The Waiting Walk

In the adoption world, the most common name is “Gotcha Day.”  Because it’s the day we actually “gotcha” in our home. I’m not in love with this name, but I don’t have a better one. Interest, communication, background checks, pictures, interviews, paperwork, visits, and putting a plan in place all came before and led up to this day. But this is the day it gets real.  The day the kids move in.  

Our Gotcha Day* was February 4, 2013.  Ten years ago today.  

Someday I may share more details of all that which came before.  All the anticipation, the tears, the match making process, the joy and love… but also the hurt, the pain, the rejection, the loss… the deep and stabbing loss that makes adoption a necessity.  Because there is no adoption story that does not first start with loss.  Not one.  I have seen this aspect glossed over too many times for me to ever tell our story without always bringing this to light.  But that is a topic that does not have enough space to live here today.  Please just know.  Every beautiful adoption story has an ugly side.  Even the ones that are made to sound beautiful all the way through. Loss is ALWAYS a part of it, and always leaves a lasting impact.

Today I remember the five little faces that arrived at my doorstep with their three amazing social workers (they all loved my kids so much and couldn’t agree who got the honors of bringing them to their new home, so all three came!). Speaking of amazing social workers, I will share this one little story.  When we met these ladies (I think it was their case worker, her supervisor, and the head of the department), after our first visit with our kids in-person, they shared that over the two years my kids had been in foster care, they had gotten lots of applications for adoption. But only for the two youngest.  Or only for the boys.  Or only the girls.  Five at once?  That’s a tall order.  But these workers were determined that my precious five absolutely must stay together.  And so they held out.  That dream became a forever reality when we were matched.

One week before our Gotcha Day we had driven from Louisiana nearly 13 hours to meet them.  We met their foster family.  And then we met them.  I really have no words to describe that moment.  It was quite terrifying in one sense.  More for them, though their people there had done a really great job of getting them as ready as you can for something like this. But try to imagine yourself as a child being ripped away from everyone you know, from every semblance of stability, and sent to live with strangers.  AGAIN.  Having to start all over in every aspect of your life.  Terrifying probably doesn’t even scratch the surface.

I definitely felt overwhelmed, mostly with love – as much as it can be love when you’re laying eyes on someone for the first time.  But I’d been getting to know them on paper for a couple of months and preparing to meet them. The emotions that day, as we got acquainted for real for the first time, were quite intense.  I recorded one line that day that now pops up on my Facebook memories (which weren’t many and no pictures so no need to go stalking, lol):

“Totally in love. x5”

We spent several days there visiting and doing fun things like going to the park and the mini-zoo and McDonalds (don’t judge, it was a small town) before driving back with most of their stuff.  The kids and their workers would follow the next week,  February 4^th.

A lot had already happened in their lives before that day.  Births, then birthdays, all the first-year milestones, first steps, first words, learning to be independent, most of their first days at school – all this happened before me.  

My oldest turned eleven later that month.  My youngest was three.  

February 4, 2013.  A lot has happened in the ten years since then.  

My parents went from one grandchild to six overnight (and these days are quite thrilled to claim NINE! – not bad for only having two kids of their own!). My kids gained a huge extended family, all of whom fell in love with them 1000% and I could not be more grateful for this blessing.

All of my children decided to give their lives to Jesus and were baptized.

Everyone made it through elementary school (the youngest will graduate 8^th grade this June).

One high school graduation down, another to follow this June.

One has moved off to college and is holding her own despite the stresses and traumas that life has thrown her way.  I’m so proud of her!

And I managed somehow in there between momming and teaching to do all the classwork for my Master’s in Educational Leadership, so I will also be graduating this June!

We have lived in three different states, and they’ve attended 4-5 different schools.

We’ve been part of several different church communities and have felt loved and supported by so, so many in these circles.  (Thank you, because likely if you’re reading this you are one of them!)

Oh, and they GREW!!!  My youngest daughter and I are disputably tied for shortest, and my older boys are over 5’ 8” – it’s unbelievable! 

Our life wasn’t perfect. There were struggles. There were rough times. We moved a lot. We struggled in school. Divorce changed our family dynamic. But with each challenge I determined to continue to grow, to heal, to thrive, and to depend on God. They have joined me. I am blessed.

Then there is parenting, and the changes I have experienced as a parent.  Wow.  Where do I even begin?

When I was young and knew everything, I could tell you how to parent.  My parents had some really great philosophies, it worked well with my brother and I, and I believed in it!  But I was not yet a parent.

After kids, the good news is that my general parenting advice has actually stayed the same.  Things like putting Jesus first, love your kids, relationships over rules, be consistent, spend time together, be patient… all really good stuff.  

But.  My understanding of what it MEANS to actually be consistent… or patient… or to truly put relationship first over rules… ya, my understanding of what that means is now night and day different from what I imagined in my pre-parenting days.  I have frequently stated that there is nothing else out there to help you realize what a selfish human you are than having children! Or to give a much deeper meaning to the word “tired.”

Parenting is HARD.  And that is normal parenting.  Add trauma and adoption and all that extra stuff, and truly, it is only by the grace of God that I didn’t make a complete and utter mess of things!

I’ve tried to do my best at things.  I followed blogs of other adoptive families.  Blogs of actual now-grown adoptees. I’ve read.  Taken classes. Listened to stories and research.  I have learned a LOT about parenting, and specifically parenting children from trauma.  As a teacher, there are trainings that have benefited me as a mother as well as a teacher.  The reality is that there is always more to learn.  The reality also is that there is no way to truly learn well except by doing.  And so we did. And we did some more. For better or worse.

Today, my parenting doesn’t feel anything like I thought it would 10 years ago.  Less formula. Very little black and white. Lots and lots of gray. I definitely feel like I have less of a grip on things now than I thought I should or would.  (I do still offer advice, though, if you’re looking, lol.  Because it’s so much easier to give advice when you’re not the one living with the sleepless nights, the tantruming toddlers, or the attitudes – yours or theirs – that make you want to just go crawl back into bed. Just FYI.)  

There is a WHOLE LOT that I would do differently if I could know then what I know now.  

For starters, I would laugh more. Play more. Just BE a lot more.

But most of what I would change would involve allowing my kids the space they needed to heal.  To grow. To just BE. On their own schedule – not mine. Really understanding that a smiling face does not even begin to tell the story of the layers of trauma that lie behind it.  The freedom to make mistakes more often.  An understanding that when you ask a kid, “Why did you do that?” and they reply, “I don’t know,” that they legitimately mean it.  They really don’t know.  In fact, dear parents, can we just stop asking our kids that?  At least before the age of 15 – maybe even 18?  There is nowhere productive for that conversation to go. (Sure, there are exceptions.  There are always exceptions.  Usually we aren’t the exception.)

As I look back over the last ten years, I realize I am a completely different person today than I was when we started this journey.  And when I look in the mirror, I like who I see!  That wasn’t always the case, and so I am grateful to God that I am in this space today. 

And when I look into the faces of my five beautiful children, I really like who I see there too.  A lot.  Like a lot a lot a lot!  They’re so amazing.  And despite the huge learning curve they had to deal with as I figured things out, they haven’t dismissed me!  In fact, over the last year we have grown in our relationship exponentially.  It’s been so fun to watch my kids spread their wings and try new things.  The teen years are oh-so-dreaded, but I feel like we are mostly enjoying this time.  I actually can’t believe I love this stage so much! Don’t get me wrong – I worry just a tad (ok, sometimes a LOT), but we talk about some really good stuff.  I share my life experiences.  They share stuff they’re dealing with.  I still push them, but I also allow some pull too.  We allow each other much grace.  Because we all need it.

I think what it comes down to now, at this point in our lives, with my kids being older, is that we mostly trust each other.  Mostly.  At least we trust each other’s intentions.  This trust didn’t come quickly or without pain.  Not at all. But especially lately we’ve worked hard on being transparent.  And so when they do things I don’t like, I tell them why.  And when I do things they don’t like, they tell me why.  And we work together.  We try to figure out if our reasons why we are bothered are valid in the grand scheme of things.  Are we just being influenced by our friends?  Or by our pasts? By trauma?  By traditions? By good influences?  What do we really want out of life and out of our relationship? 

Just keeping that communication door open is so huge.

Above all, I want my kids to know they always have a place in my heart, and in my home.  I want to see them go out and be amazing and successful – whatever that means for each of them.  But I also need them to know that if something happens that throws these plans off, I’m here.  Even if they do exactly that thing I advised them not to do (please kids, DON’T go do that thing!!!), I still love them.  Always.  Forever.  I love you.

So there we go.  Ten years as a family.  We all have histories that pre-date our start as a family, and that has shaped who we are as individuals, which has shaped who we are as a family.  We have had highs and lows.  We have had mistakes and blunders (the biggest of which were mine, theirs were normal and age-appropriate).  We have had successes and celebrations. We have loved.  We have fought.  We have forgiven.  We have made the choice to do better.  To be better. We have found a pace that works for us.  And we look forward to our future together, as a family, even if we are physically spreading out and leaving the nest these days.

I’m so proud of my children. And maybe it’s ok that I really do think that they are just the best. I mean, I know I’m biased as their parent, but the reality is that I can’t actually take all that much credit for their amazingness! Their good looks (and they do have good looks!) I absolutely had no say in, and even their lovely personalities are really who they are, with maybe just a tiny bit of influence on my part. Maybe. The reality is that they could have easily taken a different route in life and their attitude about it. They could have responded differently to the cards they were dealt, and no one would really blame them. But they didn’t. They have chosen to be who they are today.

And I just love it.

And love that I get to be part of it.

And I can’t wait to see what the future holds.

Happy Gotcha Day to my five.  To our family.

I love you!

May the next ten be even better than the first!

*If you did not know before that our family was formed by adoption, it’s because we have not advertised that fact.  We specifically wanted to allow our children the privilege of growing up as “normal” as possible.  Life is hectic enough without being singled out for something like adoption.  It’s crazy enough without having people ask you what happened to your biological family, or why you needed to be adopted.  Hint: IT’S NOT YOUR BUSINESS.  It’s also not my story – that part of the story is theirs.  This part, the part that covers the last ten years, my children have given me permission to share.  We are now firmly established in our present community, and we trust that this new information will not change the way you view them, or cause you to barrage them with questions. (They’re also old enough to know at this point that if it did change anything for the worse, they’re free to step away from that and refocus their energy in other places where the relationships are safe.)

Thanks for being part of our story, even if you didn’t know this piece yet!