HOPE is a 4-letter word, and the truth about "rescue" and life after...

i'm going to try to protect my kids story as much as possible, but also be open about the misconception that their "rescue" and "real life" begins after family day (some refer to it as gothcha day....quiet honestly, i hate the cutesy words that describe an event related to the magnitude of trauma these kids have experienced.)

***not all descriptions in here are regarding the Ls lives before coming home, but they most certainly describe common experiences among orphaned children...***

their lives have been wrought from in utero neglect, abandonment, after-birth neglect, physical abuse, emotional abuse, sexual abuse, and so on; they also have been wrought through manipulation of caregivers, nannies, foster parents, manipulation by other children in the orphanages, and their learned  survival mechanisms of manipulation.

"family day" ...."gotcha day" is not a cute experience.
strangers who becomes "mom" and "dad" scooping them up, taking their hand, and riding back to a hotel room does NOTHING to erase the years of abuse.  it does nothing to erase the years of a malformed self-image--an identity that tells them they are a three-headed monster, it does nothing to magically instill a sense of trust, security, and family in them. most kids are working in a primitive survival mode brain at this time. honestly, this is why many parents see behavior from their children that mimic growling, spitting, crawling across the floor (talking 8 yrs + kids here...), they pull out their hair, your hair, they claw at their skin and your skin. they grab handfuls of food, any food--all food they see and shove it in their mouth like chipmunks. introduction to new situations paralyzes them...literally, they can diassoctiate, part of the "fight, flight, or freeze" responses. i've seen older children bodies go stiff as a board, and carried back like a 2x4.  their brains are not rewired at the moment a white american smiles at them and says "i'm mommy!".



hope is a 4 letter word, along with the others we try to avoid saying.
it brings the same shame, anger, fear, resentment, rage, frustration, helplessness, and so on that the other 4 letter words bring--or were inspired by those events to be said.

to tie adoption up with a bow and a pat on the back screams that scalding hot baths, taunts of "you no wanted!", punishments of no food, punishments of food shoved down their throats to the point of choking, fists landing across the face, broken bones hidden, scars from inflicted burns can all be forgotten and just "gotten over" by a new address and name.

i need you all, who are not adoptive families, to really really really understand what is needed. we don't need or want to hear how great we are. we aren't.
we get frustrated, we get overwhelmed, and then feel awful because we know our child's history. we don't need you to recommend we read books like "the strong willed child".  our child is not strong willed. their wills were broken. they have no will. they are in survival mode. 
we don't need to hear "it's okay, all kids do that". no. no. no. no. no. no. guess what--NO!!!! freaking NO!
saying "don't worry about it because all kids do it" is the same as saying that a victim of abuse is just being promiscuous because she enjoys being a "slut" and looking past the fact that being raped as a 6,7,8,9,10,11, and 12 year old taught her that was her value, and that is how she will survive.

we need you to take our hand and say "i'm here, let me listen. vent to me. how can i support you?"
give us a kleenex when we look tired, because tears are not far behind.
do not remind us of our children's past. we are aware of it. being reminded of their past when we are already struggling just reaffirms to us that we are failing them.
simply say "i'm so sorry. i'm so sorry."

don't say our adoption inspired you to do mission trips. and then simply come back and post pictures smiling with impoverished children. ask us how you can make a difference. poverty tourism isn't it.

don't tell us about "that documentary" you saw.
don't tell us about that 2nd cousin you have who had a friend that adopted some kids from somewhere in asia, and they are doing great now.

basically just listen. just be there. be here.  love us. love our family. just listen.

oysters and george michael

like george michael once sang:
gotta have faith...
sure we're talking about two different things, but it you take those three words out of context they apply beautifully to our situation.

back in december we submitted what is called a supplement 3 to our i800a approval. this request a change in approval for number of children, age, gender, etc. 

we were told by our home study social worker there was no fee associated with this, so we mailed it in. 2 and half weeks passed and we received the dreaded pink paper in the mail known as an RFE (request for information). this is sent when more information, material, etc is needed to process the application. we were told there was a $360 fee due for a supp 3, and the approval could not be issued until that was received. and we could not pay it over the phone. 

i'm about to get raw. raw like this tray of oysters. 

i was livid. any virtue left me and i was in a state between crying myself into a puddle in the floor and  wanting to punch something. not really. but kind of. 

i felt like a horrible mother, i should have sent in a blank check just in case. i should have called ahead. i should have....

so much. 

the whole process just became delayed ANOTHER month, because once we sent in the check, it still would take 10 days for them to clear it and process our approval. two weeks ago, we overnighted it and paid $45 to guarantee it would be there by 10:30 a.m. the check cleared a few days ago, so now, we are just waiting....waiting...praying...praying for time

this is a screen shot of george singing praying for time. i call him only george because i believe we are on a first name basis.

once we receive the approval in the mail, the hubs can use his day off to run around town and get it, and a few other things notarized, certified, and authenticated. it's a crazy process: see this post

then, we pay for overnight delivery by 10:30 a.m. again and it is deliver by a man riding a unicorn, sliding down rainbow, playing the kazoo. (our adoption worker assured me this is how it was delivered last time we paid that much for an early next day delivery). 

i know our Father has no ill will upon our children. i know He loves them more. i know that everything that has happened, is happening, and will happen has passed by His Sovereign hands. i know He know the exact minute we will become a family and be together for the first time. 

even though i cannot necessarily trust in any person, organization, office, i can trust in Him. 

He's big enough to cover misinformation of fees due, and delays, and waiting; He's Holy and Loving enough to bring us together in perfect timing. 

the blessing of it all: they are in a loving environment. "one of the good ones".

january 18th was our sweet lucy-girl's 11th birthday. so, we threw her a party, from several 1,000 miles away. we also threw a party for our little dude letting him know he would be our son too. 

here's some pictures of the spectacular occasion:

right before i published this, my hubs texted me to let me know our USCIS officer notified him it was approved on the 26th and mailed out--we should have it by today or tomorrow. hope he's ready for another rat race! 

the art of the over-share, and how all things work together

i was an awkward kid:

i stood reverse-pigeontoed too (my affinity for short tunics and leggings started early)

i once went through a semi-androdginous stage  (why compete with  a "perfect" sister?) 

then i went through a drab stage

also, since pictures don't talk (per se), i'll let you in on a little bit of history:
* i was in speech therapy from the time i was 3 through high school (and bullied ruthlessly at points (trolls--whatevs, i've experienced worse than grammatically poor anonymous judgements)
* i was/(okay, still am) really socially awkward
* i lacked any and all coordination
* i didn't hear the doting i wanted/needed to hear (that was doted on aforementioned "perfect sister"), and therefore grew up with a significant inferiority complex
* i always felt like the black sheep of the family

the hubs was adopted domestically (i'm sure i've mentioned this), and has never ever ever mentioned or shown or anything that he had at any point experienced any grief or loss, or had "what if my birth mother..." thoughts. while watching one of our adoption education/training videos, the narrator made a statement to the effect "at some point in their life, every adopted child experiences some grief or sense of loss from their birth family".  i looked over at ryan and said "you've never mentioned any struggle with this....have you experienced this and it was just really brief so it wasn't worth talking about?" he shook his head and said "no, absolutely not, i never have".  (this is important to my "over-share" with our sw coming up next...). i'm pretty open and honest my feelings and experiences (part social awkwardness, part "the more honest i am about my crap the less they think i will judge them"--the later part doesn't work, it just puts people off (fyi)).

moving on to over-sharing:
our sw arrived (10 minutes after our disagreement (read previous post)) and we began our meeting. she was asking how our training was going and we discussed some of the videos we had recently watched (the above paragraph).  she noted that and said to keep the videos in mind anyway because even though he didn't experience any of that, it could have been subconscious or when he was so young he didn't remember, and that we needed to be aware that our daughter WILL. we were about he head upstairs for the tour and i just had to add on, i had to interject, i had to say something else (apparently my need to over-share is a natural reflex when it comes to conversations ending). i joked "it's funny, he's the one that is adopted and has no issued or doubts about his place and role in his family, i was biological and i grew up feeling like the black sheep, like i didn't belong". our sw perked up and readied her pen "tell me about that"...then the filter came on...too late :)
i explained that my sister was the beautiful one (and 12 years older, so when people complimented her, they felt no need to tell the 4 year old staining next to her she is a pretty girl too), my brother the charismatic and athletic one, and i was...well, none of that. i was awkward, i had a speech impediment i was made fun of for, and no one really to defend me. NO ONE TO SPEAK TRUTH OVER THOSE LIES. NO ONE TO PRAY WITH MY HURTING LITTLE GIRL HEART TO SEE IT'S IDENTITY IN CHIRST, and then read those identity-based verses with me.

there are all these articles and studies and what not about what level of thinking young children can do, but i have distinct memories at agest 3+ of knowing in my heart and head i wanted--needed to hear an adult tell me something positive and encoring, and not hearing it, or hearing the exact opposite. i remember being that young and seeing/hearing those other very young children around me be doted on and questioning in my mind (why won't they (adults) say nice things to me?).

i remember everything my young and teenage heart needed, and didn't receive. (at a certain point, you become responsible for yourself, i get that, and did).

i told our sw this and that i believe God wants to use that for good, He will use those experiences and hurts to help me be a wonderful mommy to our little girl. "and we know that God works all things together for the good of those who love Him and have been called according to His purpose" --romans 8:28.  and this "you intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives"--genesis 50:20 .  i continued to explain that all my hurts and experiences have taught me what the hurting hearts in little girls need.

parents say all the time that they would give up their life for their child, can i not also say that i believe in a sovereign God, who knew my beginning and end, who knew my daughter's beginning and end, and who knew my hurts and what would be her hurts, and that He brought me through those trials to teach me and show me what my sweet daughter needs and feels? He knows my daughter, and i believe that He entrusted me with those years of yuck i faced TO TEACH ME ABOUT HER HEART. i will not let her heart go without encouragement, i will not let her spirit go without being lifted, i will not let her go a day without knowing what her true and beautiful identity is.

He will not let a single remorse go without restoration, He will not let a single pain go without being used for His perfect purpose, He will not let a single wound go without bringing someone else their healing.

i love Him, and i love my daughter; therefore, who am i to question any reason that i had hurts, because i trust they will bring our daughter healing.

in the end, when we emerge from it all and see His purpose, we can say everything that passes by His hands: all the hurts and all the joy are for a far better purpose than we can understand. my daughter is that purpose.

plus: when you have years of social awkwardness behind you, you have no qualms about dressing up in a firefighter suit for your preschool :)