Missy wrote this really great post about how "crazy" she is. Or, at least, about how crazy some people think she is. Mostly because she has 4 kids and is adopting another from Ethiopia. But also because when you find your passion, your response to the Lord's call might just seem crazy!
But it seems to me that crazy is really a subjective term. I think it's more a matter of perspective.
Before I adopted a child, the families that adopted sibling groups, older children, children with special needs, HIV+ kids, etc seemed, well, a little crazy to me. Passionate, compassionate, inspiring... yes. But also just a little crazy. I couldn't understand it... and to be honest, the idea of doing what they were doing was not only crazy... but a little frightening, too. "There's no way I could ever do that. None. I am not cut out for that at all."
And then I went. And I saw. And my heart broke.
And I think my heart lined up more with God's heart. And suddenly, those choices that seemed so crazy only a few months before now seemed reasonable... attainable, even. I was considering those same things. Was I called to adopt an older child? And HIV+ child? More than one child at a time?
So I am sitting here, reflecting on how "crazy" people might think I am, with my beautiful Ethiopian daughter smack dab between my white bio kids. And how normal I seem (to me, at least!) And what it is that God is calling me to do. And if that might just seem a bit "crazy." And how I am okay with that.
But I am also thinking that we need to create a culture where "crazy" becomes the norm. Where we don't think it's odd to adopt a child with special needs. Where we don't raise our eyebrows when someone says "oh, we are adopting a sibling group of 4" to join their 5 already at home. Where we don't inwardly say "oh, really?" when we meet a young lady who "gave up her real life" and moved to Africa to love orphans. This is the gospel in action. This is what love does. This is how we should live. It should be crazy.
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
Friday, January 14, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2011
A Change?
I first started this blog, way back in 2007, I realized that I wanted a separate place to keep my adoption "stuff" than on my "regular" blog. Not because adoption was such a separate part of my life... exactly the opposite: because it was quickly becoming my whole life. I wanted to be able to remind myself that I was still me, still a momma to Abigail, still a nurse... still me, through this whole process. I also wanted the adoption process info to be easily accessible to other adoptive parents who stopped by the blog.
It made sense at the time. I think it was the right thing at the time. It even made sense as this changed into a pregnancy blog to continue to keep it separate from my "regular" blog (although, by that point, I was rarely posting anything besides pregnancy stuff.)
But now, as I've come to realize that this blog is changing again (notice the different description I put up at the header?) and in light of the fact that I feel like God is drawing me to live more radically, I am really torn about keeping this blog separate from my daily life blog. Not that it's some big, radical thing to condense the two blogs, because it's not (although, it kind of feels like it is.) It's more about the idea that this call to orphan care is not just a "part" of me, separate from who I "really" am... this call to orphan care is as central to my identity as being a mom, or a wife, or a nurse, or any of those things that define me.
So I am really thinking about it. Condensing my two blogs. Moving this one over to my other one. Because adoption, birth, orphan care... I mean, more than anything else, they really do define me- they define the future me.
It made sense at the time. I think it was the right thing at the time. It even made sense as this changed into a pregnancy blog to continue to keep it separate from my "regular" blog (although, by that point, I was rarely posting anything besides pregnancy stuff.)
But now, as I've come to realize that this blog is changing again (notice the different description I put up at the header?) and in light of the fact that I feel like God is drawing me to live more radically, I am really torn about keeping this blog separate from my daily life blog. Not that it's some big, radical thing to condense the two blogs, because it's not (although, it kind of feels like it is.) It's more about the idea that this call to orphan care is not just a "part" of me, separate from who I "really" am... this call to orphan care is as central to my identity as being a mom, or a wife, or a nurse, or any of those things that define me.
So I am really thinking about it. Condensing my two blogs. Moving this one over to my other one. Because adoption, birth, orphan care... I mean, more than anything else, they really do define me- they define the future me.
What if I was radical?
I was thinking in the shower (which is a great place to think!) today about this article over at World Magazine. The author basically says that if more pastors and church leaders would adopt, it would create more of a culture of adoption in the church. He writes "Pastors tend to preach and teach about their interests and practices. And American Christians tend to apply the Bible to real life issues after a pastor or recognized leader stirs up interest. So if church leaders would cast a practice-driven vision for orphan care, churchgoers likely would be challenged to participate in one of the most ancient practices of God’s covenant people (Exodus 22; Deuteronomy 14, 16, 24)." More specifically, I was thinking about the comments that followed that article, and the exchange over here.
People get tied up in the comments over what constitutes an "orphan" and if we are called to care for only orphans (no parents) or foster children as well... and the ways in which this is to be done (adoption through the state, private adoption, foster care, etc.) There was a lot of criticism of the foster/adopt system in the US (yes, it's broken) as well as several people who basically said "adoption and/or foster care is not my calling."
Now, to some degree, I agree with all of this. But it also sort of seems like an excuse. I don't have everything sorted out in my head yet, but here are some of my thoughts:
As a Christ-follower, we are all called to care for orphans (the fatherless, or, as I think of them- those who don't have families, which would include both "true orphans" and foster children) and widows. It's our job to figure out the exact nature of our call. For some, it is adoption and/or foster care. For others, it may be financially supporting another family's adoption. Maybe it's providing respite care, providing meals for adoptive/foster parents, or caring for the kids while mom and dad go on a date. Maybe it's providing care, love, and support to birth mothers as they make an adoption plan and after they go through the painful process of placing a child for adoption. Maybe it's coming along side a family in distress so that the children remain in that family in a safe and loving way. Maybe it's entering into a mentoring relationship with a child who is aging out of foster care to support and guide them as they enter the world of adulthood. Not all of us are called to adopt, but we are all called. And if we can't identify a way in which we are responding to the call, saying "we aren't called to foster/adopt" is just an excuse. You are called- find your way to fulfill that call.
It's hard for me to believe, however, that there are not enough Christians in this country to adopt the 115,000 children who are available for adoption right now. I think there is some truth in the idea that Bradley presents; our pastors and church leaders should be making orphan and widow care just as much of a priority as other kinds of giving (tithing, missions, etc.) The church should have a culture of orphan (adoption/foster) and widow care as the norm. Although there are several that are doing this already, I don't think this is the true culture of most churches. And our pastors/leaders are the ones in a position to change that. Now, I don't believe that all pastors should adopt/foster, but I think they do have a responsibility to see how they are leading their congregation in this area. In addition to the ways mentioned above, pastors are in a unique position to council couples (in premarital classes and through other ministries aimed at couples) that adoption is part of God's plan, and may be part of God's specific plan for them. More often than not, it's not God saying "yes" to our desire to adopt--- it's us saying "yes" to God's plan for us to adopt! If we are constantly seeking God's plan and have our minds and hearts open to this, maybe we will hear more "YES!" from God in this area!
The problem, though, is not that Christians aren't adopting or fostering. Sadly, it's a much bigger problem. It's not the global orphan crisis of 147 million orphans. It's not the AIDS crisis, or the natural disasters or the unethical government practices that is our problem. It's our hearts. Because adopting a child with severe RAD is a pretty radical thing to do. Fostering a child with severe medical needs is a pretty radical thing to do. Bringing an underweight, sickly, HIV+, African child into your affluent white home and then loving them as the beloved child of God that they are is a radical thing to do. We are called to live radically- to do the very things that make unbelievers anxious. We are called to live without fear, to live with faith that God's plan is the right plan, and He will equip us to carry out His work in this earth. But how many of us are actually living this way? That is our problem.
I wrote before about trying to figure out what my role is in orphan care. And as I was in the shower, I feel like God was telling me that the reason this is so confusing... the reason I don't know what it is that I am supposed to be doing... is because I haven't opened myself up to living radically. I'll be honest, when I've thought about my role in orphan care, what I really meant was which organization I should give my time and money to, or if there was a way that my training as a RN could be beneficial to orphans. But the needs are so great. What if God wants to call me to foster... to foster kids with medical needs... that would be pretty radical. What if God wants to call me to go and mentor young women who will soon be aging out of the system- for me, that would be pretty radical. What if God wants to call me to do something downright crazy and adopt a sibling group of teens from the waiting children domestically or internationally? That would be completely radical! Am I ready to say "yes" to what God is ready to call me to do? Am I ready to live radically?
I'll be honest: I'm not. And neither is John. Yet. But let's just pretend for a minute that we were part of a Body that had adoption/foster care as part of the culture. A church where those who were called to do something radical were supported and cared for financially, emotionally, physically, and spiritually? Where there was a group you could turn to and say "This is so hard! I can't do it!" and they would turn around and not only tell you that you can do all things through Christ, but come over and bring you dinner and clean your house and give you some respite? What if that culture of caring for orphans and widows was so "normal" that the announcement of planning to adopt or foster didn't bring 546 questions about the process, but instead triggered a caring response from the Body to love and support you through each step of the process, offering encouragement when times were hard, finances when it was expensive, helping hands when you were stretched too thin, knowledge and expertise when you were dealing with situations beyond your experience, love when you felt like you had given all you had... what if?
What if we did instead of said?
What if we, as the Body, lived radically?
What if I was radical?
People get tied up in the comments over what constitutes an "orphan" and if we are called to care for only orphans (no parents) or foster children as well... and the ways in which this is to be done (adoption through the state, private adoption, foster care, etc.) There was a lot of criticism of the foster/adopt system in the US (yes, it's broken) as well as several people who basically said "adoption and/or foster care is not my calling."
Now, to some degree, I agree with all of this. But it also sort of seems like an excuse. I don't have everything sorted out in my head yet, but here are some of my thoughts:
As a Christ-follower, we are all called to care for orphans (the fatherless, or, as I think of them- those who don't have families, which would include both "true orphans" and foster children) and widows. It's our job to figure out the exact nature of our call. For some, it is adoption and/or foster care. For others, it may be financially supporting another family's adoption. Maybe it's providing respite care, providing meals for adoptive/foster parents, or caring for the kids while mom and dad go on a date. Maybe it's providing care, love, and support to birth mothers as they make an adoption plan and after they go through the painful process of placing a child for adoption. Maybe it's coming along side a family in distress so that the children remain in that family in a safe and loving way. Maybe it's entering into a mentoring relationship with a child who is aging out of foster care to support and guide them as they enter the world of adulthood. Not all of us are called to adopt, but we are all called. And if we can't identify a way in which we are responding to the call, saying "we aren't called to foster/adopt" is just an excuse. You are called- find your way to fulfill that call.
It's hard for me to believe, however, that there are not enough Christians in this country to adopt the 115,000 children who are available for adoption right now. I think there is some truth in the idea that Bradley presents; our pastors and church leaders should be making orphan and widow care just as much of a priority as other kinds of giving (tithing, missions, etc.) The church should have a culture of orphan (adoption/foster) and widow care as the norm. Although there are several that are doing this already, I don't think this is the true culture of most churches. And our pastors/leaders are the ones in a position to change that. Now, I don't believe that all pastors should adopt/foster, but I think they do have a responsibility to see how they are leading their congregation in this area. In addition to the ways mentioned above, pastors are in a unique position to council couples (in premarital classes and through other ministries aimed at couples) that adoption is part of God's plan, and may be part of God's specific plan for them. More often than not, it's not God saying "yes" to our desire to adopt--- it's us saying "yes" to God's plan for us to adopt! If we are constantly seeking God's plan and have our minds and hearts open to this, maybe we will hear more "YES!" from God in this area!
The problem, though, is not that Christians aren't adopting or fostering. Sadly, it's a much bigger problem. It's not the global orphan crisis of 147 million orphans. It's not the AIDS crisis, or the natural disasters or the unethical government practices that is our problem. It's our hearts. Because adopting a child with severe RAD is a pretty radical thing to do. Fostering a child with severe medical needs is a pretty radical thing to do. Bringing an underweight, sickly, HIV+, African child into your affluent white home and then loving them as the beloved child of God that they are is a radical thing to do. We are called to live radically- to do the very things that make unbelievers anxious. We are called to live without fear, to live with faith that God's plan is the right plan, and He will equip us to carry out His work in this earth. But how many of us are actually living this way? That is our problem.
I wrote before about trying to figure out what my role is in orphan care. And as I was in the shower, I feel like God was telling me that the reason this is so confusing... the reason I don't know what it is that I am supposed to be doing... is because I haven't opened myself up to living radically. I'll be honest, when I've thought about my role in orphan care, what I really meant was which organization I should give my time and money to, or if there was a way that my training as a RN could be beneficial to orphans. But the needs are so great. What if God wants to call me to foster... to foster kids with medical needs... that would be pretty radical. What if God wants to call me to go and mentor young women who will soon be aging out of the system- for me, that would be pretty radical. What if God wants to call me to do something downright crazy and adopt a sibling group of teens from the waiting children domestically or internationally? That would be completely radical! Am I ready to say "yes" to what God is ready to call me to do? Am I ready to live radically?
I'll be honest: I'm not. And neither is John. Yet. But let's just pretend for a minute that we were part of a Body that had adoption/foster care as part of the culture. A church where those who were called to do something radical were supported and cared for financially, emotionally, physically, and spiritually? Where there was a group you could turn to and say "This is so hard! I can't do it!" and they would turn around and not only tell you that you can do all things through Christ, but come over and bring you dinner and clean your house and give you some respite? What if that culture of caring for orphans and widows was so "normal" that the announcement of planning to adopt or foster didn't bring 546 questions about the process, but instead triggered a caring response from the Body to love and support you through each step of the process, offering encouragement when times were hard, finances when it was expensive, helping hands when you were stretched too thin, knowledge and expertise when you were dealing with situations beyond your experience, love when you felt like you had given all you had... what if?
What if we did instead of said?
What if we, as the Body, lived radically?
What if I was radical?
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Jonesin'
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| Photo Source |
I am seriously jonesin' for this tote, mug, car decal, and t-shirt (over at the Minus 1 Project). Seriously, one of the best adoption t-shirts I have seen.
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| Photo Source |
My girls got these t-shirt for Christmas from my sister, courtesy of Calling Orphans Home. Seriously cute. I wouldn't mind one of those either:)
What are your favorite adoption/orphan care fundraiser products?
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Post-Adoption Guilt
Wow. This is another post that I am cautious in writing, because it is possibly going to ruffle some feathers. As always, I am writing with a spirit of honesty about my own struggles, not judging others.
Have any of you ever experienced guilt after giving birth to a child after completing an adoption? I don't know if I am explaining it right... Basically, I sometimes feel guilty for giving birth to another child, when I know there are so many children in the world (Ethiopia) that need families and who I would be more than willing to adopt. Don't misunderstand me; I know that John Andrew is the right child for our family right now, and moreover, I feel incredibly blessed to have been able to have a healthy and safe pregnancy and to have shared this experience with John and the girls. I love him immensely, and I cannot imagine a better baby.
But it doesn't take away from the feeling that we could have... or should have... adopted. (Although, since we just had our first wedding anniversary on the 26th of December, we actually couldn't have adopted since we didn't meet the 2 year marriage criteria, but I digress...)
I know that partially, these feelings stem from wanting to adopt again. I am not saying we are going to adopt again, but I would love to adopt again. It just may not be the right thing for our family. In that setting, still having a heart for orphans- especially those who are unadoptable- I am still trying to figure out my role in orphan care. As my husband's cousin said at our Christmas gathering... we are all called to care for orphans, so it's not a matter of if we are going to care for them, but rather how we are going to care for them. Adoption is a small piece of the how. But true orphan care is so much bigger than adoption. And I'm just not sure how I fit into that bigger picture of orphan care. I know my work with orphans isn't completed; adoption was not the end point for me- it was the beginning of a passionate love affair, to be honest.
I think part of the guilt is also related to the incredible expense of my pregnancy and birth, especially because of the complications/risks. That money (which, thankfully, was paid by insurance) would have been more than enough to complete an adoption (or 2- maybe 3.)
Another part may be that, truth be told, I didn't and still don't love the process of adoption... the paper chasing, the waiting, the uncertainty, the fears, the unknowns, the unpredictable nature of international adoption. In contrast, I loved being pregnant (except the heartburn.) I guess maybe I feel like knowing and expressing my joy in the pregnancy process somehow makes the adoption process seem less... fulfilling? or desirable? Which is silly, because while I am not sure I would want to be pregnant again, I would more than love to adopt again! I know this about myself- and I know that I don't view either adoption or pregnancy as "better" than the other, but I think the preference within myself leads to part of the guilt.
What do you think? Have you experienced this? Am I just crazy and hormonal?
Have any of you ever experienced guilt after giving birth to a child after completing an adoption? I don't know if I am explaining it right... Basically, I sometimes feel guilty for giving birth to another child, when I know there are so many children in the world (Ethiopia) that need families and who I would be more than willing to adopt. Don't misunderstand me; I know that John Andrew is the right child for our family right now, and moreover, I feel incredibly blessed to have been able to have a healthy and safe pregnancy and to have shared this experience with John and the girls. I love him immensely, and I cannot imagine a better baby.
But it doesn't take away from the feeling that we could have... or should have... adopted. (Although, since we just had our first wedding anniversary on the 26th of December, we actually couldn't have adopted since we didn't meet the 2 year marriage criteria, but I digress...)
I know that partially, these feelings stem from wanting to adopt again. I am not saying we are going to adopt again, but I would love to adopt again. It just may not be the right thing for our family. In that setting, still having a heart for orphans- especially those who are unadoptable- I am still trying to figure out my role in orphan care. As my husband's cousin said at our Christmas gathering... we are all called to care for orphans, so it's not a matter of if we are going to care for them, but rather how we are going to care for them. Adoption is a small piece of the how. But true orphan care is so much bigger than adoption. And I'm just not sure how I fit into that bigger picture of orphan care. I know my work with orphans isn't completed; adoption was not the end point for me- it was the beginning of a passionate love affair, to be honest.
I think part of the guilt is also related to the incredible expense of my pregnancy and birth, especially because of the complications/risks. That money (which, thankfully, was paid by insurance) would have been more than enough to complete an adoption (or 2- maybe 3.)
Another part may be that, truth be told, I didn't and still don't love the process of adoption... the paper chasing, the waiting, the uncertainty, the fears, the unknowns, the unpredictable nature of international adoption. In contrast, I loved being pregnant (except the heartburn.) I guess maybe I feel like knowing and expressing my joy in the pregnancy process somehow makes the adoption process seem less... fulfilling? or desirable? Which is silly, because while I am not sure I would want to be pregnant again, I would more than love to adopt again! I know this about myself- and I know that I don't view either adoption or pregnancy as "better" than the other, but I think the preference within myself leads to part of the guilt.
What do you think? Have you experienced this? Am I just crazy and hormonal?
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
My Own
From Sarah's Blog:
"As I drove 80-plus miles an hour because my baby was in pain and needed her Mama to fix her, I thought to myself, "If this isn't my child, then who does she belong to?" Seriously, if you ask me if I want "my own" kids that implies that the kids I have are not mine, and if they are not mine, can someone please tell me whose they are? If they aren't mine I am certainly going to a fair bit of inconvenience and enduring a fair bit of life disruption for children that belong to other people. They certainly appear to belong to me when one of them wakes me up screaming at 5 am or when one of them grabs both of my cheeks in her small little four year old hands, puts her nose to mine and and says "I love you, Mama" or when one of them calls for me from her darkened bedroom and says in her smallish two year old voice "Mommy, I want you. Sleep with me, Mama." From all I can tell practically speaking, they are mine. Two governments say they are mine and more importantly God says they are mine and will hold me accountable for what I am doing to raise them. So, dear friend, please don't ask me if my precious girls for whom I have rearranged my career, my social calendar, my sleeping schedule, my bathing rituals, my long-term financial plans and, generally speaking, the sum total of all my life goals are "mine". It should be obvious to you by now that they are and it breaks my heart when you ask that because these children are as "real" to me as yours are to you. They are my life as your birth children are to you and no child that comes from my body will ever have more status as "my own" than these daughters born of my heart."
"As I drove 80-plus miles an hour because my baby was in pain and needed her Mama to fix her, I thought to myself, "If this isn't my child, then who does she belong to?" Seriously, if you ask me if I want "my own" kids that implies that the kids I have are not mine, and if they are not mine, can someone please tell me whose they are? If they aren't mine I am certainly going to a fair bit of inconvenience and enduring a fair bit of life disruption for children that belong to other people. They certainly appear to belong to me when one of them wakes me up screaming at 5 am or when one of them grabs both of my cheeks in her small little four year old hands, puts her nose to mine and and says "I love you, Mama" or when one of them calls for me from her darkened bedroom and says in her smallish two year old voice "Mommy, I want you. Sleep with me, Mama." From all I can tell practically speaking, they are mine. Two governments say they are mine and more importantly God says they are mine and will hold me accountable for what I am doing to raise them. So, dear friend, please don't ask me if my precious girls for whom I have rearranged my career, my social calendar, my sleeping schedule, my bathing rituals, my long-term financial plans and, generally speaking, the sum total of all my life goals are "mine". It should be obvious to you by now that they are and it breaks my heart when you ask that because these children are as "real" to me as yours are to you. They are my life as your birth children are to you and no child that comes from my body will ever have more status as "my own" than these daughters born of my heart."
Friday, August 13, 2010
Bump Check- 28.5 Weeks
I forgot to take a picture on Saturday of my week 28 belly. So here a photo from Wednesday:
Apparently, a prego woman in a bathing suit is somewhat of a novelty at our local pool, because all of Abigail's little friends were amazed, and I certainly got a few looks from the other adults, too. Oh well- I was too hot to care!
Of course, it didn't help that Abigail kept bringing her friends over and saying "Momma, stand up and show them how big your belly is! It's big because she has our baby in there!" And then all the other little girls were like "wow, your belly is huge!!!!!" And then they would stick out their (disgustingly flat) bellies and walk around saying "look, I have a baby in my belly, too!"
A friend of my mom's asked why you never see my face in these pictures. It's partially because I am not feeling particularly pretty, and partially because I usually try to take the picture as soon as I wake up in the morning, so that I don't forget to do it. My hair is wild and I still have red marks on the side of my face from the pillow. You really aren't missing anything. This particular photo was carefully framed by my loving husband to avoid showing my mascara running down my face and dripping hair, while also protecting the eyes of you, my gentle readers, from the cellulite that has taken up residence in my thighs.
You're welcome.
In other pregnancy news: we had a check up last week, and HOORAY! The doctor gave me permission to take Zantac for my heartburn. What a difference this has made! I can lay flat at bedtime! Woohoo!
Everything else was looking good, and we are finally at that point when I am starting to feel relief... developmentally, 28 week babies do so well. But even more than that, I really feel like getting this far means that I am likely to go to term. (Although a 10/5/10, 10/10/10, or 10/20/10 baby would be fun:) I've started doing more of my "preparation" reading and tomorrow we are meeting with our Doula. John is finally at a place where he can also focus time and attention on learning to be a great coach and we can come up with a plan for after the baby arrives that will work for our whole family (breastfeeding a newborn can be a full-time job!)
I am working on a post on my other blog about why we don't believe in attachment parenting and also responses to why we are doing a natural childbirth (Bradley Method) and how and why we are working with our pediatrician on a modified immunization schedule. I am also going to write my very opinionated view of how to be successful with breastfeeding, and why on-demand feeding (the method recommended by the La Leche League) decreases your likelihood of success. Can you feel the drama brewing?
I feel a real urgency to get serious about preparing for the job of giving birth (which is a very taxing job) and parenting a newborn. So off I go to sneak in some more reading while the girls finish their morning chores:) Regularly scheduled bump checks should resume tomorrow!
Monday, July 12, 2010
The V Word
Warning: This may be a controversial post for some. I am not trying to be offensive in any way- just sharing our thoughts about a sensitive subject. You don't have to agree with me by any means; as a matter of fact, I expect very few of you to agree with me. That is fine- in such a personal matter, we can only come to truly know our own beliefs through deep introspection, and this post is the result of such for John and I, which has been fueled by our own experiences as well as through examination of research. Please know that I post this with the utmost humility and sincerity, respecting the sanctity of human life.
The V Word. Kind of a dirty word, in a way... a word that makes me feel dirty, somehow. But not really "dirty" the way a cuss word is dirty, nor greasy the way it is when speaking the word "moist." More like unsettling- like the feeling the word "scabies" induces in me- minus the itching and grossness.
Viability.
It's a clinical word- a word we don't use at home. Technically, our baby achieved the age of viability on Saturday, the 24 week mark of this pregnancy. However, viability at 24 weeks is only truly viable if the baby weighs more than 500 grams (a little over 1 pound.) Under 500 grams, the babies don't really live- or at least, don't live long, even with advanced medical interventions. My sister works in a NICU where they are well-known for pioneering interventions to keep tiny babies alive- they top the list of hospitals to have discharged the smallest babies. But even those tiny babies were gestationally older than our baby is... at this point- between the 24th and 28th week, our baby will go from needing a ventilator and extended NICU stay, to being able to breath fairly well without a ventilator and only needing a relatively short NICU stay. Even still, NICUs and Neonatologists around the world are trying to figure out how to keep babies that are not even at the 24 week mark alive, even if it means they live their entire lives hooked up to machines. And even if it means that many of them will not make it past the one month mark- let alone into childhood.
There are stories out there of babies who were 24 weeks- or even younger- and did amazingly well and had outcomes far greater than what could be expected of a baby of comparable gestational age. While I am not one to discount miracles, I often think that those babies were probably older gestationally than they were thought to be. I mean, how many women can pinpoint within 24-36 hours the time that their baby was conceived (besides me)? More than 50% of babies in this country are "surprise" babies, and women are often shockingly uncouth when it comes to the intricacies of their fertility cycle, not to mention that all women are assumed to have a 28 day cycle when determining gestational age, and many, if not most women who are not on birth control do NOT have a 28 day cycle.
But anyway, the V word came up at our last OB visit. The doctor said flat out that now that we were close to viability, we need to consider every decision that would remove me from immediate access to top-tier OB and NICU care (or at least the best of what is available in our area. Which isn't really too shabby- you know, my hospital delivered and cared for the Gosselin sextuplets. And I've been seen and examined by both of the OBs mentioned in that article:) While I agree with the doctor in some ways, it really did freak me out.
I guess, up until this point, I knew that if something were to happen, knowing that medically the baby did not meet the criteria for viability, John and I would be completely in control of the decision-making. We would get to choose to deliver or try to stop the baby from coming based on what was safest and best for both the baby and I. If we delivered, we would be in control of that situation, too, knowing we could choose to simply kick everyone out after the baby was born and just be alone with our angel.
But suddenly, knowing the baby is "viable" (and our little Nugget is estimated to weigh over 500 grams right now), we as the parents get fewer choices. Suddenly, if something were to happen, the decision-making would be skewed, and the power placed into the hands of the neonatologists that might have different priorities than we do. The OBs would almost certainly defer to the advice of the neonatologists, and this would no longer be about John and I and the life I am carrying, but about a baby whose parents are just trying to hang on during the crazy ride that is life in the NICU.
Don't get me wrong, I admire and respect neonatologists. I have a huge amount of respect for NICU nurses- it is a field of nursing I don't think I could ever pursue. But sometimes, I think that we as parents have different priorities than they as health care providers have.
John and I are big proponents of palliative and hospice care in the patient population that we serve. We feel that length of life is secondary to quality of life. Often, when patients are facing circumstances where they can prolong their life without having any quality of life- sometimes without even the capacity to think, feel, or engage in life, there is a group of care providers who want to keep fighting for prolonging life, and there is a group of providers who wants to focus on bringing as much meaning and fulfillment into the remainder of the patient's life. This is a discussion that is often made easier when the patient is of advanced age and deteriorating health- I mean, most people feel better about palliative and hospice care when you are talking about your 95 year old grandma who already has had dementia and 2 strokes. It's harder when you are talking about options with the 62 year old gentleman who is awaiting the birth of his first grandchild while his cancer wreaks havoc on his body despite all the chemo and radiation we can throw at him. But, John and I both strongly feel that despite the circumstances, our focus should be on helping patients achieve the quality of life they want. Which means, if what they want is to die knowing that every option was exhausted- even knowing that their chemo was killing them, then we should do that. But if what they want is to die surrounded by family and friends, pain-free and peaceful, then we have an obligation to make that happen to the best of our ability.
We feel this way because we believe that it is not the beating heart and the exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide that make a life. Life is truly so much more than biochemical processes. Living is more than keeping cells alive and reproducing. And even thought we often have medical technologies that can keep those biochemical processes going- sometimes indefinitely- they should be used with discretion. Just because we can treat doesn't mean we should. As the providers, this is rarely, if ever, a decision that is left to us. This is a decision that the patient- if they are able- and the patient's family must make together. But we as the care providers are there with them as they make these decisions.
We believe that a baby, regardless of gestational age at birth, is a gift. The life of that child is precious, unique, and a great responsibility for us. It is our job as parents to foster our children's quality of life, not just length of life.
And at 24 weeks gestation, just because we can continue the biochemical processes through technology doesn't mean we necessarily should. As providers, we know this. As parents, we feel strongly about this. As a person of faith, I know that miracles can happen, but I also know that I am not the person choosing who is granted a miracle. I also know that miracles will happen without regard to the medical interventions we provide, and sometimes in spite of them. I choose to put my faith in God, not in man- not meaning that we discount the medical technologies, rather that we chose to use them with discretion.
But at the end of the day, neonatal care is one area where no decision-making is given to the patient (obviously) and very little is given to the parents. Options for palliative care- care that focuses on quality of life rather than length of life- are few. In fact, while I don't know the exact procedure at our facility, I do know that in some circumstances, parents have been stripped of their decision-making rights and children have been placed in protective custody over the choice to treat or palliate neonates. I mean, these doctors are neonatologists, not perinatal palliative specialists- their priorities are to treat and prolong life. And sometimes those who don't agree with their decisions get plowed down- even if it is the parents.
Again, I don't want to say this is true, necessarily, at our facility. But I do know that having reached the age of viability, there will be tremendous pressure on us as the parents to allow the neonatologists a free hand in determining the care our baby would receive. And we don't know that we would agree to using all of the interventions that medicine has to offer. We can't say now what we would or would not do as so much of our decisions would be based on the baby and how he/she was doing as well as gestational age, but the point I am trying to make is that we want to be able to make the decisions that we feel are most respectful of our child's life and purpose in this world. And having reached a point where science and medicine become single-minded in goals of treatment, we want to keep our options open.
Viability means being capable of living. But the definition of living is what I question in the world of neonatology. Knowing that our definition and the definition of the doctors might be very different makes me nervous... and sad.... and in a way, it makes me feel a little bit dirty. Not because I think my definition of living is wrong, but rather because I think the doctor's definition of living is so removed from what life really is. I think medical technology has perverted the meaning of living and reduced it to a series of cellular processes. And I want our baby to have more than cellular processes, even if it means it is only for a few moments that our baby gets to truly live.
The V Word. Kind of a dirty word, in a way... a word that makes me feel dirty, somehow. But not really "dirty" the way a cuss word is dirty, nor greasy the way it is when speaking the word "moist." More like unsettling- like the feeling the word "scabies" induces in me- minus the itching and grossness.
Viability.
It's a clinical word- a word we don't use at home. Technically, our baby achieved the age of viability on Saturday, the 24 week mark of this pregnancy. However, viability at 24 weeks is only truly viable if the baby weighs more than 500 grams (a little over 1 pound.) Under 500 grams, the babies don't really live- or at least, don't live long, even with advanced medical interventions. My sister works in a NICU where they are well-known for pioneering interventions to keep tiny babies alive- they top the list of hospitals to have discharged the smallest babies. But even those tiny babies were gestationally older than our baby is... at this point- between the 24th and 28th week, our baby will go from needing a ventilator and extended NICU stay, to being able to breath fairly well without a ventilator and only needing a relatively short NICU stay. Even still, NICUs and Neonatologists around the world are trying to figure out how to keep babies that are not even at the 24 week mark alive, even if it means they live their entire lives hooked up to machines. And even if it means that many of them will not make it past the one month mark- let alone into childhood.
There are stories out there of babies who were 24 weeks- or even younger- and did amazingly well and had outcomes far greater than what could be expected of a baby of comparable gestational age. While I am not one to discount miracles, I often think that those babies were probably older gestationally than they were thought to be. I mean, how many women can pinpoint within 24-36 hours the time that their baby was conceived (besides me)? More than 50% of babies in this country are "surprise" babies, and women are often shockingly uncouth when it comes to the intricacies of their fertility cycle, not to mention that all women are assumed to have a 28 day cycle when determining gestational age, and many, if not most women who are not on birth control do NOT have a 28 day cycle.
But anyway, the V word came up at our last OB visit. The doctor said flat out that now that we were close to viability, we need to consider every decision that would remove me from immediate access to top-tier OB and NICU care (or at least the best of what is available in our area. Which isn't really too shabby- you know, my hospital delivered and cared for the Gosselin sextuplets. And I've been seen and examined by both of the OBs mentioned in that article:) While I agree with the doctor in some ways, it really did freak me out.
I guess, up until this point, I knew that if something were to happen, knowing that medically the baby did not meet the criteria for viability, John and I would be completely in control of the decision-making. We would get to choose to deliver or try to stop the baby from coming based on what was safest and best for both the baby and I. If we delivered, we would be in control of that situation, too, knowing we could choose to simply kick everyone out after the baby was born and just be alone with our angel.
But suddenly, knowing the baby is "viable" (and our little Nugget is estimated to weigh over 500 grams right now), we as the parents get fewer choices. Suddenly, if something were to happen, the decision-making would be skewed, and the power placed into the hands of the neonatologists that might have different priorities than we do. The OBs would almost certainly defer to the advice of the neonatologists, and this would no longer be about John and I and the life I am carrying, but about a baby whose parents are just trying to hang on during the crazy ride that is life in the NICU.
Don't get me wrong, I admire and respect neonatologists. I have a huge amount of respect for NICU nurses- it is a field of nursing I don't think I could ever pursue. But sometimes, I think that we as parents have different priorities than they as health care providers have.
John and I are big proponents of palliative and hospice care in the patient population that we serve. We feel that length of life is secondary to quality of life. Often, when patients are facing circumstances where they can prolong their life without having any quality of life- sometimes without even the capacity to think, feel, or engage in life, there is a group of care providers who want to keep fighting for prolonging life, and there is a group of providers who wants to focus on bringing as much meaning and fulfillment into the remainder of the patient's life. This is a discussion that is often made easier when the patient is of advanced age and deteriorating health- I mean, most people feel better about palliative and hospice care when you are talking about your 95 year old grandma who already has had dementia and 2 strokes. It's harder when you are talking about options with the 62 year old gentleman who is awaiting the birth of his first grandchild while his cancer wreaks havoc on his body despite all the chemo and radiation we can throw at him. But, John and I both strongly feel that despite the circumstances, our focus should be on helping patients achieve the quality of life they want. Which means, if what they want is to die knowing that every option was exhausted- even knowing that their chemo was killing them, then we should do that. But if what they want is to die surrounded by family and friends, pain-free and peaceful, then we have an obligation to make that happen to the best of our ability.
We feel this way because we believe that it is not the beating heart and the exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide that make a life. Life is truly so much more than biochemical processes. Living is more than keeping cells alive and reproducing. And even thought we often have medical technologies that can keep those biochemical processes going- sometimes indefinitely- they should be used with discretion. Just because we can treat doesn't mean we should. As the providers, this is rarely, if ever, a decision that is left to us. This is a decision that the patient- if they are able- and the patient's family must make together. But we as the care providers are there with them as they make these decisions.
We believe that a baby, regardless of gestational age at birth, is a gift. The life of that child is precious, unique, and a great responsibility for us. It is our job as parents to foster our children's quality of life, not just length of life.
And at 24 weeks gestation, just because we can continue the biochemical processes through technology doesn't mean we necessarily should. As providers, we know this. As parents, we feel strongly about this. As a person of faith, I know that miracles can happen, but I also know that I am not the person choosing who is granted a miracle. I also know that miracles will happen without regard to the medical interventions we provide, and sometimes in spite of them. I choose to put my faith in God, not in man- not meaning that we discount the medical technologies, rather that we chose to use them with discretion.
But at the end of the day, neonatal care is one area where no decision-making is given to the patient (obviously) and very little is given to the parents. Options for palliative care- care that focuses on quality of life rather than length of life- are few. In fact, while I don't know the exact procedure at our facility, I do know that in some circumstances, parents have been stripped of their decision-making rights and children have been placed in protective custody over the choice to treat or palliate neonates. I mean, these doctors are neonatologists, not perinatal palliative specialists- their priorities are to treat and prolong life. And sometimes those who don't agree with their decisions get plowed down- even if it is the parents.
Again, I don't want to say this is true, necessarily, at our facility. But I do know that having reached the age of viability, there will be tremendous pressure on us as the parents to allow the neonatologists a free hand in determining the care our baby would receive. And we don't know that we would agree to using all of the interventions that medicine has to offer. We can't say now what we would or would not do as so much of our decisions would be based on the baby and how he/she was doing as well as gestational age, but the point I am trying to make is that we want to be able to make the decisions that we feel are most respectful of our child's life and purpose in this world. And having reached a point where science and medicine become single-minded in goals of treatment, we want to keep our options open.
Viability means being capable of living. But the definition of living is what I question in the world of neonatology. Knowing that our definition and the definition of the doctors might be very different makes me nervous... and sad.... and in a way, it makes me feel a little bit dirty. Not because I think my definition of living is wrong, but rather because I think the doctor's definition of living is so removed from what life really is. I think medical technology has perverted the meaning of living and reduced it to a series of cellular processes. And I want our baby to have more than cellular processes, even if it means it is only for a few moments that our baby gets to truly live.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Bumpdate 23 Weeks
Well, now we've gone and done it!
We had our 23 week OB visit on Monday, followed by a cervix check on Tuesday. At our OB visit, a few things were decided based on the "borderline" cervical measurement from last week.
1. I am not to be traveling- if something were to happen, I would have the best chance of getting the best and most appropriate care from our team at our hospital because they know me and have all the records (as well as a plan for what to do if something did go wrong.)
2. I have been "upgraded" from "intermediate" risk to "high" risk. Yippee! In some ways, this was a bummer (who wants to be told they are high risk?) but in other ways, it's totally cool. High risk was managing the cervical checks, but intermediate risk was managing ME, so it was a little difficult to know who was in charge or who my main "point person" was. This way, we are down to one service line, and since high risk will be following us the rest of the pregnancy, concerns about low amniotic fluid levels will be easily managed. Hopefully.
3. I freak out when people bring up the "V" word. Not in the doctor's office, but at home. And I am thankful I have a husband who knows what to do when I am on the verge of loosing it. (I will post about the V word later...)
On Tuesday, we had much better news:) My cervical length INCREASED from 2.3 cm to 2.7 cm!!!! This is, I am assuming, fairly rare (I don't know, because part of controlling the freak out is NOT consulting Google, much as I may want to:) This doesn't mean that we are out of the woods, it just means that we are good for now. We will have one more cervical length measurement next week, and again we will make decisions based on that measurement.
We won't be doing more cervical length measurements after the 24th week, because at that time it becomes a matter of "pre-term" labor rather than cervical incompetence (which, in this particular case, seems to me to be a matter of semantics, but whatever...) This is especially irritating because I have been having contractions, and we are not sure if they are related to the cervical changes or not... if they are, then it is considered "pre-term labor" after the 24th week, as "labor" is contractions that result in cervical change (which is why "false labor" is false... it's contractions that don't result in cervical change.) So I guess I will be asking a lot of questions at our next appointment. I mean, without routine cervical checks, how do I know when I should be concerned about my contractions? Some of them have been pretty intense (and that is saying a lot considering I KNOW what contractions feel like... what triple-peaking-never-ending-only-30-seconds-between-them-and-no-pain-meds-to-take-the-edge-off contractions feel like. How do I know when to call the doctor? Very frustrating. And definitely a semantic discussion far too detailed for me.
In other pregnancy news.... I am feeling, well, huge. And heartburny. I can feel the Nugget doing all sorts of yoga or Pilate's or something, and let me tell you, my diaphragm doesn't like it! As a matter of fact, the assaults on my diaphragm are probably why I am so heartburny- I probably have a hernia now! I also have some very beauteous swelling in my ankles when I work all day, despite my industrial strength lederhosen.
Anna things that if the Nugget is a girl, we should call her Abigail. So that both of her sisters are named Abigail. Easy enough to remember, I guess:)
Abigail took one look at me on Wednesday and said "Wow, your belly has gotten bigger!" Granted, she hadn't seen me since Sunday afternoon (spending time with her grandparents) and I was wearing a new maternity shirt that did increase the appearance of my bump, but still... it kind of made me feel, well, huger than I was already feeling.
One of the girls at work said she things I am having a boy, because I "still look the same." She as following the adage that girls steal your beauty and boys steal your energy. She said I looked good (thanks:) but was always saying how tired I am. And so it must be a boy. John is stoked and finally has an old wives' tale that he can put some stock into:)
My grandma is becoming a bit forgetful. Which, at nearly 90, is okay. My mom told her that I was pregnant at the end of my first trimester when we officially announced it to the world (or at least to the rest of our family, co-workers, and Facebook/Interneters.) When my mom told her I would not be coming out to Chicago at the end of the month, she acted as though that were Totally New Information (think: Phoebe on Friends) and claimed she didn't even know I was pregnant. Um, okay:)
Oh, hahahahah! The joke's on John! The doc said Monday that any unnecessary "wear and tear" on my cervix should be avoided. That means John has more than just a 6 week post-partum wait... he has the rest of the pregnancy (however long that is) PLUS the 6 weeks post-partum! He thinks that by accepting this and not fighting against this new edict, it will inevitably force nature to prolong the pregnancy as long as possible, just to test his resolve (reverse psychology, maybe?). Yeah, we'll see:) For now, he is getting an awful lot of teasing from his parents. His mom told him that this is what he gets for knocking me up so quickly. My mom thinks that this is what he gets for thinking that now that he's married he gets to do "it" ALL THE TIME. And at the risk of over-sharing, I will say that sometimes I think this is God having mercy on my poor, exhausted body... I feel way less guilty about going straight to bed every night since our options for evening entertainment have been limited to Netflixing the BBC version of Robin Hood, playing with the cats, and voting for Jose on So You Think You Can Dance.
In all honesty, though, this has really made me appreciate my hubby on a whole other level, because he has not made me feel bad about any of the restrictions (travel/vacation, work, sex, or anything else that might come up) the way some guys have been known to guilt their ladies. In fact, he is nothing but supportive of my and the Nugget's health and well-being, even if it means working harder and crazier hours to save up for a very unpredictable future, while knowing that all that waits for him at home is an ever-expanding wife who has managed to zap the "honeymoon phase" out of the first year of our marriage. I love that guy.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Bumps in the Road
So, we knew going into this pregnancy that there was a higher likelihood of experiencing some difficulties than a normal woman of my age and relative health would have with pregnancy. We consulted with several physicians before attempting to conceive, and came up with plans for how to approach and manage these potential complications.
And so far, everything that we thought would be a problem has turned out okay. Just had a cervix check yesterday, and everything looks healthy and fantastic and my body is keeping the baby way it needs to be.
But, there have been some other bumps in the road:(
I had been having some shortness of breath- not unusual in pregnancy because of the extra blood volume and weight, etc. But on Monday, that shortness of breath was also accompanied by some chest pain. Off we went to the ER, where we also found that my oxygen level was much lower than it should be when I was walking around (but okay when I was resting.)
A slew of tests, doctors appointments, and labs ensued ... and we still have no good answers. We know what it's NOT, but we don't know what it IS. This is frustrating, although knowing that the worst case scenarios have been ruled out is reassuring.
So, as of today, I am officially on bed rest until cleared by more specialists and my OB. Hopefully, these symptoms will turn out to be transient, perhaps related to a virus or something like that which is not immediately apparent but easily resolved. Only time will tell.
In the mean time, I will leave you with a few happier thoughts:
When we told the kids we were having a baby, I gave Anna a lemon to show her how little the baby was. For a week, she carried the lemon around- in pockets, purses, or just in her hand- and referred to it as her baby. Then she kind of forgot about it, as 3 year olds are prone to do. Until the other day at the grocery....
Anna: look Momma, a baby!
Me: that's a lemon, not a baby.
Anna: yeah!
*************************
Anna: Momma, I take the baby for the roller.
Me: what?
Anna: for the roller.
Me: the what?
Anna: the roller! Like this! (and proceeds to push her baby stroller into the bathroom.)
*************************
Me: Abigail, what should we name the baby if it's a girl?
Abigail: Um, I like the name Anabelle.
Me: Don't you think it would be confusing to have an Anna and an Anabelle?
Abigail: No, because Anabelle is spelled A-N-A and Anna is spelled A-N-N-A.
Me: I see.
*************************
Teta: Abigail, what should we name the baby?
Abigial: Well, I thnk Claire for a girl or Walter for a boy.
Teta: Those are nice names. Anna, what should we call the baby if it's a sister?
Anna: Take a nap.
Teta: And what if it's a boy?
Anna: Eat. And poop.
And so far, everything that we thought would be a problem has turned out okay. Just had a cervix check yesterday, and everything looks healthy and fantastic and my body is keeping the baby way it needs to be.
But, there have been some other bumps in the road:(
I had been having some shortness of breath- not unusual in pregnancy because of the extra blood volume and weight, etc. But on Monday, that shortness of breath was also accompanied by some chest pain. Off we went to the ER, where we also found that my oxygen level was much lower than it should be when I was walking around (but okay when I was resting.)
A slew of tests, doctors appointments, and labs ensued ... and we still have no good answers. We know what it's NOT, but we don't know what it IS. This is frustrating, although knowing that the worst case scenarios have been ruled out is reassuring.
So, as of today, I am officially on bed rest until cleared by more specialists and my OB. Hopefully, these symptoms will turn out to be transient, perhaps related to a virus or something like that which is not immediately apparent but easily resolved. Only time will tell.
In the mean time, I will leave you with a few happier thoughts:
When we told the kids we were having a baby, I gave Anna a lemon to show her how little the baby was. For a week, she carried the lemon around- in pockets, purses, or just in her hand- and referred to it as her baby. Then she kind of forgot about it, as 3 year olds are prone to do. Until the other day at the grocery....
Anna: look Momma, a baby!
Me: that's a lemon, not a baby.
Anna: yeah!
*************************
Anna: Momma, I take the baby for the roller.
Me: what?
Anna: for the roller.
Me: the what?
Anna: the roller! Like this! (and proceeds to push her baby stroller into the bathroom.)
*************************
Me: Abigail, what should we name the baby if it's a girl?
Abigail: Um, I like the name Anabelle.
Me: Don't you think it would be confusing to have an Anna and an Anabelle?
Abigail: No, because Anabelle is spelled A-N-A and Anna is spelled A-N-N-A.
Me: I see.
*************************
Teta: Abigail, what should we name the baby?
Abigial: Well, I thnk Claire for a girl or Walter for a boy.
Teta: Those are nice names. Anna, what should we call the baby if it's a sister?
Anna: Take a nap.
Teta: And what if it's a boy?
Anna: Eat. And poop.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Dear Nugget
Dear Nugget,
I understand that you are living in pretty cramped conditions. It's probably fairly boring in there, and the constant thumping of my heart must be monotonous. I am sure you wish you could see the vibrant spring colors and smell the heavy weight of lilacs in the air. I get it- you need a hobby, because there's not much else for you to do right now.
But please, Nugget, could you consider a hobby other than giving Momma constant heartburn? Honestly, feeling like my esophagus is burning a hole through my throat and an angry wad of fire is about to errupt from my neck and strangle me is surprisingly unpleasent. And when I lay down and that that firepit in my throat ALSO happens to burn in my nose and ears? Yes, also very unpleasent. Not to mention, Momma is quickly running out of Tums.
If you would be so kind as to look for another hobby, I would be happy to provide you with more stimulation, such as the sound of your father snoring- a sound which you might be missing right now, since I can't lay down in bed. Other hobbies that would be appropriate right now include: karate (for the next 10-15 weeks, then we would probably have to look into a new hobby), swallowing your own amniotic fluid, or writing poetry.
Hope you are as comfortable as possible. Hope you know your sisters kiss you every day. Hope you find a new hobby!
Love,
Momma
I understand that you are living in pretty cramped conditions. It's probably fairly boring in there, and the constant thumping of my heart must be monotonous. I am sure you wish you could see the vibrant spring colors and smell the heavy weight of lilacs in the air. I get it- you need a hobby, because there's not much else for you to do right now.
But please, Nugget, could you consider a hobby other than giving Momma constant heartburn? Honestly, feeling like my esophagus is burning a hole through my throat and an angry wad of fire is about to errupt from my neck and strangle me is surprisingly unpleasent. And when I lay down and that that firepit in my throat ALSO happens to burn in my nose and ears? Yes, also very unpleasent. Not to mention, Momma is quickly running out of Tums.
If you would be so kind as to look for another hobby, I would be happy to provide you with more stimulation, such as the sound of your father snoring- a sound which you might be missing right now, since I can't lay down in bed. Other hobbies that would be appropriate right now include: karate (for the next 10-15 weeks, then we would probably have to look into a new hobby), swallowing your own amniotic fluid, or writing poetry.
Hope you are as comfortable as possible. Hope you know your sisters kiss you every day. Hope you find a new hobby!
Love,
Momma
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Birthmother's Day
I tried to explain to Anna that there was a baby in my tummy, and in a few months, we will be able to hold and kiss and love our baby. She didn't get it. I handed her a lemon to show her how little the baby is now, and I am pretty convinced that she thought the lemon was the baby. She carries her lemon around and kisses it and calls it "my baby."
We were talking last night about the baby in my tummy, and Anna said "in your tummy, just like me." I explained again that Anna didn't grow in my tummy, but that she came to live in our family so that we could love her hand hug her and kiss her. This was the first time I think she really understood the difference between a baby that grows in your tummy and a baby that comes to your family another way.
Then we talked about Anna's first mom, her birth mom. At 3, I really don't know how much she understands, but I hope she understands how much I love, appreciate, and respect this woman who trusted me with such a wonderful child.
Today, the day before Mother's Day, is Birthmother's Day. Today we honor the first mothers, who, through their gift, gave us the blessing of motherhood through adoption.
We were talking last night about the baby in my tummy, and Anna said "in your tummy, just like me." I explained again that Anna didn't grow in my tummy, but that she came to live in our family so that we could love her hand hug her and kiss her. This was the first time I think she really understood the difference between a baby that grows in your tummy and a baby that comes to your family another way.
Then we talked about Anna's first mom, her birth mom. At 3, I really don't know how much she understands, but I hope she understands how much I love, appreciate, and respect this woman who trusted me with such a wonderful child.
Today, the day before Mother's Day, is Birthmother's Day. Today we honor the first mothers, who, through their gift, gave us the blessing of motherhood through adoption.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Mark the date! Or something.
Next week*, a big announcement is coming to this blog! Keep watching!
*It might be the week after. But I think it will be next week.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Foster Care and Adoption
Continuing my random adoption-related thoughts in honor of National Adoption Month:
I (obviously) feel strongly about international adoption, especially from undeveloped nations such as Ethiopia. But I also feel strongly that, especially given my religious convictions, I should not stop caring for my family and neighbors in order to care for international orphans. It should not be "one or the other" but rather both.
Thinking about this and considering the role that my family and I should play in caring for family/friends/neighbors, especially those who are orphans or wards of the state or other similar situations that result in children who are unable to be parented by their birth parents, I have come to a few conclusions.
1. My role is to love and serve people through a variety of situations. This may include permanently bringing a child into my home through adoption, temporarily bringing a child into my home through foster care, or supporting children in other ways through mentorship and meaningful relationships.
2. I feel a more urgent need meet the needs of close family, if such a situation arose, and kinship foster/adoption is some thing to which both John and I are very open. There currently is a situation where such a need might arise within our family, and we have actually started discussing what role we would play. We concluded that if the need arose, we would approach a kinship foster/adoption situation and embrace it wholeheartedly. We hope the need does not arise, though, and hope that the situation within our family can be worked out to support both the parent and the child.
3. John and I are uniquely qualified to care for children with medical needs; neither of us have a lot of exposure to pediatric medicine, but certainly it is something that we could learn. My heart strings are tugged by the little ones who come into the hospital as victims of domestic violence or neglect and as a result need foster families that have enough of a background in medicine to meet their needs at discharge. This usually also involves a significant time commitment that we are unable to make right now, so this is something that may be in our future, but not our immediate future.
Have you thought about your role? What do you think?
I (obviously) feel strongly about international adoption, especially from undeveloped nations such as Ethiopia. But I also feel strongly that, especially given my religious convictions, I should not stop caring for my family and neighbors in order to care for international orphans. It should not be "one or the other" but rather both.
Thinking about this and considering the role that my family and I should play in caring for family/friends/neighbors, especially those who are orphans or wards of the state or other similar situations that result in children who are unable to be parented by their birth parents, I have come to a few conclusions.
1. My role is to love and serve people through a variety of situations. This may include permanently bringing a child into my home through adoption, temporarily bringing a child into my home through foster care, or supporting children in other ways through mentorship and meaningful relationships.
2. I feel a more urgent need meet the needs of close family, if such a situation arose, and kinship foster/adoption is some thing to which both John and I are very open. There currently is a situation where such a need might arise within our family, and we have actually started discussing what role we would play. We concluded that if the need arose, we would approach a kinship foster/adoption situation and embrace it wholeheartedly. We hope the need does not arise, though, and hope that the situation within our family can be worked out to support both the parent and the child.
3. John and I are uniquely qualified to care for children with medical needs; neither of us have a lot of exposure to pediatric medicine, but certainly it is something that we could learn. My heart strings are tugged by the little ones who come into the hospital as victims of domestic violence or neglect and as a result need foster families that have enough of a background in medicine to meet their needs at discharge. This usually also involves a significant time commitment that we are unable to make right now, so this is something that may be in our future, but not our immediate future.
Have you thought about your role? What do you think?
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
Why so many girls?
So, like I said, I am writing up some thoughts about adoption and our culture, in honor of National Adoption Month. I was just checking out the FBI. I love the pages of "forever families" as well as reviewing who is where in the process. I love that right now, there are more families than ever before who are open to sibling groups, and some who are open to older children. Love that!
But I am looking at the wait list and wondering why so many are requesting girls. I am not saying this is bad or wrong, just wondering why? I can understand the desire for a child in a specific age range, and I know some people request a specific gender because they already have children at home and want the same gender or opposite gender or something. But for people who are adopting for the first time, why choose a girl?
This really has me thinking, because we know that across the board, adoptive parents want to adopt healthy girls, as young as possible. Why is that? I have read that some parents think girls are easier to raise, or that they believe girls are less likely to have health or attachment/bonding issues. I don't think that this is actually true (I don't know what the statistics say, but overall, I don't think the data available supports this- especially on the "easier to raise" category.)
What do you think?
Personally, if I ever adopt again, I hope that we will be able to adopt brothers. Little boys to rile each other up and play in the dirt and be rough and tumble and into dirt and grubs and all sorts of things like that. Plus, John wants a tyke who is interested in sports (which, parenting the girliest girls ever, our girls are NOT cutting it...)
But I am looking at the wait list and wondering why so many are requesting girls. I am not saying this is bad or wrong, just wondering why? I can understand the desire for a child in a specific age range, and I know some people request a specific gender because they already have children at home and want the same gender or opposite gender or something. But for people who are adopting for the first time, why choose a girl?
This really has me thinking, because we know that across the board, adoptive parents want to adopt healthy girls, as young as possible. Why is that? I have read that some parents think girls are easier to raise, or that they believe girls are less likely to have health or attachment/bonding issues. I don't think that this is actually true (I don't know what the statistics say, but overall, I don't think the data available supports this- especially on the "easier to raise" category.)
What do you think?
Personally, if I ever adopt again, I hope that we will be able to adopt brothers. Little boys to rile each other up and play in the dirt and be rough and tumble and into dirt and grubs and all sorts of things like that. Plus, John wants a tyke who is interested in sports (which, parenting the girliest girls ever, our girls are NOT cutting it...)
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Pro Life= Pro Adoption?
I will be honest: I have never met a person who was pro-life that was NOT pro-adoption.
Honestly, I believe the best place for a child is with their birthfamily. However, I also acknowledge that there are circumstances that make it impossible for a birthfamily to parent. Those reasons are many and varied, and not something that I wish to discuss in this post. But I do want to take a moment in this month that recognizes adoption and point out that I truly feel that the ideal situation for children is to be parented by their birth parents or through a kinship adoption.
That said, I don't understand how one could be pro-life without being pro-adoption. The idea of the pro-lifers is that they advocate for the innocents who have no voice and no other advocate. However, that advocacy does not stop when the innocent is born! No, instead, pro-lifers must continue to advocate for programs and interventions that assist birthparents in providing a quality of life to their child or that assist agencies in placing a relinquished child with a permanent, loving adoptive family. Without continuing to advocate for that child, a pro-lifer turns into an "anti-legal abortion" rather than a "pro-lifer." Proponents of the choice of life must continue to promote a quality of life for that child throughout it's life.
Honestly, I believe the best place for a child is with their birthfamily. However, I also acknowledge that there are circumstances that make it impossible for a birthfamily to parent. Those reasons are many and varied, and not something that I wish to discuss in this post. But I do want to take a moment in this month that recognizes adoption and point out that I truly feel that the ideal situation for children is to be parented by their birth parents or through a kinship adoption.
That said, I don't understand how one could be pro-life without being pro-adoption. The idea of the pro-lifers is that they advocate for the innocents who have no voice and no other advocate. However, that advocacy does not stop when the innocent is born! No, instead, pro-lifers must continue to advocate for programs and interventions that assist birthparents in providing a quality of life to their child or that assist agencies in placing a relinquished child with a permanent, loving adoptive family. Without continuing to advocate for that child, a pro-lifer turns into an "anti-legal abortion" rather than a "pro-lifer." Proponents of the choice of life must continue to promote a quality of life for that child throughout it's life.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Pro Choice= Pro Adoption?
In honor of National Adoption Month, I am writing up a few thoughts about adoption and how it fits into the modern culture of the US and the world.
In my opinion, I think if you are pro-choice, you should also be pro-adoption. Why?
Proponents of legal abortion argue that a birthmother should have options available for her when she decides that she is unwilling or unable to parent a child. They argue that abortion is the option that should be available to her. (Of course, they also argue medical necessity, and I am not going to touch that one at this point, but maybe some time...)
In the same vein, if a birthmother is looking for options when she is unwilling or unable to parent her child, adoption must be available to her. Not only because some people do not know or choose not to approach their pregnancies until after they are past the time frame when an abortion is available to them, but also because if pro-choicers are really all about the ability to choose when one becomes a parent, then they should also support the right of the birthmother to choose to no longer be a parent (through relinquishment.) If pro-choicers are truly looking to promote the right of the woman to make choices that she feels are in her best interest without regard for anyone else, then certainly, they must support a system where birthmothers are given the option of choosing to do what is solely in their best interest... an option that is not available to them if they are parenting.
This may seem flippant, and I hope you do not take it that way. I have the utmost respect for birthmothers who choose adoption when they are unable to parent. I mean no disrespect to any person who has been involved in the adoption triad. However, I am trying to really understand the viewpoint of "pro-choice" proponents, and in my attempts to do so, I simply cannot understand how someone can be pro-choice without being pro-adoption.
What do you think?
In my opinion, I think if you are pro-choice, you should also be pro-adoption. Why?
Proponents of legal abortion argue that a birthmother should have options available for her when she decides that she is unwilling or unable to parent a child. They argue that abortion is the option that should be available to her. (Of course, they also argue medical necessity, and I am not going to touch that one at this point, but maybe some time...)
In the same vein, if a birthmother is looking for options when she is unwilling or unable to parent her child, adoption must be available to her. Not only because some people do not know or choose not to approach their pregnancies until after they are past the time frame when an abortion is available to them, but also because if pro-choicers are really all about the ability to choose when one becomes a parent, then they should also support the right of the birthmother to choose to no longer be a parent (through relinquishment.) If pro-choicers are truly looking to promote the right of the woman to make choices that she feels are in her best interest without regard for anyone else, then certainly, they must support a system where birthmothers are given the option of choosing to do what is solely in their best interest... an option that is not available to them if they are parenting.
This may seem flippant, and I hope you do not take it that way. I have the utmost respect for birthmothers who choose adoption when they are unable to parent. I mean no disrespect to any person who has been involved in the adoption triad. However, I am trying to really understand the viewpoint of "pro-choice" proponents, and in my attempts to do so, I simply cannot understand how someone can be pro-choice without being pro-adoption.
What do you think?
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
National Adoption Month!
November is National Adoption Month and I am going purple for adoption!
November is the month set aside to raise awareness of the adoption of children and youth from foster care. This year's theme is "you don't have to be perfect to be the perfect family."
Boy, isn't that the truth. If I had to be perfect in order to adopt, the Good Lord knows I never would have been able to bring Anna home. But thankfully, perfection is not required. And our little family is so perfect together. And I am so thankful (another good November theme:)
November is the month set aside to raise awareness of the adoption of children and youth from foster care. This year's theme is "you don't have to be perfect to be the perfect family."
Boy, isn't that the truth. If I had to be perfect in order to adopt, the Good Lord knows I never would have been able to bring Anna home. But thankfully, perfection is not required. And our little family is so perfect together. And I am so thankful (another good November theme:)
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Pangs
Sometimes, in the course of reading a blog or getting an email from an adoptive family, I get that pang. The uncomfortable but familiar twinge deep inside my chest that was so frequent during my own journey to adoption. I thought, at the time, that the pang was one of longing for my child, and it was. I thought that surely that pang would go away once Anna was home.
It didn't.
There are children out there who I long for- children who I love. I don't know them, and I may never know them. But I love them as deeply as a mother's heart knows how to love. I hope that one day I will be able to hold them in my arms.
And if I can't, I hope another mother will.
(Note, this does not mean that John and I are adopting, pregnant, or adding to our family in any way at this point in time. At this time, we are not sure how we will grow our family.)
(Note to my note: I really would like to add to our family in the canine department. I know there is a dog out there who needs to come live in our house and run around with my children and answer to the name Albus Dumbledore. I know it. But my guess is that John will not allow us to have a canine addition any time soon. In fact, he is much more open to human additions than canine additions. But Abigail said she would get me a dog for Christmas, so I am holding out hope.)
It didn't.
There are children out there who I long for- children who I love. I don't know them, and I may never know them. But I love them as deeply as a mother's heart knows how to love. I hope that one day I will be able to hold them in my arms.
And if I can't, I hope another mother will.
(Note, this does not mean that John and I are adopting, pregnant, or adding to our family in any way at this point in time. At this time, we are not sure how we will grow our family.)
(Note to my note: I really would like to add to our family in the canine department. I know there is a dog out there who needs to come live in our house and run around with my children and answer to the name Albus Dumbledore. I know it. But my guess is that John will not allow us to have a canine addition any time soon. In fact, he is much more open to human additions than canine additions. But Abigail said she would get me a dog for Christmas, so I am holding out hope.)
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