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.

The Abyss

Well folks, welcome to the pit. We have succumb to the slippery slope and here we are....in this abyss.....this pit, where lawlessness is the norm and we scramble to make sense of the chaos around us.

I don't know about you, but I am not comfortable here. I don't want to be comfortable here. Something has to change.

Parkland.
Sandy Hook.
Umpqua Community College.
Columbine.
Thurston.

The list is TOO long for me to continue.
Let us not be comfortable here.

Though I heartily believe in the power of prayer, I also believe in doing the work.. in standing up for what is right.

Today, two of my sweet kiddos were herded into their school closets. Doors were quickly locked. They were instructed not to speak, for speaking would let the "bad guys" know where they were. In one of my boy's classroom, not only were he and the other students in the closet, silent....the blinds were drawn and the lights turned off. Silently, they waited in the dark.

My oldest is 8.

Eight years old and the reality that school may not be a safe place has already become something that he gets to process. It is his reality. It is not something I can wrap my head around. I cannot put myself in his shoes and as a parent it is a reality I do not wish to accept. I refuse to be comfortable with this.

Here in our tiny, bucolic hamlet, the "real world" has clawed its way in. Here in our tiny community, a threat was made and responded to. No longer can threats be ignored. No longer is it unthinkable that such a terrible tragedy occur....in a place we trust our children to be safe.

Now, before everyone's panties get totally twisted, yes...I COMPLETELY agree that we are blessed and lucky in this scenario. No shots were fired. No harm was even physically attempted at our boy's school and the threat was just that in this instance. That is a blessing.

And yet, it seems absurd to me. My sweet, innocent, anxious children were hiding from "bad guys" at school today.

I'm pissed.

For me, it is not a gun issue.
It is a culture issue.
It's a discipline issue.
It's a character issue. 
It is a issue of morality.
It's a respect issue.
It is very basically an issue of right or wrong.

In my very humble opinion, I blame the "if it feels good, do it" mantra that I have had shoved down my throat for the past 20 years or longer. The world is your oyster. YOLO. There is no end to the self indulgence of this age. Everyone is out for themselves. Social Media only serves to further the notion. Say what you want when you want. There are no consequences. We have freedom and that includes freedom of speech. Yes, but just because you can say or do whatever you want, does not mean that you should.

We seem to be a culture proud of our "gray' area. Nothing is black and white any more. Everything is grey. Society has constantly challenged the ideas of right and wrong and left us with carte blanche.


No one is ever to deny themselves anything. Self discipline is an antiquated notion.
Responsibility? Culpability? Delayed Gratification?
And God?

We have kicked God out of our schools. We have made morality a nebulous concept that our concrete thinking children are left to figure out for themselves. We live in a society that places self and self gratification above all else. Our children see how we are living. They are drawing their conclusions.

And look where that has gotten us.

I am pissed. I am done. There is a right and there is a wrong. In this, there is no GREY area.

It is WRONG that our schools are not safe.
It is WRONG that we are accepting this as our new reality.
It is WRONG that these horrifically tragic acts receive SO much media attention.
It is wrong that children today are not being taught self discipline and delayed gratification.
It is a massive mistake that children are not being taught coping mechanisms to deal with the cruel nature of this world. Bullying is not a new concept, our children's inability to survive bullying is new.

It is wrong that today had me breathing a big sigh of relief that my kids were safe...this time.

Honestly, when will morality return and rule the day? When will we all be held to a moral standard with respect for life? Will the Golden Rule once again be our modus operandi? When will this insanity end?

Mourning this Good Friday

Well, this post is a day early, but I was just moved by the discovery that this GOOD FRIDAY is 3 months to the day that we lost Beckett. I have always struggled through Good Friday to begin with. I always feel like I am mourning a friend on that day and now I will be mourning my friend and my son. Kind of. Praying tonight I couldn't help but thank GOD for giving Beckett a much grander home than I ever could have.  So thankful for his eternal joy. Even though I know I am pretty darn awesome at being a Mom, he is undoubtedly happier than he ever would have been if he had to suffer through my cooking. .. .
I went to Beckett's grave yesterday. His head stone FINALLY arrived. Yup, for whatever reason it took THAT long to be placed. I am relieved. I hated going there and seeing the misplaced grass starting to settle over him with nothing to show who was resting there. It just felt undone. Forgotten.
So, we took a family trip there to see his marker. ...

Eli loves road trips!! Can't you tell?

 and it was UPSIDE down.

How appropriate is that? Everything about Beckett turned my life upside down, so really,  it is fitting that his headstone is as well. Oh Beckett, thank you for opening my eyes and my heart in a million different ways. Thank you for things my tears will not allow me to express right now. Only God can turn death into life. Sorrow into joy. This Easter is SO NEEDED. My heart is ready for a resurrection. I want to turn the loss of you into something more beautiful than I am able to. Your presence was overwhelmingly perfect and joyous.. . and I want that to somehow manifest itself again.

Someday it will face the right way and look like this. . .

So I have obviously spent a bit of time thinking about Beckett. About those awful days. And loss. And family. And the meaning of life. .. . you know, light-hearted topics. I have so many memories of those two days; but they are like snapshots in my head. I remember how it felt to hold him in my hand. How incredibly tiny he was. I remember feeling such heart-rending grief but also felt a peaceful amazement at his perfection. I remember staring into that hole in the ground thinking that it was so big and so symbolic of how I was feeling. Just a gaping huge hole. In my heart. In my family. In my dreams. HUGE.  It was such a big hole for such a little body. I remember feeling physical pain as they placed him into that hole. Nothing in life can really ever prepare you for that moment. There are no words.

I cannot say that I am over the loss of Beckett. I am not sure a parent ever "gets over" something like that. I am blessed that God has filled some of that gaping hole with love for the extraordinary children on Reece's Rainbow. So much love and so much purpose. Only God could cover that pain with love. Only God. Only God will take my meager efforts and use them for good. I often feel that my little attempts to help are so small and the need is so great. . .but God can work wonders with so little!

I see the children being claimed on Reece's Rainbow and it brings me such joy and such hope. I have unlimited admiration for the families stepping forward for these children. It is a beautiful thing! God is using their love to turn death into life. Despair into hope. Rejection into acceptance. In a word- Resurrection. So miraculous!

What better thought to leave you with heading into this Easter Weekend.

Happy Easter!

Selfie Take 2

Y'all probably thought I was joking. Sadly....I am deathly serious. THIS IS my resolution! In all of my free time, I will be perfecting my selfie. Apparently, free time = oral hygiene time. This one is pretty good....for my toothbrush. It manages to look curvy and thin all that the same time.

It looks like I only have one boob.

I'm a little jealous of my toothbrush. Form and function.

Hangs head.

SQT- Paying it Forward

--- 1 ---

I am super spoiled. I got a laptop for Christmas. I blame Santa...really...what's he gonna do? I was truly THAT good last year and I think he would have done just about ANYTHING to get me to stop singing Santa baby. I wrote my first blog in 1.2 million years last night. It felt so good that I kindly asked my husband if I could once again spend my evening with my face glued to my new Christmas present, you know...so I could gift the world with a blog post of grammatical errors, pitiful slang, sporadic and inappropriate curse words and copious amounts of photos to fill in the blank spaces. It's my way of paying it forward, yo. I was really looking forward to completing this act of charity tonight.

--- 2 ---

Before I could blog, I had to get my angelic boys to bed. Oh bedtime, how you vex me. Why did I think having all 3 boys in the same room was a good idea? Why did God think I could survive the gift of 3 uber talkative boys? I fear HE might have misjudged me. After 30 minutes, my temper was rearing her ugly head. I decided to bust out my new prayer journal and sit my butt down outside their bedroom door. Surely transcribing prayer would settle the temper down. Surely? Sadly not tonight....the rage is strong with me. . . .I took a second to thank God for Dragon Time which kept me from losing all control and becoming a fire-breathing she beast. Still, after an hour and a half of whack-a-mole my will to live is gone...let alone my will to blog.

This beauty keeps me out of jail...it's literally the shizzzzz.

--- 3 ---

I am seriously excited about my Saint for 2016. Seriously! I have had a lifelong interest in the lives of the Saints and the past 2 years I have been thrilled to learn about the saints I got...but this year was so perfect. I mean....PERFECT. The Patron of Impossible Cases! Ask my husband....If I am anything at all, I am an impossible case! To make it even more delicious, it is a Saint I did not know about.

ST RITA: Patron of impossible cases, difficult marriages, and parenthood

The learning got PERSONAL!   A light bulb was illuminated in my pea brain and I bought myself a nice leather journal to organize my battle. I am waging a spiritual war this year of Mercy. Instead of flailing about wildly and  wielding snark like a weapon as is my normal M.O., I am turning over a new leaf, inspired by this amazing prayer. Seriously, the tone is right up my alley and I enjoyed praying it every night. I think I may have been fighting my trial and tribulations with the wrong tools. I've got my Battle Book ready. Let's DO THIS! 
Oration to the Saint of the Impossible
O excellent St. Rita, worker of miracles, from thy sanctuary in Cascia, where in all thy beauty thou sleepest in peace, where thy relics exhale breaths of paradise, turn thy merciful eyes on me who suffer and weep!
Thou seest my poor bleeding heart surrounded by thorns Thou seest, O dear Saint, that my eyes have no more tears to shed, so much have I wept! Weary and discouraged as I am, I feel the very prayers dying on my lips.
Must I thus despair in this crisis of my life? O come, St. Rita, come to my aid and help me. Art thou not called the Saint of the Impossible, Advocate to those in despair? Then honor thy name, procuring for me from God the favor that I ask.
[Here ask the favor you wish to obtain.]
Everyone praises thy glories, everyone tells of the most amazing miracles performed through thee, must I alone be disappointed because thou hast not heard me? Ah no! Pray then pray for me to thy sweet Lord Jesus that He be moved to pity by my troubles and that, through thee, O good St. Rita, I may obtain what my heart so fervently desires.
(Pray the Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory be to the Father, three times.)

--- 4 ---

If your interest has been piqued, you too could generate a Saint for 2016. Make a new friend. Learn a new prayer. Start your own battle! The power of prayer can change your world. Seriously, I have seen improvement already! I am tempted to start praying that my hubby to discover a love of dancing with his beloved wife. It could happen!! Stay tuned! Check it out! http://saintsnamegenerator.com/

--- 5 ---

Oh wait! I know it's belated...but Happy New Year! We had a rip-roaring crazy night! I hope it was memorable for all of you as well!

No lies. This was taken at 7:09 pm.

--- 6 ---

I don't normally set New Year Resolutions....and if I do set them, I rarely remember that I did. But ya know....this year, I might prove myself wrong. I turned 40 last year, clearly my memory and willpower is only getting better, right?  I got in better shape, I am feeling pretty good these days. I have no way of proving that on the interwebs so in 2016 I have committed myself to mastering the selfie. Trout pout and all.

SELFIE!

Note to self.....it's early days and this criticism is constructive, do not give up, but seriously Bex....Lose the hat. You look like a cone head. And profile? Maybe not your strong suit, unless you were TRYING to look like this guy:

Photo credit: gadgetdude via Visual Hunt / CC BY

I have a year, it may take the entire year but...I think I can...I think I can!

--- 7 ---

Meet Marv! 

I love this boy despite the fact that I have never met him. I just know deep in my heart that he would be a wonderful addition to a family! Your family? Do you know the family for him? Please share! He has 22 months before he ages out and can no longer be adopted. Let's find him a family! You can get more information HERE.

Man, I am glad I did this! Paying it forward feels GOOOOD!

For more Quick Takes, visit This Ain't the Lyceum!

Epiphany

“My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”  2 Corinthians 12:9

Every year on this day. Pow. A punch to the gut.

Every year I blog about this day. It all started HERE.

Yes, you ARE welcome. One of these years I will get it right. I will sit back with a satisfied grin and high five myself repeatedly. I want to get all the beauty in this struggle. Every year, I am left wanting more from my retelling. So yall, just bear with me...because some day, this blog is going to totally knock your socks off!

Every year, I know this day is coming. I don't fear it. do not mourn everyday; I do not cling to loss or sadness. There is nothing to mourn. I do not believe that love dies and I have not lost Beckett. He is well. He is happy. He is still my darling baby boy and I am proud to be his mama It is just another day until it arrives. And then it's the 6TH and it feels like I am giving Shaq a piggy back while carrying Roseanne in my Ergo. All. Day. Long. I am not angry. I am not sad per se but man, I could weep. I could rage. Today I am confused by the intensity of this I am okay and not okay at the same time....and I am thinking it could be PMS. The gift that makes a sane woman look one fry short of a Happy Meal. Shaq and Roseanne successfully slow me down enough that I can mull things over.

On this day I get to revisit the beauty and brutality of seeing my precious Beckett in the flesh, of counting his precious toes and reveling in the tiny miracle in my hand. I have another chance to try and grasp the miraculous in the devastating loss.  Today is  my Beckett day.

So, today, I placed flowers at Beckett's grave. Happy Beckett day baby boy! I can still smell the Baby's Breath. What a lovely innocent scent.

This miscarriage malarky is a bitch. It confounds the dictionary in my brain. I want to wish him a Happy Birthday, but it technically isn't a birth day. It's a loss day, but that doesn't fit either because on this day I got to see and hold my sweet boy for a brief moment. So, what does one call it? I have heard "brutiful" thrown around and it fits but only kinda. Happy Brutiful Day? Maybe it will grow on me. Maybe not.

As I said above, I do not believe love dies. I still have mad love for baby Beckett, 4 years after saying hello and goodbye. It is a beautiful thing. If you stay open to that love, it can and will transform your life completely. Out of sadness, confusion and pain, a new life and deeper understanding was born. For that I will be forever grateful

Beckett, baby boy. I hold you in my heart. You bring me joy and I love believing that you and Gramma are hanging out right now...giggling over the mismatched pajama/tortilla chip/couch potato situation I am currently in. You changed my life in such a aching, beautiful way. KISSES!

To Grams: I love you so much. Hug that sweet baby boy for me...and if there is anyway to send me a picture or a video of him laughing that would be rad. Thanks!

To all the doctors that advised abortion over and over: I still fight the urge to poke your eyes out...but I forgive you. Down Syndrome is not to be feared. People are not to be discarded. No one is perfect and to quote the beloved Dr Seuss:

"A person's a person, no matter how small."

To all the loved ones that comforted me with the idea that we dodged a bullet....I love you so much and I know you were trying to love me through a tough situation. Beckett was never a bullet to be dodged. Beckett was/is a perfect blessing just the way God made him.

To all the LADIES! To every woman given the devastating news during pregnancy that something might be different about their baby. To the woman struggling after a difficult diagnosis. I totally understand. I was scared, I was blindsided, I felt unprepared, inept and completely alone. Take a deep breath and please read the following post from an amazing adoptive mama, it spoke to my heart. IF you are worried about how a child with special needs will change your life and/or the lives of your family read this, reach out; you are not alone.

"If you're thinking about adopting a kid whose earning potential is $0, who has zero chance of becoming a Nobel Prize winner, or a CEO, whose greatest accomplishment in life might be learning to play peekaboo or holding onto his stuffed bear, and you're wondering how it will affect your other, more typical kids, then please listen to what I'm about to say, and know I mean it with all of my heart: Love will grow in your house in ways you couldn't even contemplate. Your perspective of success and the value of human worth will evolve so fast that you won't believe it's possible. You'll see your kids grow in compassion, in thoughtfulness, in tenderness, in love, in patience in understanding, in wisdom, in tolerance, and in hope, in ways that nothing else can cause. And one day, you'll realize that the kid who doesn't speak, who doesn't walk, who doesn't "do" anything, has done more for your family in helping them see Jesus than any church service, book, song, or anything else ever could, and that same kid is just as much an essential and productive and involved member of your family as everyone else and you won't be able to understand why other people don't see him the way you all do, why they don't hear his different noises and automatically translate that into English, or see his facial expressions and know exactly what he's trying to convey, and you'll feel sorry for everyone else that's living the "American dream" life with 2.5 typical kids because they are missing out on the greatest joy in life."

To all the Mamas that have lost babies. I feel you. Never feel like you can't talk about it. You are NOT ALONE! Your baby lives and loves on. Find the people that can bear this with you!  If you dont have that yet....email me! I am here!

To all the sister-friends: Bear with your sisters. Listen until you cant listen anymore....and then listen some more. Open your heart and share life with your lady friends. Embrace this journey with your fellow sisters. Walk beside them and let them walk beside you.

To all the awesome Adoptive Mamas out there: Easy is boring! :) Messy is beautiful!  You have shown me courage, compassion, you rock my world and when /if I grow up I want to be so much more like you! Keep on keeping on and thank you for sharing this journey with me and my little family!

To all those considering adoption.....DO IT! SERIOUSLY....and....have you seen this amazing boy?

Meet Marvelous Marv. 

                                                                                               

Happy Beckett Day everyone!