Fundraising for Adoption

For many reasons - we chose to host several different Fund-raising efforts to help bring Keira home.  We had very little of the money we needed to finish her process, because we had parlayed her funds to bring home Quint a year earlier.  To be honest, at the time we weren't sure the China process would ever come through. However, as it ended up, we had two International Adoptions in two years.  Which as many of you already know is thousands of dollars - and we just didn't have it all.   We did what we felt we needed to do - and we have no regrets.  More about that in a minute...

So here's the WHAT WE DID part...

First, I hosted a blog exclusively for the fund-raising efforts.  I tried to keep those posts separate from this blog as much as I could.  Second, we sat down over a couple of weeks and listed all the possibilities we felt were available to us to help raise the funds.  We enlisted the help of some reliable and trustworthy friends and started making lists.  We narrowed down the ideas to the following:

• A Rummage Sale - we asked hundreds of people to donate 
• Half.com Account - again, seeking donations of used books, music, dvd's, and video games
• AdoptionBug.com - selling adorable adoption t-shirts
• 100 for $100 Drive - seeking one-hundred families who could donate $100
• Support Letters

So now I'll highlight how we did it, if it worked, and what I would change:

Rummage Sale

The Rummage Sale was a DOOSEY.  Oh my Lord.  First step was to find a location.  We scoured around for a month and landed on a local church on a busy road that had a gym they were willing to let us use.  For free.  Now that's what I'm talking about!  So even if the weather was lousy, our sale was protected.  Either way, you need a big space.  

Second, we put the word out and asked for donations.  We made it clear we would pick up if people couldn't bring the items to us.  We also secured a couple locations to store the donations.  As it turned out, we needed every square inch.  Over 40 families donated to us, and we filled the gymnasium with a plorethera of goods from furniture to clothing, toys to books to electronics.  It was incredible!

We advertised as much as possible - all around and in as many outlets as we could find.  All of the local papers, Craigslist, neighborhood websites, and of course...the blog. 

In the end, we had a really good turnout and grossed more than we expected.  The cons?  It was a monstrous amount of work and I needed TONS of volunteers to make it happen.  If you have time, space, and people - you're GOLDEN.

Half.com

Genius.  Genius, I tell you.  A free website where you can set up an account, list items to sell, and make money.  Period.  My gawd I was so freaking happy doing this.  There was no bidding - you set the price, people buy your item, you ship it, Half.com pays you.  Simple.  Easy.  Wonderful.  Kiss, kiss, hug, hug.  Love that site.  

A good way to build your "store" is to yardsale/garage sale on the weekends. Make offers on whole boxes of items.  For instance, a whole box of books sitting out - make an offer for all of them.  An entire box of CD's that were for sale (end of the day...they didn't want to store them anymore)...we paid $10.  Turns out, we sold ONE of those CD's for $10 a week later on Half.com.  This is an easy way to make extra money - you just have to stay on top and keep adding to your store.  Cons?  The occasional unhappy customer.  Just rate your items fairly and honestly - this will help avoid issues.

AdoptionBug

Well, there are no cons here.  This is a site that helps families raise money for adoption by allowing them a free online "store" where they can select several t-shirt designs and sell them.  They do the printing, packaging and shipping - you make a commission for each shirt sold.  The trick is marketing your site and getting the traffic.  The beauty is how easy it was to apply for an account, how cute the shirts were, and how nice the commission check was when it came.

100 for $100

Oh the flack.  Oh the mud flung in our general direction.  Say what you will, we have no regrets about this.  We sent out support letters and published to the fund-raising blog our desire to enlist the help of 100 families who would be willing to "pledge" $100 each.  You will need stamina for this one - because I swear to you - we got more hate mail, more anger directed at us, and even had to part with some "friends" over this request.  I've said before and it bears repeating in my book - we HAD to find a way to get the funds together.  We had to find a way to get Keira home.  And let's just get this out of the way: if we could have borrowed it, we would have.  If we could have gone into debt - we likely would have.  If we could have done any number of less humiliating options besides asking people to give us their hard-earned money - don't you know, we would have.  But do you think money was going to stand in the way of getting Keira home after all that time?  Ha!  I laugh in the face of money.  Well, not really.  It's more of a chuckle.  Really a sort-of nervous chuckle.  But still...  

Pros?  We raised the money.  Hallelujah!  Cons?  We said good-bye to some people who were deeply offended that we would ask for their money.  Pros?  We said good-bye to some who were deeply offended that we would ask for their money.  And you know what?  Good riddance.  If you can't support a child being taken out of an orphanage - bottom line - then you're kind of lame.  And I'm not sure I want to say anything else about that.  Except this:  even if you can't give, or don't want to - to be offended that someone would ask?  When all you have to do is politely decline?  Or say nothing rather than send a hateful note or speak ill of us behind our backs?  But to be bonafied offended?  Over her life?  

Good Lord, choose not to be offended, eh?  Good grief...

Moving on...

Of course for all of these efforts, we also sent out letters to help generate buzz about our fund-raising.  We tried to keep it to people we had relationships with.  We also did e-mail blasts a few times to help, as reminders for where we were in the process or what fund-raiser we were promoting.

Having said ALL THAT - (because I do get lots of questions about what we did and what worked and what didn't) I do want to take just a minute to address a couple more things.

I, for one, kind of crumbled at points under the scrutiny, pressure, and general feelings of woe our fund-raising generated.  It led to a lot of judgement being cast over us and several months of feeling...I would say...shamed.  Because people assume the worst.  Correction:  some people.  And when it comes to money, people are generally very touchy.  Or very easily offended.  Or both.  I received e-mail after e-mail, comment after comment, from those wishing to enlighten me as to how selfish we were to ask for help, how ridiculous we looked, that we were crooks, that we had no business adopting, that we had no business parenting...on and on and on.  Sigh.

I have to tell you, what got me through those dark moments were the people who selflessly reached out to us and dug deep to help us get Keira home.  Reasons for our fund-raising aside - they were not concerned with "why" we needed to raise money.  They were only interested in helping us meet our goal.  Those people, and there are SO MANY, in my mind saved Keira's life.  They are the reason she is sleeping in a crib not 15 feet from me as I type this post.  

That and a little (big) something I like to call my FAITH.

What also got me through those dark moments, wondering if the money would be there in time - was my faith in Christ.  I promise you, it was so hard to trust.  I waned so many times.  Running to the "what if" and the "but...what about" places far too often.  Far, far too often.  I'm ashamed to admit that I felt so helpless to get Keira home that I often felt there was no point in even trying to raise all that money we still needed.  I fell on my knees more times than I can tell you - crying at the feet of Jesus - begging Him to help us.  Reminding Him (as if He needed it) that He had set this plan in motion years ago...had led us to do this, had guided every step to this moment...and had been the Way-Maker of each moment leading up to it.  I reminded Him that I had done all I could - the rest was up to Him.  I also reminded Him he owned the cattle on a thousands hills...but I might have been pushing it a little there (wink).

But He did.  God placed people in our path to hold me up when I was too tired to hold myself up  (a four year wait will do that to you, btw)  And those people would hug us and speak truth into our life, encourage us, pray for us, walk with us, cry with us, reach out to us - over and over and over.  And every time, it was when we needed it the most.  God knew.  He knew just what we needed, and when, and down to the PENNY, and He sent someone every single time.  So it was always a God driven process, one that was proven to us over and over again down to the last moments before leaving.  Also proving yet again, that my God shall supply all my needs according to His riches in Glory!  

And oh, the precious people still reaching out to us in those final hours before we left - wanting to help, wanting to make sure we met our goals and had enough to get there and back.  Amazing.  Humbling.

You don't think God knows what you need?  When you're obedient to Him, nothing will stop His blessings from pouring out over your life.  Who was I to think I could get in the way of the plans He had for Keira's life?  We were being obedient - even though it felt so hopeless.  We were listening and waiting, praying and hoping...even when it seemed so bleak. And He reached out to us...bringing so many to our side during that gut-wrenching process to remind us of His compassion, His mercy, His everlasting love for us.  If we loved Keira enough to wait years for her, humble ourselves over and over on her behalf, sacrifice for her...how much more did her Heavenly Father love her?  Enough to ensure that nothing stood in the way of His plan over her life.  Certainly not money.  All we had to do was be obedient and faithful.  So, so humbling.

And if you were one of those people who donated or reached out to us in that time - I want to say thank you.  Thank you so deeply...  We were and still are moved beyond measure to try in some way to encompass the compassion and love we were shown.  I could write for days and days to the people who helped us bring Keira home where she belongs.  How do you repay that?  You can't.  But look at her!  Just look at her!

Generosity and compassion are a gift you can give to others.  And maybe it starts with compassion.  To be moved with compassion for someone elses life, for their circumstance.  Do you really need to know why?  Do you really have to fully understand someones choices before you can have compassion for them?  Or reach out to help them?  Some people helped us by sorting donations at our rummage sale.  And it was a gift!!  The gift of their valuable time and energy.  Some helped by donating books.  Some by buying a cute t-shirt.  Some, through financial giving.   Some by committing to pray daily for us - that our needs would be met.

If you feel compelled to reach out to a deserving family, please consider a few friends of ours who are adoption fund-raising even now:

No Ordinary Family

Heads Up Seven Up

If you are a family just beginning to fund-raise, do it with all your might...

The bottom line for us was that all of it equaled the ransom of one life.

Hers.

Thank you will never, ever be enough.  Trust me.

Chit chat

I have a billion things running around in my noggin.  A billion, gazillion things - none the least of which is to remember to throw out the dirty diapers tonight.  Ugh.  Isn't that charming?

But I do want to chat with you all about a lot of those gazillion things...problem is this:  I wait to blog until after the children are in bed.  Sad thing is this:  It's really my bedtime too.  Equals = I'm too tired to type it all out.

Admit it...he could charm your socks off and you know it

So sad.  I'm getting old.  I used to be able to stay up til' like...I don't know..3 or 4 am.  And then I used to be able to sleep til' like...1 or 2pm.  ......see, that's just stupid.  Who does that?  Oh yes, teenagers with absolutely no cares or worries whatsoever.  That's who.  Let me sob in my soup for a bit over those days...especially since both my husband and children seem to think that sleeping til' 7am is equal to "wasting the day away".  I die. I die.

Meanwhile:

I have received an enormous amount of support, kindness, encouragement, and generous advice over my most recent three-part series.  WOWZA!  I think there were also several links put out there to these posts - because my stats went through the roof into the thousands.  I'm honored, truly.  So a huge hug and thank you for all the kindness sent our way.  What a wonderful relief to have our story received so well by so many.  Thank you, thank you, thank you!  

Here's my $.02 - if it helps ONE...by speaking the truth...then it's worth typing it out.  I think we met that goal.  

It's ok, you can stare.  I do.  All day.  Those two teeth?  Those toes?  Pfshaw.

There is a post I'm working on about the fund-raising we did to help bring Keira home.  First, to encourage those who need to do the same, and second, to share some thoughts I had about the whole process and how we met our goals.  I hope you'll hang around to catch it, because it's also one of those "love it or hate it" topics.  Oh, the hate mail I got - you would not believe. Or maybe you would?  Or maybe you sent some to me?  Ha!  Oughta bring up some good comments and conversations...mmm mmm good.

I'm also working on a topic about something I'm struggling with as an adopted mother of now two children.  I'm hearing and reading way too much about child trafficking from both countries and even down to the province we've adopted from.  It has stirred up a lot of emotions in me - and I'm going to turn that into good blogging.  I know you all have opinions about that - so I hope you'll have lots of good feedback for me.

We're heading out of town for Spring Break to visit some family who have yet to meet La Princess.  Oh, and we're driving.  In a car.  Ahem.  Seven hours in said car with a toddler and a baby.  I know, I know.  If the Dugg@rs can do it, so can we.  (snicker) But srrrrrrsly, I'm already planning to leave my mind behind, because I figure it'll be better to know where I lost it than spend those seven hours wondering where it went.  Srrrrrrrrrrrsly, right?  

Flattered.  That's what I am.  I have received LOADS of e-mails, comments, etc. asking me to write a book about my experience in adoption (x's 2).  There is even a fan-page on Facebook of those that think I should write a book.  What the...  Do you believe that?  (who am I kidding, I probably started that page...you'll never know!) Um.  Alrighty then.  I should write this book in all my spare time, I guess?  Well, I guess if you want to send your best-friend, the publisher, my link, then by all means.  Please do.  Link away. 

She had this baby comb in her mouth...and I thought it would be fun to share it.  So did she, it turns out.

Oh, and I love LOST.  OMG.  I love it.  Guilty pleasure number 1,423.  I. Love. It.  and Jack.  ahem.  and Sawyer.  but I digress...

and we don't have cable anymore.  I mean, that is to say, we canceled it back a ways because cable is expensive and we're living La Vida Poor.  Which is to say, we're being frugal to accommodate having added La Princess to the fam.  Which is fine.  Actually it's wonderful because we won't spend all that time in front of the TV.  (Hello DVD player - me love you! sssshhhh, our little secret)

But I miss me some Hoarders.  Can you even stand that madness?  Hoarders is like crack for obsessive compulsive people to watch. (that's me)  We have to watch it so we can mentally and simultaneously go crawling up the wall AND re-organize in our minds.  This goes here.  That goes there.  Throw that away.  LEMME AT EM.  (shaky...feeling shaky)  I miss The Office.  I miss Hannah Montana.  Errrr, I mean...I miss Disney Channel.  For the kids.  No, really...sort of.  Tell me Billy Ray is not cute!  I defy you to tell me he's not!  (oh, i crack myself up sometimes...)  

Ok, ok...enough chit chat.  But wasn't it like we just had a little cup o' joe/chocolate/Dr. Pepper and smashed around this idea and that?  Look how fun we are together!

see, now I've got the song in my head

you get the limo out front...

(ew oh oh)

hottest styles, every shoe every color

yeah when you're famous it can be kinda fun

it's really you but no one ever discovers...

Sing it Miley!

The Ending and the Beginning

This is Part III of a series of posts - the last installment of our journey to adopt our daughter from China.  You can read Parts I and II by clicking the links below or scrolling down.

Part I - The Beginning

Part II - The Middle

Said it before, sayin' it again...be nice if you leave a comment.  That's all I got.

The word I would use to describe our arrival back in the states is trepidation.  I was fearful.  Run-down.  Tired.  Sick.  Emotionally wrung out.  Physically spent.  Bruised inside and out.  And so concerned about what we had just done to our family. 

Keira had worn me down.  Worn us down.  Every positive interaction (albeit few and far between) was met with bewildered stares between AB and I.  Almost shrugging our shoulders as if to say "I don't know what she's doing??"  There were isolated smiles or singular touches of her little hand.  Almost invisible if you were watching from the outside.  We were too wounded to see any of her positive behavior as a sign of healing.  Maybe that sounds strange to you, but from this seat it was even stranger.

We were constantly taken aback by how much our long-term ideas of Keira were so vastly different from our new reality.  Over and over...like someone throwing ice-cold water in your face.  Dream...reality.  Dream....reality.  Our time in China was riddled with "cold-water" experiences and we came home numb.  Shockingly numb.  Even if she did smile, at that point we wrote it off as a passing fancy.

The first few days at home were terrible.  No, let me re-phrase that.  The first few days home were some of the hardest of my life.  That's truth.

And it wasn't Keira.  No, no.  It was Quint.  He had lost his mind in our absence.  I could go on and on...but just know that three weeks apart from your parents when you're two...in a strange new place, with family you don't get to see too often...all the rules are out the window, the regular schedule and

routine...even the regular discipline - gone.  Then you come back home and the first thing you see is your parents holding this little baby and she's in your "spot" up there in Mom and Dad's arms.  

It was bleak.  Grim, I tell you.  He was one of the unhappiest two-year-olds I've seen.  The grieving moved from Keira to Quint.  While she, bless her heart, started to get comfortable in her new surroundings...with her new family...in her new home and bed...poor Quint wailed for a week  straight.  Nothing consoled him.  He was completely affronted that this new baby was in his home.  He was trying desperately to re-acclimate to Anton and I - to his routine - to his life...and here was this new little person, always getting in the way, always needing, always there.

For whatever reason, this had not occurred to me.  This grieving and loss that my son would endure.  Perhaps because I was so completely overwhelmed upon returning from China - and what we had gone through - that I didn't think...didn't imagine that he would be anything but excited and glad to see us.  Instead he was angry.  Indignant even.  Pushing every limit.  Crossing every boundary.  Crying endlessly.  Whining tirelessly.  Wanting his own bottle (he gave them up a year ago).  Wanting baby toys.  Baby food.  To be held like a baby, rocked like a baby...to watch baby programs, to be babied.  And the tantrums...oh the tantrums.  

One afternoon I sat on the floor and cried, while he kicked and screamed and tantrumed beside me.  I said "I want my son back...I want my little boy...the one I left three weeks ago" and on and on I cried and he cried and we finally spent our energy on tears and just laid there exhausted from our mutual tantrum.  

There were other moments when I would feel so overwhelmed between the on-going grieving of both of my children that I would just crawl into bed at night and cry next to Anton.  Him sleeping and me trying to stifle my sobs so as not to wake him.  Puffy eyes the next morning while making bottles, pouring cereal and folding laundry.  So glamorous.

The stress level was a 10.  Forget that.  Level 10 doesn't cover it.  Call it 20.  Days this went on, and day in and out I felt like it would never, ever end.  

Keira was acclimating slowly...but she was acclimating.  She seemed to enjoy her home.  Seemed to really snuggle into her new bed.  She appeared to appreciate that we started a schedule right away - with feedings, naps and bedtime that now came at regular predictable intervals.  I could see right away that this routine gave her deep comfort.  It was almost tangible, in a way.  She was happier.  Rested.  More content.  And thus, more prone to laugh, smile, or touch.  But not too prone.  Just a bit.

Think what you will of us - but we were still brokenhearted.  Anton and I would check in with each other frequently...often several times a day - how do you feel, are you feeling any better about her, is she making progress, do you feel yourself bonding yet, do you love her, is she coming around, are you coming around, are we getting there?  I can tell you that each time and for several days...maybe for the first couple weeks - the answers were usually "not really" or "I guess a little bit" or "sort-of".  Not the dream...the reality.  Cold water...over and over.

The house was a royal wreck.  The laundry piling up.  The suitcases sitting, waiting to be opened and unloaded.  Even that felt too monumental.  Re-live that trip by unraveling those overwhelming weeks of travel from out of those suitcases?  No, thank you.

I was living Groundhog Day - the movie. Every day the same.  Four bottle feedings, Quint's meals, twenty-seven hundred diaper changes between the two of them, blankets and play-time, and tantrums, crying, toys everywhere, dishes everywhere, and grieving and napping and a blur of the same thing over and over and over again for days on end.  Lots and lots of sweatpants and baggy shirts and unkempt hair.  Oh the humanity! (heh)

And can I just tell you?  All those things I had collected for her over the four years we waited? Couldn't have cared less about each and every one.  Her outfits?  Whatever...  Her hairbows and frilly dresses...assortments of books, toys, purses...all of that?  Did not care.  I dressed her in clothing that seemed comfortable for her - and usually it was a plain onesie and cotton pants.  Or pajamas.  Sometimes just pj's all day long.  Seems silly maybe - but oh the dreams I had over those four years of dressing her in all those perfectly beautiful outfits...  The Dream?  No...sadly, the reality.  Ice cold water.  

So two weeks went by after coming back home and we saw people who had cheered us on prior to our trip...had encouraged us along the way, held us up, motivated and strengthened us.  We saw them...introduced them to Keira and we tried to smile.  Tried to put on a brave face and tell the good stuff that people like to hear.   But the pity-party we were having behind closed doors was vast.  I'm sad to admit that to you.  It's just the truth.  We were knee deep in change, and it wasn't feeling good at all.  Our lives were different, yes - but our reality was so different than the images we had conjured up for so long...so very different...it was painful to have to reconcile them to the truth. 

Keira started to make obvious emotional progress by week three.  We're on week five now, since coming home, so I'll share with you the overall view.

They were little things at first, like I mentioned.  A smile here.  A giggle there.  A wiggle/giggle here and there.  Then came the relaxed nature.  A sort of...I don't know...internal sigh from her.  She would sit and chatter away on her blanket during playtime.  She would smile more easily when I would talk to her.  She would reach out to me when I approached her to pick her up.  She was warming up.

Then came the laughter.  For so long, my attempts to make her laugh were met with a chagrin.  Literally.  She would wrinkle up her forehead and pull her eyebrows together in a scowl.  That morphed into a deadpan expression.  Followed by a slight grin.  Then...and without notice...a full-on belly laugh.  It took weeks in each others space to hear that deep, honest belly laugh.  Content...happy...safe laugh.  One that almost made me weep with joy.

Slowly, so slowly...she began to touch my face during her bottle feedings.  Remember, she would not let AB or I feed her unless she was facing away from us or had no skin contact.  Suddenly, she was cuddled into the crook of my arm, and touching my face.  Gently.  Exploring and trying to memorize me.  Feeling my cheeks and my nose, my mouth.  Her little chubby fingers running back and forth over my lips.  I cried the first time.  Like salve on my wounded heart.  She was accepting me in her way.  Saying to me that she was getting there.  That she was trying...

Hold on to me, she said.  Don't give up.  I'm almost there...wait for me.

One night while she happily chugged away at her bottle and held my face in her hand, I said her name "Keira".  She immediately looked into my eyes.  I said "I waited a long time for you, did you know that?"  Her eyes stayed on mine.  "I love you so much...I would wait so much longer"...and I nuzzled her nose.  She smiled and cooed.  Then I realized what I'd said.

I love you so much.

Just like that.

I hadn't said that before.  Hadn't said "I love you".  It was too hard to say.  Too hard to mean it. 

Then I realized what else I had just told her.  I would wait so much longer.  And maybe what I really meant by that was "I will wait for you, even though we're together now.  I'll wait for you."

And I knew that I meant it.  What a peace came over me.

From that moment, we changed, she and I.

Call it what you like...bonded, falling in love, the "moment", the "magic"...whatever you like.  But she became to me what I had been waiting for.  My little daughter.

The past three weeks have been good to us.  Hold on to your hats...I've actually used the terms angel, sweet little love, baby doll, sweet baby, mommy's princess, pumpkin, and sweet-girl to both reference her and describe her.

The real progress being that I actually mean those things.  She is my princess.  My angel.

Anton loves to say "so do you think you're bonding to our girl, Mommy??" with a big grin on his face, as I'm covering her with kisses or tickling her chubby little legs, or squeezing her tightly to me and cooing at her.

I kiss her all day.  I snuggle her, squeeze her, and hold her close.  I love the way she smells.  She smells so good.  Fresh and sweet, just like a baby girl should.  Her hair is so soft.  Her skin is so soft.  Her feet tiny and perfect and adorable.  Her fingers perfect and chubby.  Her eyes...so big and beautiful and her eyelashes...long and stunning.  Her cheeks, edible.  Her legs and tummy...round and full and so...squish-able.   Her smile melts my heart.  Her laughter...contagious.  You can't help but to love her.

Still, I could say none of this before.  Because I didn't see her.  It hurt too much to get close to her.  She wouldn't let me see those things.  Couldn't let me.  It hurt her too bad.

I will tell you, there are moments when I regress just a little.  When she regresses just a little.  When we panic just a little bit.  She still has moments of raw grief that are hard on all of us.  The hands will pull away.  The back will arc just a bit.  She pulls away from the kisses.  She cries too long...and won't be comforted.  I panic, I can't lie.  I'm always a step away from where we were.  Trying desperately to run the other way and get us as far away from that searing pain as possible.  We can't go back, I shout in my mind.  We can't go back...it hurt so bad.

But sometimes that's how grief operates.  Regress.  and back.  Regress.  and back.  Like the waves.  Like that...for a long time until suddenly you can't really remember when all that crazy stopped.  You're just so glad it did.

We have a ways to go.  But I see now more than ever who she is and who we didn't see in China.  Who we couldn't see...through her hurt and pain and brokenness.  It makes me ache.  I want to go back and love her better in those moments.  Understand her more.  See her.  Hear her.

Maybe it wouldn't matter.  Maybe it would hurt just as bad, sting just as much, wound just as deep.  Because her pain is her own - and she did with it all she could and the only way she knew.  But oh, if I could only have side-stepped my own deep pain to love her better through hers.

I think we learn this way.  By looking back and using that view to better carve the one in front of us. It's how we grow and change and move on.  Experiencing my own deep grief over broken dreams while she experienced her own brokenness actually put us in the same place at the same time.  Crossing each other in our pain.  How could we have met in the middle and made peace with each other any other way?  Her with me.  Me with her.  I accept you.  I trust you with me.  Taking tiny baby steps towards finding comfort in each other.

People have asked me if I would have loved Keira sooner/better/more if she had behaved in China the way she does here at home...happy and comforted and giggling all the time.  Certainly.  I imagine I would have had a lot better bonding experience.  It goes without saying, I think. 

But there is something to say for the pain and how it carves you differently than joy does.  It marks you differently.  I look at Keira and I say "look how far we've come" every day.  I think  "you can do it, baby girl!  Keep trying...keep reaching for me...I promise to meet you there" and I feel my heart expanding deeper and wider when I'm with her because I'm so proud of her and how far she has come.  How much she has overcome to be present with me.  How much she has parted with and yet still can smile, laugh, and learn to love all over again.

It's the path we're on - and there's no use wondering how different it would have been had she been a different baby in China.    Had she grieved differently or not at all.  Had she been healed instead of broken.  No use because we'll never know.

We only know where we are and how far we've come.  And it's a long, long way from those hot, frustrating, agonizing first moments in Civil Affairs.  A long, distant way from those hours that felt like years in each of those hotel rooms as we struggled to keep our heads above water...struggled just to hold her or to speak any words of comfort.  From those tangibly painful moments of rejection that are etched in my memory.  We're far away from that.  Safe.  Sound...and recovering. 

We're reconciling ourselves.  Righting ourselves. 


Reconciliation is a strange thing.  Trying to bring two things together.  Two lives, two kids, two parents, two countries.  In our case, once again, it was the dream versus the reality.  We HAD to reconcile them.  Make peace with them.  Find a way to have them meet in the middle, make amends, and try to move forward.  Everything in you says "no, it's not possible" and yet...

Our journey would involve grief.  That was that.  There was nothing to do for it, but let it happen.  Our daughter was her own person...had her own feelings even at her tender age, whether we could accept it or not.  She was broken in her own rite.  There was not a magic wand to wave and make her pain or her humble beginnings disappear, as much as I wished for it in those first days together.

Quint, though only two, could not be convinced his sister was safe or would be a good and happy part of his life.  He had to and still has to figure it out for himself.  Learn how to grieve and let go that he is no longer the sole-center of our attention.  Accept that he has a sister who will depend on him as they grow older...and hopefully learn to depend on each other as the years go by.

Anton and I are no longer parents of one amazing boy.  We are parents of one amazing boy and one amazing girl.  Each different, each unique, each special.  Each abandoned...breaking my heart to type those words.  But each found.  Each a part of us forever.  That's reality.  Reconciled, painful, endearing, beautiful reality.

We wanted children.  That was the dream.  We have two beautiful children.  One little boy from Ethiopia.  One little girl from China.  Two countries.  Two parents.  Two children.  Not what we thought.  Not even what we dreamed all those years ago when we said "I do".  But so much better than the dream.  So much better. 

As for the future, time will tell.  Right now, we're certainly still in recovery.  Still healing.  Still finding each other.  Still learning.

But we've committed ourselves to a goal that involves adoption.  A goal that involves children.  I have no idea how it will pan out - what it will look like - or even if it will involve us adding to our own little family.  I just know we are certainly listening for God's timing and His will.  And not getting rid of any baby clothes just yet.

In the meantime, it's just the Beginning...

Posts Coming up:  "Redeemed" and "A Letter of Thanks".  Don't miss them!

Meanwhile

Ok, so I'm working on "The Ending", Part III of my recent adoption experience.  It's not that I have writers block - it's that technically it's a book.  So I'm paring it down and trying to remember that as with my own life, there are only so many hours in the day for any of you to actually read through this stuff...and since like me, many of you probably follow several other blogs and websites...well, I'm paring.  

Also, I'm tired.  My blogging time is limited to after children around these here parts meet their pillows, which has been around 8pm.  By the time that's done, dinner is cleaned up, last minute chores are snuffed out, I get a few intelligible adult sentences in with the hubs, and my pj's are on (ok, let's be honest...the pj's were already on.  ok,  fine! they were never off from the night before.  nosy.)  I'm too tired to do what I'm doing right now.  Ahem.  I keep thinking "tonight is the night I'll finish it" and tonight isn't.  And neither was last night.  Based on the current agenda for tomorrow, it doesn't look good.  Sorry.  (like as if you're waiting with baited breath, eh?)  But I did promise it, and I will make good on that very soon...give me a couple more days. 

Also, I'm trying to purge the heck out of this place.  I'm not sure if I have cabin fever or Spring fever, but I have a major itch to rid the house of all things lame and unnecessary that are cluttering up my life and what little precious space I have left in this tiny abode.  We are crammed unceremoniously into each and every room, and I'm (double sigh) tired of it.  I think perhaps it's the nice weather - but it makes me want to slap on a pair of capris (livin' dangerous, I tell ya!) and throw my way too short hair up in a pony and get to cleaning.  And purging.  Purging and cleaning.  

Know what's annoying?  We just had that huge rummage sale, but I feel like I have tons more stuff to get rid of.  How is that even possible, I ask myself.  I'll tell you how.  Because once Keira came home and we had a handle on her age/size/etc. I knew what we could keep vs. what could go.  Clothes seem to be the big-one.  They are everywhere.  Just everywhere.  So I've made it through the kid's closets and dressers and now we can decide what to do with all that.  

And here's a little diddy for the moms out there:  I asked AB what I should do with all those clothes currently littering our hallway.  Donate?  Give to a friend?  What about consignment?  Yeah, that's a great idea!

But his answer?  Totally deadpan and serious as a freaking heart-attack?

"You probably better save all those clothes for our next one..."

Cough!  Sputter!  Uh-huh....I'll get right on that, O Captain, my Captain. 

I'm gonna be a freaking vegetable by the time my kids are like, 12 or something.  Gonna need a  lift on the van and a ramp at the house during the high-school years as it is, just to get my old decrepit self up to the front door.

Would someone puuuhlease get over here and advise that lovely man of mine on the grace period after bringing home a new child...that magic "no-fly" zone of conversation where we don't even murmur, breath, or hint about that for a very long time?  Holy Cow.  Maybe not for you, but for me?  I'm not ready to talk about that yet.  Or even whisper about it, for crying out loud.  

After all, I have a post in the wings titled "The Ending" and I'm not just talking bout' the experience,  Criminy!  Meh.  Gah!  Why'd he have to go and say that?  I might lose my ever lovin' mind just pondering what he's implying.  Did you read my last two posts?  He was there for all that mayhem.  What makes him so resilient, I would love to know?!? 

Well, then again...they are pretty spectacular...maybe they make him resilient...

 

  

  

  

  

  

Mmmkay.  It's ridiculous...I know...and I can't even take credit for how ridiculously cute they are either...it's certainly not my DNA.  

Mucho love-o from Camp Tired,