Disappointment and relief

I'm usually pretty open about our life on Facebook, but for some reason, I have been surprisingly quiet about a situation we were faced with recently. I've spent some time thinking about why I might be so reserved this time around. I don't know that I have an answer, but I believe it has something to do with protecting our birth mom from judgment.

You see, Brooke is pregnant. Yes, you read that right. Not only is she pregnant, but she is 8 months along and expecting a girl. When we received her letter in the mail, I was shell shocked. What do you do with that kind of information? The letter merely stated that she was expecting a girl in a little over a month. It didn't share her intent or make any requests of us. And yet, I spent the next three days praying, stressing, and contemplating what this could mean for my family.

Our lives are complete chaos about 90% of the time, how could we, in good conscience, add to that with another child? At the same time, how do we turn down the adoption of our boys' little sister? We've always talked about wanting a girl, but to have her come when we already have three boys??

I started getting angry. How could she do this to us? How could she put us in that position? What will people think if we adopt, or if we don't adopt?

If you haven't gathered already from previous posts, I am a worrier and a little bit of a planner (understatement of the year). A dear friend wrote me an amazing note that reminded me that I currently had nothing to worry about. Brooke had not shared her plans with us, so she could very likely be planning to parent (that concern is a whole other blog post). We had been very clear with her after Jake was born that we would not be in a place to adopt another child. But...what if she asked us? But, she hadn't. Stop worrying and ask God to take the burden from your shoulders.

Thankfully, God answered my prayers four days after we received that letter. I had written her back immediately, and included my phone number. I knew there was a solid chance that she had lost it, so I wanted to be sure she could contact me sooner than relying on snail mail. On that fourth day, my phone rang and the caller ID showed a number from her city. Holy cow! This is it! What if she asks us? What is she going to say? Stop asking questions and just answer the phone!

"Hi Katie! I just wanted to let you know that I've picked a really great family in New Hampshire to raise this little girl. Can I give them your number and address so they can keep in touch with your boys?"

Wow, not exactly what I was expecting.

Now, I'll admit, there is a certain amount of disappointment that she didn't ask us. Almost hurt. It's funny though, because we had already told her we couldn't adopt any more children. Why feel sadness over something that was probably not going to happen? We had basically decided that we would not be able to adopt this baby (no judgment, please, we had to consider our current family and the impact another adoption would have on everyone). After taking a few days to really think about it, I realized that there were a few things that I was grieving:

1. The loss of a daughter, or at least the possibility of parenting a daughter. I've said many times that I would struggle raising a girl, but it's still hard to accept when you are saying good-bye to that thought.

2. The potential loss of a sister for my boys. I can hope and pray that her adoptive family is open to a relationship with us, but it's totally up to them. They certainly don't have to have any communication. I think I've shared that they have three half-siblings that were born before CJ. I am definitely sad that they probably will never know those kids simply because we probably won't be able to find them (without the help of a private investigator). This hits a little closer because she is a full bio siblings of Jake & Alex. Plus, she is arriving after we have a relationship with Brooke, so it already feels like she is family. I really do hope that this family will keep in touch so that CJ, Alex and Jake can communicate with their little sister.

3. The fear of the unknown with this new adoptive family. I know the amount of love and support that we could provide, and that our family and friends provide. I have no idea who these people are. As hard as it is to say, this is not my worry. Brooke, along with an attorney, selected them for whatever reason, so she much believe that they are going to care for this little girl. I have to trust that she will be well cared for.

While I've gone through some sadness about this whole thing, in general, I am more relieved than anything else. I am so thankful that we did not have to make the decision. I cannot imagine how hard it would have been say no if Brooke had asked us to take the baby. At the same time, I cannot imagine adding a child to our family at this time.

God knew what our family could take on right now, and He made the decision for us.

This is just another facet of adoption that I would never have anticipated. When we brought CJ home, I would never have guessed that three more babies would have come after him. This has reminded me to withhold judgment when I hear of things that adoptive parents are dealing with. Every situation appears to have an easy or logical answer, but that is not always the case.

He is mine.

In adoption, there are often times when you experience thoughts and feelings that you would have never expected. Not that you expect things to go differently, just that you don't even consider that something will effect you. With CJ, I vividly remember how bittersweet our time was in the hospital following his birth. I knew we would be ecstatic as we welcomed our first child, but I hadn't considered how sad it would be as I watched Brooke say good-bye to her little boy.

Being our second and third adoptions, I kind of thought that I would be mentally and emotionally prepared. Nothing was going to surprise me this time around. Guess what...each adoption experience is different. Shocking, right?!

From the day we brought the boys home to the days we finalized their adoptions, I was too busy to really process what was happening. Now that we are reaching a "normal" pace, I am able to look at what happened over the past year.

I was talking with a friend last week, and I made a comment that basically said that I couldn't make a decision about Alex without checking first. She looked at me a little funny and I realized what I had just come out of my mouth (and what has clearly been resting in the back of my mind). I had forgotten that Alex is mine.

He was our foster son for 10 months before we were finally able to drop the "foster" part of that title (which I realize is short compared to what some families have to endure). During that time, I had to check in with our case worker before making any big decisions about his care. You get into the habit of pausing to think about what your case worker would say, do or suggest. The funny thing is, our case worker for Alex was pretty laid back about things because she knew we were going to adopt him. We really didn't have to deal with some of the red tape and processes that other foster parents had to deal with. Despite all that, I still find myself pausing before I contact a doctor, therapist or teacher. I sometimes feel like I need permission to make some of those big decisions. Why? Insecurity, possibly. Habit, probably.

Even though it was a relatively short time between placement and finalization, my only experience as his mom had included the requirement to follow state guidelines and procedures. I had never just been Alex's mom. I definitely complained about the policies and procedures, but I can now see that there was some security in that. I knew that I had a safety net. If something went wrong, I could drop it in someone else's lap. If there was a problem, someone else would help me deal with it.

Now? Now, it's just me and Matt. That's scary. It's like riding a bike for the first time after being used to training wheels. You may be ready to take those wheels off, but you still have those fears and doubts about how it will go.

While it can be intimidating to think about, I am grateful that we are able to simply live as a family. It is a responsibility that I don't take lightly, and one that I definitely do not take for granted. I'm sure one day I will not pause before making a decision, I won't feel the need to check in with someone. One day my brain will fully acknowledge what my heart already knows...that these boys are mine.

A Year in Review

I've been a little absent from this blog lately. It isn't that I haven't had things to say. There have been so many things that I've wanted to write about. It's just that, I have three kids. Not just three kids...three crazy, energetic boys who have been fighting like cats and dogs. I was at my breaking point. It's probably better that I didn't write anything because I'm sure it would not have been pretty.

As I laid in bed last night, after putting down my copy of Have a New Kid By Friday, I realized that we are just a normal family. Siblings fight. Children are disobedient. Moms want to hide in a closet just to find a few moments of peace. While this phase is driving me nuts, I am grateful that we finally feel like a family. It only took us a year...

The past year was easily the fastest and slowest year of my life. From the week I spent with Alex and Jake in Phoenix waiting for our ICPC clearance to the months when CJ acted out just to bring our attention back to himself to both adoption finalization hearings. I cannot believe how much has happened since last August 4th, the day we picked up Alex. As I think about all of the ups and downs, I can think of a few key things that I learned along the way.

1. I could not have done this on my own. Between my family and my "sister wives" and my MOPS group (and many, many more), a lot of people have contributed to helping us through this transition. From the moment we heard Jake was born, I had to start asking for help. It isn't easy. Pride wants you to think that you can handle it on your own, and you aren't a great mom if you can't. It is humbling to call someone and say "I cannot do this without you." I am so grateful that we have so many people who stepped up and offered support, meals, babysitting, and wine (my personal fave).

2. The transition is more like hiking through a mountain range, rather than clearing a single mountain. We started off in a honeymoon phase, and then reality set in, and then we found a groove and then one of the boys started having crazy tantrums. And then the cycle would continue. As soon as I felt like we were getting it, something else would happen and throw off our groove. While we are far from perfect, we are normal. I think we are nearing the end of our hike through this transition. While we will start a new hike through a new phase, I'm grateful we are moving forward.

3. I underestimated the challenges, as well as the blessings. I knew we were going to face difficult times, but I could not have anticipated what we experienced. I went to bed crying more times than I'd like to admit because I had no idea how we were going to make it through the next day. Somehow we did it, and kept on going. It wasn't until I was at a counseling appointment with Alex that I had a breakthrough. The therapist asked me about Alex's strengths. It had been a particularly challenging day, so it took me a minute. Once I got going, I developed a nice long list. It was at that moment that I realized that the only way I was going to make it through was to focus on the strengths. CJ's strengths, Alex's strengths, Jake's strengths, Matt's strengths, my strengths and our strengths as a family. I had to stop focusing on how hard it was and start appreciating the wonderful gifts and skills God gave to each of us. Once I changed my outlook, things got a little easier. It was still hard, and I still went to bed crying sometimes, but I started having more good days than bad.

As I look back and think about where we started, what we experienced, and how far we've come...I'm proud. I feel accomplished by the growth we've all seen over the course of the past year. There will always be transitions and stages that are challenging, but at least I know that I can handle it.