A long and rambling story of love

I shouldn't be starting this blog post at 10:30pm, but here I am. (Note: now it's weeks later, true story.) It's my procrastinating nature at it's finest. See, I don't HAVE to write this blog, no one is paying me to (although that would be nice), no one is depending on me to write this. If I don't write this, no one will be hungry or dirty or or fall to their knees from frustration because they can't read it. 

"Mommy hasn't written her blog!"

Other things I do during the day... they'll come get me if I don't pay attention. Literally, they will find me... anywhere. (See image above.)

So it's been 6ish months since we adopted Joshua and a little more than a year since we adopted Sam. I have to say things are going really well. We are all one big, happy, loud, disheveled, messy, loving family. Sometimes I try to imagine or contemplate what our lives would be like if we never adopted one or both of them. Not because I regret it, far from it. Just out of curiosity. I wonder if Shannon, Ella, and Daniel would be different... but I don't really think so. Their personalities were very established and have stayed true. They've matured a little, some more than others;) But I will never really know how their lives would be now if we had never adopted Sam and Joshua. These boys are so much a part of our family, it's hard to imagine life without them. Although, I have a feeling that life would be more quiet and less hectic for sure.  So how have our biological children's lives, or our life as a family, been impacted, negatively or positively, by these adoptions? Well, they have to share more... more of their things, more of their time, more of their space... and more of their love. They may have to put off what they were going to do to help their brother with something. They will have to wait longer for their turn. We don't get out as much. It's too expensive and can be psychically exhausting (for the parents especially.) Family trips are more difficult to plan. Hell, getting them all in the car with shoes on is a tremendous feat and exercise in patience. 

But to see the older kids want to give their love to their little brothers, who came to us not quite knowing how to accept all of this love, has been a beautiful story to watch. 
Even when Sam or Joshua do not reciprocate their affection, out of a way to exert power, I just tell them to just say "I love you." That's what they need to hear.

 Joshua's 1st trip to the beach. Hilton Head October 2014

Not to say that our daily lives aren't exhausting. Nothing like those hours from 3pm-8pm, can I get an "Amen," parents? Homework, activities, snack, play time, dinner, bath, stories, bed... this is why I don't get this blog written. But I wouldn't trade it for anything, not right now. Don't get me wrong, I'm not looking to do this schtick my whole life. But for this season we are in, it's pretty sweet. And seeing Shannon turn into a young lady before my eyes is shocking me. I'm not one of those parents who cried at the first day of preschool or kindergarten or when she lost her first tooth. But this whole puberty/middle school/tween thing? Please. Time can slow down now, thank you. She already looks and acts like a teenager! But the nice kind who respect their parents and are responsible. Do those kind of teenagers exist?? I hope so. (God knew what He was doing when He made her our first... break us in easy.) 

Do I wish there was more peace and tranquility and harmony in our house? Yes, yes I do. I don't know why I still have a desire for that.. it's not gonna happen, Alison. There are too many different and conflicting personalities in this house. But the times when we do have harmony, like from 4:07-4:15 yesterday, it makes me happy. And I'm learning not to be so surprised or let down when the fighting starts again. Yep, even old "been there, done that" moms like me can still learn a thing or two... thank goodness. The moment I sit back on my laurels and think I've got this thing all figured out, someone please slap me. These kids inspire me to be a better mom everyday. And I've learned a lot from other parents who are "in the trenches" with me. (Facebook is a blessing and a curse, but that's another blog post.)

Okay, enough about me... since I think some people read this blog to learn about adoption, I'd like to share our story and our continuing journey on this path we have been blessed to take. I still feel God lead us to adoption, and we just said "yes."  

So, Sam. Sam. Sam. Sam. As his preschool teacher told us, "That one will keep you young." Hmmmmmm...Yes, always what you want to hear from a teacher:)  It's funny because our other three have always been great at school. The girls, of course, were. And even Daniel, who was and continues to be my most challenging child to parent, has always been an angel at school, and with all other people for that matter! But Sam... he is who he is. And he's gonna act the same for us or his teachers or his grandparents. What does that tell me? He's comfortable in his own skin. Looking back on his personality when we first met him, he really hasn't changed too much. He's come out of his shell for sure, and will be silly and try to make his siblings laugh (surprisingly potty humor still works on an 11 year old girl, Sam has discovered.) Sam is smart and figures things out, sometimes even when I don't want him to. He's knows what he wants and what he doesn't, and he'll let you know as well. He's a sweet boy and will apologize to me when he does something he shouldn't (like yell at me or stomp his foot at me, he's a big stomper... even when he runs. But you DON'T stomp your foot down at Mommy. Un-uh.) He gives the best hugs and kisses and is just so darn cuddly... like that little bear cub on the Downy commercial, remember him?

His congenital heart defect that was operated on in China was repaired well, and we only have to take him to the cardiologist once a year. He's a sturdy, robust fellow... think mini sumo wrestler, ever-so-slightly bow legged and walks with authority and a heavy foot, yet surprisingly agile and well balanced. Sam is also proving my theory of "there are not terrible twos but terrible threes" correct.  Three year olds are much more opinionated and more difficult to coerce...um, I mean less likely to comply with your requests;) He talks ALL DAY LONG. He has a long list of demands... um, I mean requests, that he continually reminds us of throughout the day. Most requested items: candy, gum, yogurt, cheese, cookie (particularly chocolate sprinkle cookie from Publix... they bakery workers know us well). He's not a morning person but insists upon getting up at the ungodly hour on school mornings and then will harshly demand juice and a waffle. Literally, he will talk about juice and waffles until they appear in front of him. No matter how many times I try to explain that COFFEE comes before everything else. He still loves playing with toy cars, trains, trucks, etc. He likes to build legos and he loves to play outside with the big kids. Truly though, really he's a sweet boy... and yes, he keeps us on our toes.

                                     

Joshua has been home almost 7 months now. In a few weeks he will have the first birthday party of his 6 years of life. In China he told us he had no party. He said one of his friends had a celebration last year (we saw pictures) but then we realized that was because his was matched with his family and they sent money for a cake and the orphanage took pictures of him and many other kids around the cake as he opened some presents. Joshua's birthday had been a few months before. He had not known we were coming at that time and, according to him, there had been no celebration. I'm really not sure if he even knew when the date of his birthday. He's seen Daniel's birthday celebrated and Shannon's and Sam's. And now he KNOWS what's special about February 11th, so for this birthday, his 6th birthday, he WILL have a party... a big one:) 

Pretending to suck his thumb like Sam, silly

Lined up his cars and said they were his class at school and the lead car was his awesome teacher, Mrs. Varrone... (who was also the first person from his class he wanted to invite to his birthday party:)

Joshua came to us a happy, smiling boy (after the initial hesitation and shyness), and he still is a happy, smiling boy. But there are levels of complexity to this boy that I'm still learning about. He had to develop some tools of self protection from his life in an institutional setting. He can get very stiff and tense up his whole body when he doesn't want to do something. For such a little kid, he's REALLY strong. This doesn't happen often and he understands that he can't always get his way or what he wants, and although he may let out a whine, he will go along. A whine I can deal with.

He doesn't do a great job of sticking up for himself, especially with his younger type-A brother. Sam and Joshua get along well and can play very well together, but when Sam decides to be a stinker and hit Joshua or take his toy, Joshua comes and whines to me instead of trying to stand up for himself. It makes me wonder what life was like for him at the orphanage. I mean, obviously he's cute and I bet the nannies liked him, but I wonder if he was an easy target for the older boys. According to him, yes, older boys hit him or pushed him down. He only has one friend he talks about (who now lives in Wisconsin.) This boy is his only positive memory that he speaks of. And To be honest, he doesn't really show much interest or desire to talk about China. If were not for me asking him questions, I don't think he would ever bring up his life in China. I know he was cared for, he was taught things, he was comforted. I can tell his orphanage was definitely one of the better ones. But there is a difference between being cared for and being loved. And I don't think he really knew what love was when came home. And certainly he didn't know what "family" means. One time, months ago, when I was asking him about his life in China and if he did something by himself, he told me that the mommies helped him. What? The mommies? Yes, LOTS of mommies he said... no daddies. That's when it hit me, he doesn't get it. He doesn't know who I am... I'm THE mommy! There aren't any other mommies coming into the picture, buddy. Just me and Daddy and your brothers and sisters. Seems like a simple concept to us, who grew up in families. But when you've NEVER known this, how can you explain it? You can't. He has to experience it to know it... he has to feel "family."   So much of life is feelings. We feel loved, we feel frustrated, we feel ashamed or joyful or depressed. When you are in a family you feel like you belong, unconditionally.

So for the past several months, Joshua has been experiencing what "family" feels like. And I think it's starting to sink in. He told me tonight that he loves ______ (fill in the blank with the other six of us.) This the first time I can remember him bringing up love and proactively telling me that he loves us versus repeating it to us when we say it to him. 

He still is reluctant to accept praise at times... not about doing a good job on a puzzle or kicking a soccer ball, but accepting  praise about himself as a person. I tell him I'm proud of him, he's doing so well in school, he's trying so hard, he's a good boy and I will always love him forever... he looks down... kinda nods his head. He's not used to hearing such talk. But he better get used to it, because I'm gonna build this boy up so high he's gonna fly:)

As far as his Thalassemia goes, he is doing well. He gets blood transfusions every 4 weeks. He looks forward to these days because he gets a day off school and gets to play on the iPad. He usually does really great getting his IV in... except for the last time when they couldn't find the vein, called in the IV team, they tried to use his hand, he started freaking out and pulling away, they went back to the arm and it all worked out... and of course that day started with him getting car sick all over himself at 7:45 in the left lane on GA 400 in stop and go traffic. #thankfulthatTargetisopenearly  Also, soooo thankful for the amazing nurses and our doctor at CHOA. They sent him home with a marble maze toy for his troubles:) 
I can only assume that he had a negative experience in China with his hand getting poked too much, but now we know not to try that in the future. 

He is also on a daily medication for iron overload. Since he gets so many blood transfusions, iron builds up in his body. That is not good and the reason that kids in China, and other areas where they can't get chelation meds, die at a young age from organ failure or heart problems. Joshua was taking an oral medication when we first started, but that wasn't working well for him so his doctor switched him to the medication most Thal patients had to use before the oral meds were invented. The thing about this medication is that it's delivered to the body via a sub q infusion over 10 hours. I knew about the possibility of having to use  the medication when I first started researching Thalassemia. Of course, me, in my optimism, thought that he'd probably just take the oral medication and that would work and he'd be fine. Well, not the case, but really no biggie. I'm just happy that this medication exists and it works and it is prolonging his life! 

He does not have a port for this medication. Fred or I stick a little needle attached to a small catheter that goes just under the skin (lower tummy or thighs) and the medication is in a syringe that is loaded in a pump that slowly pushes the medicine into his body. He wears the pump on a belt while he sleeps. In the morning we take it out. He doesn't complain. He could probably almost do it himself (and one day he will.) So, yes, another addition to the bedtime routine, but now that we've been doing it for a couple of months, it's so easy and takes about 5 minutes each night.

Joshua and his nightly medication being administered via a pump into his tummy

Sometimes I think about how we wound up here... with 5 kids. And it is sad to me that Sam and Joshua are with us because of events out of their control...an imperfect world with complicated situations... not black and white issues, but lives shrouded in gray. I think adoption is a beautiful thing. You really can't appreciate the beauty until you're in the midst of it. It's like feeling "family." And maybe the appreciation doesn't happen as soon for some as others, but I like to think most people feel it. 

 It's upsetting that their birth parents couldn't be involved in it. Yet, this is a messy, gray area in their cases, like most cases of international adoption. And sometimes we hear stories on the newswire about something horrible that happened to a baby in China or Guatemala or Russia, and we judge them. But who are we to judge? Horrible things happen to children here, everyday. Our system is broken too. And, as we all know, anyone can be a parent... even people that probably shouldn't be. But I digress....

What I'm saying is that, in a perfect world, Sam and Joshua wouldn't be with us. They would be in China, with the mom and dad who gave them life. Sam's heart would have been anatomically correct and Joshua would not have Thalassemia. That's a perfect world. But they were abandoned and left with no one. Children are not meant to grow up without a family, but too many do, in this country and around the world. People adopt for different reasons, but the one thing they have in common is that they want to parent a child. And children need parents, so this is a way of "fixing" a broken part of the world. Except for God's love for us, there is no deeper love in this world than a parent's love for a child.  

I don't know that God gives us difficult circumstances, impossible to overcome situations, devastating events... more like they happen because our world is not perfect. Some people ask "why?" Why does God allow these horrible things to occur? This is a rhetorical question:) I don't really have an answer... goodness knows I'm not that smart. But I've heard some people say it's so we can help each other through these times and so we can rely on God when nothing else will do. When we are so broken and have no where else to turn. I do believe God can heal. Jesus came to our world, our imperfect world, not to make it a perfect world, but to show us how to live in it. Why is the greatest of these love? Why not faith? or hope?  Because hope won't heal you... and what good is faith if you don't share it with others? Love is the greatest because love is the most difficult. Sometimes it's hard to love others or to love ourselves or to love God. But I know this is true... God ALWAYS loves us, as his children. And His love is so powerful that it can heal the broken. And aren't we all broken at some point in our lives? 

So in this messed up and twisted world shrouded in gray we hear about everyday, don't forget about the greatest of these. Don't let the emptiness of worldly matters overshadow the power of God's love here in our world. It's so powerful and so pure. And if you feel there is too much evil out there, show a little kindness towards someone, give them hope, share your faith... or better yet, share your love, it's the greatest <3

Joshua and his cousin, Erin

It's not a destination, it's a journey

She let me drive her car when I was around 13 or 14 years old. We were in her burgundy Oldsmobile that my uncle had helped her purchase after her 1970s Mercedes diesel became too unreliable for an older woman to be driving long distances. We were on a dirt road, or maybe there wasn't even a road, maybe it was just a grassy field. We had gone down the road from her hilltop house in Blairsville, Ga to either visit one of her friends or to pick some wild blackberries or to retrieve one of the many dogs that she cared for in her years. I can't recall the exact reason, but it was just the two of us. I remember having never been behind the wheel of a car as I was a couple of years away from my permit. I only drove a short distance, but that first time you push the pedal and are in the driver's seat is a moment you don't forget, and I shared that moment with her.

Grandma and I in Ormond Beach at the "Florida House"

My grandma is 94 years old and she is, and always has been, a source of great love and warmth and comfort to me. From my first memories as a child, I can remember her regular visits to our house or going to see her and being so excited and joyful to get to spend time with her. The sound of that Mercedes diesel coming down the road was music to my hears (even our yellow lab, Sugar, knew the sound and would start whimpering and wagging her tail frantically, looking for a stick to pick up to greet Grandma.)

She was a child of The Great Depression. Born in Atlanta in 1920. Her father died when she was young and her mom taught school and raised the three children on her own. Grandma had two older brothers, one of whom had developed an addiction to morphine after it was prescribed to him and died at a young age from an overdose. *Edit to add: We recently learned that his cause of death was suicide from cyanide poisoning. My grandma remembers he had hemophilia and once we were in process to adopt a boy with hemophilia, this peaked my interest. I found his death certificate online and saw the sad truth about the end of his life. He most likely lived with a great deal of pain from joint bleeds and may have chose to end his own life because of the pain (for which there was no medical remedy, or because he was indeed addicted to morphine... that he took for his pain.) Either way, a very sad truth. He was in his early 20s when he died.

 

note: Grandma still has this couch and end table in her house

She didn't grow up with a lot. Even though for many years of her life when she was married to my grandfather, who was a surgeon, she didn't want for anything, she always kept her “not let anything go to waste” mindset. So after my grandfather died, she has lived on his social security payments and interest from the bank and made EVERY penny count. That is another trait I remember well. She split her pieces of Wrigley's Doublemint gum in half to make the pack last longer, she ate leftovers often... very often, she could squeeze the last ounce of toothpaste from the tube like no one else, she wore clothes until they wore out, she washed out Ziploc bags and reused them as well as red solo cups, and we all remember the story of when my uncle put too much ketchup on his plate at dinner and she made him eat it all even when there was nothing left to dip in it. She never threw food out. If it was just picked over scraps, she would at least give it to the dog(s).

She has been on her own since 1974 when my grandfather, who died before I was born, passed away in his sleep from a heart attack on a February night. She had 11 grandchildren among her four kids and she made a point to be as involved as possible with us. I cherish all the memories I have with her... from the many trips to the Ormond beach “Florida House”, as we affectionately referred to it, to all the Christmas and Thanksgiving gatherings she hosted to playing cards to watching the Golden Girls or just talking with her. 

yes, that's me with the stink face

She showed me, and I'm sure all her grandkids, an unconditional love that I can still feel to this day. She isn't a flashy person but she always looks her best, she's not demanding but she seems to get her way, she's not overbearing but she's tough in spirit. She has lived her life with grace and, more than anything, she has quietly and unassumingly showed other's God's love through her words and actions.

I loved playing Memory with her. Note: my mom still has this exact game at her house.

Almost 5 years ago, I put together a video montage of all the pictures I could find of her through her, at the time, 90 years of life. It was a labor of love. As I spent many hours scanning in old photos, it hit me how there really are seasons of life. At the time, as a 33 year old, I had never really thought of it in that way. But seeing her as a young woman just married when she was 19 and then as each of her four children were born... and as her children grew...and she and my grandfather enjoyed time with family friends, many of whom she remained friends with until they passed away years ago... and then to her life as I knew her after she lost her husband of 35 years, it hit me that life really is a journey. There is no destination, only the journey. So, for goodness sake, we have to make the best of it... and to think that we are only on this earth for a blink of an eye in relation to eternity. To look back at those 90+ years and think that's only a glint in God's eye is kind of incomprehensible to me.

In making that video, I realized that my grandma had lived this whole other life before I knew her (as a kid I always thought she was 68, she was never younger and would never grow older.) And I started to think about how my life, at this point in time, will seem like a foreign world to my future grandkids. I'm sure she made mistakes along the way. I'm sure had has said things or done things that, looking back on it, she would have changed. But I don't believe she lives with regret. Not much point in that. She has faced difficulties with relationships in her life and I know she wishes things were different in some aspects. She has, what some would say, reason to be unhappy or resentful or angry or sad. But I never saw any of those emotions in her, or at least not for long.

One of the biggest things I learned from my Grandma is that your attitude makes all the difference. She could have been resentful, she could felt sorry for herself, she could have held grudges... but she didn't. And during those difficult circumstances that she encountered along her way, she just “put it in the Lord's hands” and trusted in Him and always asked for “His will to be done.” She took great comfort in her relationship with Jesus. To her, He was a close friend, a compass in her life whom she could always rely on and whom she tried to follow. Above all else, she would talk about God's love, and how we are to treat people kindly and love EVERYONE, even those who may hurt us or whom may not accept our love. She grew up and lived in an era and a part of the country where racism and prejudice were common, yet she didn't have those beliefs even though I know some of her friends and family did. She was always careful not to make derogatory remarks about others. She always saw the glass as half full. She made lemonade out of lemons. Even when her beautiful view of the north Georgia mountains out her back porch was altered by an RV park that popped up down the hill from her, she just decided that she'd look to the heavens instead of straight out. When she was 80 years old she was pruning her forsythia one morning and slipped on the dew-soaked grass and broke her ankle very badly. She pulled herself across the yard, up the back porch steps, inside and called her son BUT before he or the ambulance got there, she drug herself to the bedroom and got clean pants out of her closet so she wouldn't be messy when they arrived. Always look your best!
 When she was 85 she had hip replacement surgery which was a great decision because she had been in pain for years. And considering it's been over 10 years, I'd say she had a good return on her investment. But for an 85 year old to have such a major surgery and recover like she did is quite the accomplishment. A couple of weeks after coming home from the surgery, she was on her back porch swing to cut her toenails. She pulled her knee up too far, past the angle they told her she could and her hip popped out of joint and she was unable to move. She couldn't walk and was in a lot of pain. She hollered out (because that's what you do in the south) for someone to help. But her secluded and quiet mountain home was not a blessing that day. She called out for hours and eventually someone down in that RV park heard her and came to help. She learned from her experience, but still wanted to live on her own and has until very recently. 

She is not and never has been afraid of death. She's ready, whenever the Lord takes her. But, like she's said in her old age, she still feels good and would like to stick around a bit longer, Lord willing. Guess He agrees because she's still puttin' around, folks.

My grandma has an inner peace that makes others love her and want to be around her. And it's no secret that she gained that peace from her relationship with God. She isn't perfect, and she knows this. But she also knows that God loves her anyway, just as He does you and me. And her gift to the world around her was her kindness, her friendship, her devotion, and her love towards others.

One summer in my middle school years, I spent a week with her and went to vacation bible school at her little Baptist church in the mountains. The people up there were so nice and welcoming and humble; I know she always enjoyed living up there. My vacation bible school class that summer consisted of myself, my cousin Dana who was my age, and I think one other girl. Our leader was an elderly gentleman (probably in his 50s, but he seemed older to me at the time). I guess he was the only who volunteered to teach the middle school girls. At the end of the week, each class was to sing a song in front of the church. We were the oldest group and all the other groups had many more kids, you know, cute little kids. When I heard we were going to have to get up in front of the congregation and sing on Friday evening... I was terrified. I HATE speaking in front of people, and was terribly shy as a child. And then the day before, the other girl that was in our group backed out (which was smart) so it was just going to be me, my cousin, and our leader up there singing. Well, I decided that there was no way I was going to do this. Unh-uh, NO WAY. First of all, I couldn't carry a tune in the shower and there wasn't going to be enough other voices to drown me out, and secondly, EVERYONE in church would be looking at us... while we were singing no less! The song was “His Name is Wonderful.” See, I still remember it because I was so traumatized. We had practiced singing it a little the day before but I came home and was upset and told my grandma that I didn't want to do it. I was too nervous and was feeling ill about it. She listened to my concerns. She comforted me. And then she gently told me not to do it for myself, or the people in the church, or my group leader, or for her, but to do it for God. To sing the song to Him because it would make Him happy and would show other's His love... and that if I prayed to Him and asked for peace and courage, then everything would be alright. Somehow she knew what to say and believed in what she was saying enough to make me believe it. That evening two middle school girls and a gray-haired man stood up in front of the church and sang an old hymn. I was still nervous, but I didn't faint, which was a real possibility. And as we finished the song, every face in the congregation was smiling and we could feel the love in the room. And so I pushed my fear down that day and I sang for Him... but really I also sang for her.

I know my grandma wanted others to know Him like she did. But, at least to me, she was never overbearing about it. It was just the way she lived and the way she treated people. In her 70s, and even into her 80s, she used to visit elderly people who were homebound or go to the local assisted living facility in town (which is where she would always tell us she would go when she couldn't live alone anymore... none of us thought that would happen, but we humored her.) She talked to people, she made them feel important and cared for. She has had many friends throughout the years. She loves to laugh. Another favorite trait of mine is how she can turn red with laughter and have tears coming down her checks from the humor of something. I have cherished memories of hanging out with my grandma and her friend, Anne Sheppard, when they were in their 70s and we were on a trip to Florida. I believe it was spring break, and my brother and I wanted to go to the beach, so my mom thought it'd be a great idea for Grandma and Anne to take us. I was 15 or 16. Those ladies were a hoot together. They so much enjoyed each other's company. Anne and my grandma had been friends for about 50 years. Anne had lost her first husband, and her second husband, so the two widows along with two other friends who were also widows (they likened themselves to the Golden Girls, my grandma was Rose and Anne was Blanche), would take trips to Florida and get together on a regular basis. Grandma and Anne kept in close contact until Anne passed away several years ago. On that spring break, we played rummy every night and listened to Grandma and Anne tell old stories and just cry from laughing so hard.

Anne is on the far left

She is a woman with manners, she is humble, she is kind, and she can sing a wonderful version of “Jesus Loves Me.” She takes care of herself, and has always been active, but was never an exerciser. I would describe her as striving to be productive and useful at all times. She adamantly believed in drinking 8 glasses of water a day, getting outside for a daily walk and taking as little medication as possible.

She was at my parent's house when Fred first met my family, she was at the hospital when my first-born arrived... she's always been like my special treat, icing on the cake of life to me. I guess that's what grandmothers want to be like, right? Grandkids are the apple of your eye, whatever that means... well, she always made me feel special. 

The past several months I've gotten emotional when I think of my grandma, and I'm not sure why. She's still doing great, all things considered. I mean, she's 94 years old for pete's sake. Her mind is giving out on her and she has a lot of trouble with short term memory as well as remembering things in general. Isn't it funny? You go through this life making all of these memories, good and bad and near the end, they aren't with you. You are constantly in the present and even though you may have a feeling in the back of your mind that there is something you should remember, you can't begin to know what it is. But is my grandma sad? Is she bitter? Is she depressed? No. No, she's drinking her lemonade and enjoying it. And now she has 17 great-grandkids and even though she can't remember their names or sometimes even if their her great-grandchildren, she does have moments of clarity. And the other day she looked at Joshua and asked his name and after I told her, she said, "and now you adopted him, right?" (So she's with it enough to realize one of these things is not like the others;)) And she shared her support and told me how great she thought it was last year after we adopted Sam. Little does she know that she was a big part of my faith journey.

And I know many of you who are reading this may not know my grandma. And really I'm writing this for myself. It's something that I've felt I wanted to do for a while. And while you may not ever meet her, I'm gonna bet that'd you'd like her. I just feel so lucky and thankful that she is my grandma and that all my kids know her and will remember her. I respect and admire her more than I than she knows, and probably more than she thinks she deserves.

taken last month

So my take away from Grandma?.. above all else love others, don't go around in pity for yourself, don't hold grudges, always forgive, treat others with kindness, and finally... you have to decide to be happy, it's not something you can find, it's not a destination.

What kind of boy would he be?

Well hello, my blog, been a while. Seems many of my posts start like that... hmmmm. You see I have this blog in my head that won't come out. I think of really profound things randomly, and I intend to sit down and write this blog, but well, then I think of a million other things that actually NEED to be done. And by the end of the day, I zone out watching a mindless show. But this morning (now afternoon) is important, this morning (now afternoon) is special... today marks exactly 3 months since we got Joshua in our arms. Wait... what?!? 3 MONTHS?? THAT'S IT?? I've said this before, like many other adoptive parents and ALL parents for that matter have said, the time seems to fly. Or maybe it's not that time is flying, but that the bonding process with your child is so all consuming. That every second of every day your heart is leading your mind to become connected to this child for life, to truly feel like this child is YOUR child, even though they may not have your genes... and you may never know what they looked like when they made their entrance into this world... and you may never know what they looked like when they were 3 months old, or 6 months old, or a year old. You won't be able to tell them where they where they took their first steps or what cute things they said when they were learning to talk, or how they got that scar on their forehead. And you won't be able to tell them what kind of personality traits or health conditions run in the family. While all of those things would be nice to know, they really don't matter so much. Because what I can tell him is that he is loved, more than he can even imagine. Do you love your own biological child before you know them? Before they are even born?  Or even conceived? Is there a deep, subtle love that has always been there? I think so. And I feel the same way about Sam and Joshua. I loved them since they were born, even though I didn't know them, nor even know that we would adopt them into our family. And I know that their birth parents have loved them like this and love them to this day. Somewhere in China their is a mom and a dad that quietly remember their birthdays, and I'm sure they aren't the same days that we celebrate. These parents will never know what happened to their sons. To give them a chance at life, they had to give them up. That is a love that is hard for us to wrap our heads around, but that's another blog....

The other day I read somewhere that when a child is 2-3 years old it is a vital time in their development to feel love and be nurtured by someone in a parental role. It has been proven how important those first 3 years of life are and even as infants, children have a biological NEED to feel loved. I was thinking of Joshua and how he doesn't remember his birth parents since he was abandoned at less than a year old. And so most of those first 3 years of his life he spent in the orphanage. I'm thankful that at least he felt his parent's love for almost his first year of life (maybe he was a year old, since it was an estimate that he was 10 months old when found.) But then what? What did he feel when he was growing up in the orphanage? Did he feel love? Did he feel safe? And then I wondered, would he be a different boy if he had never left his birth family? Surely he would. I have to assume that there are parts of his personality and behavior that have been profoundly affected by his life up to this point and by the fact that he lost his family and spent those years in an institutional setting instead of a home. There were critical years that we can't go back and change. And although I'm sure a good deal of his personality is God-given (as I see in my other kids whom I've known since their first heartbeat), I wonder how would he be different? Would he be as guarded with his emotions? Would he be as stubborn? Would he be as quiet around others? Would he still only want to sleep in a bed by himself? Would he still be so grumpy and agitated when he wakes up from a car nap? Would he still act overly dramatic when he gets a boo-boo? Would he be so protective over his belongs and his space? Would he love technology? Would he be gifted at sports, particularly anything with invloving a ball? Would he love Spiderman? Would he be a mama's boy? Would he pick favorites of his siblings, subject to change any given day? Would he be so open to learning and experiencing new things? Would he laugh at his brother's potty humor? Would he be resistant to affection at times? Would he feel comfortable in his own skin? Does he feel comfortable in his own skin??

I don't know exactly how his life experiences have affected him. I think some kids are more affected by their circumstances than others, and of course circumstances are different. As I look back on these past three months, I'm in awe of this boy. He has taken to our family like a bee to honey. He loves his siblings, and is slowly able to accept their affections and return affection (although we are still working on that.) He loves his grandparents and cousins and thoroughly enjoys himself at family gatherings and get togethers with friends. The changes I've noticed are that we have much less resistance and stubborn fits of yelling than we did during the first month home. He will still let us know when he doesn't want to do something, but generally he is more compliant with us and goes along even if he has a scowl on his face. He is feeling more secure with us and his role in the family, and I'm really amazed at how quickly it happened. To be honest we really haven't had any of the major issues that could have come up. He doesn't have any food issues or signs of abuse or acts of aggression. Although it is ALWAYS good to be very prepared for those issues and others when adopting an older child. I guess God just knows what we can handle and what we can't:)

Joshua is an absolute blessing, like all children. He's happy, he loves life, he's smart, he's responsible, he's observant, he's opinionated, he's athletic, he's driven, he's friendly, and he REALLY knows how to smile for a picture:)

He's doing great in school and is progressing slowly but surely with his language skills. He definitely understands pretty much all that we tell him. He will probably need some speech therapy to work out some issues that he also had in China, but we are taking it day by day. I still can't believe how well he's done in Kindergarten! He can write his name (very well) and is recognizing the letters in his name. His teacher says he's always positive and smiling and willing to try what she asks of him. Can't ask for more than that! 

He gets a blood transfusion once every 4 weeks and that has gone very smoothly. He is on special medication to reduce the iron concentration in his body and organs, and we are having to work out some slight complications with that, but I'm very grateful for our hematologist who is the head of the Thalassemia center hear in Atlanta. He is in great hands and I'm hopeful we will see his iron levels start to decrease soon. His Thal doesn't really affect him too much on a daily basis. He has energy to play and eats like a champ. Sometimes he gets headaches and he does fall asleep on the bus or in the car, but his mind is working so hard every day, so much new information to take in... I'd fall asleep too! 

Every day I wake up feeling very blessed. These five kids are the loves of my life... lucky doesn't begin to describe it. 

I only hope that I can teach them what's really important in life and to not sweat the small stuff because in the end, most of it is small stuff. I want them to take chances, to step out on a limb, to listen to a God-given desire do something they never thought they would. But mostly I would love from them to be kind to others. To think of not only themselves, to be generous and to love unconditionally. That's all... no biggie, right?

Parenting them is a privilege and responsibility.

 

I saw this quote that I loved: 

“I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails.
I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp.
I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbors children.
I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden.
I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder.
I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.” 
― Marjorie Pay Hinckley

Now I'm certainly not going to pretend that I'm on that righteous path, but I want to be, it's something to strive for. It's so easy to get caught up in our own lives, even if we think we are "busy." We're as busy as we want to be. If you have the opportunity to help others or do something bigger than yourself, go for it. Even if you don't know how you'll do it. It doesn't have to be a big thing, the every day acts of kindness are so important and we should do them not out of guilt because we "should" help others, I hope I can instill in my children the desire to think of others. Not only to think of others but to act on that desire. Sheesh, now I'm really feeling pressure... okay, if they at least don't end up in jail or on the streets, then I'm gonna pat myself on the back. 

Right now we're in the mode of dropping off, picking up, soccer practices, music lessons, swim lessons, school projects, state testing, school involvement, etc.... not to mention playing outside with friends and teaching them how to throw a football and catch a baseball (we ARE Americans, you know.)

Did I ever picture myself with 5 kids, ummmm.... no. But I'm glad I'm not in charge. 

And not to say we live a storybook life with no arguments or family unrest or unresolved issues... how boring would that be?? Well, sounds kinda nice actually. But when we hit those rough patches, and sometimes they can get REALLY choppy, I have to turn to my faith. That's it. I give it to God because that's what He wants us to do. We aren't expected to be able to "handle" everything that comes along in this life. And deep down, I know everything will be alright. Truly, it's gonna be alright... I'm not just saying that:) 

So it's been an unprecedented year for the Dri Family. October 14th marks one year since we got Sam. I still have to double-check myself when I tell people we've adopted TWO boys in a year. And to think this is only the beginning of their lives with us. I can't even imagine the joy and heartbreak, the adventures and disasters, the accomplishments and disappointments that await us in the future.... but BRING IT ON!