Altered Expectations

I realize with this blog, that there's a good chance it's only actually being read by about ten people, most of them in my family, but there are those views way out of our country, so, who knows. Point being, when I say one of the reasons we decided to tell our story was to hopefully encourage, or at least shed light on, foster to adopt, I wonder if I even have an audience for that. I also write as a way to document for the kids, so even if I don't have that audience, the story serves a purpose. And finally, my new favorite word, it is cathartic (providing relief through the open expression of strong emotions) for me to write. Healing to get the thoughts and words out of my head where they spin and repeat themselves, and onto the page, where they become concrete. Sometimes it brings laughter and joy to write, other times tears or anger. Today, I am conflicted, defeated and moving forward. These moments are among those that are much harder to write about. Where I wonder if I should share? What if I could see my audience, would I still write this? But alas, it is cathartic, and maybe someone else will 'feel me'. Maybe someone will be encouraged. Maybe I will be encouraged. There is healing and hope in sharing. We are called to be burden bearers with each other (Galatians 6:2). And so, I will share. Then I will fret for a week that I shouldn't have. Such is my life and my mind. Bless my heart.

When we were in training to become foster parents, one of the repetitive themes was that sometimes 'love isn't enough'. These kids, many of them, have been through horrendous acts that most of us can't fathom. I know I can't. I didn't lead a charmed life, but I was loved and safe and provided for. The idea of abuse, abandonment, neglect...these things are foreign to me.

When we found out that our first placement was an almost one year old boy who had been neglected we were glad to know that 'that was all'. Just neglect. As I've mentioned throughout the story, he just fell right into place in our family, and five months later, when his newborn baby brother came, it was like we had a hole he filled perfectly. We were a family, even though many months would pass before that was official. All along the way we would say how thankful we were that he was too young to remember or be affected by his beginning. We loved him and his brother and that would be enough.

We were wrong.

Timothy was in daycare his first two years with us while we were both school teachers. When I became pregnant and it started to look like adoption was going to happen, I left teaching to stay home with the kids. His third and fourth year with us he was in preschool for speech. When he turned five and started kindergarten, we started to notice a few behaviors...talking a lot, having a hard time sharing, chewing on everything, busy to the nth degree.... for the most part, normal boy stuff that we hoped the smaller environment of a private school would help him work through. His teacher was amazing and from what we saw in the evenings, the behaviors were lessening. The summer following this year things started to get difficult. By the end of summer break, I was praying the return to structure would return our sanity.

That was the fall of 2013. I'm still searching for my sanity.

And it's not that he's a terrible kid. He's not. He's happy, entertaining, compassionate, smart, helpful. But the behaviors we struggled with (still struggle with) are like an off rhythm beat at a deafening volume that doesn't stop, has no thought of anyone else, is defiant, impulsive...pretty much just all around frustrating, especially when I know his potential.

After a certain event in the spring of 2015 sent us to counseling with all our boys, we decide to stay on with Timothy and address some of these behaviors.

The result? Trauma. Anxiety. ADHD. And one grieving momma. The substances ingested in utero, the violence, the neglect....while only a fraction of his life, the trickle down from these events are life altering for him. For our family.

I know there are no guarantees with our natural children. Some may struggle with these same issues, but to know these things are likely caused by the damaging actions of another to your child...that hurts. It just does. And when we've gone almost six years with this idea that the life we've provided...structured, loving, nutritious, nurturing, etc...would keep him from the side effects, or that we could shelter him from what happened before he was removed from that environment, the realization that we haven't and won't be able to, is heart wrenching. He'll be ok, of course, but it was an added element we were hoping to avoid.

So why share this? Because, as in all things that befall our families in this life, we have to lay down our expectations, our pretty picture of what we thought this would be, and our comparisons, and deal with the life at hand. The one that will likely need counseling long term, medications to help him cope and find an even playing field, and friends and family who will stand by him in support and encouragement and prayer. While we have several friends who have adopted (most international), and many friends with young kids, this is not a topic that has come up much. We like to think everyone around us is surviving gracefully in the land where dreams are made, but the reality is, most are not. I'm likely not the only one to have struggled with these things with either natural, or adopted children. And I'm likely not the only mom to sit in the quiet at nap time and wonder how in the world will she survive this, and every day, only to lay her head down at night questioning how she will do it again tomorrow.

So, we shift our expectations, we grieve and we move forward, knowing His grace is sufficient for today. And tomorrow, the sun will come up.

It's Just THAT Kind of Day

Do you ever label your days? I do, maybe not directly, and often with the same phrase, "it's just been that kind of day". Maybe it's a remnant of the athlete in me, always wearing the same socks, or same colored undies for softball games, or following the same Arby's and an orange routine before a home basketball game. Still, Scott can know what mind set I started the day with by one, or both of the aforementioned choices. He can also tell how my day actually went by other labels I end up with throughout our daily conversations, often culminating in how I spend the kids nap time.

Kids are the greatest thing in the world, to this I'm sure we can all agree. They are joy bringing, laugh producing, pride causing, evidence of good parenting, little dreams we all dream. Only to be replaced a minute later by jaw clenching, heart racing, eyes bulging, ugly side of ourselves revealing, tyrants who didn't get to watch tv (I'm SO mean!), but were instead ushered to their rooms to play with the toys they so gleefully unwrapped just 11 days ago (the injustice!). 

This swing in emotions, x 4, caused by anything and everything with no warning whatsoever, can really do a number on a momma trying to homeschool a first grader, potty train an almost three year old, and taxi the four and five year old back and fourth to preschool and kindergarten, and that's just before noon each day. My mind and body scream for the slow and easy lazy river, but they daily take me on the longest, most dangerous, most fun, most gut wrenching roller coaster they can muster. I often hear, by either awe struck, or appalled parents, "Your kids still nap?!". Yes, they do. After the daily circus of my life, I need the break. A little wind down. A regrouping session. It changes often, as their sleep needs shift with age or growth spurts, but it's quiet time in their rooms that allows us all to decompress. 

It's during this time that most reveals what kind of day I'm having...

Many days I just sit on the couch for about 15-20 minutes in silence before it occurs to me how bad I needed to hear nothing = everything has happened above the coveted 'inside voice' decibel.

Often I take to a few minutes of Bible reading and/or prayer = Please help me do this God. I'm obviously lacking and in need of your grace, mercy and wisdom.

There have been those few (very few) 'Yes, I'm having wine at nap time. No you don't need to come home early....well, maybe it wouldn't hurt...' = Thank goodness I love them so much and have sanity on my side!

There's the 'I fell asleep in the floor outside their door' days = obviously these days were fun. It's not easy to fall asleep mid-day, on the floor. But I've done it...wiped-out.

Oh, a favorite, 'I just ate all the oreos (m&m's, ice cream...whatever is within reach!)' = pity party. I want to have a lunch date with a girl friend. I want to wear makeup and to fix my hair every day. Or at least remember to brush it before I run out the door to the doctor, again. 

The unimpressive death stare = "Do we have to wake them up from nap? Can't they just sleep until tomorrow?"

There are my writing days = I have enough life in me to get the words out, which is good! 

And my exercise days = feeling frisky! Usually rocked the super mom cape these days! Go me.

Then there are days like today....

Oh yes, I did. All for me. None for the kids. A warm marshmallow sandwiched between two delicious homemade chocolate chip cookies. Ahhh yeah. Shameless, and ok with it. Why? Because I've spent a couple days now, sure I was wrecking the lives of four little people, increasing the frown wrinkles on my face as I've beat myself up for it. But somehow today, it occurred to me, we are doing just fine. Not perfect, but making our way the only way we know how. That's just a little bit more than the law will allow. Oh wait, thats from Dukes..... But, we are in fact, making our way. Ups and downs, struggles and successes. And I'm happy. Happy with them, with this life we have together. I guess this warm, gooey goodness was just a feel good treat to go with my recovered smile.

Usually, by the time they wake I'm refreshed, revived and renewed, sure I can continue through my day, positive God did in fact bless me with this crew.

To My Baby Girl

Right now you are an adorable toddler and I tell you all the time how much I love you, but from what I read and hear, we'll go through some rocky times, you and me. The pre-teen, teen and young adult, mother - daughter years where you may find me either embarrassing, stupid, irrational, ridiculous, unfit, and annoying, some combination of two or three, or all of the above. There might be a few additions to the list along the way, but I'm pretty sure these are some of the emotions you'll go through, because at some point or another, they are the same I felt for my mom during those years. As for how I may feel about you in the midst of those delightful years? It's hard to imagine anything but sweet, endearing snuggles and joy right now, so really, I have no idea how your pubescent emotional irrationality during your young teen years, or your over confident infinite knowledge of all things, coupled with my total and complete lack of knowledge in all areas in your later teens, may affect  the displays of my affection. Without a doubt I will love you with the same ferocity that I love you now, but just in case you don't want to hear it, or I'm too upset to say it, and, so you'll always have it to look back on...

My baby girl, 

You are stunning. Not just beautiful, not just because you have the most amazing hair with the most amazing natural part, and not just because your big blue eyes literally sparkle and dance. You are captivatingly happy. Everyone sees it. People stop me all the time in stores to tell me so. Your smile is radiant and true. When you laugh, it's impossible not to laugh with you. Your eyes and hair are indeed beautiful, but they are not what defines beauty. Let your beauty be defined by the love you have for the Lord, and the happiness that overflows from that. I pray you are always so quick to smile, so full of joy, so easy to laugh. Happiness pours out from the heart. Guard it my sweet girl. Secure it with deep rooted promises from God.

You are tiny, my little princess, barely on the growth charts, but you are mighty. You have never once been slowed by your size. Not even a little. You climb, move furniture, or find another way, but you keep trying, seldom giving in to frustration and rarely quitting. This, girl, this tenacity needs to stay with you always. You can do anything and everything you set your mind to. I just pray you always remember the One who fearfully and wonderfully made you. The One who created you just as you are for this time and for His purpose. With Him, all things are possible.

You are kind and affectionate. You offer help, hugs and encouragement to your daddy and I, to Gram, and to your brothers. Even if it's just a pat on the back, climbing in our lap, or bringing a favorite woo-woo to one of us when you sense something is wrong. You are genuine in your concern, even as a two year old. When your daddy and I hug, you find your way between us, even though you only reach our knees, knowing that this sharing of love is special. You tell each of us, one at a time, "Momma, love em, Daddy, love em, Ti-Ta love em, May May, love em, Eli, love em." Your speech is a little slow in its development so you just recently got the 'l' in love and the 'you' comes out as a single 'm' sound, but when you call each of our names, you yell it so we are sure to hear and you  make sure we respond so you know we are listening. I love to watch you in these moments. I love that you take such joy in each response and that it's important enough to you to tell each one of us individually. You laugh with delight when we respond in kind, and you remind me that sometimes, telling someone you love them is worth yelling it over all the other noise of life.

You are uniquely you. You love pink boots, pretty bows, frilly skirts and anything sparkly. Yet, you love the outdoors, playing ball,  pushing tractors and digging in dirt. You are perfectly girly and completely tomboy all in the same moment and I love this about you! I hope you keep your sense of fashion, but never let it overshadow you. You can like pretty things, but don't let them sideline you from the game.  Be the girl that's not afraid to sweat and work hard, even if it is in your pink, sparkly shoes.

Sweet Sophia Bean, there was a time, when you first came to our family, that we struggled to make sense of God's plan, but now, even without fully knowing all He has in store, our family just wasn't complete. You were missing. Will we go through trying years? Will you find me irritating beyond belief? Who knows. What I do know is, you bring such sweet joy to our home, to your brothers, our extended family, to your Daddy and I...hear me say it now and hold on to it during those times when you earn a spank and think us unfair, or we send you to your room, or, heaven forbid, keep you from dating a dud, we love you. Now and always. God knew exactly what He was doing. Through growth spurts and bad attitudes, math homework and sports, fashion disagreements and boys, remember that He knew. I know I will.

Love, hugs and kisses,
Mommy

Grief in the Midst

A friend recently posted on Facebook about the passing of a loved one, that 'grief is a strange beast'. That line has resonated with me since I read it, and I can't seem to get it out of my head. My Gram, I've mentioned her several times in my writing, has been sick again. Under the circumstances, she's doing well, but I find myself grieving even while she is still with us, in the midst of moments I cherish.

Now, at 66 pounds, she is only 10 pounds heavier than Timothy, her oldest great grandson who at 7, is 83 years younger than she is. She is tiny, but still mighty. Her mind is strong, she is still doing for herself in most situations, but she is slowing, and my goodness, it makes me sad. Knowing full well it's the natural order of things, and knowing, when we asked her to move here with us six years ago, that this time would come, it is still hard.

Gram has always been the first on my list to call when I needed just about anything. After ball games in college that she couldn't make it to, she'd call to see how I played and how many hits I got, then she would congratulate or encourage, which ever I needed. I remember calling her from Korea for cooking advice. Sometimes, if food wasn't being scorched at that very moment, she'd ask if I could call back because she was busy watching the Braves play ball! She's mended hearts and buttons and woo-woo's galore, hemmed dresses, baked goodies, kissed boo's, read stories, cuddled babies...  If one of us cries, the other does as well. It's as if our tears are connected to each other. Right before I started having tests run for my heart, she would call and, after a few minutes, she'd say, "Something's wrong, I can hear it." It's always been that way for both of us. I know in just a few words if she's feeling bad. I love that we know each other that well. I love that my Gram has always been my 'go to' as long as I remember needing someone. And I love that now I'm hers.

I love that she is just downstairs so I can tell her goodnight, every night, like I did when I was little. I love that she knows when it's been 'one of those days' and she pats my hand and tells me I'm doing just fine and tomorrow is a new day. When she says she's proud of me and the mom I am, it makes me cry. Every time.

I have no idea how long she will be with us. That's the difficult side of this, but then again, who really wants to know the hour? I just hope we are able to keep laughing together in the midst of it all. My Gram has a great laugh. In fact, just this morning, since she's been sick lately, I've been asking about her poop, just like I check on my kids when they are sick. (Those of you who know me best are NOT surprised by this!!) But this morning, as I went down to check on her, she gave us a good laugh when, knowing what I was going to ask, she asked me first, "How's your poop today?" We both fell out! And I know this is good, because that's my Gram. Quick witted, funny, sassy to the core.

This grief, I know it's not the same as the grief I will feel when her time comes. But, it's a heavy feeling to know that it will come. I will enjoy every moment I have with her, as I always have. Her house will be flooded with the kids, as it always is. We will smile, and laugh, and share, and our hearts will be full.

Grief, it is a strange beast. I would never wish the hurt away....there is way to much love and happiness attached to it.

Celebrating Adoption

After we adopted the boys in December of 2011, we had a 'celebration' at our church, inviting church family, along with our families and many friends who had walked with us from the beginning. We gave our testimony and shared what God had done in, and with, our lives, and how we came to be the Akin5.

This past weekend we celebrated the adoption of our daughter and becoming the Akin6, this time at our home, but again, inviting family and friends who have loved, prayed for, and shared in this journey in small and big ways.

Some of the family

Gram and Aunt Emma

It was a nice gathering and mix of new and old friends, and family from near and far, but all present shared a common bond. A joy and excitement, an understanding, to some degree, of the life changing event that had taken place in this little girls life, and in ours. We are humbled and honored that each one here that day, and many who were unable to make it, took the time out to celebrate and acknowledge the moment with us.

Sophia and Mommy

The Sophalitas

As I looked around at friends gathered that day, I saw a beautiful thing. Aside from our three adopted through the foster care system, I saw three beautiful little girls adopted from China into two different and amazing families. I saw my dear friends with their daughter (and grown son), adopted traditionally eleven and twenty years ago. I saw another friend who's son was adopted approximately eleven years ago from Guatemala. I saw our brother in law who adopted his oldest son, now serving in the Air Force as his parents did, when he married Scott's sister some fourteen years ago. I saw Scott's dad who adopted him when he was four, and thought of my dad, unable to attend from Oklahoma, who adopted me when I was eight. Maybe there were more, but those are the ones I know of for sure. When you consider, not just the eleven present that were adopted, but their families, most of them represented here that day, about half of those present were directly involved in some form or fashion, in an adoption! That's a beautiful thing.

Sister sweetness.

Beautiful girl.

Whether called to oversees adoption, traditional, through marriage, or foster care. Whether it's out of a desire to please God, a desire to adopt, or driven by infertility. There are kids around the globe in need of a family to say yes to them. "Yes, I will love you." "Yes, I will call you my own."

Bounce house fun.

Two of my boys walking with a sweet friend. 

It was not out of our greatness. It is not cause to boast. It does not set our family above. But, adoption has been a gift. God changed me forever when He brought us a family and made me mommy through adoption, and in the process, gave us a biological son. We called him 'magic and miracles' because after eight years, he was a miracle and the sight of him...pure magic. But the truth is, they all are. The perfect time and the perfect way that God brought each of them to us, is nothing short of a miracle, and the sight of each one....pure magic.