Some Say 11/11 Means Angels Are Near ...

Twelve years ago today, we met him for the first time, and all the pieces of my heart finally clicked into place.

Happy Meetcha Day Owen

Happy Mother's Day - Right on Time

A recent dinner table conversation:

Owen: "Was I born on-time, late or early?"

Me: "Well, we don't know that; remember, we weren't there when you were born"

Owen: "Oh yeah, you met me when I was ..."

Me: "Four months old. Although I'm gonna guess you were a little late. Like you were ready to be born and then you were like, ... oh hey - look at that cool thing over there!"

Owen: "I just thought you would want to thank my mom for having me"

Me: "Oh we would. We do thank her everyday for having you!"

Owen: "Like literally you would say, thank you for having my son"

Me: "Yep"

Owen: "Cause she literally had your son!"

Me: "Yes she did. We are so thankful she made the choice to have you and that you are our kid!"

Owen; "Yeah. What's for dessert?"

And so it is around here. The little additions that being an adoptive family add to our conversations about life and love and belonging and belief. I'm thankful for every piece of our story.

In Praise of Spit

We talk a lot, in the international adoption world, of both the joys we've found in being parents and the unique situations we may face. Two such issues on our journey center around helping our children understand themselves, their identity, what makes them, well, "them".

The first is a practical, yet important matter. And I admit it's one that punches me in the gut a little every time I encounter it - medical forms. Each time Owen sees a new doctor or has any procedures done, now and most likely for the rest of his life, a lot of spaces on it will be left blank. We just don't know if there's a family history of high blood pressure, or cancer, or heart disease. If there's a predisposition to diabetes or alcoholism. No, it's not the worst thing in the world, but it would be nice - for him, for us, for his doctors - to know.

The other challenge is perhaps even more central to our children's well-being and sense of self. Most of us grow up hearing about, and taking pride in, the rich cultural history of our family. I've always known both my mom and dad's families hail primarily from Germany. I grew up with a framed genealogy (written in German) on the dining room wall; I know about German food, German Christmas customs, and German fairy tales. Bob believes his ancestors trace back to England and Wales. Obviously, as an adoptive family, these genetic backgrounds don't work for us as we talk to Owen about his roots.

Owen's birth mother, in the hospital forms she filled out, identified herself and his biological father as Kazakh. Our in-country facilitators separately volunteered that Owen was "100% Kazakh". And so that's what we've taught him, sharing the Kazakh culture with him, visiting the Kazakh embassy, and being always on the look out for anything related to Kazakhstan. I've always been able to see Asian features dancing across his face - those gorgeous almond eyes, the low profile of his nose. And yet, we've wondered, as we try to answer his questions and talk about his ethnicity, if there was more in the mix that created our beautiful boy; after all, Kazakhstan is smack dab in the middle of the famed Silk Road and was for many years part of the USSR.

So here's where a little spit - and science - step in. We finally went ahead and bought a 23andMe kit at Target in mid-July, had Owen spit into the little test tube container, and shipped it off. He was excited, we were excited, and last week we got the results.

It turns out that Owen's ancestry composition is 64% East Asian and Native American. And the majority of that, coming in at 35%, is ...

Mongolian.

Well, that's interesting. And yes, a little surprising to us but not totally out of left field as both Mongolian and Kazakh people have a long history of being nomadic people, working and living in the vast Steppes of central and east Asia. Their traditions, music, cuisine and native clothing share many similarities. We will be sure to add this fascinating country and it's history and people to Owen's life story.

The remainder of his Asian ancestry is Yakut, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, "broadly" East Asian and South Asian, and a tiny bit of Native American.

Honestly, we were expecting to also discover a good amount of Eastern European lineage, specifically Russian. But the results, at 20%, came back fairly evenly spread among Eastern European (defined as Russian, Polish, Ukraine and Hungary), Southern European and Northwestern European. So he's a little Balkan, British, Finnish, but not French, Italian, nor (sigh) ... German.

We are thrilled to have this information for Owen. We all enjoyed reading his reports and talking about the results. Owen particularly like learning that most likely his birth mother's ancestors started some 29,000 years ago in Siberia.

As for medical information, while we still don't know those medical form answers, we discovered that Owen is not a carrier for 39 genetic conditions that, if present, could negatively impact him or his future children. On a lighter note, Owen's DNA shows he's more likely to prefer salty or savory snacks (true), have dry ear wax and less body odor (yuck and good!), and is not likely to lose his hair before age 40 or have male pattern baldness.

23andMe says clearly that they cannot tell the precise origins of all your ancestors, and that the results are based on estimates which could change a bit over time as more DNA is collected from populations world wide. And granted, the results aren't as detailed as we may wish for, but it's so much more than we had and we are thankful for that. Hallelujah for spit!

Happy Mothers Day 2015

A few weeks ago Owen and I were snuggling before bedtime. Having just read an article about the kinds of questions adopted kids might be pondering at his age, I decided to do a "check-in", and casually asked him if there was anything about his adoption he wanted to talk about. He thought a minute or two, and then said, "No, but I'd like to see that picture of my birth mom now" (you might want to reread here).

So I found the key and combo and opened the safe. I pulled out the familiar navy blue folder and brought it back to bed. First I showed Owen his Kazakh passport (which he thought was pretty cool and wondered if could double as a driver's license), then some of the other records we have of his birth.

"OK Mom, but where's that picture?"

I'm not going to pretend I wasn't a little nervous. I wasn't sure what other questions Owen might ask, or how I'd answer them. I wasn't even sure how I'd feel watching my baby look at his first mom's face. But it was time.

I handed him the single sheet containing a photocopy of his mother's country ID. He peered at it, turned to look at me, then gazed at it again.

"What are you thinking Owen?".

Silence.

"Hmmm. Not what I was expecting". And with that he handed the paper back to me and curled into my arms.

We talked a bit more about her. Her name, her age, the tiny village that was her home. We talked about her eyes and hair, and how Owen must look more like his bio father. We talked a little more about things that are Owen's to share - or not. He was fine, ready for sleep, my little boy. And as I exhaled and carefully tucked everything back in the safe, I renewed my silent promise to his first mom.

I will always praise her to Owen. I will make sure he knows about her, and respects her. I will always answer any question as best I can, and if the day comes that he wants to seek her out, I will help him do that. After all, having a first mother doesn't make me any less his mom.

Happy Mother's Day to ALL moms, all the world over.

Little Flashes

"Mom, I'm not adopted".

These last few months, I've heard those words a lot. The first few times, I attempted to engage in careful, considerate conversation (not for nothing did we read all those adoptive parenting books and articles), only to have Owen move quickly on to another topic, usually Minecraft or a snack. And so, after a while, I started responding with a nonchalant, "OK".

I figured that this was just part of Owen working through his feelings about being adopted, about being "different" than his friends at school, about making sense of his world in his own way.

We've always been open with him and did all the things we are "supposed" to do. Owen knows he didn't grow in my body, and that another mother, halfway around the world, gave him the gift of life. I created a glossy life story book for him complete with pictures of his hometown, the doctor who delivered him, the first time we met him. His room is decorated with mementos of Kazakhstan and we never miss a chance to point out if a Kazakh is in the news, or cheer like crazy when their Olympic team takes the podium.  And beyond the fact that we are truly friends with many adoptive families, we make it a point to vacation together so all of our kids develop a bond and connect with others who share similar journeys. So while Owen has never asked a lot of questions, or brought up adoption for lengthy discussion, we thought we were doing well.

"Mom, you know I'm not adopted", he said again last week as we played a game.

"Well Owen, we did adopt you. It's perfectly OK to have been adopted".

"No, I'm not adopted".

A flash of wisdom finally makes it to this mama's brain

"Do you know what it really means to be adopted Owen?"

"Yeah (pause). Um, what?"

"It simply means that you have another mother - you could call her your first mommy, or your tummy mommy, or your birth mother, or just mom. It just means someone else gave birth to you, but Dad and I are your parents because we love you and raise you and take care of you, and we always will. That's all."

"Oh. I wonder what my other mom looks like".

"We have a picture of her if you'd like to see it".

"She better not be weird looking".

"Oh, she's not. She's beautiful. Do you want me to get her picture for you?"

"Maybe some other time. Can we play the game again now?"

"Sure. I love you buddy".

"I love you too mom".

And that was it. For then, for now.

I'm sure one day soon we'll have a similar conversation, and I'm equally sure one day he will want to see his birth mom's picture. We are so very lucky to have a black and white photocopy of Owen's birth mother's country ID tucked in our safe for just that time. That will be an interesting time, for Owen does not look like his birth mom, and I do wonder how he will process that. But we'll take it one step at a time, and pray for guidance and grace.

And more little flashes of wisdom along the way.

Your Night Will Become Like the Noonday

No, this is not just a pretty necklace ...

These bracelets are more than an arm party ...

And these bags have the power to carry far greater things than lipstick.

Each of these pieces is changing someone's life. This is Noonday Collection.

By purchasing Noonday jewelry and accessories, you are helping to lift families out of poverty, allowing widowed mothers to care for their children, and giving fathers the means to provide food and clothing and shelter. Noonday partners with artisan colonies in some of the most economically challenged areas of the world to encourage, support and teach these proud people how to build their businesses and make their futures brighter.

And because adoption is close to Noonday founder's heart, trunk show hostesses (like me) can choose to donate 10% of their show's sale total to a family currently pursuing adoption. I'm thrilled to be blessing a family hoping to bring home two children from the Congo.

You too can make an impact. Share Noonday's mission. "Like" them on Facebook. Visit my online trunk show this week at Jodi's Trunk Show, and if you see something you like - for yourself or someone else - go ahead and click "purchase" (be sure to choose our ambassador's name, Michelle Petenbrink and enter my name when checking out so our adoptive family gets full credit!). Thank you!

Some of my beautiful friends modeling
their favorite Noomday pieces

Gifts for This Mom

I waited a long time to be able to celebrate Mothers Day. To own it.

I didn't marry Bob until age 29 and when I became a step mother to Cearra I was very conscious of not trying to "take" her mother's place. And thanks to Disney, step moms don't really get to celebrate Mother's Day, although I've long felt, now more than ever, like C's mom too.

Baby fever first hit me in earnest in January of 1997. I remember coming home from driving a laboring friend to the hospital in the middle of the night and telling Bob, let's have a kid! Instead, two months later I was having surgery for breast cancer at age 31. We waited through treatments to finish, and waited to be given the OK from my doctors.

Next came the discovery I couldn't get pregnant "naturally" and the long, trying months of procedures and shots in my stomach before the day I finally sat on the couch crying and knowing I could not endure that particular form of hope wrapped in barbed wire one more time.

We turned to adoption. And more waiting. We officially started the process in October 2005, and brought Owen home in March of 2007, the day after I turned 40.

If you lost count, or, like me, aren't great at math, that's nine years of waiting from when I first imaged having a baby to becoming my baby's mom.

My point in recounting all that is to say again: I waited a long time to be able to celebrate Mother's Day.

Is it any surprise that I totally bought in to the consumer side of the holiday these past seven years? Yep, I wanted the cards and the flowers and bring on the jewelry. I wanted to go to Mother's Day brunches and dinners out. I wanted to celebrate in capital letters that I was finally, emotionally, officially a mom!

My family did a good job. Bob made me a card with picture of him, the kids, and the cats, and I teared up. One year not too long ago Cearra addressed her card to me "Dear Mom", and I cried. My parents sent me a card saying how proud they were of me as a mom, and I bawled. Last year Owen picked out a ceramic rose and lawn sculpture type rabbit for me, and I laughed so hard I cried. I gloried in all of it.

With Mother's Day just around the corner, I was thinking of what I'd like as a gift; in other words, what shiny object I could pick out and email to Bob that I'd like. And I realized that while I can always find things I want, the more important thing is what I need.

On Mother's Day and every day, I need my family to know I love them. I need to kiss Bob in the morning although I'm still half asleep when he heads off to work, and I need him to know how much I appreciate him supporting me being a stay at home mom. I need to get a text from Cearra when she leaves our place to return to her apartment saying that she's made it safe and sound. That I am so proud of her and that she is my daughter. I need to cuddle with Owen in the morning and hug him when he comes home from school and tell him that I missed him.

I need my mom to know that while I fail at calling or emailing often, she is always in my thoughts (and heart) and I am always thankful for the beautiful way she raised me. I need my mother-in-law to know I think she's amazing too, and that I know how lucky I am to have her.

I need them all to know that they make my life what it is and that I consider myself so very blessed. And yes, I need to know that they love me too and they appreciate me as I appreciate them (so thoughtfully chosen Hallmark cards are still expected).

There are things I wish too. That Owen's mom in Kazakhstan, while most likely feeling her loss especially strongly on Mother's Day, can find some peace in imagining him safe and sound and much loved. That sons and daughters who have watched their mother's pass on can find some joy remembering good times together. And that those women still wanting and waiting to be mothers find the strength to get through this day and keep hoping and believing.

So no, I don't really need any possessions on this Mother's Day; because I've already been given the greatest gift of all. I love you with everything I am Cearra and Owen, now and always.

Not My Eyes or Smile, but My Whole Heart

November is ... Native American Heritage Month, Pancreatic Cancer Awareness Month, COPD Awareness Month, National Novel Writing Month, National Blog Posting Month, Alzheimer's Disease Month, American Diabetes Month, Lung Cancer Awareness Month, National Homeless Youth Awareness Month, Crohn's & Ulcerative Colitis Awareness Month, National Pomegranate Month, International Drum Month, National Stomach Cancer Awareness Month, National Prematurity Awareness Month, Sweet Potato Awareness Month, and (whew!) National Pulmonary Hypertension Awareness Month.

But to me, above all else, November is National Adoption Month; and today, November 11th, is the anniversary of the first day we met Owen. 

All month, proud parents in the Kazakhstan facebook group have been posting pictures. "Then" snapshots from the sometimes dizzying days of meeting their soon-to-be sons and daughters in the baby houses and maternity wards, and "Now" photos of beautiful, beaming, clearly loved children; often tagged with the line "look what love can do". Each new post makes me smile, makes my heart swell. I adore seeing the shining faces of these Kazakh kids and even more so delight in the joy I know they bring their parents.

Often times, well meaning folks will comment that Owen is "so lucky we adopted him". And I guess from a purely statistical standpoint, they're correct. Human Rights Watch recently reported that in Russia, of the roughly 15,000 children released from orphanages annually (because they were not adopted and "aged out"), some 10% commit suicide, 30% commit crimes and 40% are unemployed and homeless. I can't imagine the numbers from Kazakhstan are any better. It's heartbreaking.

But the truth that any adoptive parent holds close is that WE are the truly lucky ones. I believe that all children are a gift, and to those of us especially who chased paper and waited for years, who withstood delays and disappointments, who emptied bank accounts and took a flight of faith ... well, there is not a day that goes by that we don't feel blessed by our kids.

Yes, we've given Owen a warm home, nourishing food, a wide network of loving family and friends. But Owen has given me the ultimate gift. He made me a mom. And even as I dreamed and prayed for him, I had no way of really understanding what that meant, how very much that would mean, until that day I finally held him in my arms.

Being Owen's mom has given me a new role - one that I think is the most important on earth - new responsibilities and challenges (and yes, new worries and anxieties)! I've marveled in new experiences and met life long friends through both the journey and in this season of raising him.

Parenting Owen has allowed me to fully understand how much my own mom and dad love me. How their each and every decision was made in my best interest, and how very much they want the best for me.

Owen makes me laugh louder, try harder, believe more. He's such a joy to be around! So many times this year he has made me smile and begin again, even when the pain of the tragedy we face threatens to swallow the light.

Everyday, my son (oh, how I still love to write that word!) makes me see wonder, delight in small things, and cherish the moments. With him I get to relive cherished traditions of my own childhood, and create new ones that I hope he will one day treasure with his children.

Each time he hugs me, or reaches his small hand up to mine on the walk to the bus stop, I am grateful for my blessings. Every night I still gaze in wonder at his sweet sleeping face as I thank God for him. Owen has given me his heart; and I have gladly, joyfully, given him mine. Forever.

So you see, how could anyone ever think that I'm not the lucky one?

Sunset Beach

It's a week of watching our kids play together, bound by interests - dinosaurs, monster trucks, water guns - and a shared birthplace and story. Days of jumping waves, mini golf, small squabbles, breakfast for dinner. Time to sit on the porch at the end of the day with two remarkable women, and chat late into the night over cocktails and cheese crackers.

I cherish our time at Sunset Beach.

Today

I'm not good with dates; I often don't remember the exact day events occurred. And I'm a little embarrassed to admit that the significance of today's date hadn't even started to resonate in my brain before my wonderful mother-in-law posted a sweet reminder on Facebook, and my very special friend Susan Cole sent an e-card (which I was a little late in opening!).

Today is the day known in the adoption community as our "Gotcha Day". The long awaited, long anticipated day when a judge we'd never before met listened to our rehearsed answers, and much more importantly, our overflowing hearts, and officially declared Owen our forever son. We are forever grateful to Kazakhstan, to our adoption agency, and to Owen's birth mother.

I knew Owen was meant for us the moment I looked into his big brown eyes; I've always felt that God had planned all along for him to be part of our family. And perhaps that's why in the hustle and joy of everyday life I lose track of the actual date; but make no mistake, I am so thankful for today - and all the days with Owen.

We love you Butter!

The Other Man

Shhh ... don't tell Bob, but I've been seeing someone else.

Let's just call him "B2". I see him everyday. He makes my heart smile - big brown eyes, brown buzz cut. Others describe him as quiet and shy, but sweet. He loves music. He's on the shorter side, and younger than me.

And oh yeah, half a world away. Waiting for a family.

And despite the fact that we never planned to add another, and that we certainly do not have the money to walk that path again and currently have a full house, and that we are getting older, and that its scary even thinking of dealing with another adoption and the issues that can come up, or messing up our current family dynamic, and well, a million or so other reasons for me to just break off this relationship now ... I keep returning to his face.

Look, not for nothing did I get my Masters in Psychology. I realize this is most likely a reaction to Owen going to school full-time, or a way to feel useful again. Maybe I see Owen playing with his friends and wish he had a brother close in age (he tells me he wants a brother, but not a baby because he's "not so into them"). Could be that I am all too aware there are an estimated 40-50 million orphans in the world, and each one of them deserves a mom and dad and a chance. Perhaps I just want to get out of looking for a job (but I doubt that one). Or just maybe it's because my heart expanded 100 times over when we brought Owen home, and I like myself this way; I love being a mom; and I think I'm pretty good at it.

B2 is a waiting child. He has some minor health issues (hey, who doesn't) and he is not an infant, so he's considered special needs. Even if Bob goes for this (and that's a pretty big "if" because we haven't really even spoken of it except for me to ask for our net worth so I could complete a pre-application), even if we figure out a way to come up with the money and even if I could psych myself up to complete the mountains of paperwork again, it's possible B's birth country won't let us adopt him. Might be that they say "no" because of my darn (and in my mind, ancient) cancer history, or that I'm considered too fat (seriously).

Bringing him home is such a long shot on so many levels, and I know that realistically it most likely will not happen.

But oh, that little smiling face ...

WILW

I love that the journey to Owen not only brought us to our son, but also introduced us to many wonderful families whose friendships we cherish!

And I love that thanks to the Kieffers hospitality (and Sunset Beach vacation home), and the California Coles being on the East Coast for a family reunion, we all got to meet up for an all-too-short but great visit in Myrtle Beach last week.

The boys - Marc, Scott, Bob
They decided they needed their own little club, and Marc provided the bracelets

The girls - Susan, Le Anne, me
Adore these ladies! Wonderful moms, wives, business women and friends!

The kids - Owen, Rhys, Brooke, Jack and Elloree
Love them each as if they were my own!

The Best Gift

I really didn't know. Looking back now I see the clues were there all along, yet I somehow didn't quite realize that despite all I had, there was a hole in my heart. And it still amazes me, still brings a lump to my throat and tears to my eyes, that the hole has been so perfectly filled by a little boy born to another woman half a world away.

I think of her often, but especially today, because as full as my heart now is, I know that part of hers is missing forever. It is, sometimes, hard to know that the very gift which completed your life left someone else with a hole in hers.

So I pray she knows how very loved he is, how much he has filled - no, expanded - my heart. That he is beautiful and healthy and very, very happy. That I am incredibly, beyond words, grateful for him. In my mind I send her images of him: laughing with his big sister; playing in the sand; sleeping peacefully, his thumb falling gently from his mouth.

But while I acknowledge he is still part of her and will always be, he is my son. Make no mistake ... while my body did not form him, I am his mommy with everything I am. He is my light, my littlest love, my buddy, my joy, my reason for oh-so-many things. Every day - every single day - he allows me to see through the drudgery and despair with the eyes of a child who trusts the world is awaiting his exploration with open arms. He is a treasure, and he is cherished.

Today we mark the day of his birth. We'll laugh and sing and gather with family to toast him. We'll celebrate every moment we have had with him and look forward to many more. I'll watch him blow out his birthday candles as I wish his first mother peace.  And I will send her a silent "thank you" for the best gift I have ever been given.

Big Win!

I am bursting-at-the-heart-seams proud of this kid!!

Today was Little League Day at Camden Yards. Before the Oriole's game thousands of players from all over Maryland and Virginia make a lap around the warning track, high-fiving players, and waving to the crowd. I'd been talking to Owen about it for the last few days, letting him know that Daddy and Mommy weren't allowed to be on the field with him, and in fact he wouldn't be able to see us for most of the parade. He said he wanted to do it (although his little brow would crease as he asked me several times if we could go with him).

This morning we arrived at our designated "green balloon spot" at the side of the stadium. Owen happily joined in with his fellow White Sox. I mentioned to his coach that I wasn't sure how this would play out once Bob and I were no longer in sight. I straightened Owen's hat and told him again that his coaches and teammates would be with him on the field and then would bring him to us in the stands. I hugged him and told him I loved him.

Too soon it was time to leave. Bob and I walked to the stadium gates as my eyes welled with tears. I was nervous for my baby. There was no way I'd be able to get to him once we were inside; I couldn't reach him once the parade started. An image of his panicked face floated in my mind. I said a prayer that he'd be OK; that he'd feel safe and have fun. I literally wrung my hands and fretted.

Bob and I hurried to a spot in the stands and waited for the Westminster Little League teams to emerge from the tunnel. Other youngsters came by, waving and laughing. We waited more. I smiled for the camera, but inside I'm only thinking of Owen.

Finally - the green balloons! There are the White Sox - and there's #3!

As best as I can tell from yards away he looks calm. Just kind of taking it all in. Going by the dugout now - slapping hands with some players. I can't see his face but I know he's OK, and I'm smiling like crazy! His team walks by the outfield wall and one of the bigger boys from a team behind them picks Owen up so he can high five someone in the stands (O will later tell me he didn't particularly like that part!). Round the bend and here they come!

I yell "Go White Sox" as Bob yells for Owen and we are rewarded by waves and smiles from his teammates; and from Owen, a look that says he is just fine, as if he did this every day of his life.

You can only see the top of his head,
right in front of the coach in orange

Then they are heading off, Owen moving to the edge of the track to trail his fingers along the fence before hustling to catch up to his team. For the first time in almost 2 hours I exhale. My eyes well up and I know my baby is doing well. That's he's happy. That he knows he is safe and loved.

Coach Sean brings him to our seats and I give him a huge hug, saying I am so very proud of him. We eat sausages, and hot dogs, and cinnamon and sugar pretzels as we cheer on the home team. Bob and Owen get new matching hats and we all relax and enjoy a gorgeous day together.

Oh yes ... my heart is as buoyant as those green balloons set free and floating off into a crystal clear blue sky.

If you don't know Owen well; if you haven't read this (or if you don't know about attachment and separation issues that can arise with adoption); I realize I may sound crazy right about now. But this day was huge for us, and I wanted to share it with you all. Please be kind to this admittedly very protective mother!

WILW - Friends and Family Edition

Linking up again with Jamie; if you like WILW you should hop over and check out some of the other bloggers who participate.

Today's WILW is Friends and Family based .... you'll see why! I'm loving:

my sweet friend Lyndsie, her wonderful husband Daniel, and adorable big brother Ethan had their adoption court date and precious little Aubrey is now officially forever a Brooker!

my birthday present from my oh-so-funny friend Le Anne. She knows how much I really want to be a Southern girl, and she helps me get there!

my birthday present from my talented sister Kris! So pretty ... and really yummy too! The decorations are actually edible paper! Very cool.

my caring friend Susan, who welcomed her nephew John Samuel (on my birthday no less!!). Isn't he a cutie?! Congrats to Susan's sister Nancy and her hubby Sam!

And ... Susan is hosting a  Scentsy  and Stella & Dot party this weekend. If you want to purchase something, type in Susan Cole as the hostess. I'm a tiny bit obsessed with this new plug-in warmer myself ...

Lastly, I'm loving that tomorrow, Cearra will be inducted into two honor societies - with the third one upcoming in a few weeks. She has worked so hard and done so well! Gonna be wearing lots of colors when it's time for her to wear this gown for real!

Have a wonderful Wednesday y'all! (see, there's that southern thing!)

Journey to Motherhood

My cousin Brenda posted this on Facebook; I finished reading with tears swimming in my eyes for so many reasons. Please read, and share, and imprint on your heart.

Originally posted in BlogHer Moms by Michelle Madrid-Branch 

I have delivered three children: the eldest biologically and the younger two through adoption. It is true that the methods of delivery were different for each child. My oldest son, Christian, well, he was a miracle to me in that I truly never knew if I would be a mother.

I was adopted internationally as a child and so the thought of “having” a baby seemed foreign to me. When I was pregnant with him, though, it seemed as if I was meant for the experience. The pregnancy was a healthy one and on the day I gave birth to my son, I remember feeling overwhelmed with joy. I had never held anyone in my arms before whom I was connected to biologically.

In addition, the nine hours of labor (using no pain medicines) proved to me that I could achieve anything. I was giving birth to another human being, a gift to the world! I felt close to goddess status. I also realized how difficult it must have been for my own birth mother to let me go. I held my baby in my arms, he was so tender, soft, and warm. “I could never part with you.” I whispered. “How did she do it?” I asked. The only answer that came to me was that, love: real and pure, gives you the strength to think beyond your own needs and extend yourself, sometimes, in the most painful of ways.

Christian’s birth taught me to forgive.

My second child, another beautiful little boy, was waiting for me in Russia. I recall the first time we met, it was a warm day in the southern part of his native land. My husband and I flew from Moscow. We were escorted to the orphanage, which stood behind a wall with iron gate. I was nervous. So many children there in need of families. One was waiting for us. What would I feel when I first saw him?

Minutes, which seemed like hours, passed by and then the door suddenly flew open. I gasped and cried out, “Ian!” An orphanage worker walked into the room and handed my son to me. He was gorgeous! I held him up, so that I could drink him in. He looked into my eyes and began to laugh. That’s right, he cackled and giggled. I began to chuckle, as well. Then, my husband chimed in and before you knew it, the room was filled with our laughter!

Ian is just that way, a little boy bubbling over with happiness. He’s pure joy and lives life to the fullest. Ian never asks, what if I can’t? It has simply never existed in his vocabulary. He’s a “can do” kind of guy. He doesn’t know this, but I watch him daily. I take in his attitude and his primal belief in himself. It is infectious! Never boastful, only natural: he’s sweet and good.

Ian’s delivery taught me to laugh, even in the face of complete change. 

Just think, in Russia he was being taken from one world and plopped into another. Still, he went into the newness of his adoptive life with laughter. He hasn’t stopped to this day!

My third child, a little girl, was waiting for me in Ethiopia.The roads, leading to the orphanage, were muddy from heavy rain. Puddles so large it seemed, at times, they might swallow the small car I was riding in. After some twenty-five minutes maneuvering through traffic, the orphanage was finally in sight! Once allowed through the security gate, my husband and I were taken into the family area, where we waited to meet our girl.

I rubbed my hands together and blew into my palms, warming them in preparation for this long-awaited greeting. I quickly took off my sweater and raincoat, I wanted to feel my daughter against my skin! “Tiblet,” as they called her, (meaning: Let Her Be Greater), was brought to us by her caretaker. The woman placed our baby in my husband’s arms. He, then, placed her in mine. I said, through tears, “She’s perfect!”
I meant that!

Okay, some might argue that Tiblet was actually small for her suggested 10-months of age. She was malnourished and clearly ill with heavy cough and congestion, watery eyes, and diarrhea symptomatic of parasites. Tiblet did not smell of baby powder and sweet-scented lotion. She was not clean from a fresh bath and dressed in the finest of clothes. She had been layered into several pieces of mismatched garments (most of them size 3 months), keeping her warm in the bone-chilling air.

This tiny stranger stared at my face for several minutes. Then, as if she realized her parents had finally arrived, my daughter rested her head on my shoulder and quietly nodded off to sleep. I recall, even through my own exhaustion, feeling a sense of complete and total happiness.

It’s been over one-year since we brought our little Ethiopian princess home. Now two, she is a loving and feminine force in our home. I had gone to Ethiopia to help an orphaned baby girl. In the process, she has opened up my eyes to the greatness I possess within, the greatness we all possess within. The meaning of her name was divinely inspired, I believe.

Tiblet’s delivery breathed the message: Let Her Be Greater, into my soul.

My children are from different parts of the world. They are of different race, color, and culture. Some might call us a “multi-cultural” family. I guess that’s true. Yet, in our minds, we’re simply a family. We love one another, look after one another, teach one another, and bring out the best in each other.

As a mother, when I do turn on the television, it seems that the world is very different outside of our home. Governments gunning down their own, countries using threatening tones, people damning each other because of differences, perceived or real. Political elections where dirty laundry is welcomed and not put in a hamper where it belongs. People creating lines of division, over fear, over an unwillingness to listen, to understand, to let down the walls and let love in.

Oh, if the world could only experience the beautiful blueprint of adoption! The working manuscript of family that is created, not solely through biology or nationality, but completely out of love. If society could only adopt this type of attitude, well, the world really would be a better place.

Yes, I have delivered three children. They are the most incredible people I know. They are the greatest contribution I could ever make to this world.

I watch them, together, and I believe in peace. It manifests itself right before my eyes!

Delivering my children has taught me the power of forgiveness, the power of pure joy, and the power of authentic & divinely inspired living. Perhaps, I could have learned these lessons on my own, but I highly doubt that. I was waiting on three little messengers, so happy they finally arrived!

Five Years Ago in Kokshetau

Awake, predawn, in a hotel room. Excitement, nerves and jet-lag make an insistent alarm clock.

Waiting through blowing fuses with the hairdryer; breakfast in a room with a yurt in the corner; more paperwork.

Driving through narrow streets, smoke and cold in the air. Two flights up at the children's hospital, nodding at nurses, trying not to peer into other rooms where local mothers and babies lay. A smell I will recognize always  but never be able to describe.

Now into a small room with a rickety crib ... and an unfamiliar child. That isn't him. Burst of fear-confusion-worry.

No, no, nyet, they realize their mistake. Wait a minute more.

And then ... finally ... Owen.

Perfect, beautiful, promised, already so loved.

A little while later, I sit on a low cot, my back pressed to the cracked tile wall. Our baby boy sleeps in my arms. I look at Bob as my heart bursts with joy. Happiness overflows in the form of tears.

This will forever be my favorite moment.

WILW - I'm Back!!

It's been a while, so let's just get back into it shall we?

I'm loving that a sweet friend of mine, her husband, and little boy will be celebrating the gift of a baby girl this Christmas through the blessing of adoption. Congratulations Lyndsie, Daniel, Ethan and Aubrey - I am so happy for y'all!

I'm loving opening the mailbox each day. So much fun to get Christmas cards rather than just the usual assortment of bills and flyers. I enjoy seeing every one's kids grow up, hearing about family adventures, and looking at all the beautiful card designs.

I'm loving that while on a stocking filler expedition last week I found this cute little bottle of Love's Lemon perfume. This was my favorite back in my pre-teens, and I still love the fresh, slightly sugary lemon smell - so good.

I'm loving all the Christmas crafts Owen is bringing home from school these days. Gingerbread men and paintings of Christmas trees, and this adorable angel with hand print wings.

I'm loving that Cearra made Dean's list and is closer to her goal to graduate in the Spring Cum Laude and as a member of the honor society! You go girl!!

Of course I'm loving that Christmas is right around the corner (and that I am done with my shopping and wrapping)! Looking forward to spending Christmas Eve - aka my mom's birthday! - with Nana and Pop-pop; waking up at home to see what Santa brought; then joining my extended family at Aunt Jeanne's and Uncle Bud's. And I'm especially loving that Cearra is here for all of it!

Merry Christmas All!