Adoption From Foster Care- Angels Among Us

Being a part of a family and having siblings means that sometimes you have to do things that you, personally, aren't interested in doing. I remember when I was a child I would have to sit on the sidelines and watch my older sister's gymnastic practice. I wouldn't say that I liked it or enjoyed it but I learned how to entertain myself or play with the other siblings that were there having to wait for their sister or brother as well. And like all families it was reciprocated, my sister had to wait for my dance classes to end and she had to learn the same lesson I learned.

In our family of three boys each child is allowed to pick one activity or class per season in addition to playing an instrument. L has chosen kickboxing and viola, Z has chosen track and field and trumpet and M, who just joined our family from the foster care system, has chosen soccer. Each night and weekend sends us into a rotating schedule of practice and games that would make your head spin.

Last night Z had track practice and L had kickboxing so like most parents, my wife and I divided and conquered. I took Z to track with M tagging along, I brought a few items for him to entertain himself and within minutes of arriving he was sulking and deep sighing and loudly proclaiming that he was "so bored". I've been doing a lot of research on trauma and one thing I have found to be true is that children regress to the age of when they experienced trauma when in destress or upset. M regresses to about the age of a three year old when he has to do something that he doesn't want to do, like sit at his brother's track practice. He pouts and has a full on tantrum. He doesn't understand how you can't make a snack magically appear or after explaining rationally that we have to sit and wait for track practice to be over just like Z and L have to sit and wait for HIS soccer practice to be over, that we can't just leave anyone in our family. I offer several suggestions of things we could do; color, play a game, walk the track etc. He repeatedly shuts them all down and continues to ask, "But why do we have to be here?....Why?... Why?". At this point in his tantrum I have chosen to disengage, which is hard to do when it's a 115 pound nine year old in front of you having said tantrum. But I look out at the track practice and I enjoy watching Z run, I grit my teeth and repeat the Serenity Prayer in my mind.
"God grant me the serenity to accept the things that I can not change. The courage to change the things that I can. The wisdom to know the difference." 

The tantrum continues in front of me, for all the other parents to witness and I honestly don't care. Years ago I would have been mortified, I would have pulled said child aside so that he could have a tantrum without everyone watching. But now, at my age, I just don't care. That is when angels appear next to me, a husband and wife who have witnessed this power struggle who look at me with kind eyes and say, "How can we help you?". They aren't judging, they aren't criticizing they ask the simplest question, "How can we help you?". These are strangers, they don't know that M is a foster child that we are trying to adopt, they don't know our story.

"How can we help you?"

The husband takes M out into the field in front of me to do football drills, when I offered this as a suggestion to entertain him he refused. But now M is smiling, he's sweating and the husband keeps him entertained with drills for a full thirty minutes. The wife and I talk, she listens and nods as I open up and tell her how hard everyday feels. Her eyes are compassionate, and I allow vulnerability to be my guide. I freely walk into this courageous conversation with a stranger and I feel the tightening in my chest begin to loosen as I lean into my feelings of failure and disappointment.

God (the Universe, Divine Spirit, whatever name you give the higher power) sent these angels to share in our journey, together we find a collective courage to speak of our vulnerability and faith. As moms we speak openly with each other, we take off the invisible shields that each of us wears and we choose to let down our guards. It's courageous but it honestly feels fantastic!
Who would have known that strangers on the bleachers would be angels among us.  

Adoption From Foster Care- Empathy Needed!

Thank you all for reading and watching from the sidelines our journey of adopting an older child from foster care. I have posted on social media about how hard it has been, lately. We have experienced many highs and many lows that naturally come with adjustment and transition for everyone in our family.
Adjustment and transitions are hard. For everyone.
And it's okay for me to express that and share it as a part of our adoption journey.
I appreciate the kind words but most days the person with their face down in the dirt in the center of the arena just needs a hug and an acknowledgment that this too shall pass and one day it will feel easier.
The person with their face down in the dirt doesn't need a critic or advice on how they could do it differently instead they need a friend, a listening ear and a safe space to acknowledge what they are feeling.
With your face down in the dirt, in the center of the arena that is the moment of DARING GREATLY. We aren't perfect, we are going to stumble and we will fall a few times but we are trying and it is in that trying that we will see growth.
Again thank you for your kind words! And we appreciate you following along as we navigate this new terrain.

Adoption From Foster Care- Being Called Mom Isn't What I Thought It Would Be

The moment when your sweet baby starts babbling sounds, every parent begins to coach them to say the word that associates with their role in the family; Mama, Dada, Nana, Papa. When each of my biological children became of the age of talking, like most children they uttered the word “Dada” before “Mama”. And at the time, married to their father, I felt a pain of jealousy in my chest. 

With each boy, I rocked them to sleep at hours of the morning that in a previous life (pre-kid) only saw when I was closing down the club or bar. Like all the moms I knew, I nursed each of them until my nipples were literally bleeding. Carrying kids strapped to my chest/back, poised on a hip while arms are dangling $200 worth of groceries and a Thomas the Tank Engine Train under my chin, it wasn’t until years later that my back felt in alignment. And after all of the love and selfless devotion, the thanks we mothers get is the first name to be uttered from our sweet baby’s mouths is “Dada”? I read once that children say Dada first so that the father figure feels connected to the child since often times the mother is the provider of food and undoubtedly spends more time with the baby. Other theories suggest that making the "da" sound is easier for a baby to do. Regardless, it all makes sense in theory. But at the time, in my sleep deprivation, it felt like you might as well pull my heart out of my chest and stomp on it, in the dirt.  

My wife and I are in the process of adopting a child from foster care, M. He’s nine years old and has lived in many foster homes. We’ve read in several books that it may take years before the child calls the adoptive parents “Mom/Dad”. During the five months in which we were visiting him at his prior placement he referred to us by our first names. And as my wife and I would lay in bed holding hands and talking we would wonder “When do you think he’ll call us Mom/Momo? I wonder if it will feel different?”   

I imagined that hearing M call me Mom would feel special, as though we crossed some hurtle or stage in our relationship and attachment. I assumed, given all that we have read on the subject, that it would take a while and he would make a very conscious choice to switch from calling me by my first name to then calling me Mom. But that’s not at all what has happened. Instead right from the start of living in our house he’s made the decision on his own to call us Mom and Momo, the names that our other two boys call us. But it feels different. Because I'm learning that the name “Mom” doesn’t mean the same thing to him that it does for my biological children. My biological children know that I’m their person. That when they need something I will provide for them, that I’ll be the one cheering them on, loving them and caring for them no matter what because that’s what a Mom is. 

To M, it’s different. “Mom” is simply the title of the lead female adult in the house. He tells stories that start with “My other Mom…” and he’s not talking about his biological mother. He’s referring to one of the many, many women that he’s called Mom while being in foster care. And I understand why it has happened, and how him being allowed to call the lead female in every house “Mom” made him feel included especially if there were biological kids in the house as well. 

My brain understands it. 

But my heart, doesn’t. 

Because I want him to say “Hey Mom…” and for it to feel like he knows I’m his person. That he understands “Mom” means forever, not for just right now. That he knows no matter what, being his Mom means that I will care and love him. That we will always be cheering the loudest and no matter what we will always be here for him. I hope that someday, he does understand it. And that we don’t just become his all time favorite Moms and instead that those many women who have cared and fed him in the various homes in which he has lived…..that their names change and they become Molly* and Suzie* and Jennifer*. And that our names as Mom and Momo means something completely different to him…in his heart.

(* these are made up names and not at all the names of the women who have cared for my son while in foster care.)

Breast Cancer- Prayers

With my winter jacket on and my keys in my hand, I pace the small kitchen. I check the clock again and only five minutes have passed since the last time I looked. The headlights of her car catch my eye and I run outside and open the driver's side door. My dad has driven my mom to my house so that I can go with him to take her to the hospital. The call from him came at 5:30 in the morning, I bolted out of bed when my phone lit up the room. "She's not good.", was the first thing he said. 

My mom is laying across the backseat of her Highlander SUV with a blanket covering her completely. I peer to look at her through the small space between the headrest and the door. My dad hands me papers, "what is this?" I ask. But as I look down I know exactly what it is, it's a stack of the comics that he saves for my kids from his newspaper delivery.
"Papers for the boys. You are going to drive, right?", he asks and that is when I see the look in his eyes. He's scared. My dad, this powerful and confident man...he's scared and he's looking at me to provide relief. "Why don't you stay here at my house, I'll take her." I offer.

I know that I'm the one who can do this job. When the house is on fire, you want me there. I'll get everyone out safely including the pets and I'll manage to magically grab important documents while maintaining being calm. Thankfully, I've never actually been in that situation but let's just say I'm really good in a crisis. People who are closest to me who have seen me in action, know what I'm talking about when I say that I'm going into "house is on fire mode". 

All of my senses are on full alert. I hear her breathing labored and unsteady in the backseat. I make my way onto the beltway and the prayer begins in my mind. Whenever my body is resisting a panic attack the prayer starts; Hail Mary, full of grace... it stems from my childhood of going to Catholic School. We actually aren't Catholic, but at the time, the local public school was not very good and a Catholic School was only a mile from my parent's house. I gravitated to the rituals of this religion. I loved the kneeling, the standing, the signs of the cross. I loved the predictability, but we weren't Catholic so I secretly said the prayers to myself and the Hail Mary was my prayer of choice. It speaks to me and has this ability to calm my soul.

I weave between lanes, rush hour traffic is beginning to pick up. My fingers are gripping the steering wheel, causing white knuckles and my hands to feel cramped. "Blink, Gretchen blink", I say to myself out loud as I scan the rear view mirror for police as I speed over into the far lane doing 85. My mom rolls over onto her back, I listen for her breathing. There is such a long pause between each inhale. I hold my own breath waiting for her to breathe again, she let's out a moan.

"Please God....", I say out loud my voice quivering. I continue in a whisper...."Not today. I'm scared. I'm alone and I know I'm up for the challenge of taking care of my parents as they age but please God not today. Not here. Not now.".... I trail off as I exit the beltway and make my way to the entrance of the ER. I run into the doorway and grab a wheelchair, as I open the backdoor a nurse comes out to meet me. I lean in and touch my mom's legs and say kindly, "Mom, we're here. Hold on to my hands I'm going to pull you up." She moans. I look back at the nurse and the look on his face changes once he sees her bald (cancer) head. The wheelchair is one of those really wide wheelchairs and it's pulled in right behind me, the space between the wheelchair and the car door and me there isn't enough room for the nurse to help me get my mom out of the car. 

"Now wrap your arms around my neck and pretend you are giving me a hug." I say to her. I place her arms around my neck and I squat down and I lift her with a strength that I didn't know that I had. I lift her completely out of the car and I place her so gently down into the wheelchair. I look up at the nurse and that is when I become aware of the shock on his face, surprised that I just did that on my own.  I quickly run through the details the way I've seen it done on TV shows. "70 year old. Cancer patient, my mom, weak and dehydrated. Diarrhea. Is not lucid." Short and direct, no complete sentences. A man in a black jacket takes the keys from my hand and puts a ticket in its place. Another nurse puts a bright yellow sticker on my chest, "Emergency Center". 

The nurse and I together lift my mom out of the wheelchair and into the hospital bed. "What did you say?", the nurse asks me. That's when I realize what I've been saying out loud, "Holy Mary, Mother of God..."
"I'm praying", I reply. For years I've felt shame about my connection to prayer. So it became this secret thing I did that no one realized was such a strong force in my life, my family included. Though my father is a Rabbi does not mean that my family is religious or spiritual for that matter, quite the opposite actually. I took that prayer shame shawl off and I didn't care if we were in the ER and I didn't care that other people might see me or make fun of me for it. I held her hand and I prayed. "Please God, not now. I need her still." 

Adoption from Foster Care- Meeting the Other Family

We are at a park that has a playground and an open field for kids to run around in. The weather is cool, requiring winter jackets and hands to be stuffed in pockets. We stand on the edge of the parking lot waiting. It's just the three of us, my wife and I and our newest son that we are adopting from the foster care system from another state. Our son is wide-eyed and very still. Which is unusual for him. The football is tucked under his arm, he's not throwing it or requesting anyone to catch or "go long". He just stands. It strikes me as unfamiliar that I've never seen him stand completely still like this.

Every time a car enters the parking lot his eyes go to it, scanning the people on the inside.
"Do they know we are here?"
"Yes, I texted them and told them exactly where we are.", I reply making sure my voice sounds soothing and calm as I do during the dharma talk at the end of my yoga classes.
"What time is it?", he asks for the third time.
"I'm sure they will be here soon.", I reply with a smile.

We are meeting two of his biological siblings and their adopted dad for the first time. We are all nervous, my stomach is doing bellyflops. I'm nervous about meeting this family, that in an ideal world we would continue to have a relationship with and I'm also excited for our son to see his siblings who he hasn't seen in months.
A pick up truck pulls into the parking lot.
'That's them!", he shouts.
His eyes seem brighter and a huge smile spreads across his face. He starts to run but my wife grabs his arm and kindly says "Careful, it's a parking lot." Once the truck has pulled into it's spot, he runs towards his brother and they hug so fiercely, tears instantly form in my eyes and I quickly blink them away as I smile and reach for my wife's hand as we walk across the parking lot together.

Seeing the three of them together was amazing. It was as though we had a glimpse of these missing pieces of the puzzle and to see how they interact with each other and play and laugh. My God, did they laugh! The bond that they have is so strong. They are incredible kids. The adoptive father was wonderful and kind. And is also looking forward to keeping the siblings relationship in tact.
I feel blessed. And so grateful.

Whether you believe in God, the Universe, Higher Power, Divine Source, Mother Earth or the Holy Mother herself....something larger than us was involved in this match. That he was chosen to be our son out of the 70+ kids that we inquired about. That the other adopted family would be so wonderful and kind.
I feel blessed.
And oh so grateful.

Adoption from Foster Care- The Map of Our Family

It was just my wife and I picking up our newest son for a day visit to go out to eat for lunch, he is a foster child that we are adopting from another state. We have to wait for the ICPC contract to be finalized in order for him to come and live with us and so in the meantime we drive two hours each way, every week to visit with him for the day.

He decided he wanted to eat at Chipotle, we let him choose since the older boys were with their dad for the weekend which means no one needed to compromise. He's sitting in the backseat of our Element SUV, the Element has these funky doors which requires the front seat passenger to open the door for the person in the back.

As he's getting out of the car he says, "so L and Z were adopted too?"
"Nope, I gave birth to them both.", I reply very matter of factly.
He looks at me with a puzzled expression on his face.
"They both grew in my belly.", I offer.
Even though he's nine years old I don't want to assume that anyone has had the "where do babies come from conversation".
"So you were married to their dad?", he asks.
"Ah, yes I was. And then we got divorced and then I married Momo."
"Didn't some people think it was weird that you married a woman after being married to their dad?", he asks with such innocence on his face.
"I'm sure there were several people who thought that.", I immediately reply as we make our way around the car and into Chipotle. He then looks up at my wife, "so you got divorced too?"
My wife does an amazing job just picking up the conversation without being privy to the first part of it and says, "No. Gretchen is the first person I married."

We walk into Chipotle and he begins to contemplate the decision between tacos or a burrito. He's going back and forth and you can tell that this decision seems huge to him and may impact his whole day by the value he's giving it. He decides on the burrito and his body relaxes as he tells the employee, very confidently, all the things that he wants on it. When we get to the counter to pay he turns to me and says, "I think those people are stupid who thought it was weird for you to marry Momo."
"I agree with you. We don't need those people in our lives, do we?"
"Nope.", he says with a huge smile and a twinkle in his eyes. I give him a hug and I can feel him exhale what feels like a huge weight of stress.

I know that we will have several conversations like this one as he learns the map of our family and the many twists and turns that it has made in order to be created. Divorce, marriages, children- generation after generation a new twist and a new turn. The best part is, he's on the journey with us and now a part of a family.

Easy To-go Breakfast

We are in the process of adopting an older child from foster care in the neighboring state of VA. We drive 2 hours each way to see our newest son on a weekly basis, sometimes twice a week. Since January we have been making the very hard choice of choosing healthy food to-go rather than drive-thru convenience. It's so easy to run through a McDonald's and grab a coffee and egg sandwich. But I pay for it later with added weight on the scale and a roller coaster of emotions as my body tries to regulate the convenience food. Resisting the temptation to over indulge is hard. But prepping the meals doesn't take that much time as I focus on food that is super easy to put together and throw in a cooler for the car. I know our waistlines and attitudes will be better for it.

Here is my easy to-go breakfast that I put in a tupperware and eat in the car. All ingredients are organic. And I prep the berries after I purchase them by cleaning and cutting them and letting them live in a mason jar in our fridge so that they are always easy to grab when the desire for a sweet treat hits me. 
  

• 1/2 cup cottage cheese

• 1/2 cup fresh strawberries & blueberries

• 2 Tbs strawberry preserves

• 1/4 cup walnuts  

• shaved organic coconut flakes.

Curly Girl Hair Product - Ms Jessie's Coily Custard

I've recently started growing my hair out and like many curly head ladies I have spent so much money trying to find the right products that work with my hair. After filling an entire shelf in our hall closet with curly hair products that I refer to as "the rejects". I posted on Facebook asking my friends with curly hair what products they are loving and couldn't live without. To my surprise about twenty curly head goddesses commented and there was only ONE duplicate!
Holy moley- how is a girl to decide???
I took the one duplicate recommendation and did a bit more research on the brand and decided to try Ms. Jessie's Coily Custard. And I am happy to report that I have found the perfect hair product for my curly hair!
I practice the Curly Girl method and use the Deva Girl No-Poo Cleanser every third day along with the One Condition. I only "wash" my hair every three days and on the days in between I spritz my hair with water and use Quenched Curls- Curl Moisturizer/2nd Day Curl Refresher.
This curly head girl is happy with the results!

Adoption from Foster Care- Numbing Emotions with Food

Photo by: Igor Ovsyannykov

2016 has been a rollercoaster of a ride for our family as we embarked on the journey of adoption from the foster care system. We began this journey in January of 2016. First item to cross off our to-do list was the required 27 hours of classes and training, which took place over several Saturdays. Then came the paperwork; background checks- criminal, driving records and financial. Homestudy visits at our house from a social worker interviewing my wife and I together, then separate and then the children each by themselves. Fire inspection of our house from a fire marshall, reference letters and interviews with our friends and finally when all of that was completed we sat down with our adoption agency to talk about marketing ourselves. Yes, that's right...marketing ourselves as awesome parents. Creating fliers with images of our family and what our interests and hobbies are, describing where we live and what services, both therapeutic and recreational, that are close to our house. The idea is to market our family to social workers so that they would read more about us and possibly know of a child on their caseload that would be a perfect match.

When you are going through the paperwork stage of adoption all you can think about is the matching stage. Often I would say to my wife with excitement in my eyes, "I can't wait to get to the matching!" And then when you are in the matching stage you don't think your heart can hold any more hurt and pain that you are hearing on a daily basis. Reading stories of abuse both physical and sexual, neglect because of addiction and poverty and that energy needs to go somewhere. Otherwise it takes up residence in your body in some fashion. Whether that is building a wall around your heart by becoming jaded and cynical or those emotions live as chronic pain in a region of your body for example back or hip pain.

For me I chose to numb those emotions of heartbreak with food. I'm a yoga teacher and life coach, I knew better than to do this. But there I was every night eating cookies, eating my emotions and loosing sight of any physical exercise program except a slow flow, stretchy yoga practice. I was numbing with food and damn did it feel good in the moment. We all deal with hard emotions differently and oftentimes we numb those feelings when we can't take any more in. Food, drugs, alcohol, gambling and even Facebook/social media are the top choices for most people to numb themselves from feeling.

During the matching phase of adoption there are a lot of rejections. We wondered if it was because we are two women but oftentimes it was because we are already parents, which we thought was a benefit for us. But unfortunately so many children in the foster care system have been abused and social workers think it best for them to live in a house without other children. With each rejection the Ben and Jerry's would be cracked open. I am a highly sensitive person and numbing this heartbreak, felt like all I could do. Everyday hearing stories of abuse to innocent children left me in tears on my kitchen floor. I was feeling too much. In order to survive I needed to numb. And food was my numbing escape of choice. 
 
With any bad habit there are consequences and as you might have already guessed weight gain was the consequence that I had to deal with. In 2016 I gained 16 pounds! I am 5'3 and have weighed the same amount since I was in high school (except during pregnancies, of course). These 16 pounds came on easy and tasted delicious but now in 2017 it's time for them to go! My wife and I decided to do a personal challenge, for 45 days we are going to be mindful of the food that we eat. Choosing to eat healthy rather than convenient and we have given up (refined) sugar. Changing our diet as well as exercising 6 days a week will jump start us into 2017.

Week one felt impossible without the sweet treat after lunch and dinner. But now embarking on week two, I'm feeling better. I've already noticed that I have more energy and a positive mindset. The cravings for sweets are still there but rather than giving into that craving with cookies or ice cream I'm allowing myself a small bowl of berries. Doing this with my wife has been momentous! It's easier to resist sweets and exercise when you have a partner being supportive and on the journey with you. Keep tuning in to the CocktailMom blog to learn about the changes we are making to be healthier and happier in 2017!

Adoption from Foster Care- It's the Little Things That Matter Most

It's hard to fall in love with this little boy and yet have no voice in how you'd like him to be parented or be able to make any decisions about his life. I often feel like my hands are tied. And yet I continue to fall in love with his sweet voice and the way he says "what are you doing right now?" when we call him on the phone every night.

We are continuing to visit him twice a week at the residential facility, which involves a two hour drive each way. Per the rules of the facility we have worked up to off-campus visits, each week the visit is allowed to be longer and we can take him off campus with just our family. It's exciting and freeing but it still doesn't feel like our life. We aren't given many options of things to do based on the location of this facility and the colder weather, so it's either go out to eat at a chain restaurant or walk around Target and play videos games. I want him to experience life in our home; walking the dogs, going to the pool, setting the table for dinner. I want him to experience the little moments that make us a family, and I know he wants to experience that too.

This past weekend during our visit we decided that we would run errands because both L and Z needed new shoes and he did as well. So there we are, my wife and I, in the DSW shoe store trying to find shoes for three boys for the first time ever. It felt natural and chaotic at the same time. I found myself noticing other people in the store and how they looked at our family, seeing the confusion on their faces as they tried to figure out how two women and three children (who don't look like each other) "go together" in this very rural part of the state.

But seeing the excitement on his face when he found a pair that fit was priceless and instantly made me forget all the eyes that were watching us. "Look at MY NEW shoes!" He kept saying with a strong emphasis on MY as though this might have been the first time that he ever got new shoes. The thought crossed my mind but then I swept is aside, that couldn't be true. At some point in time someone had to have bought him new shoes, right? We pile back in the minivan and head to Walmart because the zipper on his pants are broken, he's our kid so we are doing what we would normally do for our kids-buy them what they need.

Having no idea what size he wears, I just guess and pull some various sizes for him to try on and fill my arms with pants that I would normally buy for L and Z. Well he has his eyes set on a pair of jeans, L and Z never wear jeans. And I mean never! So I empty my arms and begin looking through the racks of jeans and we all make our way to the dressing room. He is carrying a pair of jeans in his arms, close to his chest and mumbling something about how excited he is about them. He tries on only that one pair of jeans, opens the dressing room door for us to see him in them with a huge smile on his face, "They fit!". Wife and I check to make sure the jeans do in fact fit around his waist, length, are comfortable when he sits down etc. His entire face is beaming, "And they come with a belt! I've never had a belt before!" I look at him, at his huge smile and twinkling brown eyes and my heart breaks for him. He's excited about a belt! A belt, people! I give him a huge hug and tell him that those are clearly the pants for him. His smile turns to a frown and he says, "But we aren't allowed to have belts at the cottage." My wife, in perfect timing says, "We will just keep the belt at our house till you get there, okay?" The smile is back and he's bouncing out the door excited about his new shoes, jeans and the belt that he's never had before. And as I watch my three boys exit the store together I feel a lightness in my heart, this was the reminder that I needed this holiday season.
It's the little things that matter most; it's being a family, being together and being able to wear a belt!

Post 2016 Election

The eleven year old crawled into bed with me this morning and I told him the news of the election. I held him as he sobbed. "How can someone so mean and unkind and who hates us so much (meaning= a gay family) be president? How can people who love us and call us their family....how can they vote for him?" (pause and sniffling) "Why can't we move to Canada?" I explained to him that not one person makes all the decisions in our country. That there is a process. And it's our mission to do the opposite of him, to be kind and good people. "And it also means we need to get involved in things we believe in. We need to volunteer and be of service so that these organizations exist to help more and more families like ours. Our mantra for the next four years is just like the saying on the t-shirts at my yoga studio, Kindness Is Contagious!
We held each other and cried and his questions continued to rattle in my mind. How can people who love us vote for a man who doesn't support our family? How am I going to teach our newest son, who has seen trauma first hand, that the people who say mean things and degrade others is not the "winner." For right now, I'm going to hold them. All three of my sons and tell them that they are safe. We will continue to look up to President Obama as an example of the type of man that we aspire them to become. My wife and I will continue to believe that LOVE and KINDNESS will always win. And we will hold on to hope.

Adoption from Foster Care- The Siblings Meet!

We drove into the residential facility where our new son is living. I say to the boys, "Look out the window, this is it!" Trees line the one lane road for a long stretch that makes you feel as though you are entering a summer camp. There are small cottages that house the children. Outside of each one a bike rack overflowing with child sized bikes, a bike for every child on campus. You can see horses grazing far off in the field, it feels magical here.

Today is the day that L and Z will meet their new brother for the first time. It's a bit weird and every one's veins are pulsing with nervous excitement. We've shown L and Z pictures of what he looks like and briefly what we know about him that is appropriate for the boys to understand. He's coming from foster care and has experienced tremendous trauma but we aren't sharing that with L and Z, or anyone in our family. Children are put into foster care because they have not been cared for (neglect) and often have experienced physical or sexual abuse. The story of our son's past is not for anyone else to know, it's his story. And when he chooses to share it, if ever, with other people is his decision. 

As we got out of the car Z reached for my hand and pulled himself close next to my arm, quietly he says to himself "I'm feeling kinda nervous."I look down at him and smile and say, "Me too bud." I made the very active choice to not diminish how he is feeling by trying to change them. And instead chose honesty and authenticity. I'm working on this more and more in my life. It's so easy to say, "it's going to be okay", "you'll do fine", "no reason to be nervous, he's a great kid and so are you". Growing up, that was often how my emotions were handled in my family I know that it doesn't actually make you feel better and instead the coat of shame begins to be woven over your shoulders. Then you wonder to yourself, "what is wrong with me? I'm the only one feeling this way." But in actuality everyone is feeling the same way, they are just scared to admit it.  

We held hands as we walked and just as I was about to let go, he then squeezed it three times. This is our family's "secret" way of saying "I love you" and we often do it to each other when we think the person needs it the most or when we are around other people and it would be too random if you blurted out "I love you!". I smiled down at him and we walked into the building where in an instant our family dynamic will be changed forever.

Adoption from Foster Care- Patience

Photo by Kelly Sikkema

I’m going to be honest with you, this adoption journey has been hard. It is not for the weak. You need stamina and a layer of patience that you never knew existed before.

We consider ourselves a “catch”, we are a loving couple with great jobs and a strong support system of family and friends. We live in a diverse town with a plethora of resources at our fingertips. We have two incredible children that we share custody of so a child coming into our home has the benefit of siblings but also, depending on the week, will be the only child in the home so he/she will get our undivided attention. It’s the best of both worlds!

We thought that we would get swooped up right away and that the social workers would be ecstatic to place a child in our home. But that hasn’t been the case. Keep in mind that we are only looking to adopt a child that is considered “older”, between 5 and 11 years old. We’ve learned that most states want to keep kids in their home state, for various reasons. The most understandable is that the child has siblings that they need to remain in contact with by having playdates monthly or attending day camps together. We totally understand needing to maintain that connection and openly say in our adoption paperwork that we support maintaining relationships of any kind with birth family. But then sometimes the state just decides that the children should be adopted within the state, without an explanation. There are no siblings to stay in contact with, no birth family members wanting to see the child. From what I can understand there are children who are sitting in foster care and not being adopted by an awesome family that happens to live in another state because the state wants them to be adopted by someone in that state. The kicker is….no one is coming forward. So these kids continue to get bounced around from foster home to foster home. They switch schools more times than I switch out my clothes in my closet. They continue to get older and older. And statistics show that children over ten years old have a 50% less likely chance of being adopted at all. 

My wife thinks that a doctoral student should take this study on for their dissertation, to research how many children continue to stay in foster care and age out of the system rather than be adopted out of state. I think it would be too depressing to know those numbers, to see that truth. There is this underlying concern that we aren’t being picked because we are two women. Only once did a social worker come out and say that, explaining that the child (who has the right to choose based on his age and the state laws) that he did not want two moms. But it made me wonder, did anyone explain to him that he is missing out on an incredible opportunity to have a family that will love him and care for him? Did anyone sit down with him and explain that two moms are pretty much the same as a “traditional family”; we go to PTA meetings and we drive you to soccer practice. That two moms will love you just as much as having a mom and a dad will. 

We will continue to hold on to hope that our child is out there and soon will join our family. In the meantime, keep us in your prayers. And let me borrow that extra layer of patience that you have stored in the back of your closet. 

Adoption from Foster Care- our journey

Well intentioned people who hear that we are adopting an older child from foster care have referred to the kids in foster care as “broken” or “damaged”. Those words don’t sit well within me. These kids are not a broken toy or a damaged shirt from spilled hot sauce on taco night. We aren’t going to “fix this child”. Instead I like to think of our decision to adopt an older child as offering a child a safe place to land. I imagine that their lives feel really unsteady most of the time and I hope a child coming into our home finds a safe place to be themselves, a place where they can let their guard down, a place where they can breathe a little easier because life doesn’t feel so stressful anymore.  

Of course we intend to provide love and understanding. But more importantly we want to offer a child a safe space to heal and grow and the opportunity to become something different. As we read children's extended profiles it seems as though the course of their life is already mapped out for them; the grandparents have a history with Child Protective Services, their parents were foster kids who got pregnant or were incarcerated. And all too often drugs, alcohol and poverty are the underlining themes to each story. It’s a generational problem being passed down. And we are hoping to offer a child an opportunity to change the course of their life. 

I’ve heard my children retell a story that they have heard their father tell of something traumatic that happened to him when he was five years old. When the story comes out of my children’s mouths they make it sound like it happened yesterday when in fact it’s a thirty-five year old story. Immediately I am annoyed that my children can recite the story word for word as I have heard my ex-husband tell it numerous times. I take a deep breath, “That is your father’s story to tell and hold on to for dear life, it isn’t yours. It doesn’t shape you. Stop telling it! It isn’t yours to tell and instead focus your energy on telling your story, tell people your dreams, share a story of kindness that has impacted your life.” 

I went on to explain to them that the things that happen to you in your life shapes your story but it doesn’t define you. People chose to hold on to experiences and expect others to accept it as a definition of who they are or why they act a certain way. But that isn’t the truth. 

The truth is our experiences shape us but they don’t define us.

I haven’t heard either of them tell the story since I stopped them in their tracks that day and said that to them. And I hope that the child coming into our family also learns that the choices that his birth parents made has shaped his life but it doesn’t define who he is going to be in the world. Because greatness is right around the corner. You aren’t broken. You aren’t damaged. You just haven’t been given a safe place to land. A home is waiting for you.

Mummy Halloween Costume

My children's elementary school has a storybook parade on Halloween day. Children are encouraged to dress up like their favorite character from a book. As a working mom I didn't have the time to create a costume for school and a costume to wear out trick or treating. Nor did I want to spend the money on two costumes so whatever they choose for school needed to also work for trick or treating. 

At the time my oldest wanted to be a mummy so we found a book at our library that had the word "Mummy" in the title and was on his reading level at that time, we read it and then made this very simple costume. I picked up a yard of white cotton fabric at my local craft store and cut it into wide strips. I then sewed the strips onto a white long sleeve t-shirt and sweatpants. Being sure to leave some of the fabric strips hanging loose so that he looked as though he was coming undone. I then took the remaining white fabric and wrapped it loosely around his head to complete his mummy costume. Simple and it only took a night to complete.
 Book: Icky Ricky #1: Toilet Paper Mummy
(Here is a link to the Finn Hat post.)