever so slightly to get his fingers in and undo the child safety latch….that was the day I began to call him our “Over comer.”

Yesterday, as I watched Little Man slide on his new prosthetic leg, I was numb with emotion.  He was annoyed at first with the cumbersome weight and stomped like an anxious filly.  He immediately tried to shake it off giving the doctors grief.   I had expected as much from my over comer; He puts up with nothing that might slow him down.  For the moment, the leg was an obstacle.

I am not really sure how it happened.  The adults in the room were beginning to call it a day.  He wasn’t taking to it so the fitting was going to be impossible.  All of a sudden he pulled up and balanced.  We all cheered and clapped shocking him (thankfully not tipping him over)!  “Oh, is that what you want me to do?”  His face seemed to say as he joined us in clapping for himself.

That is when the marathon began.  Two hours later he was taking a walk down the hospital hallway to check out a Christmas tree.  He had never seen one before.

Everyone was amazed by his quick progress.  For his dad and I, well, I can’t really describe our awe.  Not just over his first steps but over this little boy who is transforming before our eyes.  He is a miracle.

Three months ago he only ate pureed food, was hindered in movement due to sores on his leg and was fearful of this strange new world he had been dropped into.  How can I even describe the distance he has come?  He is not the same little boy and I am not the same woman.  My life will always be marked by the miracle I am witnessing.  How blessed am I to see what God is working in Little Man’s life.  God created him to be an over comer and then opened all of the doors to give him the space to blossom.  I can never thank God enough for allowing our family to be that place.

If you don’t believe in present day miracles – we need to invite you over for dinner so you can meet ours in action.

I wish we had lied.

We lost Meimei, Little Monkey’s most favorite and dearly cherished asian doll, in the move.  World shattering.

When hubs and I started our parenting journey we intentionally chose to be truthful with our kids (age appropriately) – always.  So we have called all the body parts by their names (nice when your daughter is telling the clerk at walmart which body parts she has.  Singing it, of course, because it is a fun word to say and you get a reaction).  We don’t celebrate Christmas with Santa Clause (nice when your son tells the sweet old man in line that he got nothing from Santa for Christmas because Santa is dead).   But when we face difficult conversations about racism, adoption and social injustice the decision to be truthful is hardest but often the most rewarding.  Many times I find myself telling our children – ” I don’t know why mean things happen.  The world after The Fall STINKS.”  That is all I know to say.

When Meimei turned up missing – I wanted to be a liar.  I looked on Amazon and knew that I could replace her.  It would be easy peasy to pretend that she came out of one of the boxes I unpacked.  I even asked hubbie if we could lie just this once.

sigh.

The conversation was beyond brutal.   Weeping and deep grief accompanied imagined lonely locations of her little friend.  “She thinks I have abandoned her and that her mommy doesn’t love her or take care of her,” my sensitive soul cried for several nights.  “Maybe she is lying alone in a parking lot somewhere.”  It broke my heart.  How can a missing doll dredge up so many insecurities and so much pain.

I wish we had lied.  sigh.

We prayed for Meimei to be found and taken good care of.  Once it seemed that indeed Meimei was not coming home we bought a new doll.  The new doll -identical in every way- sat unopened on the refrigerator.  Little Monkey couldn’t bring herself to open it.  Somehow moving on was a betrayal.

Sad tale….but it does have a happy ending.

Miracle of all miracles – Meimei was found at Nana and Grandpa’s house.  We still aren’t sure when or how she ended up in their toy bin, but you can just imagine the depths of joy when dolly was found.  Better yet.  Nana had been “taking care” of her the whole time.  Meimei had not been scared or abandoned.

Man was I glad that we hadn’t lied!!!

Now we have Meimei and erMeimei – twins.  Little Monkey explained to Meimei that a new sister had been adopted.  She needed a home and they had enough love to share with another baby.  The new box was opened and a new chapter began.

The whole ordeal was grueling, but I was reminded again that relationships take hard work and the best things in life are worth every ounce of effort.  We talk about adoption, live out our lives as a multiethnic family, read the books, go to the seminars on how to parent children from hard places….but honestly living through losing Meimei helped us in ways nothing else could.  Walking through the pain of a missing doll, not shrinking from hard conversation about Little Monkey’s birth-mom and her abandonment, took our relationship to a new level.  Funny how a missing doll can provide healing and add a bit of wholeness to the life of our sensitive soul.

sigh.

Confession from this momma…..I really want to buy 20 more Corolle Calin Yang dolls and stash them in my closet.  Just being honest.

3 months ago

Three months ago today, I became Little Man’s momma.  Crazy how three months can feel like a short time, yet I have a hard time imagining what life was like before him.  If this ball of energy that keeps me hopping wasn’t around – how boring things would be!  I catch myself wondering how all this has happened.  How did we see a little photo and “know” he was our boy and that our family wouldn’t be the same without him.  I am not sure, but oh how thankful I am for God leading us to him!

The image of him hugging his dads neck within minutes of our first meeting will never leave me.  What a gift for us.  Yet at that time, he would have hugged anyone.  Teams had come and gone from his orphanage and he was very accustomed to charming any new friend that came his way with a thumb wave, smile, and a hug.  We were no exception.

Yesterday, we had to run to the hardware store.  Little Man clung for dear life unwilling to go to anyone.  I never thought I would sing praises to Jesus when one of my children developed stranger anxiety!  He now cries whenever I leave the room.  Setting him down to go to the bathroom (mom going potty by herself….what an amazing idea!) has become the worst of all betrayals in Little Man’s life.   He bangs on the door and yells “MOMMYYYYYYYY” claiming me as his own.  There isn’t anything much better.   He wants me and has decided that I can’t be replaced.   A few weeks ago as he pushed off of me while I tried to rock him to sleep I never thought such change could happen.  It really is a miracle.

This morning the happy babbles of our little boy came across the baby monitor.  I heard him singing the names of our family – “Roooty, Smule, jiejie (big sister Beth), Momyyyy, Daaadddeee.”  What a sweet song practicing his place in our family.     I laid there soaking in the sweetness of my little boy.

He has come so far in three months and the next three hold the promise of even more.  (Next week we travel to Shriners for his 2nd fitting for his prosthetic leg.) I am holding on tight for this amazing ride and treasuring each of these moments in my heart.

Life Changing

Our lives are about to change….again.

Yesterday as we met with a team of 4 specialists in Tampa, Florida at Shriner’s Hospital I realized that they were about to change our lives.  They are giving Little Man the gift of walking on two feet rather than on his knees.  It brought tears to my eyes as I realized that we were going to be able to teach him to walk with the help of these amazing folks.  It also struck fear in my heart that this boy is about to get even faster and able to get into even more cabinets!  Aiyee, Lord have mercy!!

It is going to be a very busy month….three more five hour trips to Tampa.  But these guys are the best in Florida and they know what they are doing.  There is some uniqueness to his case and I was so impressed on how they pulled in more doctors, made a plan together and educated us on our options.  It gave us the confidence that we needed and makes the long drives and overnight visits worth it!

Two huge praises….there were no major surprises (you never know what new x-rays could bring up) and he does not need surgery!  We are beyond thankful!   As he grows things could change, but the doctors educated us on what to look for and what future care would look like.  It felt like a simple walk in the park!

The second part of the day was spent with an amazing woman who will be making Little Man a leg and a brace.  Her 23 years of experience and easygoing manner made the afternoon fun even though we were buried in plaster!  They made molds and explained the process of fittings, the steps in making the leg and the physical therapy afterward.  It really is amazing what they can do and looked like a piece of artwork in process.

We would appreciate your prayers as we travel each week this month back to Tampa.  Can’t wait to share photos of our little man walking in a few weeks.

I forget

We have had an amazing time putting together small gifts to fill shoeboxes for Operation Christmas Child.  Each of the kids filled a box for a child their age; it was funny to see what they wanted to put in “their” box and how closely it was tied to their personalities.

After our shopping trip we were talking over dinner.  The conversation was much as I anticipated at first.  We talked about how much we have and how so many in the world have nothing.  I was trying to impress them with the idea that new toothbrushes, a barbie and some school supplies would be the Christmas gift of some child’s dream.  After making a donation on line for shipping the boxes we also found out that you can track your boxes.  The kids were thrilled and each speculated where their box might end up.

That is when Little Monkey jumped into the conversation.

“I hope mine goes to China.”

No surprise there.  Our girl is very passionate about praying for China, keeping her Chinese language skills and eating her rice!  It was the next statement that made me choke on my meatloaf.

“I remember what it is like to have nothing.  The first day in your family you gave me lots of presents.  Then I knew I wouldn’t be hungry or without a Christmas ever again.  I want my box to go to a little girl waiting for a family.  Cause nannies at an orphanage can give them nothing.”

She is a normal 5 year old so much of the time.  She loves to dance with her tutu on, fights with her sister and whines that she hates my meatloaf.  But at times, I simply forget.  I forget that she has come from such a difficult beginning.

She carries these memories and in a way it shapes her.  She is healing – is now happy and adjusted, but our girl was abandoned,  deprived of basic needs, and without love for many years.  Being adopted into our family doesn’t automatically erase all of that.   The warm fuzzy side of adoption could claim that once our kids are in a family – viola – all is right with the world.  This probably won’t be a popular statement….but I just don’t think that is true.  Just like anything else that is filled with benefits and blessings…..adoption is hard work.  It takes a life time of reassuring our kids that we won’t abandon them, their needs will be met and there is unconditional love.

Hopeless?

No way!

Sure the first few years without anything have shaped our Little Monkey, but look how she is responding!  She now is a little girl with deep compassion and endless empathy.  It gives me chills thinking of what God will accomplish through her life.  Now that is a warm fuzzy that I believe in!

One more thing I believe in…

When my 5 year old looks at me and says “I remember what it was like to have nothing”  and, “I waited so long for you to come get me”  it reminds me of what I am called to and why we can’t stop.

 

“Defend the cause of the fatherless.”  Isaiah 1:17

Interested in Operation Christmas Child?    http://www.samaritanspurse.org/index.php/OCC/

Interested in finding more resources on advocating for the fatherless?  http://orphansunday.org/

Is adoption for you?  http://lifelinechild.org/

Feel called to pray for the children who are waiting?  http://wonderfulwaitingkids.com/

Pure Joy

He kissed me.

Be still my heart.  I believe Little Man is falling in love with his mom.   What greater joy could exist?

We were tossing and turning – going through our normal bedtime routine of trying to get him comfortable.  He can be so funny as he tries not to go to sleep.  He tickles me.  Sings and tries to play games.  The trick is for me not to react.  I rock and snuggle, but absolutely no playing, laughing or talking.  If I break those rules I am in for another 30 minutes of “wrestle the toddler.”  Not the most fun game at the end of a long day.

I know he was just trying to stall.  He didn’t want to sleep and he has used the kissing trick many times before…..by leaning in for me to kiss him.  (Yes, if he leans in I kiss.  How can I not?)  Tonight he planted a wet gooey one on me.  The first kiss he has offered me other than a blown one from his hand.  I broke all the rules.  I laughed and almost cried while telling my sweet boy that I love him.  He didn’t fall asleep until 10pm.

I love being his mom.  I really can’t describe the joy that he has brought to our home.

Well, maybe one more story will help you to catch a glimpse.

He has HATED having his diaper changed.  We are talking tantrum city.  I had enough last week and in one of my weaker mommy moments declared, “if you are going to pitch a fit about your diaper change then you need to just go on the potty.”  I marched him to the toilet and told him in Chinese to go potty.

He did.

Wait a minute.  Could it be?

Yup.  For 2 months we have subjected this poor guy to diapers when he has been trained.  No wonder he was pitching fits.  Since he isn’t talking much it has been a bit if a guessing game.  Really he is training me.  Hah!  So this week has been a new adventure with a little one in undies whose tushy is to little for any I can find.

[Okay, now for the joy part of this long story.]

He loves flushing the toilet and watching the water swirl and go down.  Loves it.  The first time he pooped in the toilet he flushed, blew it a kiss, waved at it and gleefully cried, “bye! bye!”

Joy!

I want to love life that much and take joy in the simple fun of swirling running water that takes my poop away.  Isn’t that great? 😉  Isn’t adoption great?!  How am I so lucky to be the mother of this sweet one?

Take what I can get.

I dropped the clay mold of Little Monkey’s handprint that she made for me on our first Mother’s Day together.  It shattered into a million pieces.  I wept.

The broken clay laying around my feet mocked me.  It was one more memory lost which triggered the grief that sits on the surface of my heart.  There are so many things I have lost from my two adopted children- knowledge,  moments, memories, photos.  It stinks.

I didn’t breastfeed them.  I didn’t rejoice when they first slept through the night.  I missed their first tooth and I have no idea what solid foods they started eating.  I wasn’t there to wipe tears or to hear giggles.  We missed much.

It has been two months and we can’t figure out how to comfort our Little Man at bedtime.  He refuses to go to sleep.  We have tried rocking, singing, laying him down, rubbing his tummy, sitting next to him.  Nothing seems to help our boy.  He simply tosses and turns for up to an hour until he finally passes out in exhaustion.  His only source of comfort coming from his thumb and twirling his spiky hair.

His file held one line about bedtime – “he plays till he sleeps.”  My only clue…..what could it mean?

This is when I feel the loss of time.  If only I could have been there for him from the beginning.  He wouldn’t have to fall asleep on his own in an over crowded room in the orphanage.  There would have been no crib mate to play with until he fell asleep.  Instead he would have known my arms.  If only….

I guess it doesn’t help to cry over broken clay.  We can only press forward making new memories, learning from each other in order to bridge the gaps.

For now I sit on the floor next to my baby’s crib waiting for him to fall asleep.  I refuse to leave.  I am not really sure how to help him – I guess I am hoping that it will just click for both of us.  I will all of a sudden learn what he needs and he will be ready to accept what comfort I have to offer.

Last night as he was tossing and turning he paused.  He lifted the bumper pad and peeked underneath the corner.  We were peeking at each other….eye to eye.  He dropped the bumper, laid down and stuck his fingers through the slates toward my hand.

I think I will glue the clay pieces of Little Monkey’s handprint back together.  Something is better than nothing.  I will take what I can get.

 

Just like it but different

I sat on the footstool in the middle of the dark garage bawling my eyes out.  Exhausted, obviously emotional and the proud new mother of a four year old.  I had dreamed of this season of life for years and after months of paperwork I should have been over the moon.

I was….but so much more.

I had a good silent cry and was considering the half gallon of cookie dough ice cream in our freezer.   On the way to the freezer my dear hubby said a few words that jolted me.

“You felt just like this when the other two were infants.  It is just like having a newborn.”

Those two simple sentences helped me so much.  I just needed to label it.  I was exhausted from being up in the night with a child who was trying to adjust to a new home and a new family.  It was like fighting a world war to get the sweet girl to sleep and then we threatened everyone within miles who might make noise.  We were trying to figure out how much she ate, what she wanted to eat and when.   I never knew when she would cry and I was learning how to soothe her.  Just like having an infant.

Like my dad used to joke….just like it but different.

(Besides no diapers!) The major difference was the lack of grace extended.

When you have a newborn everyone bends over backwards to help.  They peek at your screaming bundle, smile, and call him cute.  You are expected to get up in the middle of church.  You are called a good mom when you stand at the nursery door to “check one more time that he is okay.”  Even the dark circles under my eyes and the few extra pounds from late night ice cream snacks were accepted.

Somehow when the same things were happening with my new daughter….the grace wasn’t extended.  No smiles when our new daughter was having a meltdown at the library and I had no idea what to do.   And I certainly wasn’t showing myself grace as I wept in the garage.  “What was wrong with me?  How could I be so tired, and so emotional?” I moaned as I went for my comfort snack.

Heading into our second adoption I joked that it was like a paper pregnancy.   Here is the other side of the story. It takes your body some time to bounce back after that paper-pregnancy.  Okay, okay this might be extending the metaphor a bit to far, but hang in there with me!    I am in the midst of an emotional adjustment.

Kinda cool actually.

I love that I am going through this adjustment right along side of them.  They are not alone.  I am in this messy transition too.

What helps when my two year old is pitching the tantrum of the century in the grocery store parking lot because he doesn’t like the car seat?   As I am getting the stink eye from the whole town who seem to be at the store at that blessed moment – I remember that he is only 6 weeks old.   He has the family age of 6 weeks….he is learning that I will meet his needs just like I am learning that shopping right after nap times doesn’t seem to work well.    We are learning together.

Give us a few more weeks.  The bags under my eyes should be gone and we will shop with more confidence.  Until then – I need to go sleep when the toddler sleeps.