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!

Yes Ma'am

The kids were buckled into their seats, the groceries stacked precariously in the trunk and as I turned to push the cart into a stall the cart-gatherer-guy stopped me. "I will take that for you ma'am."

"Oh! How nice! Wait, did you just call me Ma'am?" Cringing visibly, "Oh dear! Please don't call me ma'am, but really, thank you very much! Have a good day!"

I walked to the front of my uber cool minivan with a chagrined chuckle. Did he really call me Ma'am? Psssh. Ma'am? Ouch! Did I really ask him not to.  . .out loud?

As I buckled my seat belt (safety first!) the memory slapped me upside the head. I was in my very early 20s and I was working (insert any fast food joint or other mode of menial employment) and I made the mistake of saying "have a nice day, Ma'am." The clearly ancient woman standing in front of me blanched. "Ma'am? Surely you did not just call me Ma'am!?!?" She laughed incredulously, adopting a valley- girlesque posture. This clearly did not help her cause.

I apologized and visibly blushed whilst internally I rolled my eyes thinking "Ha! Who does she think she's kidding?" She seemed nice enough but I was embarrassed for her and vowed not to be her in the future. I would not cling to the illusion of youth when I was clearly past my prime. Oh the logic of a young adult, ever so wise and compassionate. When you are young you cannot imagine being anything but young and vibrant. The folly of youth. 

And now. . .I. AM. THAT. WOMAN.

Yes, Ma'am.

He called me Ma'am...rightly so. So why does that instantly fill me with embarrassment? I had my 20s. I didnt just survive my 20s, I embraced them and I have no regrets. I filled those years to bursting with incredible memories and experiences. To be honest, my 20s lasted well into my 30s. Looking back at all the fun, I can recognize it for what it was: self-focused, frivolous and fun. I had no concerns. Little resposibility. Nothing that mattered more to me than searching for my next adventure. Why is it that youth is so coveted? Youth rarely recognizes the joys that can come with responsibility. The growth and beauty that can only come from sacrificial love. Youth can be so blind.

To that cart-boy....I am sorry. You did not misspeak. Honestly, I doubt that I looked in the mirror before I ran to Costco with the boys. They had clothing on AND I had showered....which was my biggest success that day.  If I remember correctly, I was wearing yoga pants though I have obviously not done yoga in ages. My hair was almost, kind of pulled back, I had minimal if any makeup on....all of which highlighted the signs of exhaustion and age. Costco was getting the best of me that day for sure. But, c'mon...I survived Costco with all three of my boys. You cannot do that AND look awesome. I challenge any 20 year old to brave Costco with my boys.

Moving on.

I look in the mirror today and I see new gray hairs. Wrinkles. Zits (from consuming an entire bag of chocolate chips the other night. . .) Dark circles under my eyes. I see my age. I cannot deny it. It is not pretty and yet it is beautiful at the same time. The general public may not understand or appreciate it but  I know I look this way because there are 4 people in my life, every day that mean SO much more to me than my appearance. I often end up looking wasted, harried and barely thrown together because my energy and focus is not on me. It is on them. Almost all of my time. This is not an excuse, I am sure I could find time (and do for special occasions) to make sure I look presentable. I do not mind that my priorities are different from the norm. This is who I am. I am a Mama. I am a Ma'am.

My days can be so draining that by 4 o'clock I am begging for bed time. After tucking my sweeties in I want nothing more than to put my feet up and rest with a heat pad on my back. A nice glass of wine in hand and lose myself in some silly romance on TV; but only if I still get to go to sleep before 930. (It is 10 pm right now and I am eager to get myself off to bed.) I cannot fathom getting all done-up to hit a club at this hour.  I wouldn't mind going to a movie but I would want to do that in my jammies. I have nothing to prove; I simply want to enjoy my downtime in comfort.

The days of living for nights out and rowdy, empty entertainment are behind me and as fun as those frivolous years were....I am relieved that those years are behind me. Throwing on a pair of yoga pants instead of searching for my nice jeans so that I can scoop up Mr Pookie just a little faster is totally worth it. Spending my time on the floor to teach him how to crawl instead of using that time to put on make up. . .or blow dry my hair. . .well that is a no-brainer. It is far more fun to shop for them than for me. I know that there are ladies out there that can do it all AND still look wonderfully put together. More power to them, sadly, that is not me. At all.

Loud, rowdy, busy. My 20s summed up in 3 words....well that just doesnt sound fun to me anymore. How I appreciate a nice glass of wine now. A moment of silence.  A night of sleep. A moment to read a book. Being able to use the bathroom all by myself. The heft of a sleeping baby in my arms. The joy of getting to shower before noon. All the ugly and difficult ways motherhood is making me a better person. I am finding that sometimes taking care of those you love the most is the best self-care you can employ. It may not feel great all the time, but it will refine and redefine who you are, what you want and how you see the world.

Yes, I am not 20 anymore. Duh. The wrinkles, bags, and signs of exhaustion have been earned. Why should that cause embarrassment? They may not be pretty but they are the hallmarks of my motherhood and should be celebrated. I have reached that season of life where others are more important to me than I ever could have imagined. Why society discounts that, instead proclaiming self-indulgent, self focused youth to be the end all.....befuddles me. So what! I am aging! That does not define who I am, but is simply a fact of life. My life is so full of experiences, laughter and love that leaving youth behind should not be done with chagrin. SHOULD NOT be viewed with embarrassment.

Embrace it.

Own it.

Flaunt it if you want to.

And for Pete's sake. Call me Ma'am!

KNOWING

My dear friends, I am going to lay something out for you, something you may really dislike me for. I am sorry if you do not want to read this, I do not want to type it, but it has been on my mind constantly for the past 9 months. It is always there. ALWAYS.

Perhaps it is unhealthy, I wont deny that, but what I KNOW is this: once you have seen, you cannot un-see. Once you have heard, you cannot un-hear. Once you know. . .it stays with you forever. You can try to ignore it, move on from it, bury it .. but it will always come back to you, because YOU KNOW. You can try to distract yourself with the hunky Juan Pablo, the quest for more, more, more.. . but once you know.. ..YOU KNOW.

As many of you know, my little miracle Owen burst into our lives 2 months early and tiny as can be. At 32 weeks gestation, he was a 3 lb little wonder. What you may not know is that Evan was born at 30 weeks gestation. I cannot recall how much he weighed at birth and since I cannot read Russian, I have not been able to decipher the information from his paperwork. He must have been teenie. He also, was a tiny fighter.

Owen had parents that loved him immensely, eagerly waiting for the chance to hold him and comfort him. Cheer on his achievements and cherish his presence. Evan sadly did not.

Evan likely spent his days alone in his incubator. His cries unheard. No one to snuggle him or give him the physical contact his tiny body was desperate for. No breastmilk to nourish and comfort his tiny, fighting body.  His achievements and gains went uncelebrated. No one cried happy tears when he was finally strong enough to leave the hospital.

Someone kiss that sad little face!

When he was strong enough to leave the hospital he did not get carefully strapped into a car seat by a mama too nervous to drive over 30 miles per hour despite her desire to get him home and start some serious snuggling. He did not receive the comfort of breast milk, a snuggle or a kiss on the cheek before he was  moved from one lonely existence to another.

From the hospital bed he was placed into another bed, to spend his days fighting to grow and thrive. Eager for any touch, any eye contact that he was given; even if it was an angry look, a rough touch, he craved human interaction. Odds are it was fleeting at best and yet; against the odds he fought on and grew.

at 3 years old, he was wearing 18 months size clothing

For 3 years he held on and fought, finding some joy in his reality, his precious heart still hopeful and protected until we arrived. Indifference is the best these kids can hope for. Neglect, abuse, starvation and the most heinous of mistreatment are sadly common. And yet, they fight on.

But there are more. It is these children, these precious fighting babies that haunt me. Their arms and legs in the air. Their babbles and smiles completely ignored. Their cries of hunger, cries of loneliness that fall on deaf ears until they stop crying and babbling altogether.  It is their eager faces that continue to haunt me.. . so eager to be chosen. To be wanted. The hope so evident and heartbreaking on their little faces.

Babies NEED love and affection to thrive

I hear these cries when I reach to comfort Evan, Opie and Eli. My heart breaks for the many,  many children that suffer indifference.

Never ever should children be treated like this. 

I am so far from a perfect person and an even sorrier excuse for a Mom. I admit I probably have more failures than successes as a Momma, and yet, Evan is growing and healing. He continues to thrive and he just oozes love and affection.

These children don't need amazing parents or families. I assure you again, we are not perfect. They simply need someone to cuddle them. To coo back. To fill their bellies and change their diapers. They need someone to return their trusting smiles. They need to matter because they DO MATTER.

Sweet Zoey passed away last week. She was 8 years old and weighed 10 lbs. Her family was working hard to save her but they were too late. 

Please hear their cries with me and ACT! If you honestly cannot find room at your table, in your heart, in your family, please do not simply ignore them...bury them. I beg of you to count yourself capable. Count yourself worthy. YOU CAN HELP! Share. Pray. Hear them! If you do not....what hope is there?

Some of these children are home, but MANY more wait....

*singing* Me me me me; Me ME ME ME

This is more than a little self indulgent, but isn't that the prerogative of the blogger? To air whatever one wants to whenever the urge strikes? Mmmmhmmm. I had hoped to have a loftier message for this blog and indeed, I used to blog about more important subjects but today. . .I am in a ME sort of mood and yes, I AM singing Bobby Brown's My Preogative as I type, and drink coffee. I am a multi-tasking fiend!

I went for a jog this morning. I cinched up my hands-free pumping bra as a sports bra (over my tshirt and sweater of course) and off I went in the rain. Before the end of the first block I was panting, my feet were soaked and my running shoes were waterlogged. Awesome. I succeeded in jogging more than I walked and the makeshift bra held up just fine; likely because my jogging looked alot like walking. Because of this *ahem* "jog", I am going to have to type faster than my brain can think; before my useless muscles completely freeze up from the shock of activity and render myself paralyzed.

The DMV brought an ego-centric epiphany of sorts on Tuesday. I was equal parts shocked at how poorly I masked my irritation that it took 68 minutes to renew my license and proud that we all survived the ordeal. I had baby and Evan in tow and we survived. Mostly because I simply let Evan run around shouting, allowing more running and shouting the longer we waited as I tried to resist the urge to stab myself or someone near to me in the eye with a pen. Seemed only fair. Moms with children should be allowed to renew licenses via mail or online AND we should be allowed to use whatever picture we want.

Any one of these 3 pictures would do just fine on my license. :)

To have my license capture me on a sleep deprived morning, pre-caffiene. . .well no Mama should have to show anyone that picture. . ever. In my spare time, I am going to completely re-vamp the DMV and the current license policy. Instead of listing a weight, we should be allowed to put a dress size. . .that we would all still lie about. Hmmm.

I finally amended the height and weight portion from the stats I was able to list when I got my license a million years ago. It seems I have shrunk 2 inches in height and more than made up for that in girth. Awesome. I resisted listing bloodshot as my eye color and hair? Well luckily they called my number while I still had some hair on my head.

me. 5 years ago. 

I got the kids and I back in the car and realized that I felt a little traumatized. Yup. I have been to Calcutta, Kenya, the Middle East. I have seen and done things that SHOULD have been forever traumatizing. And yet, the DMV...the DMV traumatized me. The reality slammed into me. I am no longer 10 feet tall and bullet proof. When did that happen and how can I reverse it?

Home. Sigh. Home. I pulled the new license out to look at it. GASP! What have the past 5 years done to me and why do I have SO MUCH MORE FACE? (clearly I needed more face to grow more hair on it.)  I thought that the past five years have been more tame than the 20 before it. Obviously, I have been sitting here spending ALL of my time aging and growing more face.

SO much face!

While I have been expanding and aging, some amazing women have been changing the world. Literally.

My dear friend Kara has been on the adoption journey of a lifetime. She had fallen in love with a ginger baby doll in Russia, had committed to bringing him home when Putin pulled his nasty trick. Heartbroken she pulled herself together and continued on her journey to give an orphan a home. THEN she found out she was pregnant! She gave birth a matter of weeks ago and she is currently in country and met her son yesterday (with new baby in tow.) The joy of that meeting was nearly my undoing. What an incredible testament of the power of one and what God can do when people say yes. Feel free to fall in love with Kara and her family.

And then there is Kim. Sigh. Kim. I need to take a moment to thank Facebook, Reece's Rainbow and the Oregon Zoo for the friendship I have with Kim. She is such a bright light that I cannot find enough glowing adjectives to describe her. She has said yes to God in such an amazing way, taking her family with her to Ukraine to volunteer with orphans. AHHHH-MAZING! They leave next week. I really cannot recommend following their blog enough. It is a made-for-TV movie waiting to happen. (in my opinion they should all get to play themselves in the movie because they are all too cute for words!)

So. . .while I have been sitting here aging and slapping you all upside the head with poor grammar and self indulgent drivel, there are people out there CHANGING the world for the better. I have my hands full right now, so perhaps I can focus on changing the DMV for the better.

Drive safely out there people, you do NOT want to see my license or my massive face frowning at you! Talk about traumatizing.

When I was high

I have attempted to get my thoughts down several times and eloquence is just out the window. I mentally wrote this post several times whilst high and dingy on meds and it was at least humorous....without the meds I really cannot guarantee much.

Oh So Pregnant.

On Saturday I was huge. Pregnant and miserable. Huge. I found myself sitting in the hospital debating whether or not to get checked out. I feared something was amiss and I feared in equal parts that I was simply a hypochondriac about to rack up an insane medical bill for a little peace of mind. When I got up from my indecisive perch, I was heading home. . .and instead my feet led me to the front desk to get checked out.

2 hours later I was in an ambulance headed to a different hospital. A hospital equipped to handle the tiny baby that I was likely to have soon. It did not matter that we were supposed to go buy our mini van that day. That I was not due for 2 more months. That we were not ready at all. . .that baby was not ready. I was shuttling to an outcome that no one was not prepared for in the least.

And then I was high. My vision was scrambled, my mind was in shambles and I was about to meet my new son for the first time.

The whole experience was more than traumatic and I think that I will be working through it for quite some time. My baby boy is tinier than I could have imagined but he is so strong and is showing the world just what he can do and I am blown away by him. He does not seem to be bothered by the change in his plans. He is rising to the occasion and making the best of things. He is showing his Mama up in every way possible.

Looking back I am ashamed at myself. Oh I spent so much time moaning about how miserable I was pregnant. Trust me.. .I was MISERABLE! So very sick. Do not get me started....

I abhorred the sight of my swollen face, avoided pictures and was an all around pain in the butt about it all.

Shame on me. My dear boy was safe and snug in my super sized hotel. If only I could have focused on that a little more and focused on my own discomfort a little less. The outcome may not have changed a bit, but I recognize what an honor it is to care for such a little warrior in such an important way. There are no do-overs as much as I might beg for one.

My first chance holding Baby O. Bliss.

I love you, little man. Thank you for showing me what true strength is. I look forward to watching your amazing progress, I have so much to learn from you!

How is it that such an ordinary pain in the butt like myself can be so blessed with such incredible children? Please dear God, do NOT let me screw them up. They are awesome.

Enough?

Insomnia returned last night. I prayed myself to sleep. I have allowed too many people into my head, it is like a circus in there at the moment but it all boils down to one thing. . .enough.

I have advocated for many families and children on Reece's Rainbow. I have started a ministry at my church to encourage families to consider adoption. My family adopted a sweet little guy from Ukraine under two months ago. . .and yet, I was awake far too long last night, with the realization that it is not enough. It will never be enough when I hear the following phrase: "He/she has been sent to the institution." S#*+. Say it isn't true.

London 9HA

DOB October 2007

HIV resulting in other bacterial infections

Intracranial laceration and haemorrhage due to birth injury

Birthmother had Viral HCV

Stenosis and insufficiency of lacrimal passages

Iron Deficiency (get this boy some beef and spinach!)

Additional (adorable) photos available

For more info and parent support on adopting and raising a child with HIV, please visit http://www.projecthopeful.org/ 

I had a dream last night when I finally fell asleep. My husband nearly divorced me and when I mentioned the dream this morning, he shook his head and walked away from me...hinting that the divorce portion of the dream could very well be a reality.

Look at dear London. I have prayed for this sweet child. I have posted his picture numerous places and yet he waits. I received word yesterday that he has been transferred to an adult mental institution. Go back...read his diagnosis. He is mentally fine and yet has been sentenced to a life in an adult mental institution. Is it not bad enough that he has waited over 5 years to be told he is precious? That he is worthy of love? To be hugged and kissed and cherished? Look at his serious face. . .so sweet. He must have been terrified being wrenched from the orphanage, the only "home" he has ever known. To face the harsh reality of a mental institution where it is survival of the fittest. How will this little boy survive? HOW CAN THIS STILL BE HAPPENING? The reality of the mental institution is shocking. Please read Adeye's blog for more information about the harsh conditions in mental institutions.

Look at the size of people in these cribs! So inhumane. It is likely they are not allowed out  of these cribs for days at a time. 

Back to my dream. I hopped an overnight flight to London's country. I signed a piece of paper that allowed me to bring London home for a 10 day visit and I had tasked myself with finding him a family in those 10 days. I fell head over heels for this little tyke but husband was too livid with me for bringing another child home without consulting him for me to believe we could just keep him. Understandably...but what is the alternative? Allow this to happen to him? If only it was as easy as hopping a plane and signing one piece of paper. I would, in a heartbeat.

Adoption is hard, I wont lie, but the alternative is torture for children. They are literally condemned to suffer for the selfishness of our society, for the sins of the world. What an unfair burden London bears on his tiny shoulders.

I hope he has his Teddy with him!

I understand that I cannot personally adopt them all and yet I cannot stomach the realities these sweet children endure. I fervently pray that God protects and sustains London. I pray that more and more families step forward to rescue these sweet babies before they experience the horror of the institution.

in 3 days....and a MATCHING GRANT!

Oh the number 3...so many peaceful and mysterious connotations with the number 3. I will take comfort in the TRINITY today, facing our departure in 3 days is stressful, but with those 3 in my arsenal, we should be just fine. (I wish I felt just as confident as that sentence sounds.)

So, the 3 of us will board a plane in 3 days. . .to fly 3 million miles away to claim the child that God has destined for our family. In 3 days, our lives will never, ever be the same. Amazing how life really can change in the blink of an eye.

Eli still asks about Pasha and prays that he will come and visit. Depending on how things pan out in country, perhaps we will get to meet him and support his new family. You never know. ..

So, I have not been actively blogging or posting on facebook lately as all of the loose ends that need to be nicely wrapped up are overwhelming me. It all makes me want to take a very long nap. Sorry for the absence...

On the GREAT news front, we have been offered a matching grant! A matching grant! We were $1350 away from being fully funded and we now have the opportunity for an extra $1000 in our fund! That's right! A matching grant for $500! This grant has been offered by "the Finishers" and "Anonymous Angels" and both groups are heaven sent to us! We will receive our matching grant when our FSP reads $8167! Please if you can donate, do! It would mean so much to us and take away a little of the stress from this situation.
http://reecesrainbow.org/38523/sponsorlittle I know, we still have Pasha up on our link...his little face still makes me smile. I will miss him so much.

We should be posting more by Monday. . .and by then we will know exactly who our child is going to be. Are you as blown away by this as we are?

Baby Steps

I feel like Bill Murray in "What About Bob." Completely. Baby steps to the kitchen, baby steps to the fridge. .. all day long.

Losing Pasha has thrown us off our game. My husband has been traveling SO much lately that we have only had a few moments here and there to sit down and talk about what we will be doing with this adoption process.

After some tense conversations and a lot of prayer, we reached a consensus. We are both terrified. Unsure of our tentative steps, trying to step out in faith, but afraid to let go of the safety railing. You know the feeling.

SO, we are keeping our appointment in country. We have NO idea who we are to adopt, though we both believe that we were led down this path for a reason. So, in 2 weeks, we will be in route to see what God has planned for our family. I personally feel that God is offering us a child, all we have to do at this point is accept it. Why would we turn away from such a gift?

This is an adventure for sure, one that will likely make my hair turn gray over night. We have not stopped praying and likely will not stop until we are home.

Showered

God speaks to me the loudest in the shower. Perhaps the acoustics are best in there? Perhaps it is because showering is all about purity, cleaning away the mess of life.  AND people are pretty vulnerable in the shower. (Psycho.) For whatever reason, THIS is where God speaks to me. (For those that picture me sitting in a dark room, blinds closed, sobbing my eyes out...I am up and about. And I am happy to announce I have showered. Count me down but NOT OUT!)

God has been speaking to me, but I have been refusing to listen. My heart has been too broken with the loss of Pasha on top of the losses of Beckett and Lazarus. To be honest, I really felt that God was pushing me a little to hard. Oh what a lovely pity party I have been having.

I was looking at it ALL WRONG. Of course, if there is a wrong way to do something or approach a situation, you can count on me to find it!

My hubby and I started the adoption process knowing there was a chance that Pasha may not be available. We ran forward anyways. Perhaps God used Pasha and his perfectly lovable smile to nudge us forward. This I cannot figure out, but the bottom line is this. When I started this process, I considered myself pregnant. .. the tears and emotional roller coaster supported this. Adoption is pregnancy.

Now, let me make this abundantly clear. I am speaking for myself. Only me. This is where I am at.

Almost a year ago I was pregnant. Oh, I had dreams of my perfect baby. .. the beauty that I could not stand. . .perfection in every way. When I was told that my baby was NOT perfect, I was devastated. Destroyed. God picked me back up and I still LOVED  my baby and with time accepted that my baby would still be perfect to me and to God. I was again eager to meet him and love him forever.

How alike are these two journeys? In my pregnancy with Pasha, I was also delivered the blow that my baby will not be the Perfect, Adorable, Tiny baby I thought. How should I respond? Allow devastation and disappointment and then tell God thank you. HE is STILL opening all the doors to give me a child that I will adore, love and find perfect in every way. ..precious and lovable. SO WHAT if that child is not the child I was expecting. . .my faulty thinking gets in the way of reveling in the possibility. The miraculous gift God is offering me. This is all SO much bigger than my pea brain can comprehend.

I resolve to stop thinking and attempting to second guess God's plan in my life. What abundant joy he is offering. I need only to accept it. God is literally blowing my mind.

God is showering me with life, support and miraculous love. Who could ask for anything more?

The Call

The picture changed our lives. We were called to rush forward. To tell everyone we met that we LOVED him and were rushing to him to tell him just that. We were called to shower him with love and provide for him.

As much as I tried to keep myself from getting too attached before he was in my arms, I could not help myself. I mean, come on. .. look at him. He is precious beyond words. I could not wait to smooth his wispy hair, hear his giggle. Watch his eyes light up with joy. Learn his personality. Watch him grow. When we got our travel date, I was ecstatic!

Then, on Thursday, a miracle happened. My husband and I agreed upon a name for this sweet little boy.  You have NO idea what a monumental undertaking that was! We had our travel dates, so much excitement AND a name. Amazing.

Early Friday another call came. THE call. The dreaded call. I almost didn't answer. I thought I had braced myself for this possibility, I was wrong. In under 30 days we will not be holding Pasha. I will not get to wrap those perfect fingers around my own finger. I will not get to kiss those sweet cheeks and tell him how loved he truly is. I will not get to snuggle the boy I have been dreaming about for the past 4 months. Pasha is being adopted domestically. Poof. Like that. The dream turned to dust.

Happy news for our sweet little munchkin, he WILL have a family. He will be free from the orphanage soon enough. I pray wholeheartedly that his life be long and blissfully happy. I also pray that he felt our love while he waited. ..

Oh, every time I see this picture my heart breaks a little more. I honestly did not think I would react so strongly to news that I knew was a possibility.

My husband and I are praying fervently that God illuminates our path from here. The wind has been knocked out of our sails and we are working to establish a direction.

Please pray for Pasha and his family. May their process fly so that they can incorporate him into their family very quickly!

Blitzing for Love

Oh how I wish I could blog about Summer activities, or about how Eli peed on our Sofa the other day. My potty trained boy . ..on our sofa. .. did I mention a really new sofa? Yup. ..

I dream of the day when Blog-blitzes are no longer needed. . . where sweet children do not have to know the sadness of an orphanage, the desperation of a mental institution. Of a day when maybe one or two of these awful buildings will be a memorial of past traumas, like Dachau, honoring the sweet babies that once languished in it's corridors. Today is not that day.

There are faces on Reece's Rainbow that stir my soul. There are faces that spur people into action immediately. Pasha was one of them. . .there is another little boy that was listed recently and less than 24 hours later, he had a family committed to him. That is the ultimate goal.. .families. There are faces that are all but ignored. Stories so touching I cannot help but tear up. There is a list of children (longer than my heart can handle) that have been waiting since the start of Reece's Rainbow. ..years and years and years. Passed over and forgotten.

Megan is a sweet 7 year old girl with Down Syndrome. She should not be defined by her diagnosis anymore than someone with Diabetes or Cancer should. She is a sweet girl with no parents. Her prospects are dire, she is living in an adult mental institution, just doing her best to survive. She has over $23k waiting for the family that is lucky enough to step forward for her. For the blessed family that has the love and courage to say "YES!"

Maxim, oh Maxim. With your bright blue eyes, that gleam with mischievousness. How has that light not been dimmed with the passing of time? Day after day, month after month, year after year, you wait to be loved. . .to belong. I cannot wait for the day I see that your family has found you. I will sob happy tears. .. you belong. .I know you do! I wish I was in a position to bring you into my house and my family. Please know you are already at home in my heart! Read his profile. It will melt your heart, AND it says that he loves to clean! What a bonus!

Daniel. Look at the love and affection that is radiating from this child. (He is the sweet blond kiddo.) How can a family NOT want to welcome that kind of love into their daily lives? How is it possible that he has waited 11 years for the love of a family, when he so clearly knows how to love!?!

Dixon, sadly born into a country that believes that certain lives are simply not worth living. Dixon fights on, proving them wrong every single day. . .the heart of a warrior defying the odds and surviving appalling conditions. Waiting in faith and hope that one day his family will find him and fight along side of him. Look at his picture, he looks like he does not know who to trust. .. someone rescue him!

Andruis is a darling little guy. He is 12. He is so much smaller than a 12 year old, so in need of some love and attention. Some healthy home cooked meals will go a long way! I bet it would not take much love and affection to put a smile on his face.

Oh, seriously. How can any heart stand it? Sweet children. Tossed aside. Neglected, starving. Living in places where the sounds and smells would make us want to retch and run? Sweet children that should smell like shampoo and sunshine, confident in the love of their family. Ready to face the day and grow and love, if only given the chance. I understand it is not easy. It is work. Parenthood is not for the faint of heart. Adoption is what God calls of us, for He has adopted us into His amazing family.

This should not be a reality. See their faces? How can it be that they are in these cribs? Why are they sitting on benches surrounded by rocking, moaning, crying people? It does not have to continue. It doesn't! All it takes is one more family rising to the challenge. Believing that a family cannot have too much love. My family and I are working to make sure there is one less child waiting for a family.. .it can be done. It will change the world. I have to believe that.

It changed the life of this one..  ..it is POSSIBLE! It takes a little love and a little courage. . .but it is SO worth it! One does not need to be an expert on special needs to adopt a child. . .it takes love. That is it!

There are 63 children that have been waiting such a long time. Please feel free to visit the other blogs also shouting for these kiddos. 


 http://gilda-findingpearls.blogspot.com/

 http://wholelottalovin.blogspot.com/

http://melissa-roomatthetable.blogspot.com/

www.orphanreport.blogspot.com

http://lifesbeautifulbutterflies.blogspot.com/

http://inthewildwood7.blogspot.com/

http://departtoserve.blogspot.com/

http://answeringthecallfororphans.blogspot.com/2012/05/dad-who-answered-call.html

clairescalicocorner.blogspot.com

http://wonderofboys.blogspot.com/

http://supermomwithoutacape.blogspot.com/

http://covenantbuilders.blogspot.com/

http://the-scenic-route-momto6kids.blogspot.com/

www.zerothezeros.blogspot.com

The Blessing of Dirty Floors

Adoption. Can I have one conversation in my life that does not involve our adoption? Nope. It is the nature of the beast. Adoption all but consumes the life of the family that is in the process. Perhaps this is only me.

This is how is it (brace yourself for the crazy): I need to buy groceries. I have made the shopping list 3+ times. . . .but cannot locate it. It goes a little something like this: "Oh yeah, we need pinto beans. And juice for Eli. Oh! That email came in about that document. . .okay, where is that document. . ..Eli, go play. . .HERE'S the document. Awesome. Phew. Eli LEAVE WICKETT ALONE! Okay, what's the email say to do with this document . . Wickett! Stop barking! Please? Document. ELI! Seriously? Leave the dog alone. . .sigh Time Out. Eli. Time out. Ugh, put the paper down. . wait until nap time. But I could just get it done. . .cross it off my list. I just need one more minute. . .and I could cross it off my list!"

Nap time comes around and I realize that I am famished. And exhausted. .. if I could have just a second of quiet. Mindless quiet. .. just a moment. But the laundry is begging to be folded. Begging. Oh. . .another email. Let's see what else I have to get done today. . . Oh, and that first email from this morning, let's take a look at that. . ..

Repeat. All. Day. Long. Dinner time rolls around and what do you know? I have no pinto beans. .. Eli has no juice.

It is nice to have so much information at my fingertips all the time. . .but perhaps it is not good for the psyche. I am nearly done with our dossier. Massive accomplishment. But I am severely burnt out. So, I have put myself in time out. I can only check my phone and email a couple of times a day. Routine needs to be reinstated. Sanity needs restored and groceries are desperately needed.

I stepped away yesterday. Today, I feel a little better. A little less everywhere at once. YAY! The groceries were purchased, but what do you know, I forgot the pinto beans. Awesome.

The house needs a good cleaning. The floor needs mopped. THIS I can do. THIS I CAN DO. I don't need to ask anyone how to do it. I am not relying on a mop. . .good old bucket of water and a cloth. .. .it doesn't need a certain kind of stamp, any special language.. . if I miss something I can easily fix it. Me, cloth, soap, floor. Can life be that simple?
I never thought I would find mopping to be so restorative. . ..therapeutic. Adoption alters reality, I wouldn't change this journey for anything, but really? Mopping is the answer? God has a sense of humor!

Raising Funds

It's how Politicians become President and how this family will bring Pasha home. If you choose to donate, I promise there will be no drama. . no Supreme Court involvement.. .I will send you a thank you card once sweet baby boy is home. . ..

Believe me, I know. . .fundraising is NO fun at all. It is really misleading to have FUN anywhere in that word.. .but I am trying to make it fun and easy for all involved. Here is the deal. I know there are people that may not agree with fundraising for adoption. I get it. I would have never asked anyone for help paying for Eli's Birth, or any of the medical costs associated with Beckett. So why would I even ask for help with this? It is really quite simple and I will state my reasons and leave it. I will not preach.
Simply put, I firmly believe that these children should not be left to languish in an institution simply because of money. It is wrong. Not everyone wants to make the commitment to bring an orphan home. I understand that too. It is really simple to help those that DO want to see the orphan crisis end. .. and it can be as easy as spreading the word about an adoptive family, praying for them and donating.. .every single dollar helps.

Because it doesn't have to be this way...

Lucky for us we did not have to spend $25k to bring Eli home. I know if you add up our co-pays and insurance premiums. . .blah blah blah..it still cost a fair chunk, but it was not a lump sum of cash straight out of our account.
Our adoption is flying. ..we should be able to submit our paperwork next week or the week after. . .We have been working for a little over a month on this. Racing to get to Pasha. .. to make up for the past 6 months. Six month with little (if any) cuddle time. Rationed food that likely left his tummy grumbling. Six months of having his diaper changed only once or twice (if he is lucky) a day. See why we are really pressing ourselves?
Coming up with $25k in 7 months or less is daunting. As I stated, I cashed out my retirement to help cover costs. . .but it does not cover the entire cost. DOH! Keeping that in mind, Pasha may come home with larger medical needs than we are anticipating. It would be prudent to have some of that retirement fund sitting there when we arrive home to cover his medical care. Just as an example, if each of our Facebook friends donated $20 we would be half way funded. We could cover the rest. Done. Not all of our facebook friends will donate and that is totally okay. I just wanted to illustrate just how simple it could be. Every little bit does add up.

We have an ongoing fundraiser through 147millionorphans.com. There is a handy dandy button to the right.  .use that link to purchase some lovely advocacy apparel.

Lolasitas!

There is also a fundraiser through Lolasitas awesome shop on Etsy. A portion of every sale will go to our adoption fund. She has awesome blankets that would be perfect for gifting! Make sure you use our name when purchasing.

One of our AWESOME Auction Items. .. 

We will have an online auction on Facebook. Click here to access the auction.We (mostly Annie T, Annie I am SO grateful for your help!) has gotten some amazingly cute items to bid on. .. so simply put: Look at cute pictures. Give us ALL your money. Convince your friends to give us ALL their money as well. Pasha will come home and we will be so grateful. Seriously, bidding on the items will start on July 20th at 10am Pacific time. Shipping will be included unless you live out of the country and then I will negotiate with you.. .perhaps I will cover the extra shipping costs. Please do share with your friends. This auction will last one week only. . so check back often to make sure your bid is still the highest. All the donations have been generously offered by shop owners trying to make a living .. .so please note the links to every item and visit their shops! If your bid is the highest, then you will donate the amount of your bid here. Here is the BONUS. .. you have scored a cute new item AND your donation is tax deductible. . WIN-WIN! See, it is kinda fun. Right?

I will be throwing an 80s Dance Party Fundraiser (there's the FUN!) in August. I will post more when it gets closer to the time. . .I know you are on the edge of your seat.

Thank you so much for your time and for giving us your support! Pasha and I appreciate it more than we can say! If I haven't said it before, I don't expect anyone to donate, but I hope and pray that this adoption can be completed without acquiring a large debt. If you cannot or will not donate. .. I still love you and hope that you will keep us in your prayers!

Guest Post: Lauren Horton

The Hortons are working diligently to bring home 2 lovely girls from Eastern Europe. They have been working tirelessly to raise funds and jump through the many hoops for the day that they get to see and hold their baby girls, which they have heard should be in August. They are still in need of donations (5000.00 to be more exact) so please visit their FSP to donate. I offered Lauren Horton the chance to write a post on my blog. . .


Our poem for Isabelle


The night is dark.
The hours long.
Tummy rumbles….diapers soaked.
Far off moaning
She hears screams
Banging…yelling…

Daylight Breaks
The hours long
Tummy rumbles…diapers soaked.
She chews her wrists, she bangs her head
Tummy rumbles, diapers soaked.

Daddy PRAYS
Mama WEEPS
Our valentine girl…you are OUR heart
It’s been too long!



Isabelle was born on Valentines day
She is ten years old and was transferred from her Orphanage to an Adult Institution when she was four. Our valentine girl…you are OUR heart. It’s been too long!













Letter to Milena

Our Sweet Daughter,
Your eyes call to us…we have your picture at our kitchen table….your brothers and sisters talk to you all the time. We hold hands and pray for you at dinner. We our so sad and sorry that you are not well. Our hearts break that there is no one to hold you and snuggle up with you and sing sweet songs to you and give your yummy toes a little tickle, no one to make sure that you are getting all the care you need so you can get BETTER!
Milena, you have not been forgotten, you are loved. Milena, you are perfect just the way God made you. We are coming sweet girl!


Love,
Your waiting family


Milena has Down syndrome, she is three years old and weighs only 11 pounds. Her condition is tenuous at best. She desperately needs to come home and receive proper medical care and nutrition.

The Hortons would love any assistance you can provide through prayer, donations and by spreading their cause. Thank you!

Parallels

In the fall of 2004 I agreed to a spur of the  moment trip up Mt Kenya. I was committed to seizing the moment; in every moment possible. Ill prepared but committed, I headed up the mountain. It was to take us 3 days to hike up and two days back. . .I think. My memory on this is incredibly foggy.
On the 3rd day of this hike, we woke up at 2am to hit the trail by 3. Evidently the sunrise from the mountain was breathtaking and not to be missed. I had not slept well, unbeknownst to me at the time, this was due to the altitude. All I knew was that it was difficult to breathe, very painful. Despite this, I was revved up and looking forward to getting to the top. My hiking mates were a tad concerned about my apparent inability to breathe but I assured them that it would surely wear off as I warmed up.

We hiked straight up the side of the mountain in the pre- dawn darkness and I was wheezing in no time at all. I took a few breaks but kept walking through the wheezing, nausea and dizziness.....two hours later, I was at 4500 meters...and I could not breathe. I began to hyperventilate and dry heave at the same time. My friend K sat down with me....well, I collapsed and he sat and tried to calm my breathing down.The porter and guide urged me to turn back but I refused. My legs were not tired, surely I could make it, but no more than five minutes later...hypervenitlating, I passed out. When I came to, my friend K was not pleased and was very concerned. He picked me up and started to carry me down the mountain. I was more than embarrassed and did not want him to miss the sunrise on the mountain so I convinced him that I was fine, that he should definitely continue up the mountain. The porter would take me down the rest of the way. .K assured me that I would not die on the mountain and Martin the Porter would guide me back down the mountain. As soon as K left, I again passed out. I have no idea how many times this happened and for how long.

This is my friend Alex on the first day of the hike. Martin the Porter is leaning against the car. 

Martin the Porter was a tiny little man and I am sure I outweighed him. By alot. I could not maintain consciousness. When I came to, he was shaking me and telling me to stand up...but I could not;  so he literally dragged me down the mountain on my butt. I was in and out of consciousness for the next hour or so down the mountain. Everytime he tried to make me stand up, I would pass out. At some point I cuddled up against a rock. When I began to feel warm, I knew that the end was near and I  tried to say my prayers, but was getting them all confused in my head.....I was so terrified. Martin kept shaking me and I yelled at him..."leave me be....I am gonna die here...." I dont think he understood enough english...but I was pretty abusive to him, poor guy. I begged him to radio for help casue I was dying. There was no radio. No help. I was toast. If I could not stand up. . .how was I to get to a lower elevation?  We had an hour to go...and I still could not stand or keep awake. He threw my arm around his shoulder and began to drag me down the mountain. I was still in and out.....at one point, I woke up to see us both on our feet skidding down this gravel landslide.....I cannot remember how we stopped, but remember thinking that if the altitude sickness did not kill me, I was surely going to fall to my death.

I cannot remember how  Igot down the mountain, I think he carried me...He did get me down the mountain and into my sleeping bag. He then proceeded wake me up every 10 minutes (his revenge?) to make sure I was alive. But I was  alive. ..barely. I had a 7.5 hour hike to a lower elevation in the morning. I could not see well, my vision was blurry, I was still vomitting. Breathing and consciousness was not guarranteed. It was a rough trip to say the least. (For more information: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Altitude_sickness)

I learned quite a bit from this little Carpe Diem nightmare, most importantly. . .NEVER UNDERESTIMATE  A PORTER. 

Porter

BOY, Born August 10, 2005

PORTER HAS BEEN TRANSFERRED 

Don’t mind this pink shirt, Porter is a BOY.    He is HIV+, stage 3.   He is mildly cognitively delayed as well.

From his medical records:   HIV stage 3, without immunosuppression, delay of psychomotor and speech development, bacillosis

For more info and parent support on adopting and raising a child with HIV, please visit http://www.projecthopeful.org/

$2050.60 is available towards the cost of my adoption!

Donations are tax deductible.

Meet Porter. Dark beautiful hair, bright trusting eyes. This boy is officially lost. I bet he wants to give up, perhaps curl up next to a rock, say his prayers and give up. I do not blame him. He is 6 years old and was recently transferred to a mental institution. There are NO toys at this institution. No books. No playing. No laughter. Literally, people in this insititution sit all day, staring at the walls, often rocking to soothe themselves. They do not rock as part of their condition, but from a lack of stimulation. This is a place that no one should be sent, let alone a little boy with so much promise, so much to live for. 

Please read more about the Lost Boys here. Knowledge is power. Change is possible. These children deserve homes and should not be lost. Porter is suffering a fate through NO choice of his own. He has not decided to move to this facility. He has not chosen to have HIV. He did not choose abandonment. .. please help him live a brighter, happier life!