It's Mother's Day. And it's been wonderful. But I'm crying tears of sorrow.
Today, while my heart is full, it breaks. It breaks for HER.
I am thinking of another mother. Of a woman whose arms are empty. Who can no longer hold two precious babies; can no longer kiss two sweet faces, can no longer see their sunshine smiles. My children's first mommy. The one who gave birth to them, who heard their first cries, who saw their first steps. The woman who loved them first.
I will never know their yesterdays, their childhood memories that she treasures in her heart. They are lost to me. And she will never know their tomorrows.
She is only a few years older than me, although the space between our life experiences make it seem impossible. She is tiny, and so beautiful that it hurts. She is brave beyond words.
She is a mother who is in love with her children. And she chose life for them. Twice. Once, when she realized she was carrying a precious gift, and once when she realized she was dying.
This is a woman who unselfishly saved her children from poverty and the streets. When she could no longer care for them, she gave them up, praying someone would help them. Can you imagine loving your children enough to give them to another person? Someone you don't know? Someone you didn't meet until after you had given your precious babies away? Can you imagine sending them to a different continent, know you will probably never see them again? I can't. I've only had them in my arms for six months and just the thought of losing them tears me up inside and makes me hug them tighter.
I think of her, today more than ever. I remember the day we met; remember us sobbing in each other's arms, gripping each other like a lifeline, and making promises with our eyes. I remember her, tears streaming down her beautiful face, saying, ""I want them to know that I worked so hard for them. I took care of them all by myself and I tried so hard. I want them to know I love them so much and I am dying so I cannot care for them. I will die soon. I did my best for them. I give them to you. All responsibility I give to you before God. I give you my children. I give them to you before God."
She and I don't speak the same language, but we don't have to. When she put her children in my arms, we understood each other. I know her heart was (and still) is breaking. I know she is entrusting me with the most precious gift she has. I know she loves them beyond what any words could describe. And she knows I will love her children with my life, I will fiercely protect them, I will cherish and adore them. I will not let them forget her, or the sacrifices she made for them.
She and I are eternally linked. Through a promise to each other, and through the love we share for the same children. Our children.
Happy Mother's Day W***. We love you.
Welcome to Ruperville. This is the story of two kids who got married and then adopted an ever-growing number of teenagers from Africa. This journey has been wild, and we've learned a lot.... Love always wins. Jesus is bigger. And faith + God = MIRACLES.
Monday, May 13, 2013
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Mother's Day Part I
Five years ago on this day, I couldn't have cared less about being a mom myself. I smiled at all the mothers who stood to be recognized in our church service. I clapped for them. I called my Mom and Grammy. I sent cards. I went on with my life.
Four years ago on this day, we were 5-6 months into our adoption process. I smiled at all the moms standing to be recognized at church and thought excitely, "Next year, my kids will be home!"
Three years ago on this day, I silently cried as the mothers at church were honored. We were still waiting and had heard NOTHING.
Two years ago on this day, I cried the entire church service. I sobbed afterwards. I knew Levi existed. I knew he was our child. I had no idea what he looked like. No idea if/when he would ever clear (paperwork). I was fighting my guts out to get him home. And my heart was breaking.
One year ago on this day, I was hysterical. I made it five minutes into the church service, then got up and left, going grocery shopping. I bawled all the way to the store and all the way home. I cried all day. I was heartsick. Heartbroken. Shattered inside. I was losing my mind. Levi still hadn't cleared and I had been told for the millionth time that there was no hope he ever would. I knew Zahria existed, but didn't know she was my daughter yet.
This year was different.
Today, I woke up to one of my precious Ethiopians snuggling me, sound asleep, wrapped around my neck. When I tried to get up for work (3:00am), she tightened her grip on me in her sleep. I kissed her tiny face and thought about how much I love her and her brother. How my heart almost explodes with love for them.
Today when I go home from work, two grinning faces will meet me. One will jump into my arms and bury her face in my neck, squealing and laughing. The other will run up and wrap his arms around me and say, "All-L-Ow-OUU!" (I love you) in my ear.
On this day at church, I will stand with the other mothers, and I will look at the child sitting next to me, and think of the one in her class down the hall.
I will cry this year too.
Four years ago on this day, we were 5-6 months into our adoption process. I smiled at all the moms standing to be recognized at church and thought excitely, "Next year, my kids will be home!"
Three years ago on this day, I silently cried as the mothers at church were honored. We were still waiting and had heard NOTHING.
Two years ago on this day, I cried the entire church service. I sobbed afterwards. I knew Levi existed. I knew he was our child. I had no idea what he looked like. No idea if/when he would ever clear (paperwork). I was fighting my guts out to get him home. And my heart was breaking.
One year ago on this day, I was hysterical. I made it five minutes into the church service, then got up and left, going grocery shopping. I bawled all the way to the store and all the way home. I cried all day. I was heartsick. Heartbroken. Shattered inside. I was losing my mind. Levi still hadn't cleared and I had been told for the millionth time that there was no hope he ever would. I knew Zahria existed, but didn't know she was my daughter yet.
This year was different.
Today, I woke up to one of my precious Ethiopians snuggling me, sound asleep, wrapped around my neck. When I tried to get up for work (3:00am), she tightened her grip on me in her sleep. I kissed her tiny face and thought about how much I love her and her brother. How my heart almost explodes with love for them.
Today when I go home from work, two grinning faces will meet me. One will jump into my arms and bury her face in my neck, squealing and laughing. The other will run up and wrap his arms around me and say, "All-L-Ow-OUU!" (I love you) in my ear.
On this day at church, I will stand with the other mothers, and I will look at the child sitting next to me, and think of the one in her class down the hall.
I will cry this year too.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Pet Peeves
Pet peeves. We all have them. The toilet seat being left up, people chewing with their mouths open, dirty socks left on the floor, whatever.
When I started this post, I had my biggest pet peeve listed as: When people tell me what I can or can't do. I hate being bossed around and I hate people assuming they know my limits. It drives me freaking CRAZY. Just because I am doing something that you can't/won't do, does not mean it can't be done. It does not give you the right to tell me that I can't do it.
But then I realized that I have another pet peeve: When people, specifically Christians, KNOW that kids are dying all over the world, and they do nothing. "Therefore, to him who knows to do good, and does it not, to him it is sin." ~James 4:17.
I've spent three months off and on working on this post. I wanted to be honest without being harsh. Originally, I had a entire post written with a list of some of the most frustrating/hurtful/infuriating things people have said to me over the years. Lots of: "You can't _________" or "You will always __________." And I was happy to look back and see each hurtful thing proven wrong; proud to say I overcame. But it sounded like bragging. And then I realized that I wasn't accomplishing the goal of my post, which is to tell you that the impossible CAN be possible. With God. So I rewrote everything. And I'm not going to list all the cruel naysayer words. I AM going to list and talk about one of them though. The one that frustrated me to no end over the past three years.
You can't adopt.
People had all kinds of reasons why we couldn't adopt. Why it would never work:
-You're too young.
-You don't have enough money.
-You haven't been married long enough.
-You have too much debt.
-You have to finish college first.
-You need to have biological kids first.
-You have to have a house first.
-You can't adopt two kids at the same time.
-You can't adopt from Africa.
-Your kids will have AIDS.
-You can't adopt older kids; you won't be able to parent them.
-Your kids will have serious behavioral/mental problems and emotional issues.
-Your kids will hate you. They will rebel and run away and make your life a living hell (insert adoption horror story).
-Those kids won't really be YOUR kids.
These are all things people have said to my face. Family. Friends. Professors. Strangers.
Every single thing on that list hurt. It hurt to hear it, especially because they were all bluntly worded as above. It hurt to wonder it if was the truth. It hurt to hear it from people who "care". From people I care about. Regardless of the fact that the list is a bunch of crap, it HURT.
So before I go any farther, I am now going to refute that list. Naysayers, listen up.
You can't adopt. Well, we did. And we will again.
You're too young. We always knew we were going to adopt deaf kids internationally but we assumed we would do it when we were 30+. Not start the process at 21 and 24. But it wasn't a choice; it was a calling. And we had the opportunity to step out in faith and watch God work. It was LONG. It was PAINFUL. It was HARD. And it was WORTH IT.
You don't have enough money. Never was a truer statement made. But God doesn't call you to do things fully prepared. He provides along the way. This leads to greater faith/trust as well as proof that all the glory goes to Him, because we COULDN'T afford it. And yet we paid off our adoption, $60,000, in cash. A miracle, people. One of many.
You haven't been married long enough. It's about (or should be about) the couple themselves, and their maturity and relationship, not the length of time since they've exchanged rings. Relationship and personal maturity varies for everyone. We started the adoption process about six months into our marriage. It sounds crazy. It WAS crazy. That's how Abe and I roll. We do everything backwards. The traditional "normal" thing is school, marriage, house, kids. We did marriage, school, kids, house.Whatever. Worked out great for us. :)
You have too much debt (school loans). Also true. We went to a great school, and got great jobs, but it cost us. We have a lot of school loans. God has taken care of us and we have never missed a payment. Budget. Be wise with your money. Word hard. End of story.
You have to finish college first. Probably smart in most cases; in ours, that didn't happen and it worked out fine. Abe graduated with a high GPA and that was that.
You need to have biological kids first. My question is: why? I never did see any sense in this one. Someone dear to me said, "Well, your own kids can help you with the adopted ones." Orrrrrrrrrr my adopted kids could help me with my bio kids. Or with my other adopted kids. Why bios first? And if you're dead set on wanting a baby first (nothing wrong with that), you CAN adopt one, it just takes forever. Sorry, that's the truth. And honestly, adopted kids often come from very hard places and a plus to having them first is that you can dedicate all your time and energy to helping them adjust and reconnect. Adopted or bio, they are YOUR kids; what does it matter who came first? Oh yeah, it doesn't.
You have to have a house first. Again, WHY? An adequate apartment is just fine too. And most people have moved at least once in their lives. So having an apartment and moving to a house (or wherever) later will not destroy your child. Do I think it is better NOT to move, at least for a while? Sure. But it's not the end of the world. And as far as an apartment goes, many adopted children are coming from a place where an apartment is considered a palace beyond imagination. And if you're worried about the stress of buying a house after the adoption, please don't. Anyone who has been through the adoption process will consider buying a house CAKE. In fact, Abe and I laughed at the paperwork and said, "Is this it?" Purchasing our house was the easiest thing we did last year.
You can't adopt two kids at the same time. The more the merrier, right? There are pros and cons to having two at the same time. Here's a couple of each. Pros: they play together, have someone who can relate with their adoption experiences, and really, what's one more? Cons: both will require 100% of your attention and balancing that can be tough. And maybe they don't get along the greatest. But how is that so much different than biological kids?
You can't adopt from Africa. Let me interpret this for you. You can't adopt from Africa because your kids will be black and everyone will know that they were not nurtured in your womb. Sooooooooooooo you're racist. Or ashamed of someone's skin color. Or an idiot. Or all three.
Your kids might/will have HIV/AIDS. Clearly you know nothing about HIV/AIDS. Are meds needed? Yes. Will insurance take care of a lot of it? Yes. Can those kids have a normal life? Yes. Can you catch HIV/AIDS? No. There is not ONE documented case of another person becoming infected through regular contact/life. It is transmitted through blood, dirty needles, and sex. Again, not ONE documented case. I can't tell you how many HIV kids I hugged and kissed and played with in Ethiopia. And I CAN tell you that Abe and I were open to HIV for our first adoption and will always be. For more information on HIV/AIDs, please visit Project Hopeful.
You can't adopt older kids. Older kids need a home and love just as much as babies do, and they are just as precious. Are older kids typically more challenging and come with more issues/rotten backgrounds? I think yes. But that doesn't make them any less in need of love. And I know plenty of friends who have adopted babies who are having a harder time attaching/bonding/adjusting than many older kids.
You won't know how to parent them. Again, very true. But I am guessing unless you are Dr. Karen Purvis, you wouldn't either. Nothing with parenting adopted kids is normal. Nothing with parenting kids from unimaginably hard places is normal. All the usual rules are tossed out the window. Nothing I learned or observed growing up as the oldest of seven could have ever prepared me for raising my kids now. I spend a LOT of time praying for my kids and myself. Because only God can heal and change their hearts. And I just need the patience to hang on and keep loving them unconditionally. I have no CLUE what I am doing. But I am super proud of my kids and how far they have come!!!!!
Your kids will have serious problems and emotional issues. That is highly probable with any adopted child. It doesn't mean that they should be left in an orphanage, starving/dying on the streets or sold into prostitution. And if you or I had been through what they have been through, I'm sure we would have serious behavior and emotional issues as well.
Your kids will hate you. They will rebel and run away and make your life a living hell. My kids love me and there are no words for how much I love them. I have an entire drawer of notes and pictures that say, "Mommy, love you much so, forever!!!" Have they rebelled? Of course! What kid hasn't? Have they run away? Nope. Is my life a living hell? Absolutely not. Is it exhausting, and do they sometimes make me crazy? Yeah. And that's totally normal. And they also bring me the greatest joy. They fill my life with light and wonder and laughter. They are my best friends. I read a quote somewhere that said, "Adoption has the highest highs and the lowest lows." I think that pretty much says it all.
Those kids won't really be YOUR kids. See, I don't get this one either. Isn't your spouse your closest family? No one would ever doubt that. But you "adopted" each other. You became family, the closest bond, the strongest tie.....without blood or genetics. So adopted children aren't my kids because I didn't physically carry them for nine months? Because they didn't grow in my stomach? Because they aren't from the same gene pool as me and my husband? (My kids are the luckier for that, trust me.) Or because I haven't had them since day one? I completely disagree. I fought unbelievably hard for THREE YEARS to get my kids home. Every day, for three years. I WANTED these kids more than anything. I loved and love them more than anything. They grew in my heart. (Z actually asked me the other day, "Mommy, will you have more heart-babies soon?" #loveit) I gave them everything I had and I still do. 100% of my time is dedicated to making them feel loved and safe. I love them so much it hurts. These are MY kids. MINE. And no gene pool could ever bring us closer.
I think the most eye-opening thing I learned from our adoption journey was that Christians, even people I have always thought were strong Christians, are afraid. Afraid to step up to the plate. I'm not talking about selling all their possesions and moving to a foreign country to become a missionary. I am talking about doing something right now, WHERE THEY ARE. Even something totally do-able, like sponsoring a child in need. That is the SMALLEST thing you can do! Christians are afraid to step out in faith, they are afraid to go against the grain, they are afraid to get out of their comfort zone. (I include myself in this group....I would rather live in my happy bubble and be comfortable. And most of the time, that's [sadly] what I choose.) During the adoption process, most of the people who tried to discourage us, were Christians. When people demanded a reason for the insanity of us trying to adopt, and we would explain that God had called us to do it, people scoffed at us. They rolled their eyes. They gave us a look that said, "Clearly you heard wrong, or you're just making up this 'calling'." I can't tell you how many of these people were family and friends. But also strangers and random people. They all tried to warn us against what we are doing and told us adoption horror stories. The Bible clearly tells us to protect and take care of the fatherless and yet more than half of the people we spoke with tried to talk us out of adopting. Don't get me wrong, we had TONS of supporters and people cheering us on. In fact, the support we did recieve was overwhelming and amazing. We couldn't have done it without you. We had people donating and encouraging us left and right. However, the amount of close friends, family and strangers who DIScouraged and doubted us was staggering. And saddening.
Now that the kids are home safe, and things are going fairly well, everyone is happy with us and our decision. Everyone is on board now that this specific adoption is over and was successful. And I'm sure when we go back and adopt again, the naysayers will be much more open and supportivee because we have already blazed that trail. We've proved God can do miracles if you follow Him. But if you're reading this and you were a doubter, please think twice before you discourage someone else who is following a calling in their life, however bizarre it may seem. And to ALL people reading this, please go out and sponsor a child. PLEASE. And in case you're wondering if I am preaching but doing nothing, Abe and I are partnered in sponsoring a family in Ethiopia. I get that not everyone can adopt. But sponsoring a child is such a small act on your part and such a HUGE thing for them. It doesn't take more than ten minutes of your time and you won't even notice the money if you get an automatic withdrawal. It's seriously a coffee a day. You are helping save a life. That's an eternal impact, friends.
World Vision
Hope Chest
When I started this post, I had my biggest pet peeve listed as: When people tell me what I can or can't do. I hate being bossed around and I hate people assuming they know my limits. It drives me freaking CRAZY. Just because I am doing something that you can't/won't do, does not mean it can't be done. It does not give you the right to tell me that I can't do it.
But then I realized that I have another pet peeve: When people, specifically Christians, KNOW that kids are dying all over the world, and they do nothing. "Therefore, to him who knows to do good, and does it not, to him it is sin." ~James 4:17.
I've spent three months off and on working on this post. I wanted to be honest without being harsh. Originally, I had a entire post written with a list of some of the most frustrating/hurtful/infuriating things people have said to me over the years. Lots of: "You can't _________" or "You will always __________." And I was happy to look back and see each hurtful thing proven wrong; proud to say I overcame. But it sounded like bragging. And then I realized that I wasn't accomplishing the goal of my post, which is to tell you that the impossible CAN be possible. With God. So I rewrote everything. And I'm not going to list all the cruel naysayer words. I AM going to list and talk about one of them though. The one that frustrated me to no end over the past three years.
You can't adopt.
People had all kinds of reasons why we couldn't adopt. Why it would never work:
-You're too young.
-You don't have enough money.
-You haven't been married long enough.
-You have too much debt.
-You have to finish college first.
-You need to have biological kids first.
-You have to have a house first.
-You can't adopt two kids at the same time.
-You can't adopt from Africa.
-Your kids will have AIDS.
-You can't adopt older kids; you won't be able to parent them.
-Your kids will have serious behavioral/mental problems and emotional issues.
-Your kids will hate you. They will rebel and run away and make your life a living hell (insert adoption horror story).
-Those kids won't really be YOUR kids.
These are all things people have said to my face. Family. Friends. Professors. Strangers.
Every single thing on that list hurt. It hurt to hear it, especially because they were all bluntly worded as above. It hurt to wonder it if was the truth. It hurt to hear it from people who "care". From people I care about. Regardless of the fact that the list is a bunch of crap, it HURT.
So before I go any farther, I am now going to refute that list. Naysayers, listen up.
You can't adopt. Well, we did. And we will again.
You're too young. We always knew we were going to adopt deaf kids internationally but we assumed we would do it when we were 30+. Not start the process at 21 and 24. But it wasn't a choice; it was a calling. And we had the opportunity to step out in faith and watch God work. It was LONG. It was PAINFUL. It was HARD. And it was WORTH IT.
You don't have enough money. Never was a truer statement made. But God doesn't call you to do things fully prepared. He provides along the way. This leads to greater faith/trust as well as proof that all the glory goes to Him, because we COULDN'T afford it. And yet we paid off our adoption, $60,000, in cash. A miracle, people. One of many.
You haven't been married long enough. It's about (or should be about) the couple themselves, and their maturity and relationship, not the length of time since they've exchanged rings. Relationship and personal maturity varies for everyone. We started the adoption process about six months into our marriage. It sounds crazy. It WAS crazy. That's how Abe and I roll. We do everything backwards. The traditional "normal" thing is school, marriage, house, kids. We did marriage, school, kids, house.Whatever. Worked out great for us. :)
You have too much debt (school loans). Also true. We went to a great school, and got great jobs, but it cost us. We have a lot of school loans. God has taken care of us and we have never missed a payment. Budget. Be wise with your money. Word hard. End of story.
You have to finish college first. Probably smart in most cases; in ours, that didn't happen and it worked out fine. Abe graduated with a high GPA and that was that.
You need to have biological kids first. My question is: why? I never did see any sense in this one. Someone dear to me said, "Well, your own kids can help you with the adopted ones." Orrrrrrrrrr my adopted kids could help me with my bio kids. Or with my other adopted kids. Why bios first? And if you're dead set on wanting a baby first (nothing wrong with that), you CAN adopt one, it just takes forever. Sorry, that's the truth. And honestly, adopted kids often come from very hard places and a plus to having them first is that you can dedicate all your time and energy to helping them adjust and reconnect. Adopted or bio, they are YOUR kids; what does it matter who came first? Oh yeah, it doesn't.
You have to have a house first. Again, WHY? An adequate apartment is just fine too. And most people have moved at least once in their lives. So having an apartment and moving to a house (or wherever) later will not destroy your child. Do I think it is better NOT to move, at least for a while? Sure. But it's not the end of the world. And as far as an apartment goes, many adopted children are coming from a place where an apartment is considered a palace beyond imagination. And if you're worried about the stress of buying a house after the adoption, please don't. Anyone who has been through the adoption process will consider buying a house CAKE. In fact, Abe and I laughed at the paperwork and said, "Is this it?" Purchasing our house was the easiest thing we did last year.
You can't adopt two kids at the same time. The more the merrier, right? There are pros and cons to having two at the same time. Here's a couple of each. Pros: they play together, have someone who can relate with their adoption experiences, and really, what's one more? Cons: both will require 100% of your attention and balancing that can be tough. And maybe they don't get along the greatest. But how is that so much different than biological kids?
You can't adopt from Africa. Let me interpret this for you. You can't adopt from Africa because your kids will be black and everyone will know that they were not nurtured in your womb. Sooooooooooooo you're racist. Or ashamed of someone's skin color. Or an idiot. Or all three.
Your kids might/will have HIV/AIDS. Clearly you know nothing about HIV/AIDS. Are meds needed? Yes. Will insurance take care of a lot of it? Yes. Can those kids have a normal life? Yes. Can you catch HIV/AIDS? No. There is not ONE documented case of another person becoming infected through regular contact/life. It is transmitted through blood, dirty needles, and sex. Again, not ONE documented case. I can't tell you how many HIV kids I hugged and kissed and played with in Ethiopia. And I CAN tell you that Abe and I were open to HIV for our first adoption and will always be. For more information on HIV/AIDs, please visit Project Hopeful.
You can't adopt older kids. Older kids need a home and love just as much as babies do, and they are just as precious. Are older kids typically more challenging and come with more issues/rotten backgrounds? I think yes. But that doesn't make them any less in need of love. And I know plenty of friends who have adopted babies who are having a harder time attaching/bonding/adjusting than many older kids.
You won't know how to parent them. Again, very true. But I am guessing unless you are Dr. Karen Purvis, you wouldn't either. Nothing with parenting adopted kids is normal. Nothing with parenting kids from unimaginably hard places is normal. All the usual rules are tossed out the window. Nothing I learned or observed growing up as the oldest of seven could have ever prepared me for raising my kids now. I spend a LOT of time praying for my kids and myself. Because only God can heal and change their hearts. And I just need the patience to hang on and keep loving them unconditionally. I have no CLUE what I am doing. But I am super proud of my kids and how far they have come!!!!!
Your kids will have serious problems and emotional issues. That is highly probable with any adopted child. It doesn't mean that they should be left in an orphanage, starving/dying on the streets or sold into prostitution. And if you or I had been through what they have been through, I'm sure we would have serious behavior and emotional issues as well.
Your kids will hate you. They will rebel and run away and make your life a living hell. My kids love me and there are no words for how much I love them. I have an entire drawer of notes and pictures that say, "Mommy, love you much so, forever!!!" Have they rebelled? Of course! What kid hasn't? Have they run away? Nope. Is my life a living hell? Absolutely not. Is it exhausting, and do they sometimes make me crazy? Yeah. And that's totally normal. And they also bring me the greatest joy. They fill my life with light and wonder and laughter. They are my best friends. I read a quote somewhere that said, "Adoption has the highest highs and the lowest lows." I think that pretty much says it all.
Those kids won't really be YOUR kids. See, I don't get this one either. Isn't your spouse your closest family? No one would ever doubt that. But you "adopted" each other. You became family, the closest bond, the strongest tie.....without blood or genetics. So adopted children aren't my kids because I didn't physically carry them for nine months? Because they didn't grow in my stomach? Because they aren't from the same gene pool as me and my husband? (My kids are the luckier for that, trust me.) Or because I haven't had them since day one? I completely disagree. I fought unbelievably hard for THREE YEARS to get my kids home. Every day, for three years. I WANTED these kids more than anything. I loved and love them more than anything. They grew in my heart. (Z actually asked me the other day, "Mommy, will you have more heart-babies soon?" #loveit) I gave them everything I had and I still do. 100% of my time is dedicated to making them feel loved and safe. I love them so much it hurts. These are MY kids. MINE. And no gene pool could ever bring us closer.
I think the most eye-opening thing I learned from our adoption journey was that Christians, even people I have always thought were strong Christians, are afraid. Afraid to step up to the plate. I'm not talking about selling all their possesions and moving to a foreign country to become a missionary. I am talking about doing something right now, WHERE THEY ARE. Even something totally do-able, like sponsoring a child in need. That is the SMALLEST thing you can do! Christians are afraid to step out in faith, they are afraid to go against the grain, they are afraid to get out of their comfort zone. (I include myself in this group....I would rather live in my happy bubble and be comfortable. And most of the time, that's [sadly] what I choose.) During the adoption process, most of the people who tried to discourage us, were Christians. When people demanded a reason for the insanity of us trying to adopt, and we would explain that God had called us to do it, people scoffed at us. They rolled their eyes. They gave us a look that said, "Clearly you heard wrong, or you're just making up this 'calling'." I can't tell you how many of these people were family and friends. But also strangers and random people. They all tried to warn us against what we are doing and told us adoption horror stories. The Bible clearly tells us to protect and take care of the fatherless and yet more than half of the people we spoke with tried to talk us out of adopting. Don't get me wrong, we had TONS of supporters and people cheering us on. In fact, the support we did recieve was overwhelming and amazing. We couldn't have done it without you. We had people donating and encouraging us left and right. However, the amount of close friends, family and strangers who DIScouraged and doubted us was staggering. And saddening.
Now that the kids are home safe, and things are going fairly well, everyone is happy with us and our decision. Everyone is on board now that this specific adoption is over and was successful. And I'm sure when we go back and adopt again, the naysayers will be much more open and supportivee because we have already blazed that trail. We've proved God can do miracles if you follow Him. But if you're reading this and you were a doubter, please think twice before you discourage someone else who is following a calling in their life, however bizarre it may seem. And to ALL people reading this, please go out and sponsor a child. PLEASE. And in case you're wondering if I am preaching but doing nothing, Abe and I are partnered in sponsoring a family in Ethiopia. I get that not everyone can adopt. But sponsoring a child is such a small act on your part and such a HUGE thing for them. It doesn't take more than ten minutes of your time and you won't even notice the money if you get an automatic withdrawal. It's seriously a coffee a day. You are helping save a life. That's an eternal impact, friends.
World Vision
Hope Chest
Thursday, April 25, 2013
To All the Waiting Mommas:
I know there are a lot of people stuck in the waiting phase.
I know how hard it is to wait day after day and not get a referral, a court date, embassy submission. To check your email over and over, or to carry your phone obsessively so you don't miss a call that never comes.
I know it is hard to see other people's happy emails posted in the support groups, detailing their referrals, trips, and children, and be stuck (indefinitely) WAITING. And hurting.
Honestly, that is the worst part, in my opinion. Not KNOWING is complete torture, and I just want to encourage you to hang in there!!!! I know it is extremely hard and painful and cliche phrases like, "It will be worth it!" and "God has a plan!" don't help, but I promise you, God DOES have a plan that is better than ours. Looking back on these past three years I can now see why a lot of things happened as they did, and it makes sense and I am SO thankful. There have been times in this process when I felt totally abandoned by God and I have thrown temper tantrums like a 4-year old when I was frustrated, and cried my eyes out on more times than I can count. But even though this adoption took longer and was more painful than I ever could have DREAMED, God is unfolding His plan and it is perfect. And I can't imagine my life in any other direction.
And cliche or not, when you look into the eyes of your kids, it WILL be totally worth it. ;)
I know how hard it is to wait day after day and not get a referral, a court date, embassy submission. To check your email over and over, or to carry your phone obsessively so you don't miss a call that never comes.
I know it is hard to see other people's happy emails posted in the support groups, detailing their referrals, trips, and children, and be stuck (indefinitely) WAITING. And hurting.
Honestly, that is the worst part, in my opinion. Not KNOWING is complete torture, and I just want to encourage you to hang in there!!!! I know it is extremely hard and painful and cliche phrases like, "It will be worth it!" and "God has a plan!" don't help, but I promise you, God DOES have a plan that is better than ours. Looking back on these past three years I can now see why a lot of things happened as they did, and it makes sense and I am SO thankful. There have been times in this process when I felt totally abandoned by God and I have thrown temper tantrums like a 4-year old when I was frustrated, and cried my eyes out on more times than I can count. But even though this adoption took longer and was more painful than I ever could have DREAMED, God is unfolding His plan and it is perfect. And I can't imagine my life in any other direction.
And cliche or not, when you look into the eyes of your kids, it WILL be totally worth it. ;)
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
DIY. How 'Bout Not.
I've decided that "Do It Yourself" is ridiculous for people like me. I already knew that, but the past ten days have confirmed it. I have friends who Pinterest their whole house and do EVERYTHING themselves.... and it looks great. They buy old furniture and refurbish it, they use leftover scraps of material from their everyday life to make masterpiece decor, AND they sew their on clothes. (When I say clothes, I mean like pretty blouses and tops. Not old school 1800's clothes.) These friends make me sick. I don't enjoy doing things like that, and I'm not good at it. Yesterday, stiff and cramped from bending to spray 50 slender 4-6' railings (explanation to follow), truth was spoken into my life. The truth? Marissa, screw DIY. It's a lie. Okay, fine, that's my personal life-application translation. The truth is actually: You don't have to be crafty or enjoy making things from scratch. You really don't. It doesn't make you a better spouse/parent/homemaker/person. It makes you unique and talented, for sure. But I have my own unique talents. Making things from Pinterest or other crafting resources is cool but it's not who I am. In fact, it's both painful for both me, and anyone who sees the final product. I'm a person who works hard to earn some extra money to purchase whatever it is I need instead of making it. Making it myself is stressful and it never turns out right (or sightly). And usually ends up being more expensive and time consuming than if I had just gone out and bought it. That's just who I am. This re-realization sprang from my most recent failed DIY attempt. I thought, "Let's give this whole DIY thing another shot." Well people, I've been shot. And it's a crafting fatality. I just wanted to paint Z's metal bed frame to match her room. Not so hard, right? I decided to use spray paint and Abe went out to get it (we have been down a car for three weeks). The store didn't have a color to match, so Abe brought home a rather expensive but totally awesome paint, which changes color in the light (blue/green/purple). He took apart the bed and the kids and I sanded it down outside. It took a solid hour and our hands were cramping half way through. That was when the first wave of doubt hit me. Carry on soldier. Sanding: check. We washed the frame, let it dry, and then it rained. Every day for a week. When the sun finally showed its face, I started painting. Only to realize the bed has to be painted black first, before you spray the multi-color on it. Project halt. I waited for Abe to get home that night, and then went and got paint. I spent three days getting the frame sprayed black. Why three days, you ask? Because it's windy here. So all the debris in the Northern Hemisphere gravitated towards the wet frame. So did all the grass, even though we haven't mowed yet AND I used a tarp. And since it's windy, I couldn't hold the spray can 12-14" from the frame as it instructs; I had to hold it 4-6" so the paint wouldn't spray away. This resulted in major dripping. Actually, dripping is too kind. It's more like waves. Black paint: check. Repeat process with multi-colored paint. Of course, on the last piece of the frame the paint decided to wrinkle. Yes, literally. Why, I have no clue. The black paint was already dry. The multi-color just decided not to work on the fifth piece of frame. It looks like elephant skin. An old, old elephant. (I'm going to label it "artistic texture" though, when people ask though. Elephant skin doesn't sound pretty.)
So in the end, the frame DID get painted (although we won't talk about what it looks like, or post a picture) but I spent ten days total and $72 in paint to get it done. I should have just gone and bought another bed from Craigslist.
Lesson learned. DIY, you're the oil to my water.
So in the end, the frame DID get painted (although we won't talk about what it looks like, or post a picture) but I spent ten days total and $72 in paint to get it done. I should have just gone and bought another bed from Craigslist.
Lesson learned. DIY, you're the oil to my water.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Forget Kung Fu Panda
Public Service Announcemet: Parents, do not allow your kids to perform any Kung Fu Panda moves on you, even in gentle play!
Okay, even with the title of this post and my "PSA", I love Kung Fu Panda. I really do. It's a really cute movie. I'm just blaming because I can't blame the actual people in this story, and I need SOMETHING to blame! :)
So now you're probably wondering: what is she talking about? But I know you are smart enough to know someone got injured. And that it involved child martial arts.
It was around 8pm the other night and we were just getting ready for bed. The kids were super excited to see Abe and for some reason, Z decided she wanted to demonstrate her "Kung Fu Panda" moves. She and Levi had a cute stunt set up where she spins and "kicks" him and he falls dead to the ground. It's really funny to watch. They performed it for Abe, and then she and Abe acted it out. That was even funnier. A 4'2 tiny baby girl takes down her 6'2 father with some spinning dervish moves. So when she came after me, I joined the acting too. It was all fine right up until I thought she was done and was talking to Abe. She was crouched down in front of me facing away, and I bent over to kiss her or something--just as she came straight up and back, full force. All 63lb of her slammed dead up and into my jaw.
It sounded like a gunshot. I FELT my teeth break. Once, a year or so ago, I had a nightmare once that a bunch of my teeth fell out. Standing there in shock and pain, I wondered if it had come true. I could feel pieces of teeth in my mouth. I ran to the bathroom and started spitting into the sink. It felt surreal, but I knew it wasn't. My jaw was throbbing and my mouth was gritty. I was scared to look in the mirror but I forced myself to. It was blantantly obvious where the worst had hit: four teeth had chunks missing out of them. Not tiny chips; CHUNKS. Literally sheared off by the force of my teeth being driven together. And all the seriously damaged teeth were in the front of my mouth (mostly on the left side). I took a deep breath. "It's not the end of the world," I told myself. "This can be fixed." I didn't cry. I didn't freak out. I wanted to, but what was the use? It was too late. Over. Nothing could be done, so why flip? Plus, I felt SO bad for Z. After rinsing my mouth (which was killing me), I tried to comfort the kids, who were beyond upset. I went to bed with my jaw pounding and aching.
At work the next morning (4am), I called my dentist office and left a message. Thankfully, they called me back later and told me to come in for 8am. I went straight there and everyone was so awesome. The hygenist was gentle and my dentist came right over to check on me. His first words after looking at my mouth were, "Wow, she got you GOOD." Seven chipped/broken teeth and one cracked (although we aren't sure if the crack-a hairline- was already started and worsened or if it was a direct result of the 'Kung Fu'). My entire jaw bruised from the trauma. Most of my teeth bruised from the trauma. My dentist told me, "I can't believe how hard you got hit. You're really lucky you have an overbite and got hit from underneath, although of course you aren't lucky. But if you had been hit from the side at this force, you would have lost a bunch of teeth." He then explained that some of my teeth were now really thin and he had to file them down so they wouldn't break (I have to be careful when I eat now) and that some of my chips couldn't be fiIled because of their location. I spent almost two hours there while they cleaned, smoothed, filed down, filled, and reshaped my teeth. I teased my dentist, "This is so unfair! I have a perfect tooth record and now I am going to lose it because there is cement in my mouth!" He said, "Oh no, you still have a perfect record! This wasn't your fault; it's not a cavity or anything, so it doesn't count." He also explained that I had been hit so hard that the nerves in several of my teeth may have been killed, but that it will take six months to know. If the nerves are dead, those teeth will have to be pulled. He said, "I'm so sorry. All we can do is wait and see." Fun times. So if you would like to pray that I don't lose some of my teeth, I would REALLY appreciate it!
Oddly enough, I am not upset about the whole thing. I am a little bit sad; I mean, it hurts and I HAD nice teeth and now they are a bit funky, but it could have been so much worse. And I didn't lose any teeth (yet.....). And I've had great teeth my entire life, and they still look pretty good, thanks to my magic dentist. And Z isn't hurt. And I have a crazy story I get to tell and everyone feels bad for me and feeds me ice cream. ;) So everything's okay. :)
Okay, even with the title of this post and my "PSA", I love Kung Fu Panda. I really do. It's a really cute movie. I'm just blaming because I can't blame the actual people in this story, and I need SOMETHING to blame! :)
So now you're probably wondering: what is she talking about? But I know you are smart enough to know someone got injured. And that it involved child martial arts.
It was around 8pm the other night and we were just getting ready for bed. The kids were super excited to see Abe and for some reason, Z decided she wanted to demonstrate her "Kung Fu Panda" moves. She and Levi had a cute stunt set up where she spins and "kicks" him and he falls dead to the ground. It's really funny to watch. They performed it for Abe, and then she and Abe acted it out. That was even funnier. A 4'2 tiny baby girl takes down her 6'2 father with some spinning dervish moves. So when she came after me, I joined the acting too. It was all fine right up until I thought she was done and was talking to Abe. She was crouched down in front of me facing away, and I bent over to kiss her or something--just as she came straight up and back, full force. All 63lb of her slammed dead up and into my jaw.
It sounded like a gunshot. I FELT my teeth break. Once, a year or so ago, I had a nightmare once that a bunch of my teeth fell out. Standing there in shock and pain, I wondered if it had come true. I could feel pieces of teeth in my mouth. I ran to the bathroom and started spitting into the sink. It felt surreal, but I knew it wasn't. My jaw was throbbing and my mouth was gritty. I was scared to look in the mirror but I forced myself to. It was blantantly obvious where the worst had hit: four teeth had chunks missing out of them. Not tiny chips; CHUNKS. Literally sheared off by the force of my teeth being driven together. And all the seriously damaged teeth were in the front of my mouth (mostly on the left side). I took a deep breath. "It's not the end of the world," I told myself. "This can be fixed." I didn't cry. I didn't freak out. I wanted to, but what was the use? It was too late. Over. Nothing could be done, so why flip? Plus, I felt SO bad for Z. After rinsing my mouth (which was killing me), I tried to comfort the kids, who were beyond upset. I went to bed with my jaw pounding and aching.
At work the next morning (4am), I called my dentist office and left a message. Thankfully, they called me back later and told me to come in for 8am. I went straight there and everyone was so awesome. The hygenist was gentle and my dentist came right over to check on me. His first words after looking at my mouth were, "Wow, she got you GOOD." Seven chipped/broken teeth and one cracked (although we aren't sure if the crack-a hairline- was already started and worsened or if it was a direct result of the 'Kung Fu'). My entire jaw bruised from the trauma. Most of my teeth bruised from the trauma. My dentist told me, "I can't believe how hard you got hit. You're really lucky you have an overbite and got hit from underneath, although of course you aren't lucky. But if you had been hit from the side at this force, you would have lost a bunch of teeth." He then explained that some of my teeth were now really thin and he had to file them down so they wouldn't break (I have to be careful when I eat now) and that some of my chips couldn't be fiIled because of their location. I spent almost two hours there while they cleaned, smoothed, filed down, filled, and reshaped my teeth. I teased my dentist, "This is so unfair! I have a perfect tooth record and now I am going to lose it because there is cement in my mouth!" He said, "Oh no, you still have a perfect record! This wasn't your fault; it's not a cavity or anything, so it doesn't count." He also explained that I had been hit so hard that the nerves in several of my teeth may have been killed, but that it will take six months to know. If the nerves are dead, those teeth will have to be pulled. He said, "I'm so sorry. All we can do is wait and see." Fun times. So if you would like to pray that I don't lose some of my teeth, I would REALLY appreciate it!
Oddly enough, I am not upset about the whole thing. I am a little bit sad; I mean, it hurts and I HAD nice teeth and now they are a bit funky, but it could have been so much worse. And I didn't lose any teeth (yet.....). And I've had great teeth my entire life, and they still look pretty good, thanks to my magic dentist. And Z isn't hurt. And I have a crazy story I get to tell and everyone feels bad for me and feeds me ice cream. ;) So everything's okay. :)
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Levi: 4 Months <3
Levi. My precious Levi. My son whose smile lights up the world around him. I think the first thing everyone EVER says about Levi is, "Look at his SMILE! He just LIGHTS up! There is something so special about that boy. He's going to change the world." This from his doctor, random strangers, other adoption families, my interpreting coordinators, our family vet. Levi has Jesus shining out of him and it is impossible not to notice.
Levi has grown about a half inch (which seems more noticeable since he is now just under my nose)....and is beyond excited for the day we are eye level. Which is coming WAY too soon for me. ;) We wear the same size shoes (I wear a size nine) and he likes to use my sneakers just to rub it in if he takes the garbage out. His favorite food is pizza (he begs for it, and if I say no, he gives me the saddest, biggest-lipped face ever). He desperately wants his own computer (ooooooooooookay), and a red sports car (ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooookay). He says he doesn't want to be a police officer anymore. He wants to go to college. And work on a computer like his Daddy.
He can add and subtract now, and this is a HUGE deal because I spent months just trying to teach him basic concepts like 1+1=2 and 2-1=1. He can add and subtract 4-digit numbers (and carry) and he can do some basic multiplication. His handwriting has drastically improved and is now neater than Z's. (And he is left handed!) He can write tons of words from memory, although he does not understand how to string them together. English is definitely a challenge for us. Especially comprehension.We spend a lot of time with a stick of gum, a cup, and a piece of paper. I will write a sentence: "The gum is in/on/under/near the cup," etc., and he has to show me what that looks like.
Levi is a manly snuggle bug. Basically he will hug me and Abe one hundred times a day, but if Abe is around, he doesn't like me to kiss his cheek or pick him up. He pretends to be all macho till Abe leaves for the day; then he will sit next to me and hold my hand, or give it a kiss. He loves to jump in my arms and have me spin him around like a little kid. I think it makes him feel safe and protected, knowing I can pick him up and carry him like I do Z. One day he whined about me kissing him to Abe's face and said he didn't like it, and then a half hour later, I found this note near my phone:
Levi is our personal cheerleader; he always has something positive to say about us. He's always telling me I am beautiful, smart, a good cook, a wonderful mom, and is always adding "Wow" to every sentence. He is my ham....he loves to do silly things and act out stuff. He is always imitating JD's waggle walk and making us fall over with laughter. He loves to tell (LONG) animated stories and to sign songs; he makes up a new song every day. I mean EVERY day. And they are each like ten minutes long. :)
Levi desperately wants a huge afro. Or hair like Abe's. I have explained multiple times that his hair will never look like Abe's but he won't drop it. He wants long ringlet bangs and smooth hair in the back. I've given up. He asks me at least twice a week. I offered to shingle his hair like I do Z's, but he doesn't like that look. His hair has grown a ton since we brought him home (it's 2-2 1/2"), and since he doesn't like braids either, I just condition and squish his curls with some product and it looks good.He's so handsomeeeeeeeeee. :)
He is still working out and running a lot, but not every day anymore. He prefers to sleep now. :) He wants to look like Tony Horton from P90X. He has gotten really good at basketball and he likes to ride his scooter. He does not like baseball. He is dying for soccer season to start here. he was given a drum pad and was crazy about it for a while but hasn't been as motivated to play lately. He is crazy about music loves to "feel" the bass with Abe's special headphones. He loves his axe deodorant and thinks I should wear red lipstick every day (not happening haha). :)
He is such a sweetheart (and a great helper! He is always trying to have me rest while he does stuff for me). I love when he smiles at me when we are doing school, or through the rear-view mirror from the back of the car. When he looks at you, it just warms your heart. I also love when he walks up and just wraps his tiny arms around me and signs, "I love you" while trying to say it as well: "All-Ooow-Ouuuu!" LOVE. HIM.
Levi shows me what it is like to love Jesus with all your heart. That kid adores his Heavenly Father and it's amazing to behold. When he prays, it is the most beautiful thing ever. He's smiling the whole time, and just praising and thanking God. Levi told me he used to beg God for a family, and would cry all the time because he didn't have one. All this friends were getting families and then leaving, and he was all alone. He asked me why I didn't come sooner and all I could tell him was, "I was trying baby. I did everything I could. I fought for you for three years, sweetie." #breakingmyheart #whatotherkidsarewaiitngformerightnow #whatotherkidsarewaitingforYOU?
Levi is my pal; one of my best friends. He's one of my heroes. He's a child who grew in my heart; who claimed me the moment I found out he existed.
Levi is a miracle.
Levi. My precious Levi. My son whose smile lights up the world around him. I think the first thing everyone EVER says about Levi is, "Look at his SMILE! He just LIGHTS up! There is something so special about that boy. He's going to change the world." This from his doctor, random strangers, other adoption families, my interpreting coordinators, our family vet. Levi has Jesus shining out of him and it is impossible not to notice.
He can add and subtract now, and this is a HUGE deal because I spent months just trying to teach him basic concepts like 1+1=2 and 2-1=1. He can add and subtract 4-digit numbers (and carry) and he can do some basic multiplication. His handwriting has drastically improved and is now neater than Z's. (And he is left handed!) He can write tons of words from memory, although he does not understand how to string them together. English is definitely a challenge for us. Especially comprehension.We spend a lot of time with a stick of gum, a cup, and a piece of paper. I will write a sentence: "The gum is in/on/under/near the cup," etc., and he has to show me what that looks like.
Levi is a manly snuggle bug. Basically he will hug me and Abe one hundred times a day, but if Abe is around, he doesn't like me to kiss his cheek or pick him up. He pretends to be all macho till Abe leaves for the day; then he will sit next to me and hold my hand, or give it a kiss. He loves to jump in my arms and have me spin him around like a little kid. I think it makes him feel safe and protected, knowing I can pick him up and carry him like I do Z. One day he whined about me kissing him to Abe's face and said he didn't like it, and then a half hour later, I found this note near my phone:
Levi is our personal cheerleader; he always has something positive to say about us. He's always telling me I am beautiful, smart, a good cook, a wonderful mom, and is always adding "Wow" to every sentence. He is my ham....he loves to do silly things and act out stuff. He is always imitating JD's waggle walk and making us fall over with laughter. He loves to tell (LONG) animated stories and to sign songs; he makes up a new song every day. I mean EVERY day. And they are each like ten minutes long. :)
Levi desperately wants a huge afro. Or hair like Abe's. I have explained multiple times that his hair will never look like Abe's but he won't drop it. He wants long ringlet bangs and smooth hair in the back. I've given up. He asks me at least twice a week. I offered to shingle his hair like I do Z's, but he doesn't like that look. His hair has grown a ton since we brought him home (it's 2-2 1/2"), and since he doesn't like braids either, I just condition and squish his curls with some product and it looks good.He's so handsomeeeeeeeeee. :)
He is still working out and running a lot, but not every day anymore. He prefers to sleep now. :) He wants to look like Tony Horton from P90X. He has gotten really good at basketball and he likes to ride his scooter. He does not like baseball. He is dying for soccer season to start here. he was given a drum pad and was crazy about it for a while but hasn't been as motivated to play lately. He is crazy about music loves to "feel" the bass with Abe's special headphones. He loves his axe deodorant and thinks I should wear red lipstick every day (not happening haha). :)
He is such a sweetheart (and a great helper! He is always trying to have me rest while he does stuff for me). I love when he smiles at me when we are doing school, or through the rear-view mirror from the back of the car. When he looks at you, it just warms your heart. I also love when he walks up and just wraps his tiny arms around me and signs, "I love you" while trying to say it as well: "All-Ooow-Ouuuu!" LOVE. HIM.
Levi shows me what it is like to love Jesus with all your heart. That kid adores his Heavenly Father and it's amazing to behold. When he prays, it is the most beautiful thing ever. He's smiling the whole time, and just praising and thanking God. Levi told me he used to beg God for a family, and would cry all the time because he didn't have one. All this friends were getting families and then leaving, and he was all alone. He asked me why I didn't come sooner and all I could tell him was, "I was trying baby. I did everything I could. I fought for you for three years, sweetie." #breakingmyheart #whatotherkidsarewaiitngformerightnow #whatotherkidsarewaitingforYOU?
Levi is my pal; one of my best friends. He's one of my heroes. He's a child who grew in my heart; who claimed me the moment I found out he existed.
Levi is a miracle.
Monday, March 4, 2013
Zahria: 4 months <3
Z is our little bundle of joy and the light of our house. She run-dances everywhere (it's hysterical to watch) and is constantly jumping out from behind doors or impossibly small spaces, giving us heart failure. She still gets excited when it snows (although she has stopped kissing the snow and icicles.....I miss that!). She is always trying to do big chores around the house to help me out. Example: she tries to wash the kitchen floor by herself (constantly) and I don't have the heart to tell her to wait for me cause she's SO proud of being such a good helper. I usually try to do it again/sop up the excess water when she runs upstairs. Of course, as soon as she finishes one chore she moves on to another. If she's upstairs, it means she's making my bed or trying to clean the bathroom. I basically have to drag her away. She is SUCH a hard worker with a huge heart. Chores have never been so fun--she is happiest just being alongside me wherever I am and I love it. She can do a load of laundry, wash dishes, sweep and wash floors, take out the garbage, clean the bathroom and tidy the bedrooms. I have never seen a kid so excited to do housework. It amazes me, blesses me, sometimes makes me worry haha. :)
She thinks Abe and I are beautiful and she told me that when she saw our picture for the first time in Ethiopia, that was the first thing she thought. She said other kids were jealous and would say they wanted her parents and she was so proud that we were HER family. She also told me that when we left after court, she was sad. And when three weeks later, some of our court group when back for embassy and we weren't there, she was really upset. And then every family EXCEPT us went back (we were eleven weeks between court and embassy) and she didn't understand why we hadn't come back for HER. Every time a family arrived she would go put on her jacket that we had given her, cross her arms and sit on a rock and refuse to speak to anyone. (Yes, I cried a little when she told me this. It broke my heart.) Now she refuses to leave my side. We call her my 60lb appendage because she rarely even lets go of me. She told me she's afraid to lose me. If she isn't holding my hand, then she is holding my shirt or has her hand in my sweatshirt pocket. But her minimum is visual contact. She HAS to be within sight of me. If she's in the living room and I go into the kitchen, I'll immediately hear, "Mom? MOM!" and then she will run out, glom onto me, and stay on my leg/arm/hip until I pry her (yes, literally) off.
She is obsessed with chocolate and Rapunzel. I am always giving her waist or knee length extensions, which she LOVES. In fact, any time I take them OUT, I have to make sure to not try a new style or she automatically dislikes it, since nothing can follow up Rapunzel hair. I shingled her hair after I took out her rainbow extensions and she despised it---and it was SOOOO cute! Now I just wait till she's had a few days to get used to her short hair again and then I do a different style.
She's also been spoiled by me doing her hair so much; now she wants a new style every 5 or 6 days. I tell her, "Most little girls get a new style every 5-6 WEEKS!!!" And she'll go, "Oh NO, Mama!!! Mommy, before, in E-tee-o-p-ia, braids, me no like. Ah-no like dem. But now, me love. Me want new one!"
Back to the chocolate obsession: every morning around 9am she asks, "Mommy, choc-co-late?" and I say, "No Z, we don't even have any," and she replies, "Is okay Mom! Let's go a-Weg-a-mons! Come on!" And then she will tug me towards the door. :) A couple months ago for Christmas, Grandma and Grandpappy gave her some chocolate coins, and when I have her a Connect Four game a week or so later, she immediately picked up a yellow game piece and bit down hard. Bye bye $2,000 of dental work (j/k, her teeth were not hurt).
She still has the cutest accent (although she's starting to lose it a little bit..... some words that she usually twists are sounding normal, which makes me sad). She is using a lot of slang recently says random words the cutest ways:
Bubbles: Bubbalos
Ohhhhh, I gotcha
Whatever: Wad-everrrrrrrrrr
Just one minute: Jus one meen-nut
Wegmans: Weg-a-mons
Icicles: Isicks
Chemical: Callackano
Gatorade: Gatacade
Goldfish: Gone-fishing
Currently the most dreaded phrase in our house is, "Come on, I show you some-teen!!!" She uses this 6,587,251 times a day. She also loves to announce things with a line from "Tangled", and she does this for EVERYTHING: a clean table, a finished school assignment, a blanket and pillow on the couch for snuggling. She'll run in, throw back her arms and announce: "Look! You're fav-o-wit SUP-PWISE!!!!!!!!!"
Some of my favorite Z quotes:
"Mommy dis one no cold. Jacket a-no, dis one me love. Dis one me favorite." (Referring to a warm 40 degree day.)
"Mommy, no dis one! Me want YOU music. You music me favorite." (She wanted to listen to Callanach, NOT her kid music.)
"Happy Valen-eyes day!!!!" (She yelled this to at least six people in a parking lot. I had told her Valentine's Day was a day to show love.)
"I love you! You're beautiful! I love you!!!! I stay with you! Me no in house. Me stay with him." (To her first real snowman, Baruch. He melted a day later and she sobbed.)
I love you.....I love you so much Weg-a-mons!!!" (I had been hoping she would say, "I love you so much," to ME. Instead, her first and only time using it was in reference to our grocery store.)
She hates money. She is upset that Abe and I have to work for money and I told her, "If Daddy and I don't work, we don't eat." She replied, "Dat's okay. I drink water!"
Whenever I pay her for her extra chores (she and Levi are saving for bikes), she will say, "Mommy, I don't like dis one!" And shy away from the money. For tithing, she wants to give all of it to God, every time.
She hates when I get up for work at 3am everyday and she tells me all the time of her plan when she gets big. When she is big, SHE will go to work and I will sleep (she is not ever getting married; she is living with us forever). When she gets home from work she will make breakfast for me while I watch movies. Then we will have cake and ice cream for breakfast. Then she will clean up while I watch movies and then we will watch movies all day. I am fully amenable to this plan. :)
Besides being my personal care taker, Zahria also wants to be a pastor when she grows up. An Ethiopian style pastor (who sings). She sings all the time around the house, and knows half the Callanach song choruses. She's gained 3lb and 1" since coming home, as well as probably close to two inches in hair length. She loves Bible stories and chewing her fingernails. (Banana pepper juiceeeeeeeeeeeeee, holla!) She is an absolute joy to have, and I love hearing her giggle as she plays around the house. She is the most amazing and precious daughter I could have ever asked for and I don't deserve her. I love you Z!!!!! I asked God for a daughter when we started the adoption process, never dreaming I would be given the most beautiful and amazing girl in the whole world. Zahria, you are my miracle.
She thinks Abe and I are beautiful and she told me that when she saw our picture for the first time in Ethiopia, that was the first thing she thought. She said other kids were jealous and would say they wanted her parents and she was so proud that we were HER family. She also told me that when we left after court, she was sad. And when three weeks later, some of our court group when back for embassy and we weren't there, she was really upset. And then every family EXCEPT us went back (we were eleven weeks between court and embassy) and she didn't understand why we hadn't come back for HER. Every time a family arrived she would go put on her jacket that we had given her, cross her arms and sit on a rock and refuse to speak to anyone. (Yes, I cried a little when she told me this. It broke my heart.) Now she refuses to leave my side. We call her my 60lb appendage because she rarely even lets go of me. She told me she's afraid to lose me. If she isn't holding my hand, then she is holding my shirt or has her hand in my sweatshirt pocket. But her minimum is visual contact. She HAS to be within sight of me. If she's in the living room and I go into the kitchen, I'll immediately hear, "Mom? MOM!" and then she will run out, glom onto me, and stay on my leg/arm/hip until I pry her (yes, literally) off.
She is obsessed with chocolate and Rapunzel. I am always giving her waist or knee length extensions, which she LOVES. In fact, any time I take them OUT, I have to make sure to not try a new style or she automatically dislikes it, since nothing can follow up Rapunzel hair. I shingled her hair after I took out her rainbow extensions and she despised it---and it was SOOOO cute! Now I just wait till she's had a few days to get used to her short hair again and then I do a different style.
She's also been spoiled by me doing her hair so much; now she wants a new style every 5 or 6 days. I tell her, "Most little girls get a new style every 5-6 WEEKS!!!" And she'll go, "Oh NO, Mama!!! Mommy, before, in E-tee-o-p-ia, braids, me no like. Ah-no like dem. But now, me love. Me want new one!"
Back to the chocolate obsession: every morning around 9am she asks, "Mommy, choc-co-late?" and I say, "No Z, we don't even have any," and she replies, "Is okay Mom! Let's go a-Weg-a-mons! Come on!" And then she will tug me towards the door. :) A couple months ago for Christmas, Grandma and Grandpappy gave her some chocolate coins, and when I have her a Connect Four game a week or so later, she immediately picked up a yellow game piece and bit down hard. Bye bye $2,000 of dental work (j/k, her teeth were not hurt).
She still has the cutest accent (although she's starting to lose it a little bit..... some words that she usually twists are sounding normal, which makes me sad). She is using a lot of slang recently says random words the cutest ways:
Bubbles: Bubbalos
Ohhhhh, I gotcha
Whatever: Wad-everrrrrrrrrr
Just one minute: Jus one meen-nut
Wegmans: Weg-a-mons
Icicles: Isicks
Chemical: Callackano
Gatorade: Gatacade
Goldfish: Gone-fishing
Currently the most dreaded phrase in our house is, "Come on, I show you some-teen!!!" She uses this 6,587,251 times a day. She also loves to announce things with a line from "Tangled", and she does this for EVERYTHING: a clean table, a finished school assignment, a blanket and pillow on the couch for snuggling. She'll run in, throw back her arms and announce: "Look! You're fav-o-wit SUP-PWISE!!!!!!!!!"
Some of my favorite Z quotes:
"Mommy dis one no cold. Jacket a-no, dis one me love. Dis one me favorite." (Referring to a warm 40 degree day.)
"Mommy, no dis one! Me want YOU music. You music me favorite." (She wanted to listen to Callanach, NOT her kid music.)
"Happy Valen-eyes day!!!!" (She yelled this to at least six people in a parking lot. I had told her Valentine's Day was a day to show love.)
"I love you! You're beautiful! I love you!!!! I stay with you! Me no in house. Me stay with him." (To her first real snowman, Baruch. He melted a day later and she sobbed.)
I love you.....I love you so much Weg-a-mons!!!" (I had been hoping she would say, "I love you so much," to ME. Instead, her first and only time using it was in reference to our grocery store.)
She hates money. She is upset that Abe and I have to work for money and I told her, "If Daddy and I don't work, we don't eat." She replied, "Dat's okay. I drink water!"
Whenever I pay her for her extra chores (she and Levi are saving for bikes), she will say, "Mommy, I don't like dis one!" And shy away from the money. For tithing, she wants to give all of it to God, every time.
She hates when I get up for work at 3am everyday and she tells me all the time of her plan when she gets big. When she is big, SHE will go to work and I will sleep (she is not ever getting married; she is living with us forever). When she gets home from work she will make breakfast for me while I watch movies. Then we will have cake and ice cream for breakfast. Then she will clean up while I watch movies and then we will watch movies all day. I am fully amenable to this plan. :)
Besides being my personal care taker, Zahria also wants to be a pastor when she grows up. An Ethiopian style pastor (who sings). She sings all the time around the house, and knows half the Callanach song choruses. She's gained 3lb and 1" since coming home, as well as probably close to two inches in hair length. She loves Bible stories and chewing her fingernails. (Banana pepper juiceeeeeeeeeeeeee, holla!) She is an absolute joy to have, and I love hearing her giggle as she plays around the house. She is the most amazing and precious daughter I could have ever asked for and I don't deserve her. I love you Z!!!!! I asked God for a daughter when we started the adoption process, never dreaming I would be given the most beautiful and amazing girl in the whole world. Zahria, you are my miracle.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
911
It is a terrifying thing to see your child fall to the floor unconscious. It's even worse when his eyes finally open but he won't respond.
Yesterday started as a normal day. I worked 4am-7:30am. I went home, said hello to Abe, and went to snuggle Z, who was waiting for me on the couch. We started watching Beauty and the Beast and I saw Levi come out of his room and go to the bathroom. Abe came in to say goodbye before he left for work and Levi came and sat next to me on the couch. Abe took turns hugging us and when he hugged Levi, I was looking away. I heard a thunk and then Levi was sitting on the floor. Abe picked him up and said, "Levi doesn't want me to go to work, he's being silly and pretending to be asleep." Then he picked him up and set him on his feet and Levi walked over to me and sat down. Abe left and Levi said, "Mom, I feel weird. I'm dizzy." I held his head on my lap for a few minutes and had Z get him some orange juice. He sat back up and said, "When Dad hugged me, I think I passed out. I thought I died." I grabbed my phone and called Abe. "Did Levi pass out when you hugged him?" I asked. "I didn't think so," Abe said. "He seemed fine. I thought he was just playing. His eyes weren't closed or anything and he got right up. He DID let out a huge breath though, right before he slid to the ground." "Babe, that doesn't sound right. I think he passed out," I said. "I'm going to call Long Pond and then I'm gonna call you back if anything is weird." We disconnected and I decided not to call Levi's doctor yet....after all, what would I say? He might have passed out and now he's fine? I gave him OJ? The problem with having internationally adopted kids and especially with being a first time Mom is that people assume you are WAY over protective and give you that later-on-you-won't-bat-an-eyelash-at-symptoms-like-this smile. They don't get that your child hasn't had the proper care of medications/vaccination AND that you don't even KNOW their medical history.....or that their diagnosis could easily be inaccurate or an issue not even known about because there wasn't the proper care or equipment/technology to uncover it in the first place. And how about various illnesses like malaria and yellow fever, which Americans don't think about, AND the fact that my kids have had both kids of mono, Hep A, and Levi has had meningitis. And God knows what else. Oh, and what about personal history? Seriously people, DO. NOT. FREAKING. GIVE. ME. YOUR. STUPID. LOOKS.
Anyway. So I decided to give him a few minutes before I called the pediatrician. Ten minutes or so later, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Levi (sitting on the couch) start to fall towards the floor. I grabbed him (I have lightning reflexes) and helped him (unconscious) to the floor. I thought he was going into a seizure. I laid him out in the middle of the floor. He wasn't moving. I checked to make sure he still had a somewhat regular pulse and was breathing. Yes. I started trying to wake him up. I shook his shoulders gently. Tapped his face. Nothing.
I am a fairly level-headed person. In emergency situations, I don't panic. I don't freeze, I don't cry, I don't lose my mind. It's almost like an out of body experience. I just deal with stuff as fast as I can. I have had multiple people have seizures or extreme bleeding, or other dangerous situations in front of me, and it never bothers me or makes me freak in the moment. (I do usually cry way later though.)
JD was starting to panic and I wasn't sure about Z so I had her take Jay to the other room to get them both out. I kept trying to wake Levi. After about 15 seconds, he opened his eyes, but he wasn't focusing. His eyes weren't rolling; he was more catatonic. Like he was staring through me, straight ahead, no eye movement. I kept signing to him and trying to wake him up. He FINALLY tried to focus and then zoned out again. I called Abe and explained what happened and said I was calling an ambulance. Abe said he was turning around and coming home. I hung up and dialed Levi's pediatrician and told them what was going on and then I called 911. Levi's eyes were half opening and he was struggling to focus when I signed to him but he was not responding to anything I said. No head nods/shakes, nothing. Just empty eyes.
The dispatcher was nice, and I already knew what to do since I interpret 911 calls just about every day at work. I remember thinking, "I just got done with a bunch of these kinds of calls. I never guessed I would be calling again from home." I had Z get dressed and put the dogs away while I stayed with Levi and the ambulance arrived within six minutes. The medics were confused that I could speak (the dispatcher thought our whole family was deaf....he must have thought it was a VRS 911 call haha) but they were nice. They asked which hospital I wanted to go to and by the time we got Levi in the ambulance, Abe was pulling in and took Z while I rode with Levi and interpreted, even though it was pointless. Levi was still mostly unresponsive (although he started shaking like crazy and his teeth were chattering). He focused in on me a few times and I told him stories about his best friend from Ethiopia, and how his friend was just at a hospital too, and that both of them were so brave.
At the hospital, all the females I interacted with (why is it that males could care less? Thank you, men.) started driving me nuts. Everyone was more concerned that I am 27 and look 22 and have a 14-year old son who is different skin color, than they were that my son was catatonic and on a guerney. I went through this scenario four times in the first five minutes of walking into the ER: EMT briefly says Levi is in and out and that his mother is with him. I am holding Levi's hand. Woman approaches. Does not even glance at me. "Who is the mother?" (Okay, I get that this is not normal. I understand you may expect a woman with beautiful brown skin and dark eyes and not a green-eyed "girl" who could be in college. I get it. I really do. Therefore, I will give you one excused stare-at-me-with-your-mouth-open-and-then-narrow-your-eyes-in-doubt look.) I step forward, smile kindly, and say, "I'm his Mom." She gives me "the look". Doubtful. Puzzled. Disapproving. Like she doesn't believe me. She hesitates. "Ummmm...okay. What's your insurance information?" I give it to her and then she scurries off to meet up with the other five women staring at us. They huddle in a circle and glance at us, whispering. Repeat scene x 4.
Levi was wheeled into a room and the staff and EMTs asked him to move himself from the guerney to the bed. I said, "He needs help," because apparently telling them that he was extremely dizzy and couldn't even sign to me wasn't enough to clue them in. They still didn't give him the proper support so I walked through them and picked him up myself and set him on the bed. They hooked him up to a machine and gave him an EKG. His heart rate was 54, and his glucose was super low.
I told the story of what had happened over and over to multiple nurses, aides, and a doctor. Levi kept going in and out of consciousness and couldn't focus or respond with more than a head nod every once in a while. No one had a clue what was going on and the doctor didn't do anything except try to convince me to take Levi to a different hospital with a pediatric unit. Which I would have done, except Levi was in no condition to be moved. I was mainly left alone with Levi, and I sat on his bed and held his hand or held him when he was aware of his surroundings, which was just a few minutes every hour. I almost broke down and cried once.....my eyes filled with tears and then Levi came to for a minute and I was like, "I am NOT letting him see me cry, that's just gonna freak him out," so I pulled myself together, smiled at him, and started telling him stories every time he could keep his eyes open and look at me. I told him about when my sister and I built a parachute and tried to fly, and about when we made a raft and it sank and leeches were everywhere. He was such a champ, and tried so hard to keep his eyes open and pay attention to me. He had 3 or 4 EKGS in two hours.
The doctor said that the hospital was unable to help him and wanted to transfer him. After three hours, the hospital deemed him stable enough to move. A second ambulance came and I texted Abe, who was with Z in the waiting area, to let him know where we were going. We got to the second hospital and at the pediatric ER, where I explained who I was and what had happened about 20 more times. Levi was miserable, but doing a little better at that point. He wasn't going catatonic every few minutes, and he was more alert. They put us in a room and a nurse came in. She said, "Are you really his Mom??? I can't believe this! There is no way you are old enough to be his Mom! You're amazing, I can't believe this! You look like his sister." I didn't know what to say so I replied, "I'm sure Levi will think that's funny," and she left to get another person. I told Levi's story 600,000 more times, and Levi had several more episodes. They stuck him with what seemed like a thousand needles and started running tests.They also kept criticizing me for not bringing him to them first, and saying it would be better if they could have seen him when he was the worst. I didn't respond to them because it just wasn't the right time to break it to them that we went to the other hospital because it has a better reputation.
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Levi and Daddy, reading a book.
They also asked if I wanted an interpreter and I said no. Levi uses a mixture of two languages and home signs, and he had enough people staring at him and touching him. He was overwhelmed enough and an interpreter wouldn't do any good in this situation as it would only stress him out, he wouldn't understand, and they wouldn't understand him. I said, "I am the only one who is going to be able to understand him and I am a certified interpreter." The head person said, "Well, I can see if our interpreters know Amharic Sign Language," and I started to laugh and tried to choke it out as a cough. Abe kind of grinned at me. Trust me on this, your interpreters use American Sign Language. Not Amharic. But luckily they didn't push the issue.
Z was amazing. So good and helpful.
All the tests and blood work came up negative. Everything except his glucose and heart rate were okay. No diabetes. By 2:30pm, they were out of ideas. A man from neurology was sent down to look at Levi. Then he returned with a team. They thought maybe he was having seizures. At this point, Levi stopped passing out and gradually became about 75% alert. He started signing to me. He started begging to go home. They told me they wanted an EEG and so we went through that. The nodes were all rainbow colored and I teased him that he was getting extensions just like Z. He had the good graces to give me his first small smile of the day. I surprised the EEG didn't give him another episode....I felt like I was going to have a seizure myself from the flashing strobe, which Levi was required to look into on and off for about 10 minutes.
Levi during part of his EEG.
When we told him he could go home soon! First real smile!
They came back with more needles and Levi got upset with me because I was letting them stick him again. I felt so bad, and he was mad at me, but he got over it pretty quick. I told him I was sorry and put my head on his bed and he started rubbing my back with his hand, which was the first movement he had done other than respond to questions. I knew it also meant he had forgiven me for allowing more needles.
By 6:30pm they had the EEG results. Nothing seemed off. They decided to release him. They told me to get him to see their recommended cardiologist ASAP, and that they weren't sure what was wrong. Possibly "abnormal" seizures, which could be caused by any number of things.....malaria (I don't even know if Levi has had that before), meningitis (that's how he became deaf), if he was born a premie, etc. They also told me that he could be having "pseudo seizures". He can't be put on dilantin because they weren't sure what was going on and basically we just had to wait for it to happen again. The neurologist said, "If this happens again at home, wait at least an hour before bringing him in." I wanted to make a cutting remark, but I just said, "That's not acceptable. My son was UNRESPONSIVE. If this happens again I am calling 911 and coming in." As if that wasn't enough, the last nurse to speak to me said that pseudo seizures can be caused by extreme stress, change, or by a child wanting attention. Her exact words were, "I'm not saying he is doing it for attention, he probably isn't, and he was definitely passing out, but I didn't see it happen, so it probably wasn't that serious. It's probably just from extreme stress. You know, moving to America has to be VERY stressful and it's probably from that. It's just all the recent change."
I just stared at her. Lady, my kid has been home for four months. I know him better than anyone else in the world. This is NOT normal, and he is not stressed. Nothing has been out of his normal routine. If this had happened four months ago, I would have considered it. But that is not what's wrong here. It's something else. I was SO angry at her.
Long story, right? And that's the abbreviated version. I stayed awake most of the night watching Levi to make sure he was still okay and I went to work at 4am. When I got home at 8am, Levi was there waiting for me, smiling, and he ran into my arms. He seems completely normal today. We are making an appointment with the cardiologist on Monday, so we will see what happens with that.
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Right after I got home from work this morning. :)
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Thank you Jesus.
Yesterday started as a normal day. I worked 4am-7:30am. I went home, said hello to Abe, and went to snuggle Z, who was waiting for me on the couch. We started watching Beauty and the Beast and I saw Levi come out of his room and go to the bathroom. Abe came in to say goodbye before he left for work and Levi came and sat next to me on the couch. Abe took turns hugging us and when he hugged Levi, I was looking away. I heard a thunk and then Levi was sitting on the floor. Abe picked him up and said, "Levi doesn't want me to go to work, he's being silly and pretending to be asleep." Then he picked him up and set him on his feet and Levi walked over to me and sat down. Abe left and Levi said, "Mom, I feel weird. I'm dizzy." I held his head on my lap for a few minutes and had Z get him some orange juice. He sat back up and said, "When Dad hugged me, I think I passed out. I thought I died." I grabbed my phone and called Abe. "Did Levi pass out when you hugged him?" I asked. "I didn't think so," Abe said. "He seemed fine. I thought he was just playing. His eyes weren't closed or anything and he got right up. He DID let out a huge breath though, right before he slid to the ground." "Babe, that doesn't sound right. I think he passed out," I said. "I'm going to call Long Pond and then I'm gonna call you back if anything is weird." We disconnected and I decided not to call Levi's doctor yet....after all, what would I say? He might have passed out and now he's fine? I gave him OJ? The problem with having internationally adopted kids and especially with being a first time Mom is that people assume you are WAY over protective and give you that later-on-you-won't-bat-an-eyelash-at-symptoms-like-this smile. They don't get that your child hasn't had the proper care of medications/vaccination AND that you don't even KNOW their medical history.....or that their diagnosis could easily be inaccurate or an issue not even known about because there wasn't the proper care or equipment/technology to uncover it in the first place. And how about various illnesses like malaria and yellow fever, which Americans don't think about, AND the fact that my kids have had both kids of mono, Hep A, and Levi has had meningitis. And God knows what else. Oh, and what about personal history? Seriously people, DO. NOT. FREAKING. GIVE. ME. YOUR. STUPID. LOOKS.
Anyway. So I decided to give him a few minutes before I called the pediatrician. Ten minutes or so later, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Levi (sitting on the couch) start to fall towards the floor. I grabbed him (I have lightning reflexes) and helped him (unconscious) to the floor. I thought he was going into a seizure. I laid him out in the middle of the floor. He wasn't moving. I checked to make sure he still had a somewhat regular pulse and was breathing. Yes. I started trying to wake him up. I shook his shoulders gently. Tapped his face. Nothing.
I am a fairly level-headed person. In emergency situations, I don't panic. I don't freeze, I don't cry, I don't lose my mind. It's almost like an out of body experience. I just deal with stuff as fast as I can. I have had multiple people have seizures or extreme bleeding, or other dangerous situations in front of me, and it never bothers me or makes me freak in the moment. (I do usually cry way later though.)
JD was starting to panic and I wasn't sure about Z so I had her take Jay to the other room to get them both out. I kept trying to wake Levi. After about 15 seconds, he opened his eyes, but he wasn't focusing. His eyes weren't rolling; he was more catatonic. Like he was staring through me, straight ahead, no eye movement. I kept signing to him and trying to wake him up. He FINALLY tried to focus and then zoned out again. I called Abe and explained what happened and said I was calling an ambulance. Abe said he was turning around and coming home. I hung up and dialed Levi's pediatrician and told them what was going on and then I called 911. Levi's eyes were half opening and he was struggling to focus when I signed to him but he was not responding to anything I said. No head nods/shakes, nothing. Just empty eyes.
The dispatcher was nice, and I already knew what to do since I interpret 911 calls just about every day at work. I remember thinking, "I just got done with a bunch of these kinds of calls. I never guessed I would be calling again from home." I had Z get dressed and put the dogs away while I stayed with Levi and the ambulance arrived within six minutes. The medics were confused that I could speak (the dispatcher thought our whole family was deaf....he must have thought it was a VRS 911 call haha) but they were nice. They asked which hospital I wanted to go to and by the time we got Levi in the ambulance, Abe was pulling in and took Z while I rode with Levi and interpreted, even though it was pointless. Levi was still mostly unresponsive (although he started shaking like crazy and his teeth were chattering). He focused in on me a few times and I told him stories about his best friend from Ethiopia, and how his friend was just at a hospital too, and that both of them were so brave.
At the hospital, all the females I interacted with (why is it that males could care less? Thank you, men.) started driving me nuts. Everyone was more concerned that I am 27 and look 22 and have a 14-year old son who is different skin color, than they were that my son was catatonic and on a guerney. I went through this scenario four times in the first five minutes of walking into the ER: EMT briefly says Levi is in and out and that his mother is with him. I am holding Levi's hand. Woman approaches. Does not even glance at me. "Who is the mother?" (Okay, I get that this is not normal. I understand you may expect a woman with beautiful brown skin and dark eyes and not a green-eyed "girl" who could be in college. I get it. I really do. Therefore, I will give you one excused stare-at-me-with-your-mouth-open-and-then-narrow-your-eyes-in-doubt look.) I step forward, smile kindly, and say, "I'm his Mom." She gives me "the look". Doubtful. Puzzled. Disapproving. Like she doesn't believe me. She hesitates. "Ummmm...okay. What's your insurance information?" I give it to her and then she scurries off to meet up with the other five women staring at us. They huddle in a circle and glance at us, whispering. Repeat scene x 4.
Levi was wheeled into a room and the staff and EMTs asked him to move himself from the guerney to the bed. I said, "He needs help," because apparently telling them that he was extremely dizzy and couldn't even sign to me wasn't enough to clue them in. They still didn't give him the proper support so I walked through them and picked him up myself and set him on the bed. They hooked him up to a machine and gave him an EKG. His heart rate was 54, and his glucose was super low.
I told the story of what had happened over and over to multiple nurses, aides, and a doctor. Levi kept going in and out of consciousness and couldn't focus or respond with more than a head nod every once in a while. No one had a clue what was going on and the doctor didn't do anything except try to convince me to take Levi to a different hospital with a pediatric unit. Which I would have done, except Levi was in no condition to be moved. I was mainly left alone with Levi, and I sat on his bed and held his hand or held him when he was aware of his surroundings, which was just a few minutes every hour. I almost broke down and cried once.....my eyes filled with tears and then Levi came to for a minute and I was like, "I am NOT letting him see me cry, that's just gonna freak him out," so I pulled myself together, smiled at him, and started telling him stories every time he could keep his eyes open and look at me. I told him about when my sister and I built a parachute and tried to fly, and about when we made a raft and it sank and leeches were everywhere. He was such a champ, and tried so hard to keep his eyes open and pay attention to me. He had 3 or 4 EKGS in two hours.
The doctor said that the hospital was unable to help him and wanted to transfer him. After three hours, the hospital deemed him stable enough to move. A second ambulance came and I texted Abe, who was with Z in the waiting area, to let him know where we were going. We got to the second hospital and at the pediatric ER, where I explained who I was and what had happened about 20 more times. Levi was miserable, but doing a little better at that point. He wasn't going catatonic every few minutes, and he was more alert. They put us in a room and a nurse came in. She said, "Are you really his Mom??? I can't believe this! There is no way you are old enough to be his Mom! You're amazing, I can't believe this! You look like his sister." I didn't know what to say so I replied, "I'm sure Levi will think that's funny," and she left to get another person. I told Levi's story 600,000 more times, and Levi had several more episodes. They stuck him with what seemed like a thousand needles and started running tests.They also kept criticizing me for not bringing him to them first, and saying it would be better if they could have seen him when he was the worst. I didn't respond to them because it just wasn't the right time to break it to them that we went to the other hospital because it has a better reputation.
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They also asked if I wanted an interpreter and I said no. Levi uses a mixture of two languages and home signs, and he had enough people staring at him and touching him. He was overwhelmed enough and an interpreter wouldn't do any good in this situation as it would only stress him out, he wouldn't understand, and they wouldn't understand him. I said, "I am the only one who is going to be able to understand him and I am a certified interpreter." The head person said, "Well, I can see if our interpreters know Amharic Sign Language," and I started to laugh and tried to choke it out as a cough. Abe kind of grinned at me. Trust me on this, your interpreters use American Sign Language. Not Amharic. But luckily they didn't push the issue.
All the tests and blood work came up negative. Everything except his glucose and heart rate were okay. No diabetes. By 2:30pm, they were out of ideas. A man from neurology was sent down to look at Levi. Then he returned with a team. They thought maybe he was having seizures. At this point, Levi stopped passing out and gradually became about 75% alert. He started signing to me. He started begging to go home. They told me they wanted an EEG and so we went through that. The nodes were all rainbow colored and I teased him that he was getting extensions just like Z. He had the good graces to give me his first small smile of the day. I surprised the EEG didn't give him another episode....I felt like I was going to have a seizure myself from the flashing strobe, which Levi was required to look into on and off for about 10 minutes.
They came back with more needles and Levi got upset with me because I was letting them stick him again. I felt so bad, and he was mad at me, but he got over it pretty quick. I told him I was sorry and put my head on his bed and he started rubbing my back with his hand, which was the first movement he had done other than respond to questions. I knew it also meant he had forgiven me for allowing more needles.
By 6:30pm they had the EEG results. Nothing seemed off. They decided to release him. They told me to get him to see their recommended cardiologist ASAP, and that they weren't sure what was wrong. Possibly "abnormal" seizures, which could be caused by any number of things.....malaria (I don't even know if Levi has had that before), meningitis (that's how he became deaf), if he was born a premie, etc. They also told me that he could be having "pseudo seizures". He can't be put on dilantin because they weren't sure what was going on and basically we just had to wait for it to happen again. The neurologist said, "If this happens again at home, wait at least an hour before bringing him in." I wanted to make a cutting remark, but I just said, "That's not acceptable. My son was UNRESPONSIVE. If this happens again I am calling 911 and coming in." As if that wasn't enough, the last nurse to speak to me said that pseudo seizures can be caused by extreme stress, change, or by a child wanting attention. Her exact words were, "I'm not saying he is doing it for attention, he probably isn't, and he was definitely passing out, but I didn't see it happen, so it probably wasn't that serious. It's probably just from extreme stress. You know, moving to America has to be VERY stressful and it's probably from that. It's just all the recent change."
I just stared at her. Lady, my kid has been home for four months. I know him better than anyone else in the world. This is NOT normal, and he is not stressed. Nothing has been out of his normal routine. If this had happened four months ago, I would have considered it. But that is not what's wrong here. It's something else. I was SO angry at her.
Long story, right? And that's the abbreviated version. I stayed awake most of the night watching Levi to make sure he was still okay and I went to work at 4am. When I got home at 8am, Levi was there waiting for me, smiling, and he ran into my arms. He seems completely normal today. We are making an appointment with the cardiologist on Monday, so we will see what happens with that.
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Thank you Jesus.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Unconditional Love
A best friend is someone who loves you all the time, through the good and the bad. They are easy to talk to. They love you when you make mistakes, they help you up when you fall, and they are ALWAYS there for you. If you can find a person (s) to call a best friend, I'd say you are pretty lucky.
My Grammy and Grampa are two of my best friends. They have been the ultimate support and role models for me for the past eleven years. They also gave me two of the most precious gifts they could: the ability to play the violin, and unconditional love.
I didn't get my grandparents in the usual way. My grandparents adopted me into their lives. I met them when I was sixteen, and from that day on, we were family. When I moved away at age twenty, we set up a weekly phone date. We have kept that date for the past seven years. I visit once a year around Christmas. When I go, it's like I am royalty. They decorate and cook and then make me sit and eat a ton of delicious food. We hang out and then they shower me with gifts. We play music and dance. They have my pictures all over the walls and they sing my praises (they give me way more credit than is due). And when I go home, they mail me letters and cards and Starbucks giftcards (they truly know the way to my heart.... ;))
My Grammy and Grampa have always been there for me, no matter what I am going through. They have never judged me or criticized me. They never made me feel stupid or tried to guilt me into making the right decisions. They just gave me unconditional love. And after my mistakes, when life left me battered and bruised, they were right there to take care of me. I can tell them anything, good or bad, and I know that they will love me through it. They never tell me NOT to do something. (I am a stubborn person. I don't like to be told what to do. If you tell me not to do something, or that I "can't" do something, you can be sure I will do it.) They just love me and pray for me and stand beside me.
Six years ago, when I was dating Abe, I brought Abe on a nine hour drive to meet them for their approval. Abe passd with flying colors of course, and my Grammy still talks about it to this day. "I felt so honored that you wanted our opinion! I remember when you first brought him over here, and I thought, he is tall, tall, TALL!!!! And I knew he was a good boy right away! I mean, the way he treated you was just like how Grampa treats me. And you always said you wanted a man like Grampa. And we've been praying for that for you since you were sixteen! And he was so polite and nice, and I knew he was going to be a good one!!!!"
When Abe and I announced that we were adopting, and most of the world thought we were crazy and laughed in our faces, my grandparents rejoiced. They never told us we were too young, didn't have enough money, hadn't been married long enough, had too much debt, should finish school first, should have biological children first, shouldn't get two kids, should buy a house first, shouldn't adopt because "those" children have problems/emotional issues/aids, etc. No. They were HAPPY for us and supportive and they gave us courage. I don't know if they were ever worried when we told them we were adopting, but they never tried to talk us out of it, and they were truly excited and happy for us.
At one point during a weekly call several years ago, my Grampa asked how our adoption finaces were, and I told him we were struggling to come up with the first big payment. Without my knowledge, my grandparents and their church raised money for the adoption. And they paid off our ENTIRE HOMESTUDY. People, we are talking about over $3,000. From a church who basically didn't know us, but who loved us because they love my grandparents. It was SUCH a huge encouragement. And this church continued to pray over us and our adoption with my grandparents for THREE YEARS.
My grandparents used to ask every week how the adoption was going. For the first year. The second year, they barely asked. I brought it up once, at the beginning of the third year, and my Grampa said, "I'm always afraid to ask you. I'm afriad if I don't ask, you will think I don't care, but I know if I do ask, you will cry if you haven't heard anything, and I don't want you to cry." (When we finally got our referral, then our court date, and then our embassy date, we had a screaming party on the phone. :))
I recently took the kids to visit them. We pulled up to find that the house was still fully deocrated (inside and out) for Christmas, just for the kids. It was beautiful. My grandparents were thrilled to see us and we spent five hours playing and talking.....and eating, of course. (Zahria STILL asks me everyday, "Mommy, choc-co-lot?? Puuh-LEASE????" referring to a chocolate peanut-butter pie that they made us, and Levi will say, "Grampa and Grammy are FUN!!!" They gave the kids presents and they let them play with everything in the house. The fish, turtles, the dog. The bric-a-brac. (I didn't even know that word was in my vocabulary until it typed itself....) All the talking/walking/dancing Christmas toys. A keyboard, a snare drum, a guitar. (It was definitely a "joyful" noise..and a LOUD one.) My kids LOVED their new Grammy and Grampa. Like L-O-V-E-D. And vice versa. On our weekly phone date afterwards, my Grampa confided, "We missed them as soon as you guys walked out the door.......we really love those kids of yours! They're terrific!" and my Grammy said, "I want to steal them from you, but then you would be sad, and you worked SO hard to bring them home...." Thank you for not stealing them, Grammy. :)
So my point of this post is this: unconditional love is encouraging. Uplifiting. Can keep a person out of dangerous water. Can help miracles take place. Unconditional love is a balm to a hurting person and a pillar to a confident one. So please go out today, and BE unconditional love.
My Grammy and Grampa are two of my best friends. They have been the ultimate support and role models for me for the past eleven years. They also gave me two of the most precious gifts they could: the ability to play the violin, and unconditional love.
I didn't get my grandparents in the usual way. My grandparents adopted me into their lives. I met them when I was sixteen, and from that day on, we were family. When I moved away at age twenty, we set up a weekly phone date. We have kept that date for the past seven years. I visit once a year around Christmas. When I go, it's like I am royalty. They decorate and cook and then make me sit and eat a ton of delicious food. We hang out and then they shower me with gifts. We play music and dance. They have my pictures all over the walls and they sing my praises (they give me way more credit than is due). And when I go home, they mail me letters and cards and Starbucks giftcards (they truly know the way to my heart.... ;))
My Grammy and Grampa have always been there for me, no matter what I am going through. They have never judged me or criticized me. They never made me feel stupid or tried to guilt me into making the right decisions. They just gave me unconditional love. And after my mistakes, when life left me battered and bruised, they were right there to take care of me. I can tell them anything, good or bad, and I know that they will love me through it. They never tell me NOT to do something. (I am a stubborn person. I don't like to be told what to do. If you tell me not to do something, or that I "can't" do something, you can be sure I will do it.) They just love me and pray for me and stand beside me.
Six years ago, when I was dating Abe, I brought Abe on a nine hour drive to meet them for their approval. Abe passd with flying colors of course, and my Grammy still talks about it to this day. "I felt so honored that you wanted our opinion! I remember when you first brought him over here, and I thought, he is tall, tall, TALL!!!! And I knew he was a good boy right away! I mean, the way he treated you was just like how Grampa treats me. And you always said you wanted a man like Grampa. And we've been praying for that for you since you were sixteen! And he was so polite and nice, and I knew he was going to be a good one!!!!"
When Abe and I announced that we were adopting, and most of the world thought we were crazy and laughed in our faces, my grandparents rejoiced. They never told us we were too young, didn't have enough money, hadn't been married long enough, had too much debt, should finish school first, should have biological children first, shouldn't get two kids, should buy a house first, shouldn't adopt because "those" children have problems/emotional issues/aids, etc. No. They were HAPPY for us and supportive and they gave us courage. I don't know if they were ever worried when we told them we were adopting, but they never tried to talk us out of it, and they were truly excited and happy for us.
At one point during a weekly call several years ago, my Grampa asked how our adoption finaces were, and I told him we were struggling to come up with the first big payment. Without my knowledge, my grandparents and their church raised money for the adoption. And they paid off our ENTIRE HOMESTUDY. People, we are talking about over $3,000. From a church who basically didn't know us, but who loved us because they love my grandparents. It was SUCH a huge encouragement. And this church continued to pray over us and our adoption with my grandparents for THREE YEARS.
My grandparents used to ask every week how the adoption was going. For the first year. The second year, they barely asked. I brought it up once, at the beginning of the third year, and my Grampa said, "I'm always afraid to ask you. I'm afriad if I don't ask, you will think I don't care, but I know if I do ask, you will cry if you haven't heard anything, and I don't want you to cry." (When we finally got our referral, then our court date, and then our embassy date, we had a screaming party on the phone. :))
I recently took the kids to visit them. We pulled up to find that the house was still fully deocrated (inside and out) for Christmas, just for the kids. It was beautiful. My grandparents were thrilled to see us and we spent five hours playing and talking.....and eating, of course. (Zahria STILL asks me everyday, "Mommy, choc-co-lot?? Puuh-LEASE????" referring to a chocolate peanut-butter pie that they made us, and Levi will say, "Grampa and Grammy are FUN!!!" They gave the kids presents and they let them play with everything in the house. The fish, turtles, the dog. The bric-a-brac. (I didn't even know that word was in my vocabulary until it typed itself....) All the talking/walking/dancing Christmas toys. A keyboard, a snare drum, a guitar. (It was definitely a "joyful" noise..and a LOUD one.) My kids LOVED their new Grammy and Grampa. Like L-O-V-E-D. And vice versa. On our weekly phone date afterwards, my Grampa confided, "We missed them as soon as you guys walked out the door.......we really love those kids of yours! They're terrific!" and my Grammy said, "I want to steal them from you, but then you would be sad, and you worked SO hard to bring them home...." Thank you for not stealing them, Grammy. :)
So my point of this post is this: unconditional love is encouraging. Uplifiting. Can keep a person out of dangerous water. Can help miracles take place. Unconditional love is a balm to a hurting person and a pillar to a confident one. So please go out today, and BE unconditional love.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Blessed
Yesterday I was twisting Z's hair (you know, the longggggggggg Rapuzel hair that takes me ten hours or so) and watching Levi with a pair of headphones on his head "listening" to (feeling) music and all I could think was, "I can't believe they are HERE." After three years and countless tears and hysteria, my beautiful children are HERE, sitting in front of me, safe and happy, eyes shining, telling me they love me. And I am blessed. Byond blessed.
And it is terrifying.
I am blessed with an incredible husband who is my best friend. We have a fairy tale relationship. We always have. And I love him more than anything else on earth. We have jobs that we love and that pay our bills. We have two decent cars. We have been blessed with good health. We have supportive families. We have freaking incedible friends (too many to count). We have a beautiful house. And two gorgeous, amazing kids. And it scares me. I don't deserve to be so blessed. I don't deserve this perfect life. I don't deserve any of the things that I have and I am scared that since I am not worthy, it will be taken away from me. It freaks me out. True story.
And that's where grace comes in. I don't deserve anything. Much less the prcieless gifts I have in my life. And as I was processing my fears (of being blessed with too much), something hit me. I LOVE to bless my kids. I love to buy them stuff and give them stuff. It's FUN. I love to see their faces and the light in their eyes, and their excitement. I love to watch them enjoy what I give them. And I bet it is the same way for God. He loves to bless his children. So I don't need to be afraid. Can bad things happen and gifts disappear? Yes. This is life, and nothing except Jesus is guaranteed. But I am a child of God and He loves me, and with God (my loving Father) on my side, whom shall I fear?
And it is terrifying.
I am blessed with an incredible husband who is my best friend. We have a fairy tale relationship. We always have. And I love him more than anything else on earth. We have jobs that we love and that pay our bills. We have two decent cars. We have been blessed with good health. We have supportive families. We have freaking incedible friends (too many to count). We have a beautiful house. And two gorgeous, amazing kids. And it scares me. I don't deserve to be so blessed. I don't deserve this perfect life. I don't deserve any of the things that I have and I am scared that since I am not worthy, it will be taken away from me. It freaks me out. True story.
And that's where grace comes in. I don't deserve anything. Much less the prcieless gifts I have in my life. And as I was processing my fears (of being blessed with too much), something hit me. I LOVE to bless my kids. I love to buy them stuff and give them stuff. It's FUN. I love to see their faces and the light in their eyes, and their excitement. I love to watch them enjoy what I give them. And I bet it is the same way for God. He loves to bless his children. So I don't need to be afraid. Can bad things happen and gifts disappear? Yes. This is life, and nothing except Jesus is guaranteed. But I am a child of God and He loves me, and with God (my loving Father) on my side, whom shall I fear?
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