Adoption

Welp, it's Adoption month....and my birth month,  and my son's birth month and a million other people's month as well. Thanksgiving and Christmas preparation month. No sunshine or leaves on the trees month.

I'm in a funk. I'm stressed....and in a tough season.  On top of that, I'm too old to be battling skin breakouts but here I am....busting out the Clearasil. 

I was asked to write about adoption....and it was to be posted on a site that people actually read. I agreed with little thought to it.

And then I tried to organize my thoughts. 

And lost that battle. Awesomely.

And now I am sitting here stressing instead of sleeping because people might actually read my insufficient mutterings. People will judge my lack of punctuation.  My incomplete sentences and lack of....um....everything. I  shouldn't have agreed. I certainly shouldn't have pressed the send button when I did. Why did I think I could pull this off? Will my words actually turn someone away from adopting? Gah....I need to lamaze breathe my way back down to earth.

Deep breath in.......and exhale. 

And honestly isnt that adoption and parenthood in a nutshell?

Some of us (raising my hand) sort of happen into parenthood having NO idea what it really entails and just how epically you might suck at it. What if someone sees just how much you suck at it? I was such an amazing parent before I had my first child.  And then reality soundly smacked me upside the head. 

And because I am dense, when adoption came up I thought "Adoption?!?! Hell yes! Sign me right up!"

((While we're at it, let's get pregnant WHILE  adopting....because.....well let's just do all the things at once.  ))

And then reality walloped me again. The rush of hoping and praying and doing...of waiting and preparing is done and you have your precious child......and it's not all sunshine and rainbows.  It's hard. It's confusing and relentless. It's messy and stinky. It's thankless. Mistakes are made. Life choices are questioned  frequently.  It feels like no one understands.

My parenting is ALOT like my writing: Incoherent.  Scatty. Disorganized.  Gobbledygook.  In the midst of all that, I have some unexpected moments of sheer genius and I cling to those fleeting moments.  

All adoption is born of loss. My adoption journey began after I miscarried my child. My son has suffered ever so much loss in his young life. 

That loss cannot be separated from the conversation or journey.  It is part of our daily walk. Living with loss, walking with that loss and accepting it for what it is has been a life altering experience. 

Yes, there is loss but that's not all that adoption is.  Adoption is a journey, a redemptive, transformative journey.

Adoption is choosing daily to walk alongside someone; knowing they may cling to you until you feel like you are going to break under their grip. Despite the fact that they might reject your very presence beside them on this journey, or they might vacillate in their reactions to your presence so quickly your head spins. 

Adoption is working to accept beyond understanding.  Beyond what's comfortable and continuing the journey knowing you will stumble and fall endlessly.

Adoption is choosing to get up each and every time. Not because you're good at it. Not because it is easy (though it will surprise you sometimes with moments of effortless amazingness.) NOT BECAUSE WE ARE ANGELS or SPECIAL. Not because we are gluttons for punishment. Not because we are "do-gooders."

Because children belong in families. Period. 

Messy, noisy imperfectly wonderful families. 

God has blessed our yes immensely. Through adoption, God has shown HIS redemptive love over and over again.

Today on our drive to school the subject of miracles came up when my oldest asked why miracles only happened in the Bible.  I was eager to point out miracles that had been recorded as well as blessings I found miraculous in my own life.  The amazing ways my fervent prayers had been answered.  The boys then started pointing out some other events that they had noticed and we spent our morning acknowledging and recognizing the miraculous in our lives. 

After I dropped them off I cried all the way home. I get so lost in my failures,  the weight of responsibility, the isolation of parenthood and blasted self judgement that I forget that it is not all on my shoulders.  That God loves these boys so much more than I can even imagine. That He will and has covered my imperfect efforts with His perfect love. He answers prayers.

God has used parenthood and adoption to save me from myself more times than I can count. 

Adoption IS doable,  necessary and amazing. If God can use our family...certainly He can use yours. Say yes and watch the miraculous happen in your own hearts and homes.  

Standing by....

Bystander: a person who is present at an event or incident but does not take part.

Bystander has a bit of a negative connotation in my mind; for I am a person of action. A do-er. A fixer. A solver. An empath. When people I love hurt, I hurt. If I can "fix" a situation or "solve" a problem then by golly, I will. Every moment can be a teachable moment....

"if you got a problem, yo, I'll solve it..."

I am sorry.

How pompous of me. I must be a real treat to live with.

As chaos of my days has reached fever pitch, I have been an unwitting bystander to the madness in my house. I am unsure if the noise and chaos comes with the territory of having 4 boys in my house, or if it is the reality of a former type-b personality attempting and failing to organize and keep on top of things. *shrug*

Life is piling up all around me. The issues others are facing are so much easier to solve than the crap in my own life. (HA) I am barely treading water in my own life.

I try to escape, desperate for a moment in which I am not required to solve anything, mediate, fix and soothe.  I often chastise myself, believing the last thing my boys need is a bystander.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday, a particularly icy morning 2 of my boys and I happened upon a car in the ditch. A young high schooler was in the car. As I watched numerous cars slow down and pass her, I decided to stop. The groans from my precious son made me chuckle. Yup, here I was inserting myself into another situation in hopes of  "fixing it." GI Becki to the rescue.

Poor girl was shaking but reported being unhurt and she was waiting for her dad. After speaking with  her I asked if she was alright with me backing up my super cool minivan, and waiting with her for her father to arrive.

I had 2 kiddos in my car that morning and we sat and waited. That is all I did...well aside from debating mentally if I should invite her into our sweet ride, offer her food, or something else.  Her father showed up and was able to get the car out no trouble and the girl went on her way home. He came over and profusely thanked me and I was a bit embarrassed and obviously I handled it in my usual awkward manner. I had simply sat there, unable to really help. I was just a bystander.

The previous night, my precious Pierogie had a rough night. He has been really struggling as of late and honestly it has gotten old. I find such impatience in my heart for the outbursts and constant struggle. In this moment he was really not regulating or processing and I was at my wits end. I have spent months/years trying to help him. To solve his struggles. To fix it for him and everyone else. In that moment I gave up. I couldn't fix it for him. I couldn't solve this problem. It is too big. I cannot explain away such a deep wound. I couldn't regulate his behavior for him. Why wouldn't he listen to me? Why cant he just do what I suggest? I can help! I can, but it wasn't working.

I sat on the floor defeated. Absolutely helpless.
I offered to let him sit on my lap.
He did. And as I held him he raged. And he sobbed. And he screamed. It was ugly. The words coming out of his mouth shattered my heart and there was absolutely nothing I could do but sit there with him. Grieving.
I rocked him and did my best to soothe.
Acknowledging that no words can even begin to soothe the pain that he rightfully feels.
After a very long time, he dried his eyes and looked at me. Really looked at me. (Honestly, this is miraculous in itself.)
We were able to talk a little after that. I kept my words to a minimum. The second miracle.

As luck had it, he was in the car with me the next morning as we sat together and waited again.

And it struck me...

For all of my good intentions and exemplary problem solving skills in other people's lives (yes this is sarcasm)....perhaps the greatest act of love I can offer is simply standing by....or sitting in my case.
Not trying to fix anything but letting someone know they are loved even in their pain may be more powerful than having the right words or resources. Simply shut up and show up. (Many of my amazing friends already know this and do this. I aspire to be more like you!) My heart breaks for all the ways my "helping and fixing" may have hurt my dear child.

Most everyone knows I rarely have the right words.
The correct punctuation or grammar.
The appropriate facial expressions.
The correct reactions.
It is all part of my charm. It really is.
What I can do is nothing compared to what God can do. (Duh)

I am learning. And trying.
I see you.
I hear you.

I am here standing by. Awkwardly, but here.