On Strike For Love

Please join me at Wives in Bloom today! I wrote this article just days before H returned home from deployment!


Thank you to everyone for your kind words and prayers for our family's reunion-it has been an amazing four days!

Together Again

Thank you to everyone who prayed for H's safe return. I can't describe what it feels like to have him home again but I hope these pictures speak for themselves.  I'm taking a few blogging days off so check back in next week!

Faith Deployed: A Post on Creating Intimacy

Happy Monday all! Please join me over at Faith Deployed today as I talk about simple ways to create intimacy during separation.

This doesn't just apply to deployments, but for spouses who have careers that take them away from family for any period of time.

Deployments Stink

Homecoming is approaching but not fast enough for two little ones who miss their daddy.  Tonight at bedtime we prayed for the first wave of daddies who are coming home (very) soon and asked God to bless their reunions with their families.  When I opened my eyes I was looking at a very sad little boy. Tears streaming down his face as he so bravely tried to get through our prayer without making a sound until he couldn't hold it in anymore.  It doesn't seem fair that he has to wait an extra month to hug his daddy while other kids do not and he is angry.
It's not fair. None of it. Not that they have to be without their father. Not that it's for so long and so far away.  Not that we live in a world where men have to stand watch with a gun. I can wipe away the tears but there will be more to replace them tomorrow. There is only one person that can take them away and he is not here.
I am praying that the time goes by quickly. That before we know it H will be home and we will be together again. Because watching them cry breaks my heart into a million little pieces.

Should Military Families Adopt?: Part 3

While H was preparing to deploy January of last year I won't deny that I had a  few moments of panic.  We had spent the past year and a half assuring Prim that we were, in fact, here to stay.  That nighttime was not scary because we were all still together when the lights were out and that we would love her even when she fought us as if her life depended on it.

We were just beginning to see who she was beyond the hurt and fear when H left for Iraq and I was afraid that her smile would fade in the wake of her father's absence. Explaining to a three year old that Daddy is going on a long trip is pretty much the equivalent of telling her he'll be home tomorrow. She had no concept of time, no internal calendar to help mark the days gone by, so after the first week, when she was asking for Daddy to come back and I couldn't explain any better that the deployment was seven months long, we both wept.  I felt guilty for causing her unnecessary pain, for putting her through what I had promised so casually would never happen again. I had a moment of thinking "what had we done?". Did we really think her soul could survive the constant separation? Was a military lifestyle okay for a child who had suffered the trauma of abandonment not once but twice?

That first week, when we held each other and wept, I silently pulled out the daddy doll I had been saving for a moment when I knew she would need to see his face. I put the puffy pillow-like doll with Daddy's smiling face in between us and wrapped her arms around it.  Reminding her that Daddy still loved her. That even though he was miles away he was still in her heart. That he was coming back.  That we would be with her always.  That the distance did not mean he was gone for good, just gone for now.  I'll never forget the look of surprise on her face when she saw her new doll.  How wide her eyes got at the small version of him in front of her.  She very quietly said, "Oh daddy. I've missed you so much" as she lovingly stroked his face and cried.

Later that night I cried for her, for us.  It was so hard but seeing her sadness gave me hope that some of the anger she had been holding on to was melting away.  That her tears could be wiped away and replaced with a smile.  Over the next seven months she went through an adjustment process, working out her feelings in many ways. Sleep issues resurfaced with a vengeance, no place was close enough to me and it was exhausting.  But she did it! She smiled and laughed and played.  She went to preschool and made friends and learned to manage her feelings as she continued to mature.  She realized that our family was still a family no matter where we were in the world.  She laughed at daddy on the computer when we had an opportunity to Skype and loved babbling about everything on the phone when he called.

When H returned from deployment last August it was such a sweet homecoming for the kids. Prim jumped into his arms with abandon and shouted over and over again "I missed you Daddy!".  She was surprisingly content and the adjustment for her was minimal in the following weeks. I was so proud of her, so thankful for her peaceful heart.

We moved twice in nine weeks after H's return.  Talk about confusing, especially for our little girl.  But we did it with a smile, made our moving a crazy adventure and drove across country to Virginia where we knew another deployment awaited us.  Somewhere in the next few months my daughter became confident, assured in her position in the family.  She went into a new preschool (again) making friends easily and being an enthusiastic student.  She asked often if we were moving again and we would laugh and say "not for a while" at which she would laugh as well.

And then, Daddy deployed again this past April and the goodbyes and I'll be coming backs started all over again. It was incredibly sad but the past seven months had made a big difference in her development and the previous deployment was still fresh in their minds. We settled into a routine, talking often about missing daddy but concentrating on school work, activities, family and friends.  This time she talks about what we'll do when Daddy comes home and I smile because she sees herself in the future with us all together.  She understands that we are together forever.

I had some moments of fear that being a military family would be too difficult for her.   That it wasn't fair to constantly change and uproot and be apart.  But what I have learned is that we have the unique opportunity to focus on what permanence means. That God is still God no matter what.  That our family can live anywhere and still be OUR family.  That Daddy going away is temporary and love can defy distance and time.  That we are serving our country when we support Daddy.  That we can be bigger and better than our circumstances.

I have had the pleasure of knowing many military families who have adopted and I think they make such amazing parents.  Living a military life forces you to be open to the unknown, you are surrounded by a wonderful mixture of nationalities, cultures and lifestyles.  We are grounded by a common bond of sacrifice, honor and service that extends to our churches, communities and schools.

I am proud to say that we are a military family who has chosen to expand our family through adoption.  What is difficult and challenging is also extremely rewarding. We live a life that depends on the 100% assurance of God and faith in His plan and Prim was a part of that plan. He knew our life and what it would mean for her and I am confident that He does not make mistakes.

Should Military Families Adopt?: Part 2

I love the replies I received from yesterdays post and hope you enjoy and are challenged by the next next chapter in this series. I just want to quickly clarify that the main question was not should military families be allowed to adopt, but should they, knowing the lifestyle and the impact it may have on a newly adopted child, choose adoption for their family.

Part 2

To be honest, when we decided to adopt I don't think we gave much thought to the impact our constantly moving, relentlessly changing life would have on our daughter.  In fact, when we began the process of bringing Prim home, we very specifically believed our military life would be an advantage to our little girl thousands of miles away.

You see, Prim was a waiting child from Holt's waiting child photo listing. I took one look at her and those BIG brown eyes and thought "there she is!".  I couldn't get over the similarities in physical features she shared with our son and fell in love with her serious little face.

And so did seven other families.....

I don't know know how to describe the process of being "interviewed" for the right to love and parent a child, but it's not for the faint of heart.  We had to convince a board, who had never met us in person and only knew us on paper, that this ten month old baby with possible special needs, that we were the best choice without a shadow of a doubt.

No pressure...

Before the interview H and I talked about what we had to offer that another family may not.  I kept thinking, how could I convince the woman who was interviewing us that we would love this beautiful little girl more than any other family? I couldn't.  And I wouldn't.  I wouldn't make the argument that our love would be better, that we were more "deserving" because those seven other families wanted to parent this little girl just as much as we did and it felt unfair.  I didn't want the process to feel like a competition. This was about a child.  And we knew there was so much love for her already just from the overwhelming response to one tiny picture on a website.  What we did have to offer which may have been different from other families was (ironically) stability.  We are a military family.  It means job security, medical insurance and no question of pre- existing conditions.  It means a roof over our head, a paycheck on the 15th and 30th of the month without question and the exceptional family member program for those with special needs.  It meant close-knit communities with bi-racial and trans racial families being the norm and accessibility to outreach programs and federally funded support networks.   It means military hospitals, clinics and pharmacies.  It meant a smooth financial and medical transition for a little girl with a lot of unknowns.

A few days later we got the call.  We were hers. She was ours.

And I had to believe it was because, in part, of us being a military family.



Thanks for reading and check back for Part 3!

Melancholy

Today I find myself in quite a pitiful state. Not completely happy and not completely sad but some strange place in between.

Prim started her first day of preschool today. Yes, she began last year but it was only two days a week and this year she will be gone four days a week. As I watched her go into her new class, after just yesterday waving goodbye to G as he began his second grade year, I lamented over how quickly it has all gone.  Time is quickly passing me by and I fear that I haven't captured it enough, remembered enough.  I worry that the little things that make having a child so precious are going to be forgotten.

My expectations have had to shift since May. You see, at this point I hoped to be pregnant, just in the beginning stages of showing off a baby bump.  How it hurts my heart that I do not have this small gift to carry along with me.  I didn't think it would hurt this much but in the quiet of my own mind today I found myself longing for what seems to be missing.

Is it supposed to feel like we're always saying goodbye? Goodbye to expectations, goodbye to our children as they grow a year older, goodbye to a season that we thought would outlast our dreams.  I ask God so often why, why, why that I wonder if He's still listening. But maybe it's me who's not hearing.  I read His Word that says:

In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith-of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire-may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.  1 Peter 6-7

and not only do I think of my own trials; this deployment, infertility and a small brood growing older by the minute, but I think of the people that I see around me who are suffering and I feel overwhelmed.  A friend of mine often posts on Facebook about about a family who just lost their daughter to an aggressive form of brain cancer. She was five. She was alive one day and the next she was gone, resting in the arms of Jesus.  Or I read Mary Beth Chapman's new book about losing her daughter, Maria, and I think to myself, is this what perspective looks like? How can I possibly feel this way with what they have suffered through?

Maybe it would seem easier if H were home.  Him being gone only magnifies the loneliness and I know that he would stand next to me and say "they're getting so big, where did the time go?"... And then I think of him being seven thousand miles away and not being able to kiss them goodbye on their first day of school or hug them when he gets home. Again-perspective.   

I know tomorrow will be a new day and the goodbyes won't feel quite so difficult. And maybe in November, when there is a welcome hello they won't seem so harsh to begin with.  But for now, I pray that I will be proven faithful and that He always be in it...

My Life

Just a bit about me...

click here to read a bit about my military wife life!

We Are All Adopted

 Please check out my article this week at Christian Military Wives new online magazine "Wives in Bloom".  I love sharing how adoption has made such an amazing impact on my life and my faith!

Back To School

I have to say that this upcoming school year has not been without trepidation.  I don't know why but I felt like this was a defining year for my kids and their education.  When we were in California and decided to pull G from public school to place him in a private Christian school I felt like I was making a big statement about how he was going to be educated going forward.
Our move to Virginia, before we were able to place him in said private school, gave us two options. Send G to the local public school (which was raved about by friends and strangers alike) or send him to a private Christian school which would cost $10,000 more than what we would have been spending in California. I hate to say it but the bank account won hands down.
There were things I loved about G's new school and things that made me cringe. I loved that they pushed the kids academically and physically. Who knew first graders would have to run a mile-yes that's one full mile- multiple times a week or that they would have to create their own country with a capital, means of leadership (king or president) and country motto. Hey, for first grade I thought it was pretty great!
I cringed at the way the lunch room ladies were nasty to the children they so obviously labeled as "troublemakers" and still think that it's disgraceful that there is a naughty table for kids who are not following the rules-and it seems like these rules include talking above a whisper.  To place kids at a table that is more like being on exhibit skates a fine line between breaking a child's spirit and discipline.  I will NEVER forget the day that we brought cupcakes to the lunch room for G's birthday and one of the little boys who always seemed to be at the naughty table started to cry because he thought he was going to be excluded. My heart broke when I saw a grown woman lash out at him and tell him to knock it off.  Was this where I wanted my child?
My other concern was that after a while I didn't feel like his classroom was a good fit for him and that is when I began to worry about the upcoming second grade year.
This school year Gabe tested into a gifted and talented cluster class. After watching my best friend struggle with her son and his gifted class-or lack thereof-I worried about my G's upcoming experience.  Would he be challenged and encouraged to be his best without expecting perfection?  Would he have a teacher that can look past flaws in handwriting, attention to detail and silly mistakes and see the brilliant and compassionate little boy who can light up a room just by walking through the door?
At this point you may be laughing at me and my expectations for my children. I know that there is never a perfect teacher or perfect school. I'm not a perfect mother so I get it. But my son is going to spend-as he has in the past two years-seven hours a day with a person that is not me! And that's ok in theory but really-I struggle with that.
So back to the trepidation. I started to wonder if this year would be the one that pushed me to home school. To keep the kids at home where I know them inside and out, where I could ultimately look at myself as a mother and say I did the best in every circumstance including their education. My best friend was now doing it and would be completely supportive and after our first grade year considering home school versus private school we had been at this place before.  What was best?
Back to school night was last night and I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised with what I saw.  Even after hearing positive feedback regarding his new teacher I was still hesitant.  I can honestly say that today I am excited for the start of school on Tuesday. I saw a woman that was both nurturing and resourceful, experienced and mature in her teaching style and I like that.
I think the first day of school is going to be difficult for me. Not only because I am watching this little boy whom I used to carry in my arms as a baby walk away towards a new adventure, but because H will not be here to experience it with us. It's just one more memory that we will have without him, one more step towards the future that will include him waving goodbye to the yellow school bus.
I hope that as families, both mom and dad, walk their children to school on their first day that they remember all of the kids who will be without a parent because of their service to our country.  If you have a child in your son or daughter's class who has a parent deployed overseas, consider doing something special for them or their family. You won't believe what a difference you'll make.

New Features at Amazing Grace

I just wanted to point out some new features here that will help you navigate your way around this blog. Please notice that I have added a button for Faith Deployed which will direct you to Jocelyn Green's amazing site offering support and encouragement to military families-especially those going through deployment.  Articles and devotionals can be found under the "blog" header.

You can now subscribe to Amazing Grace! Don't miss out on updates and posts.  I will be linking articles from Faith Deployed and Wives in Bloom to this blog for one stop reading!

Lastly, I have added a search function to make it a bit less time consuming to view posts by topic. If you are a prospective adoptive parent or are in the process of traveling to your child, please use keyword "travel" or "Thailand" for our travel experience to Prim. Any attachment related topics can be found by typing in "adjustment" or "attachment". 

On a more personal note, please keep our men and women in the armed forces in your prayers. Although "combat missions" in Iraq have ended, sailors, soldiers and marines deployed to Iraq still face hostility and danger on a daily basis as violence increases. The Administration's claim that our role is strictly one of support has not deterred terrorists from targeting our military, Iraqi security forces and civilians.
In the past four days 21 US soldiers have been killed in Afghanistan. Please pray for God's protection over all of those serving in a country covered in darkness and especially for those families who will never see their loved ones again.

It All Comes To This

Though Doth Not Mope

So I realize that yesterdays post may have seemed a bit....somber.  My bad.  That really was not my intention, but intentions be darned and maybe I was a bit mopier than I realized.

I think the thing about military life is that sometimes (i.e. always) it can leave you feeling a bit vulnerable.  I equate being a military spouse to living in the wild, wild west.

Without the corset dresses and lawlessness mind you.

Often the road ahead seems like uncharted territory.  A new duty station, a new city, can often seem just as desolate as a ghost town, blowing tumbleweeds and all.  It takes a strong constitution to unpack your new home in two days in order to host your first social gathering of strangers or walk into your eighth new church in eleven years.  I've done it and I'm sure I'll have to do it again.

You know you are a military spouse when you plan babies around deployment schedules and duty stations.

You know you are used to military life when said military interrupts your careful (and strategic) planning and you have your baby without darling husband by your side.  Oh.  And that rockin' duty station that will give you two years of marital togetherness? Got changed. A week before you are supposed to move.

The thing is, is that military life has been my spiritual saving grace.  I have been forced-out of a sheer desire to stay sane-to give God control of these life experiences that oftentimes leave me breathless.  I can honestly say, that after eleven years I am a walking, living example of Philippians 4:6-7 when it comes to my husbands deployments.  He is on the ground in Iraq and I do not have fear or anxiety.

It doesn't keep me up at night.  I don't get anxious when I hear the news about a roadside bomb.  I don't say to myself what if.  I have peace that can only be described as supernatural. 

God has seen fit to use our military life as a parallel to our journey with infertility.  I get it.  I am not in control.  I do not know the future and I have to find joy in my self imposed suffering.  I could almost laugh about it if I weren't so busy crossing my arms and frowning.  Like a four year old.  Throwing a temper tantrum.

I am blessed.  Even when my ovaries are working against me.  Even when the military makes a mockery of my careful and very reasonable plans.  I can find peace in the God who is Love.  There is joy in the waiting because God is in every twist and turn.  If I didn't have faith I think I would melt.

In a big teary puddle.  And I don't wear waterproof mascara.