Friday, August 22, 2014

Changing Hearts... through adoption

I was nervous.  BOY, was I nervous to tell my parents about our decision to adopt from Haiti.

They had expressed their dismay at my mission trips to Haiti with our church BUT they had always supported me.  Every time I went, I knew that my mom and dad were at my house watching my kiddos while Stephen was at work.  THAT was worth its weight in gold!

But to actually bring an orphan into our family?!  That was a whole other realm for them!

My parents had always been called to local/backyard ministries.  While they served for years with Meals on Wheels, I dreamt of serving overseas.  They did not understand my 'calling' for global missions.

And that's OK.  We all have our different callings.  Some local, some global... some with children, some with animals.
I decided to call them -YES, CALL them- with the news that they would be gaining a grandson from Haiti.  Maybe this wasn't the best route but, hey, I'm a wuss sometimes!  Seldom but sometimes! 

The conversation went, unfortunately, like I had feared....  lots of crying (my mom), lots of frustration (my dad) and lots of sadness (me).

This was new territory for all of us.  I was not always the most compliant child but we had never really been at odds with each other. 

I kept telling myself that they loved me enough to love whom I loved

[wash, rinse and repeat.. again and again for the next several months]

The interesting thing was, I felt God's guidance during this time.  A certain calmness to the matter.  My natural instinct is to -sometimes defiantly- stand up for what I believe in and do it boldly. 

But not this time.

This was my family.  My mom and dad AND my son.

I really felt like I needed to allow them to feel these emotions that they were having.  I couldn't force them to change OR love my son. They were coming from a place of fear.  Fear for me, my children and my family's dynamic.  As we all know, a parent will always worry about their child and they feared how my family could possibly be harmed by our new addition.

For the next couple of months, I would answer most of their questions and concerns with the same statement, "OK, if you feel that way" or "OK, that is your choice".  Ugh, was that hard and frustrating for them to hear BUT I didn't want to put my emotions onto it.  This was their journey to take too.

And, wow, did we have some confrontations and questions...  "Are you sure?"  "Can you still change your mind?"  "This is going to be a lot of money!" 

Then, "Why not locally?"  "I'm not sure if I can have him here at my house when you bring him home."  "I don't think that I can babysit your kids anymore when he comes home."

*I said that this was going to be a truthful and raw post... it wasn't pretty y'all!*

I went from a call-ya-everyday relationship with my mom to maybe pick up the phone every 2 weeks to show you that I still love you.  It. Was. Hard

But I knew that this was exactly where I needed to be.

Our relationship was now filled with hurt and frustration on both sides.  BUT I felt a clear message that I needed to approach this with as much grace and compassion as I could (and that is saying a lot from a person that can be known to have a temper at times.  Just sayin')

I chose to allow my mom to have her feelings without me challenging them constantly.   They were valid and I couldn't short her that.

So what did I do?

I started to carry on as usual.  I would call and visit my parents BUT I would also bring up Sam and any adoption news we had.  I would not slight her feelings but I also had to stay true to our family.  I would still ask them to watch the kids when I would go to Haiti to visit Sam... and they ALWAYS would. 

I respected their feelings but continued to hold to the truths that this was my son -their grandson- plus trust that God would soften their hearts to our family's future.

What did they do?

Well, at first they ignored the whole situation.  I think that they were hoping that this was a fad that would go away with time.  Obviously, it wasn't.

BUT, 10 months into our journey, my mom sent a present with me to give to Sam on his 2nd birthday.  It was a backpack with a couple of Super Man items in it.  The thing was, she had written his name on the top of it and said that it was 'for when he comes home'. 
 
I cried when I got alone that day.  It was the first time that she had acknowledge that he would be coming 'home'.  YAY!
 Then two months later, Christmas came.  I found a present under our tree for Sam from 'Papa and Granny'.  Again, I cried for this show of love and acknowledgement.  We held the present aside for when he came home.  Baby steps, people.  Baby steps.  And I was happy for every one of them!
 
Soon after, as most of you know, we received an email and call that Sam was sick.  On February 11th, I needed to get down to Haiti ASAP.  My first call?  Of course... My mom!!  [Here's a link to that scary story:  http://bringinghomesamb.blogspot.com/2014/03/my-longest-day.html ]

I could tell that she was just as scared as I was for Sam's health and future.  As far as we knew at that moment, he may not survive.  She assured me that I could leave my house immediately for the airport and that the kids would be OK... Granny was on the way!  For ALL of my kids!
I spent the next 2 weeks in Hell.  I don't say that lightly.  There were times that I did not think that my son would make it out of Haiti in one piece.  I saw a child die in front of me at a local hospital.  Multiple, emergent emails to USCIS were going unanswered.  BUT still I could contact my family at home and know that they were being cared for.  AND I WOULDN'T HAVE HAD IT ANY OTHER WAY!
So the day that we were coming home was a whirlwind.  There was no pep talk before hand.  No, "this is your grandson coming home, be nice!"  Nothing like that.  I was still in survival and let's-get-this-done mode.

I was NOT prepared for what I encountered when we arrived at home....

Tears.

Happy to meet you.

I love you.
I am your Granny, tears.

Yes, it was love at first sight.

Folks, we were raised in the deep south.  There are still (no matter how much the media wants to tell you there's not) racial division going on...  but my mom welcomed this grandson into our family with the tears of a new Granny. 
 
What I mean by that is that is there was a lot of uncertainty.  A lot of unknowns.

How would this child from a different race blend into our "Lily white" family (not my words but from that of a social worker)?  How would we all blend and mesh together?

But when it actually happened.... there were no need for words....

Love speaks above it all!



LOVE conquers all fears!!

So, in the words of my mom....  we share this post with you all because it is 'real'.  Real to us!  My parents could not love this little boy anymore... from their own words.  We want to share our story with the world. 

Families can be made up of all different races, creeds, nationalities, 'needs' BUT we are all family in the end.  And no matter what, our son will have a family standing behind him.  ALWAYS!

Monday, August 4, 2014

He's My Brother...

I had a bit of an epiphany this past week...

Our family has gotten a bit used to people giving us second glances when we are out and about.  The 'chatty Nancy' in me loves answering questions about adoption.  My dream is that we may be advocates for adoption and possibly be a catalyst for someone to pursue adoption.  [What an honor that would be!]
However, there is a part of me that is concerned with talking too much, in front of the children, about how Sam is adopted.  I don't want it to always be in the forefront of his mind.  He is first, and most importantly, our son.  Not our 'adopted' son.  This was really brought home last week when we were at Miami's Seaquarium (where all of these photos were taken at.)

There was a play area set up with a bunch of water slides.  The Littles were itching to get on them.  Cole decided to play the good big brother and took one for the team =  helping the boys climb their way to the top of the inflatables.

He stood in the long lines while Isabel and I hid from the Miami sun about 15 feet away.

On the last slide, I noticed that a group of young black girls talking to them while they were waiting in line.  Being the curious sort, I asked Cole about the conversation when they returned...

Apparently, girl #1 peaked around Cole's shoulder and asked if the Littles were his cousins.

His reply was, "No, they are my brothers."

Girl #2 popped her head out of the line, around #1 and said, "but he's black."

Cole... "Yes.  Yes, he is."

And that was it.  Short.  Sweet.  And perfect!

I often say that I learn a lot from my children and this was one of those times. 

Sometimes, less is more.  Right?