The Ugly Side of Adoption

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I found this entry the other day while randomly flipping through an old journal:

“January 2, 2013

Today, sort of in passing and sort of without even realizing it, I prayed a prayer.

‘Do something great through me… No matter what it takes.’

I meant it when I prayed it, but my next thought was: ‘Uh-oh.’”

Dear Ashley from almost two years ago: that next thought was very appropriate.

You see we used to have the “ideal” family. I'll never forget when I was pregnant the second time and we found out we were having a girl and how perfect that was for us. We had our boy and now our girl to complete the balance. Two little picture-perfect blonde haired, blue-eyed beauties.

We always talked about bringing another child into the family down the road. Maybe adopt from Africa or Asia, a newborn who needed a home. We could do that in a few years, no problem.

I did not anticipate that later that same year we would move to a little town called Benjamin Constant and that shortly thereafter, when Raegan was just 4 months old, we would meet a little brown-eyed girl that would rewrite everything we knew about parenthood and ourselves. I will never forget the night I laid there in bed and told Richard I felt like we should pray about adopting her.

I had no idea--not the slightest clue--what I was praying for.

I remember discussing the challenges we knew we would face. The language barrier, the physical and mental delays, the criticism from the locals; we knew it would be difficult.

Those things now seem like child's play.

When you hear people talk about adoption, you hear about how beautiful it is, this Gospel picture. I say it myself. The idea of redeeming a child from pain and suffering and hopelessness is undeniably inviting. To be a part of bringing hope and life to a child is one of our callings as followers of Christ. Beautiful indeed.

What we do not hear a whole lot about, however, is the ugly side.

Without tragedy, there is no need for adoption. If something were not broken, there would be no need to fix it.

If it were not for the fact that something went terribly wrong, adoption would not be necessary. Be it death or abuse or abandonment, intentional or otherwise, there is a tragic reason this child is in need of a different family from the one that shares the same bloodline and facial features. There is a broken past with every single adopted child out there and it leaves a mark. Sometimes that mark is a faded scar that is barely noticeable to the untrained eye.

Other times, it is a gaping flesh wound that needs constant attention and care.

God chose to give us the latter.

And it has been ugly.

Because nothing prepares you for having to hold down that sought after child as she kicks and screams, “I want to go back to the street!!” And all because you are doing what no one else in her life ever has: you are loving her.

I will never forget googling “What if I don’t like my adopted daughter” and the relief I felt when articles actually popped up, announcing that these feeling of mine are actually common.

In August, she completed one year in our home—and the single hardest year of our life. I look back at the child who stepped into our home that Friday night. Her scalp was so full of infection that the doctors prescribed four different medications to heal it. Her teeth were little pieces of black and brown bone jutting from her infected gums. Her hair was brittle and orange in color from lack of nutrition. Her eyes were wild, pupils enlarged as she tried to understand what was happening, her body conditioned to remain in a constant state of fight or flight. She carried her small backpack full of dirty, hole-ridden clothing that a person would not even consider donating to Goodwill.

This isn’t what it should look like, a family bringing in another. It should be that her biological mother tucks her in at night, along with her 7 biological siblings, assuring them of love and care. They should laugh together and go on outings together and she should know the love of a family with siblings and parents that look like her, speak like her. She should know the value of discipline and should be taught consequence.

But we live in a fallen world where parents leave their own to roam the streets because they never knew any different themselves.

So our life as we knew it was destroyed that day. It was destroyed for the sake of redeeming this one. But we never knew what that would entail.

It has been painful.

No adoption is pain free. I am not referring to the hours spent at the courthouse or the paperwork that seems insurmountable. I do not mean the waiting game of home visits and Psychologist appointments.

Those are the easy parts, my friends.

The hard part is loving. And that is the part I never anticipated.

Shortly after our daughter moved in, the giddiness of having a new child wore off. It was like having a newborn to care for except that this newborn had been in survival mode for six and half years and thought she had a better idea than you of what she needed. The lies began and the manipulation commenced and suddenly, after just three months of having what now felt like a stranger in our home, we began to recoil.

“What have we done?” I would ask myself, remembering our “perfect” family of four.

I would scroll through my Facebook newsfeed and the pictures of perfect families would dance across my screen, almost taunting me. I would close the app feeling guilt, regret, confusion. Pain.

I often say if we had known what we were getting into before we got into it, we wouldn’t have gotten into it. And I know that is exactly why God does not often reveal His plans for us, because we would run away in fear of the trials that lie before us, not valuing the refining process that makes us a just a little more like Him.

Yesterday I looked at her as she sat across the table from me, unaware of my thoughts. Her hair is dark brown now and shines in the light. Her teeth, bright white and clean. We have had to buy her new shoes three times this year as her body catches up to the size it should be for her age. She is able to read now, something we had all but given up hope on as she didn’t know the difference between a letter and a number this time last year.

She is beautiful on the outside—a whitewashed wall.

Because you don’t raise yourself on the street for six and a half years with no consequence. So the lies and manipulation and disobedience flow so naturally to her that at times she doesn’t even perceive it. She resists our love. She has yet to grasp the fact that she no longer has to protect herself; she is safe here. So she hides behind the walls she built so long ago of self-preservation and self-focus and replaces each brick as we attempt to take them down.

There is a common perception out there that implies that adoption, because it is a concept based on the Gospel and because it is redeeming a child from their orphan status, is simple. Of course, we may be quick to admit that the process is complicated. The attorney and the judge and the biological parents or the orphanage and the paperwork and the waiting and the waiting and the waiting… that part is hard, but then—THEN—it’s smooth sailing.

“All we need is love.” Right?

Adoption is far from simple.

I see heart-warming adoption quotes on social media all the time, especially in this month of November that is National Adoption Awareness Month. In fact, not long ago I stumbled across my own “Adoption” board on my Pinterest that coincidentally I created about the same time that journal entry was written and couldn’t help but laugh out loud and what my picture of adoption looked like back then. Back before the long nights and tears and confusion and calling out to God.

Because once the Facebook pictures are posted and the excitement dies down over this new addition, you find yourself face to face alone with a reality that you did not stop to consider before:

Yes, the Gospel is a picture of adoption into the family of Christ. And the Gospel includes immense amounts of suffering. Without death, there is no redemption. Without pain, there is no joy in victory.

Over a year has passed now and mostly we are thankful that we have survived. In the beginning, all day, every day was consumed with teaching truth and consequence, faith and repentance, and trying to discern the truth from the lies. And now most days are still that way but they have become graciously spaced out to where sometimes we actually feel like a functioning family of five on some level or another.

Grace from Heaven.

Why do I say all this? Not for a pity party, I assure you. We are taught to rejoice in our sufferings because it is through them that we are formed more into the image of our Savior.

I say it, believe it or not, as an encouragement. I have read several blog posts and books this past year and the ones that encouraged me most were the ones that said something to this effect, ‘This adoption thing? It’s hard. You are going to fail at times. You are going to cry and ask ‘why?’, possibly often. You are going to feel overwhelmed. And guess what: sometimes you are going to struggle to love. But it is ok because you, on your own, can’t love anyway. It is impossible. But the good news is that through Christ, you can love unconditionally and without reciprocation. Hang in there. His mercy is new every day. And His grace is sufficient.’

So to my fellow adoptive parents, who find themselves overwhelmed and overcome and cringe when they see the idealized photos of adoption: do not give up. God has a purpose for this child and part of it is to refine you and teach you what unconditional love really looks like—messy. Another part—maybe the biggest—is to give you the slightest glimpse of the pain that Christ went through and the miracle it is that He can love us as He does. Oh, the miracle.

To those in the adoption process, do not let this discourage you, but also don’t write me off. There is a certain naivety in every new adoption. I know, I have been there and I believe that is also God’s grace measured out to us. Often God keeps us blinded to the realities of the trials we will face in order to grow our faith. It is necessary. “Oh, but you adopted an older child/out of birth order/foreign speaker. I’m adopting a newborn/young child/English speaker,” you may say. Irrelevant my friends. I know personal stories of children adopted from birth that have immense struggles. So listen to those who have gone before and prepare your hearts. Pray for God to prepare you in ways that you do not even realize that you need to be prepared. Pray for faith and endurance. Pray for peace and hope. You will need all of these as you embark on this journey.

For those who are reading this and have had a “smooth” attachment to your adopted child, hold your judgment. Instead of casting stones, throw up some prayers for those who adopted the more severely injured, those struggling to love, and those who dread another day. Be careful not to become self-righteous because your experience looks different. Rejoice that God chose to give you a child with less baggage in tow.

This adoption thing is ugly. It takes time for broken things to mend. It takes time for wounds to heal.

But you know what’s amazing about it all?

He gives beauty for ashes. And that, my friends, is beautiful indeed.

{UPDATE: You can read my follow up blog The Ugly Side of Me}

Dear Ashley From Two Years Ago...

Dear Ashley From Two Years Ago,

Hey, it’s me. (Or you, rather.) It is two years today that you have been here in Brazil (a year and a half in the Jungle) and I wanted to let you know a few things about this journey you are about to embark on. Go ahead and sit down. I know you’re tired with that baby girl growing in your belly and that two year old boy all wild and rowdy. I know you are experiencing the paradox of both utter excitement that your dreams are coming true and downright terror at the unknown that lies before you.

Let me assure you, this is normal and completely justified.

Here are some things you should know:

That little blonde-haired boy sitting next to you on the plane with his paci and airplane blankie? He isn’t as big as you think he is. He’s a little guy and he is going to prove to be both your sanity and source of insanity over the next several months. Enjoy him through and through because he is going to grow up before your very eyes and you are going to look back fondly on those times it was just three of you curled up watching Backyardigans in that 400 square foot air-condition-less apartment in the city with nothing to do and nowhere to go.

He will throw out his paci and trade in his Huggies for a mini-machete and Superman undies soon enough, so stop stressing the “when” of those things. Until then, let him have his paci in the line at the grocery store, even though it’s supposed to be just for bedtime now. Remember, he is trying to figure out what all these strange people are saying, too, so let him have his comforts. (By the way, stop stressing about him learning the language, too. He will learn it way before you and you will soon find your three year old correcting your grammar.)

That sweet baby girl curled up in your rib-cage that won’t let you sleep at night? You’re prayers will be answered in the affirmative and she is going to be the easiest baby God every created in the history of ever. You will survive giving birth to her in another country with a doctor that speaks your going-on-third language in a hospital where you feel painfully out of place. Everyone will think she is a baby doll when you take her out in public because that is exactly what she will look like. Hold her tight and rock her long because your life is going to get so busy soon that you are going to miss a lot of those moments and won’t even realize it before it is too late.

Your amazing husband and best friend? Your marriage going to have a tough go that first year. Life is going to get incredibly stressful and lonely and instead of leaning into one another, you’re going to push hard against each other. In fact, you are going to reach a point that you feel like roommates, simply coexisting. I know, you don’t believe it, but it’s true. Hang in there, because by God’s grace you make it through and you eventually find your footing again. You will laugh together and cry together and say, “What in the world were we thinking?!” more times than you can count. Lean into each other and remember you are both new at this thing called missionary life. Don’t be afraid to laugh and be quick to forgive. The seasons pass quickly.

Those plans to move into an indigenous village? Ain’t gonna happen, y’all. You will mourn your dream as you bury it, but trust me, later you rejoice. Life is hard enough in the small town you will move to and God is gracious to lead you elsewhere. And oh the plans He has!!

In fact, He will bring an Indigenous family to you. They will live with you for six months and it will be a stretching experience. Soak it in. You need these life lessons through this young family, lessons they don’t even know they are teaching. God will knit your heart with many of the indigenous people around you. Some of them with take advantage of you and turn their backs on you. Let it go. God sees. Others will teach you what it is to humbly serve, expecting nothing in return. You will see what it means to suffer for Christ and you will be stronger for it.

Which leads me to my next point and I hope you are still sitting down. In less than a year on the mission field, you will adopt a seven-year-old street girl… and she will undo all that you have ever known about love. She will steal your heart and you will beg God to make her your own. And when He does you will cry and ask Him to take it away. It is gong to be the hardest thing you have ever done. She will fight against your love. You will have to hold her down as she kicks and screams, demanding to go back to the street, after you just spent months fighting to give her your last name. God will put you through the fire with her and it will hurt. Don’t run away though. This, too, is worth it. He gives beauty for ashes.

There is more. God is going to give you a sweet lady in your life named Rosa. She will teach you to cut up a whole chicken and how to gut a fish (though she will laugh along with you when it takes you thirty minutes to do what she can do in five!) She will amaze you with her patience and awe you with her endurance. You will spend many hours talking and your kids will call her “Tia” (Auntie). She is going to be the Director of the Children’s Home that God is going to lead you to start.

Yes. Children’s Home. I know. I still think it’s crazy, too.

Your heart is going to break for the children on the streets of this town who have been abused and neglected. You will see their bruises and you will feed their bellies. You will bandage their wounds and you will give some of them the first hugs of their lives. You will lose sleep over them and you will pray for miracles. And God will allow you to be a part of those miracles.

During these first two years, you are going to be dumbfounded because you will come to realize something you never really considered before: you are totally ill-equipped for absolutely everything God has called you to do. You will fill inadequate as a mother. You will resist your role as wife. You will struggle to adapt to the culture. You will cry yourself to sleep many a night. You will get tired and lonely and scared and overwhelmed. You will miss family and friends back home. And also Chick-fil-a.

But you know what else? You will see God do amazing things. You will build strong friendships with people who look nothing like you. You will master your third language. You will learn what sacrifice really looks like. You will watch you kids speak multiple languages without even realizing that is STINKIN’ CRAZY! You will learn what ‘wife’ really means and it will become your favorite title.

And all of these will be to the glory of God for the very fact that you are inadequate. But with Christ, all these things are possible.

So relax. Laugh out loud. Soak it in. Endure.

It’s a beautiful journey you’re on. Don’t try to run it as you will miss too much. Just walk.

With still a ways to go,

Ashley

P.S. And another thing. When everyone around you down here pretends they have it all together, don’t believe them. You will quickly discover that this missionary gig is full of just a bunch of inadequates who struggle with the same things you do. Be real. Be transparent. It will serve you (and others) well.

Five Things You Should Know About Motherhood

I wasn't there, but I think I know the look on your face when you saw those two pink lines. And then you looked at the instructions at least 37 times because you were sure that you must have misunderstood how to hold the stick or pee on it the right direction. Or maybe two lines was a negative? Or maybe you just needed another cup of coffee and there was really only one line?

But no, it was a positive.

And for about three minutes and twenty-two seconds, you have instantly become the happiest person on planet earth.  You're thinking of how to tell your husband and then extended family and before you know it you already have color schemes and names picked out.

But then at the three minute and twenty-three second mark, you thoughts dramatically change and all of a sudden you're thinking about that glass of wine you had at dinner three nights ago and wondering if he or she will somehow glean only your less favorable features and if you will know how to properly install a carseat and before you know it you're ready to dial CPS and give them a nine-month heads up of your impending parenthood.

These things--they're normal.

For the next nine months, you will find yourself experiencing the entire spectrum of emotions from "I'M GOING TO BE A MOOOOM!!" to "I should put this poor kid up for adoption right now."

But when that sweet thing comes into this world, you find that all those emotions melt away. The pains of pregnancy will pass and you will enter a whole new world that will leave you thinking:

"Is there anyway I can stuff this child back into my abdomen?"

Here's why:

1) Parenting is hard.

The old saying is true. Any one can have a kid, but it takes someone really out-of-their-mind crazy to buckle down and parent that thing. Or something along those lines...

The reality is there are some things no one can prepare you for. Like the competition that is motherhood. How every one around you will instantly have an enlightening suggestion on how to stop the crying, get them to sleep through the night, and survive their first cold. There are hundreds of books and thousands of articles, most of which contradict and negate the others. And they are all "right". And that's just for the first year...

The truth is there is no handbook for parenting. No "one-size-fits-all" method. It's just straight up hard.

2) You will cry. Probably a lot and probably often.

There are going to be times that you collapse into bed at night (or at 3am as the case may be) and congratulate yourself on being the worst mom in the history of ever.

You will think of all the ways you should have done it differently and how you could have done better and the next day you will suggest to your husband that you go ahead and open a savings account to pay for your child's inevitable need for counseling.

You just aren't going to be perfect and sometimes you will run to the bathroom, close the door, and cry.

3) You may want to return your child. Possibly before even leaving the hospital.

When you have just finished your seventh green-poop filled diaper IN A ROW and you are covered in spit up and you can't remember if you took a shower yesterday or if that was three days ago, it's very possible that your mind will wander back to the good ole days when you slept until 8am because you could. You will be tempted to riminesce about those times you ran into the grocery store without having to unload 35lb carseat only to find that those Huggies actually AREN'T leak proof.

There will be times you "remember when" and it may unleash the floodgates as mentioned in point number two.

4)  You will be tired almost all the time and will forget everything. And you will forget everything.

Inevitably you will finally build up the courage to go to Wal-Mart after that last diaper adventure and get to the very back of the store when your baby will promptly start screaming at the top of his lungs. "That's ok," you'll think to yourself as you reach in the diaper bag (that is taking up the entire back of the shopping cart). "I have your paci... Riiiight here.... Shhhh... It's ok..... Mommy has your paci.... WHERE IS THAT FREAKIN' PACIFIER!?" And then you will glance up awkwardly as you realize the entire cold-foods section was privy to your most recent display of both exhaustion and forgetfulness.

5) Parenting will change your marriage.

It's all fun and games until your husband tries to sleep through his turn to feed the baby at 2:30am--for the third night in a row. Then it's on.

You will argue over who changed the last poop diaper and who in the world bought non-organic baby food! It sure wasn't me... Are you trying to kill our child?!

You will have times that you give him that "if-you-touch-me-I-will-show-you-seven-new-kinds-of-crazy" look because while he engaged in adult conversation all day, you washed six loads of laundry (how does this pint sized child get so dirty?!), ate leftover macaroni and cheese for lunch, changed 23 diapers, and become fluent in infantese. All on two and a half hours of sleep. The last thing you feel is "in-the-mood".

When you finally do get a child-free date, you will find yourselves talking about the baby you just high-five'd about leaving at Maw-Maw's and Paw-Paw's.

Now, before you hate me and deem me the worst friend ever for sharing these truths, let me share a few corresponding things I've learned in my the-days-are-long-but-these-four-years-have-flown-by parenting adventures.

1) You are not the first person to do this.

Generations of moms have produced children that have turned into thriving adults. After all, the human race is still here.

So while er'body and their mama is trying to tell you how it's done, follow your instinct. Pray about it. Glean advice from people you trust. Then throw out what doesn't work for your family, along with the guilt you're tempted to hold onto.

And remember that babies all around the world survive just fine without that fancy teething giraffe and baby wipe warmers.

2) Crying doesn't mean your weak. Most likely it means you are trying your best.

Those pictures you see on Facebook from those super moms who kids are always in new clothes and sporting a big smile eating made from scratch muffins? That's their highlight reel. They may have just come out of the bathroom from their hourly cryfest because she just changed her spit-up covered shirt for the third time today after she burned the first batch of sugary delights.  

No one posts pictures of that.

So let yourself cry. But also pick yourself up. You can do this and it is worth it. Some days will be easier and  there will always be bright moments sprinkled in. That's called God's grace. Bask in it.

3) There are no returns or exchanges on these little humans. I asked.

Turns out that's ok, because God picked you to be this one's mom. That doesn't mean it'll be easy (re: point number one) or that you will know what the heck you're doing at any given moment. It just means that He's going to equip you and grow you and change you and hold you and listen to you and understand every emotion as you walk this road. And He's gonna use you to have a huge impact on this little life.

So go ahead and own this little one. Cover him with prayer. Ask God for wisdom. Get in the floor and play. Laugh at your mistakes. Give yourself grace. Allow yourself to be human.

4) Try to sleep when the baby sleeps.

But also realize you're still going to wake up tired whether you sleep for 30 minutes or 30 hours (don't count on that last one).

It's just part of this parenting thing.

And you can try to pack that diaper bag in advance but you will inevitably forget something as basic as diapers from time to time. Laugh about it. And be thankful that you have 23 stores that sell diapers within a 3 miles radius of wherever you are.

5) I'm gonna park here for a minute.

Never forget that you got into this situation together and you are both new at this thing. Lean into one another, don't push against each other.

Don't push against each other.

Show grace. Laugh OFTEN. Forgive. Let go. And enjoy this thing that is the hardest job on the planet.

You can't do it alone. You're gonna need God and a lot of Him. And you're gonna need each other.

Go on dates. Talk things out. Find things to talk about besides this new addition.

And let him kiss you, even when you don't wanna. It's important for him. It's important for you. It's important for your child.

It's true when they say it's worth it. There will be a lot of really great times. So don't let these things I'm telling you discourage you, but rather motivate you to do this thing well.

By God's grace you are going to be a great mom. And when you aren't, there is more grace.

I wrote this for my sister-in-law who is expecting her first baby in October. I asked her if I could share it because honestly these are all things I wish someone had said to me before I had our first. Or maybe they did and I didn't listen. Either way, I hope this is an encouragement to new mamas out there. And if you are a seasoned mom, maybe you can shout "amen!" and give other tips in the comments section.