three and out

Z turned THREE last week!




Angry Birds cupcakes... he pronounces it "Amy Bugs"









Playing with Papa


Shiro and Misr Wat for birthday dinner


The kids randomly decided to put on Halloween costumes




This was Z's last night wearing his 'snowboard' (foot brace to correct his club foot). Now that he is 3, he is done with the brace - yay!

---

In unrelated news, apparently I stopped blogging here. Truth be told... this is a bit of a farewell post, or at least a "see you later" post. I have been stretching myself creatively on another writing project, and I don't seem to have the motivation or space in my head to keep writing here as well. Plus (for the moment anyway) I don't seem to have much to say. This isn't a traditional family blog, and I don't want to make it one. It's about our adoption journey, and although that journey with Z is a life-long story, I am happy to report that it is actually a pretty boring story right now, in a good way. If you want to keep following our family, you're welcome to do so on f.acebook - just leave me a comment here with your name, along with a solemn vow of non-creepiness and I'll look you up. :) Thanks, and see ya later...

in one year...

You learned a thousand new words in a language you had never heard.

You learned to eat meals at the table, to use a fork and spoon, to drink from a cup, to try new textures and tastes in your food.

You learned how to be a little brother, how to share and negotiate and compromise.

You learned how to swim.

You learned to sing Jesus Loves Me, and you believe it.

You learned how to talk about your feelings.

You learned how to get dropped off at preschool and you learned that Mommy always comes back.

You learned how to use an iPhone.

You learned how to hold your own in a wrestling match with two big boys and a Daddy.

You learned the magic of books and memorized all the words to your favorites.

You learned about your Ethiopian heritage, and how to answer proudly when someone asks where you were born.

You learned that Daddy gives the best airplane rides around the living room and Mommy sings the best lullabies and Mimi plays the best pretend games and Grandpa tells the best stories and Papa has the best tickle fights and Nana reads the best bedtime stories.

You learned to love us and you learned to let us love you.

In the midst of all this learning, you also taught us how to eat injera with the right little flick of the wrist, and how to pray with abandon, and how to be brave even when you're very scared.

We are both proud and humbled to be your parents -- cheers to one year of being family together! Ewedehalo.

family day

On February 28, 2011 we walked off a plane and began life as a family of five. We have a few plans and ideas for how to celebrate the upcoming first anniversary of this amazing day, which I'll share below, but first I want to tell you about how I was recently and unexpectedly whisked back to that moment - the moment our family was together for the first time.

The boys were playing on my parents' computer a few days ago, watching home videos of themselves and their cousins. I was half-watching, half-checked-out, relaxed and thankful to have a moment of peace at the end of a busy day. N clicked to the next video and my head snapped up to see a fuzzy-headed brown-skinned boy being led onto an escalator by a tall, handsome white guy: shock. Tears. I have never seen this footage. Only now do I vaguely remember my brother having a video camera, but in the aftermath of Z's arrival I had forgotten all about it.

As N clicked through the videos one by one I couldn't hold back the emotion. A year ago I experienced that momentous day through the lens of exhaustion, jet lag, unrealistic expectations, and healthy dose of fear. My memories of it are colored by the sleepless nights and tantrum-packed days that followed. Watching those scenes the other night felt like recovering something precious, like the long-awaited fulfillment of a promise, like scales falling off my eyes. It was pure gift.

Viewing the event through the camera's perspective made me see it all with new eyes. So much beauty jumped off the screen: the genuine excitement and joy of my family members, meeting Z for the first time. N's gentle sweetness, taking Z's hand and leading him around the baggage area. The easy smile D gave his new brother, already trying to make Z laugh. And his mother, eyes bright with exhaustion and something else: a love she didn't know she was giving, receiving. She kissed his forehead, he clung to her shirt and rested his cheek on her chest. At the time those exterior acts of affection felt false, while the swirls of frustration, fear, and ambivalence under the surface seemed all too real... but watching it now I see that I had it backwards. I see a mother who loves her son. Her fear and self-condemnation breaks my heart: I want to give her a hug, bring her some strong coffee, look her square in the eyes and say, "You're doing just fine, mama. Just fine."

We finished watching and D asked me why I was crying. I told him it was because I just realized I am the luckiest mommy in the whole world. And I am.

*Oops I forgot to write about our plans for Family Day 2012... more coming soon.

wild weather, perfect feet, and a quick getaway

It's been crazy around here lately: snow, ice, unexpected house guests, power outages, a weekend away, and an exciting trip to the doctor, all in the last 7 days!

Last week we had our first (and hopefully only) major snow event of the season, which meant no school, no work, and no driving anywhere for a few days. Then an ice storm hit, followed by more snow, which meant many downed trees and branches, causing power outages that affected us and over 300,000 other residents for two full days (and longer for some). In the meantime, we took in some friends of friends who were stranded in Seattle for three days trying to get back to Southern California. We love house guests and the boys were thrilled to make friends with Kristen and Karen, a mother/daughter pair from Orange County - great folks.





Anyway, the reason I'm bothering to blog about this is because in the midst of this big storm we still managed to make it across the city to Z's follow up appointment with his pediatric orthopedic doctor. I didn't want to drive that far in the ice and snow, but when I called to reschedule their next available was in May! Considering there was a possibility that Z might need surgery in April I was not about to wait that long, so we borrowed my parents' 4WD SUV and braved the roads. It turned out to be worth the trip because the doc took one good look at Z's foot and pronounced his club foot to be totally corrected! He recommended we continue to use his orthotic brace at night until he turns three, and he wants to see us again in a year, but other than that we are DONE. Praise God!

In other exciting news, last weekend J and I had our first overnight trip away from the boys since Z came home. We went to Vegas for... wait for it... a baptism. Isn't that why everyone goes to Vegas? Our dear friends Mike and Nicole (who live there) asked us to be the godparents for their beautiful baby boy, who happens to share a name with Z. We were honored, and happy to come out for the baptism (OK, and a little fun at the tables too -- we actually won $70!).



This was our first time leaving Z for that long, and he did great. My parents were out of town too, but thankfully Z's preschool teacher is also a close family friend and one of the few people we would completely trust with all 3 of our boys, so she and her husband stayed with the kids and the weekend went well (aside from a few potty accidents... sorry Colleen! You're the best!). We've been back two days and so far I haven't seen any signs that our time away had any negative impact on Z or our attachment process... which means we should do it again soon, right?!

When I think back to where we were about 9 months ago, these two milestones seem utterly unbelievable. At that time Z's foot was in a cast, he hadn't been put to bed or fed by (much less left alone with) anyone but us since coming home, and I could just barely make out a pinprick of light at the end of the tunnel. I am so humbled and thankful for all that God has done to bring us from there to here!

prayer warrior

We say prayers with Z before bedtime and naps each day. Like good Presbyterians, we fold our hands and close our eyes and speak softly, thanking God for his blessings and praying for our friends, family, and others around the world. Lately, after I finish saying prayers, Z wants to say his own prayers: he scrunches up his face, hunches his shoulders, and mumbles unintelligibly. Sometimes he throws in some wild hand gestures or sways from side to side, and on rare occasion I can make out a word or two (usually a name of someone we have seen that day). It absolutely cracks me up because it is not like anything he has seen people here do when they pray... I guess they must have had some pretty rockin' prayer sessions at the Widow & Orphan homes! It is amazing to see the little treasures he has kept with him from that time.

In other news, he is thoroughly enjoying his first Christmas season in America! Ever since his 2nd birthday in April, he has been a huge fan of all things birthday related, so the fact that Christmas is Baby Jesus' birthday makes it extra special in his book. Merry Christmas everyone!

happy

This smile says it all: my son is happy.

Last night we saw some friends who haven't seen Z since summertime and they kept telling us how different he seemed compared to a few months ago. "He just seems so much more open and relaxed now," was the comment we heard more than once.

Not that he was miserable before, but over the past few months we have noticed a subtle shift in Z's overall demeanor. He is comfortable. He feels safe. He not only trusts us as his parents, he also trusts his environment. These feelings of safety and trust have given him a freedom to play, and laugh, and open himself up in deeper ways than we have seen before. It is beautiful and miraculous and the best present this mama could ever ask for.

I'll wrap this up with two cute little stories from the past week:

I have sung the exact same 4 songs to Z every time I put him down for a nap or bedtime since the first month he came home. He seems to thrive on that predictability and has gotten mad any time I've tried to stray from the routine... until the other day when he asked me to sing the "star song", which I managed to figure out meant "Away in a Manger". (We have a kids nativity set that plays that song when you push a button and a star lights up while the song is playing.) Now he insists on us singing the 'star song' before naps and bed -- it's become his own little Advent tradition.

Last night when I tucked him in I asked him, "Who loves Z?" and he smiled up at me and said, "Jesus!" Melt my heart.

9 months

Today Z has been home for 9 months! I'm going to save my next 'epic' post-placement installment for the 1 year mark, but I didn't want to let this milestone slip by unnoticed.

Z continues to live up to his names: he is strengthened by God - a strong, resilient, and loving boy, and he is an immeasurable blessing to our whole family.

We're all yours, buddy!


first thanksgiving!


my nana spoils me.




ready for my close-up.


dancing with mama.

feelings and grace

Remember those cute leaf-raking pictures from my last post? Yeah, this one didn't make it in. ;)

I don't envy adoption agency staff members -- preparing people to become adoptive parents must be crazy hard. I happen to think our agency did a fantastic job preparing us, and I'm impressed with how they've continued to refine and improve the education component of their program. Despite the great pre-adoption preparation we received, there was an undetected disconnect lurking in me -- something I didn't know that I didn't know until circumstances brought it to the surface.

I knew plenty about how Z might behave when he came home, and why, and what to do about it. I knew about how challenging it would be for him to leave everything familiar and come to a strange place with strange people, all at a critical point in his development. I knew it would challenge me too as I implemented strategies for bonding, building trust, and correcting inappropriate behavior. I'm not trying to toot my own horn here, I'm just saying that my preparation was robust and I felt ready ready ready. I like a challenge, I thought. Especially a challenge that I have been anticipating and waiting to start for a million years months and months.

The disconnect came in the form of feelings. Some of the feelings I have listed below were short-lived and faded within days of getting home. Others are still part of my daily emotional life. All of them came as a surprise.

After the wait was over:

I felt numbness and ambivalence about bringing Z home

I felt uncomfortable and unnatural caring for him

I felt anger and frustration toward him when he acted out or threw a fit

I felt hurt and rejected when he didn't return my affection

I felt grief over the loss of my 'easy' family

I felt unhappy at a time when everyone expected me to be thrilled

I felt fearful about my ability to give Z the consistent, unconditional love-in-action that I knew he needed

I felt like I was in an abusive relationship, in the sense that a person was hurting me over and over and I had to keep coming back for more

I felt isolated because I was afraid to share my feelings with others

I felt horribly, horribly guilty and ashamed about all of the above.

Let me reiterate, I fully understood Z's behavior and was not surprised by it. To some degree, I even understood my emotional reaction to it... but only in a book-knowledge, "this can happen to some people and it is normal, but it won't happen to me" kind of way. For the sake of balance, I have to say that I also felt a lot of other, much more positive things: wonder, gratitude, and hope, to name a few. And over the course of the past several months, the trend has been overwhelming toward more and more positive emotions and fewer negative ones. But the beginning? Well, you read the list.

[Side note: Can you even imagine was Z's list would look like? He's still too young to put his feelings into words but I am pretty sure mine would pale in comparison to his. And honestly, he handled it all better than I did. Downright amazing, that kid.]

I am not sharing this to scare anyone, and I'm certainly not sharing it to garner sympathy. I'm sharing it because it's a real part of my story. I don't know what would have helped me to be more emotionally prepared beforehand. In the months before Z came home I had some major 'preparation fatigue' so I'm not sure any additional training would have registered with me. But sometimes just knowing that someone else has felt what you are feeling goes a long way. We all like to know we're not alone.

There are many things that have helped me to regain emotional health in the past several months, but they can all be distilled down to one thing: grace. Grace from others, in particular my amazing husband who told me beautiful lies every day (You're doing great, honey! It's OK to feel how you feel. OK, so they might have been truths, but they felt like lies at the time). Grace from myself, releasing myself from the chains of perfectionism and the self-condemnation that always follows. And behind, between, above it all, the grace of God -- the eternal 'yes' to my personhood, the gift of being forever good enough even if I do it all wrong, the orientation of God toward me, for me, with me, in me. Grace, grace to you friends.

worth celebrating

This week Z had an appointment with his doctor, a pediatrician who specializes in international adoption medicine. We haven't seen her for 6 months so it was time to check in, get some shots, and run some routine follow-up lab tests. If you asked Z how it went, you'd probably get mixed reviews: Well, they did have chalk and a chalkboard in the room and I got cookies afterward, but I also got something sprayed up my nose and lots of needles stuck in me. Fair point. Z may not have loved it, but from a mama perspective it turned out to be a huge blessing.

In the somewhat-controlled chaos that is life with 3 little boys, most days it is hard to see beyond the dirty socks and sibling squabbles to notice the miracles God is doing in our family. Like standing too close to a Monet, it's basically just a big mess until you step back and look at the whole thing. That's what this doctor visit gave me -- a chance to back up and look again. I looked down at the Patient Information form we fill out at each visit and realized I could circle "no" under every single thing in the "Do You Have Concerns About Your Child's..." column. I could place a check mark under all the developmental milestones for his age. I could fill out the whole form without hesitating or thinking, "Well, maybe this is an issue but I don't know him well enough yet to be sure." I gotta say, that felt awesome.

Maybe it's because Z is two and a half, maybe it's because I tend toward perfectionism, maybe it's because three children are constantly asking me for three different things and thus monopolizing the bulk of my mental space, but I don't often sit back and simply celebrate how amazingly well Z is doing. It is worth celebrating! I think sometimes my hyper-analytical self thinks that if I dwell on how great he is doing it will undermine the real difficulties he has faced and may continue to face as he integrates his past and present stories and situations. Plus I'm kind of allergic to sugarcoating stuff, which is fine I suppose, but that doesn't mean I can't celebrate the very real victories God has given us. And so...

We celebrate health: Z is growing well and has not struggled with any persistent health problems since coming home.

We celebrate healing: Z's club foot is, in my not-so-professional opinion, completely healed. He is a speedy little runner and kicks a mean soccer ball. Nothing's gonna hold him back!

We celebrate development: Z's language, gross motor, fine motor, cognitive, and social skills are all within the normal range for his age.

We celebrate progress: Z still likes to throw a good fit and pick fights over control issues, but he is able to recover from these things much more quickly than he did at first. I know what works to calm him down, what tone of voice will comfort him, and what phrases will resonate with him in a given situation. And he knows family skills like saying sorry, asking nicely, and using words before hands (well, we're working on it anyway).

We celebrate love: It would be impossible to count the number of kisses Z gives me in the course of one day. He is so sweet and affectionate it can actually be overwhelming at times! He loves us. We love him. It took time and patience and tears, but God gave us love for one another and it grows every day.

Yes, there are messes and mess-ups and mishaps, but I hope those things never keep me from seeing the bigger things that God is doing. He is working, both in the daily challenges and the greater context, and that is always worth celebrating.


Celebrating cousins / best-buddies.

the day we met

One year ago we were sitting at a picnic table in Adama, Ethiopia making silly faces and sharing lollipops with a scared little boy who was about to become our son. I can see so much when I look back on those two or three hours we had together with eyes that are one year older: so much change, so many blessings, so much left to learn together.

I see his wide-eyed look with the right side of his bottom lip tucked under -- a look he wore in almost every picture we had of him before he came home, a look I haven't seen him make in months.

I thank God today for his healing.

I see the smiling, loving, patient nannies who laughed at his toddler rages, scooped him up, offered him a bottle, and kissed his cheeks.

I thank God today for the love and compassion shown to him before we ever met.

I see us, aware of his fear and guardedness, thrilled with every scream-free moment, every half-smile, every tiny sign of interest and interaction he gave us.

I thank God today for his easy laugh, his willing hugs, his playful spirit.

The last twelve months have been difficult for each of us in different ways, but blessings have woven their way through even the hardest days and longest nights; God has been at work. Love, trust, security, hope, and joy are slowly growing to replace fear, pain, anxiety, and reluctance. Yes, we still have hard days (in fact yesterday was fairly brutal). But looking back I see that the things which helped us make that first meeting with Z go well might be the very same things to help get me through the daily struggles with him today: be positive, gentle, and observant, keep the expectations low, rejoice in the small victories... and have plenty of lollipops on hand.

One year ago:


I swear we are not oblivious to his crying, we were just laughing because even his fits were cute to us... then. :)


his signature look, check out the lower lip bite



Last week:

(on vacation in Maui with my family)







I know I just used this picture in my last post, but I just had to add it in again. He was happy as a little clam on the beach all week!

things i am loving right now

Sequence For Kids -- My awesome in-laws bought this for D's birthday and I am pretty sure we have averaged about 10 games per day since then. It is simple enough for D to play without help, but requires enough strategy that N also enjoys it. (OK, OK, I like it too and may or may not get super competitive while playing against my 4 year old and 6 year old.)

Sistema Lunch Cube -- I picked up this lunch box organizer over the summer in anticipation of N's first year of eating lunch at school, and it rocks. It has space for a sandwich and two snack-size compartments big enough to fit fruit, string cheese, crackers, etc. Packing a whole lunch without a single plastic baggie makes me happy!

Heated Mattress Pad -- There is nothing better on a chilly fall night than crawling into toasty warm flannel sheets! This was a Christmas present from Jon last year and it is probably my favorite gift ever.

This Picture --


This Video -- Z counts to ten! (With a little help encouragement)



Thrifting -- A few other blog friends have inspired me to hit up the thrift store scene and I'm hooked. Today I got N a pair of Keen sandals for $6 and a super cute dress for me for $5, plus a book D loves for $0.65. Can't beat that. Besides the cheapness (which I'm all about), I love not worrying about whether I might be supporting child labor / sweatshops with my purchase.


New-to-me dress

No Diapers -- Completely of his own volition, Z is officially 'tells-me-when-he-needs-to-go-and-doesn't-need-reminders' potty trained! Not having to change dirty diapers more than makes up for the slight inconvenience of having to dash to the potty with Z when we're out and about. (P.S. If I believed in karma this would totally fit, because let me tell you I have put enough blood, sweat, and tears into potty training one of my other kiddos to last a lifetime!)


Undies!

Leslie Patricelli Books -- I started checking out Patricelli's board books at the library a few months ago and they have quickly become some of my very favorite toddler books. They have simple pictures and few words per page but they almost always make me laugh out loud on first reading. The one we picked up today, called "Happy Baby Sad Baby", had a subtle reference to the snowsuit scene in the classic film "A Christmas Story" that cracked me up. If your life includes humans from the under 5 crowd, these books are a guaranteed hit.

Dukem Market -- I was regularly driving about 30 minutes each way to buy injera and Ethiopian spices until a few weeks ago when a preschool dad (who happens to be Ethiopian) chuckled at me and asked why I don't go to Dukem Market. Huh? Turns out there's an Ethiopian market just a few miles from my house right by just about every other store I ever go to! Perfect for a day like today, when I was out running errands and wondering what to make for dinner -- stopped in for injera, already had ingredients for misr wat at home, super easy and yummy dinner.

Fast Drugs -- Z started tugging on his ear Monday night and woke up Tuesday with a fever. By mid-morning we were seeing the doctor and he got his first dose of antibiotics to treat a mild ear infection a few hours later, all covered by our insurance. If this does not seem amazing to you, count yourself very blessed to be in the vast, vast minority world-wide.

Hawaii -- My parents are treating their kids, kids' spouses, and grandboys to a week in Maui starting in less than 24 hours! Have I mentioned how much I love them? I mean, like, really, really love them? Can't wait.

I'm loving way more things, but I need to go pack now -- Aloha!

making it official

This will be a big weekend for our little boy: on Friday we will appear before a judge to complete the readoption process, and on Sunday at church Z will be baptized! I didn't intentionally schedule these two events to coincide with each other, but I am so glad it worked out this way because seeing them side by side on the calendar allowed me recognize the connection between them and the significance they share.

The readoption represents an official recognition of something that has been a reality for us since November 15, 2010: Z is our son. Though we have called him Z since shortly after he came home, it will now be part of his legal name.* It is gratifying to know that what has been true in our hearts for almost a year will now be legitimized by the government of our country.

If the readoption represents a legal recognition of Z's place in our family, his baptism will be, in part, a spiritual parallel of this action. As Presbyterians we do not view baptism as a saving act, but rather an outward expression of an inward reality and a visible sign of God's covenant with his people. In his baptism we are affirming God's truth about Z and recognizing his place, not only in our family, but in the family of God.

And so in the span of one weekend two significant entities will make pronouncements over our child. Though they are separate and distinct from each other, their messages ring with the same truth: You have a name, you have a family, you have a home, you belong. Thanks be to God.



*We are keeping his given Ethiopian name as his first name and the name we chose (which is what he is called most of the time) will be his middle name. All children adopted from Ethiopia are automatically given a legal name that consists of their given Ethiopian first name followed by their adoptive father's first name and their adoptive family surname. This is the name on all their legal documentation and remains their legal name unless you go through a readoption or legal name change process.

he rocks

So, I may have promised my husband that I wouldn't do this... but I just can't help myself! The world needs to know (and by world, I mean the millions dozens of you kind readers out there).

This blog is supposed to be about our family's journey through adoption from Ethiopia, but since I tend to be a bit narcissistic self-absorbed focused on my own perspective, I'm afraid it might not always tell the full story. And the full story? Is that my husband flat-out rocks.

If I am writing on here about some revelation I've had, chances are that J helped me to see it. If I share about a struggle I'm having, you can bet he is down in the trenches with me. If I gush about a recent successful parenting strategy, it was probably his idea. And for goodness sakes, if I even have the time to be writing on here it is most likely because he is upstairs giving 3 kids a bath or washing a sink-full of dishes!

I could go on and on, but instead I'll let his words speak for themselves. These are just a few of the things he's been known to say regularly:

What can I do to help?

Wow, honey the house looks great!

Looks like he needs a diaper change -- I got it.

Why don't I take the kids outside for awhile so you can rest?

You're pretty.

Let's go on a date.

How can I help you take a break?

Let me get you a Kleenex... It's OK, hon... That's not a dumb reason to cry... It's OK to feel that way.

You're a great mom.

I would not be who I am without him, and he is the best husband and dad the boys and I could ever ask for!

today

Today I sat next to my toddler as he cried and screamed and railed against all the injustices of his little life. I reached out for him, but he wasn't ready. I waited.

Today I sat with my toddler and rocked and cuddled and sang and wiped away the tears. When his dried, mine started as I thanked God for the privilege of holding this precious child, of watching him heal, of shepherding his heart.

Today I read this and wept. I cried and screamed and railed against all the injustices of this world. My preschooler crawled on my lap and wrapped his hands around my neck and we prayed together for Dani and his mama.

Today I picked a bowlful of raspberries and wondered why I am here, where fruit is ripening and falling into my arms, while others weep under trees with barren branches.

Today is a gift from the good Giver - confusing and precious, unjust and beautiful, full of grief and bursting with joy.

cast off

Z finally got his cast off yesterday! After 8 weeks of sponge baths and plastic bag solutions during muddy park and beach outings, he is finally free. We celebrated by introducing him to what will be his second home this summer: the pool!







Z is a water fanatic and loved every second!

I haven't written much about Z's club foot treatment, mostly because it hasn't really been a big deal. But since many people don't really know what club foot is (I didn't either before we got our referral), I'll give a brief explanation of the condition and its treatment. This is based on my observations and experience, not on medical science -- I wouldn't go writing your physiology term paper from it or anything, but hopefully it will be helpful to those who are unfamiliar.

Club foot is a fairly common birth defect that can affect one or both feet. It doesn't run in families and it is more common in developing countries, but does occur in babies born all over the world. The foot is not deformed or missing any critical parts (as I once assumed), but is simply oriented incorrectly due to shortened tendons and ligaments. A club foot typically points inward and downward and has an extremely high arch. If untreated, this condition makes walking very difficult, and basically impossible when it affects both feet.

In most cases (including Z's), club foot is 100% correctable. In fact, there are many professional and Olympic athletes who were born with club foot! The most common treatment method is called the Ponsetti Method, which involves using serial casting to gradually stretch and reposition the foot. For Z, they put a cast on his foot and lower leg, took it off each week to see the progress, then applied a new cast in a slightly adjusted position. It took 8 weeks and 6 casts to stretch his foot to a normal position. Now he will wear an orthotic brace under his shoe for a few more months to keep the foot in place, as well as "Ponsetti Shoes" at night for a year or two. The Ponsetti shoes are shoes that are connected by a metal brace, which keep his feet oriented correctly while he sleeps (think: skinny snowboard that you wear to bed). He may need a small surgery on one of his tendons at some point, but I'm hoping we can avoid that.

Though I'm glad Z is done with casts and I won't miss the drive up to Children's, dealing with this has honestly been easier than I thought it would be. 'Minor correctable special needs' might sound a bit daunting on an adoption form, but in real life (at least for us) I am happy to report that it has been no big deal.

So, you might be wondering how Z is doing with his new orthotic brace and sleeping snowboard... Unnervingly well. The orthotic is really minor and he's totally fine with it, but I was worried about how he'd do with the shoes at night. If at age two N or D had suddenly had to sleep with their feet in weird connected shoes, I can tell you right now they would have freaked out. Not Z. All the way through the doctor visit when we tried them on, as well as in the evening while I did his whole bedtime routine and up until he fell asleep, Z basically ignored the fact that he was strapped into a strange contraption. Didn't so much as touch it or look at it, just completely took it in stride. Which is nice... and tragic. There was a line in the book Parenting Your Internationally Adopted Child that absolutely jumped off the page at me, spoken by a 9 year old girl who was adopted at age 3 about her adoption day: "That's when I learned that anything can happen." What does it say about my son's life that he doesn't even seem to care or notice something like this? Weird new things are the status quo for him. Sigh. Of course resilience is a great thing, I just wish he hadn't had to go through so much to get it.


sleeping with his snowboard

smiles

May 24 is a special day in our house. It is the day that best friends said yes to God and each other and became husband and wife. And that same day, 8 years later, we said yes to God and to a beautiful 13 month old boy and signed adoption referral paperwork.



How sweet is this little smile? It became even sweeter to me over the months while we waited, because it turned out to be The Only Smiling Picture we received of him until we met him face-to-face! Even then, it took a pretty major effort to elicit a smile from our little man... but, with lots of help from his nannies, we did it!



To this day it is not easy to get him to smile for pictures, but (as any waiting parent will confirm) a great photo is no substitute for seeing the real thing every day! Thanking God today for that privilege and blessing... and continuing to pray for those who wait.

grace

Homemade Whoopie Pies: Batch 1 (left) and Batch 2 (right)

I am a perfectionist. I want to do everything the right way the first time.

I also love taking risks and trying things I've never done.

Don't you love the way that God specifically wires us such that we would be a big huge mess without him? It drives me crazy cracks me up that he made me a risk-taking perfectionist. Not a bad way to teach a girl to rely on grace alone I suppose.

The risk-taker in me has reveled in our adoption process. The perfectionist has pouted. I love this new adventure, but I also really want a computer program where I input some variables (child's age, # of days home, situation in question), and it spits out the right answer. But there is no right way to do this, and even if there was I am pretty sure I couldn't do it on my first try. All I can do is commit each day to listening, learning, and living under the grace of God.

In practical terms, this looks like letting someone else (my dad, who Z is crazy about) put Z to bed for the first time so that J and I can go on a long overdue date... even though I wasn't absolutely positive it was exactly the right time. I didn't want to do it wrong! But I needed to do it anyway. And guess what? Z did great. So great, in fact, that when J and I came home to a quiet house at 8 PM, my dad sent us back out to get dessert.

It looks like admitting to myself that I am going to mess up daily, so that I don't have to waste time wallowing in despair when (not if) it happens. Instead of saying mentally berating myself, I can just shrug it off, learn from it, and hope to do better next time. It also helps to know that God's grace isn't just for me - its also for my kids. I will fail, but he won't. Though it is my God-given role to love and nurture them, they are his children before they are mine and he loves them even more than I do. And for that, this crazy perfectionist risk-taking mama is very grateful.

softer

Z and Miss Joy

"Ohhh he looks so good. His face has changed somehow, it looks better -- like he has more of a 'little boy' look now, more peaceful. In the orphanage he always seemed a little-"

[me, interrupting.] "Anxious?"

"Yeah, like he wasn't quite at ease. But now his face just looks-"

[me, interrupting again - bad habit.] "Softer?"

"Yes, that's it exactly. Like he's softened."

---

This was a conversation I had last week with one of my Very Favorite People on Earth, the director of our agency. Miss Joy, as my kiddos call her, spent time with Z in Ethiopia at least half a dozen times before we brought him home. She is the only person who knew him then and still sees him now, which gives her a unique perspective on how he has grown and changed. Needless to say, receiving those words from her was a precious gift to me!

I went back and looked at pictures today and immediately saw what Joy was seeing. The most interesting photos for me were the ones from our first days together in Ethiopia. At the time I thought he was doing great (and honestly he was, especially compared to my expectations), but now that I know him a little better I can spot the fear and anxiety in his face. He still gets that look from time to time, but (thank God) it is not his default expression anymore. I've known from his behavior and attitude that he was feeling more comfortable and safe, but to actually see it in his face? What a beautiful blessing.


day one


day forty-seven