Our greatly-dreaded home visit happened last night after a few days of panic and anxiety and frantic cleaning. In case you ever find yourself pursuing adoption and agonizing over your home visit, I hope you end up with a caseworker like ours. All the worry was for absolutely nothing, because she was so sweet and so non-judgmental. She didn't even examine the freshly-dusted fan blades or the dog hair that just won't come off the curtains no matter how hard I try! She didn't seem to notice the patch of unshaven hair on my knee that I'd missed that morning in the shower. She didn't cringe when Francesca sneezed on her leg or when Miss Beasley howled in the bathroom when it thundered. She didn't make a stern face and take notes when the kids got out of bed for the fifth time after being told to go to sleep. She didn't even ask questions about some of the questionable aspects of our "self studies." I would like to keep her and make clones of her to place all over the country to lessen the anxiety of adoptive parents everywhere.
After she had left, I was exhausted yet on an ecstatic high from the huge amount of relief I had! While Darling had to go take care of some work-related issues for an hour or so, I indulged my greatly-less-stressed self with a few chapters in another adoption book I'd picked up at the library. Reading story after story from people on both sides of the adoption equation added even more fuel to my adoption fire, and I'm even more excited than ever to move forward with the whole thing. (As opposed to a few days ago when I was questioning if we should even try this after all.) I know the hardest part is probably not behind us yet, but I am thrilled beyond belief at how simple this step turned out to be after all. It gives me hope that the rest of it might not be quite as bad as I expect, and that hopefully we will end up with a roly-poly baby in our arms in the near future.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Tending the Hidden Spaces
I know I said I probably wouldn't be posting anything this week since our home visit is NEXT WEEK (GAH!), but I forgot to take into account the therapeutic effect writing can have on my frazzled nerves and that I can't clean for hours and hours without pause.
I refuse to get too stressed or overwhelmed about any step we take during our adoption, because I know that God is in control and that letting my head go to its crazy place will not be beneficial at all anyway. (I admit I have slipped into freak-out mode a few times, but thankfully God hasn't allowed me to stay there unchecked for long.) With that, I've been pacing myself with a steady stream of progress taken one baby step at a time. It's probably not the fastest way of getting things done, but it has helped my own state of mind tremendously by maintaining a sense of calm. Slow and steady, slow and steady.
When faced with the prospect of having our home looked at by someone who has the power to deem us fit or unfit to proceed with adoption, a lot of formerly unnoticed imperfections start coming into view. Our house isn't huge by any means, and when you pair a small space with two furry, rapidly-shedding dogs, it's darn near impossible to ever have spotless perfection. That has been a difficult concept for me to grasp, especially when my freshly-vacuumed floor looks like it's gone weeks between cleanings within an hour or two. So.much.dog.hair! I've noticed the excessive amount of fur and slobber (thanks for that, Miss Beasley) on a daily basis, but now I'm also beginning to see random marks on the walls, cobwebs in the super high corners that I can't reach, spots on vases, dust--oh! so much dust!--on the fans and light fixtures, an especially funky smell coming from the garbage disposal, and so on. I always sort of thought I was a neat freak, but I'm beginning to realize that's far from the truth.
While I was standing on a chair and marveling at the disgusting handfuls of dust I was getting off the fan (which is always on, so I have no idea how a perpetually moving object can collect so much dust!) just in case our caseworker demands to see it turned off so she can count the dust specks, I started to think about all the bits of hidden or unnoticed filth in my own heart. This whole concept of opening up our lives to a new child--one we actually have to choose to receive instead of just having it given to us like our biological children--is rather unsettling. It has been stirring up a number of emotions and realizations that I've got many dirty and unworthy areas that need to be cleaned out and spruced up. How can I possibly be good enough to be chosen to raise a precious little one who will need extra assurance of love and acceptance thanks to a painful backstory? How could any birth mother look at us and think we are the ones she wants to give her baby to?
It's easy to make things appear better than what they are, whether it's our home or our family profile or even ourselves, but I don't want to just pretend my way through this. While I want to win the grand prize of a new baby, I don't want to cheat my way through or mislead the birthparents about who we really are just so they'll pick us. We aren't perfect. We aren't mind-bogglingly wealthy or talented. We spend too much time in front of the TV and not enough time getting gnawed on by mosquitoes in the backyard. I'm far from being one of those supermoms who always have a fun and messy craft project to do with their kids. I sometimes get annoyed when I have to stop what I'm doing to hunt for another lost toy or to referee another silly argument, and I get grumpy when they wake me up too early. I'd rather read Jane Austen than that horribly boring book they chose at the library and now want me to read six hundred times (a giant Vidalia onion in overalls, really?!). I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes and sighing when they repeat the same ninja turtles story over and over. I'm pretty darn selfish, and I don't deserve the kids we already have, let alone one that currently belongs to someone else.
I admit that I didn't include any of that in our family profile. Instead, while I'm scrubbing the baseboards and wiping down the counters, I'm asking that God will keep pointing out dirty spots in my heart that I need to let Him clean. That He will make me into exactly the mother all of our children need me to be. And I pray that next time one of my little ones ask me to read a poorly-written book to them or knock on my door at 3am to ask for a drink of water, that my first response would be gratitude for the incredible privilege I have to take care of our children. And a lot of grace, coffee, and wine to get me through the hard days. *wink*
I refuse to get too stressed or overwhelmed about any step we take during our adoption, because I know that God is in control and that letting my head go to its crazy place will not be beneficial at all anyway. (I admit I have slipped into freak-out mode a few times, but thankfully God hasn't allowed me to stay there unchecked for long.) With that, I've been pacing myself with a steady stream of progress taken one baby step at a time. It's probably not the fastest way of getting things done, but it has helped my own state of mind tremendously by maintaining a sense of calm. Slow and steady, slow and steady.
When faced with the prospect of having our home looked at by someone who has the power to deem us fit or unfit to proceed with adoption, a lot of formerly unnoticed imperfections start coming into view. Our house isn't huge by any means, and when you pair a small space with two furry, rapidly-shedding dogs, it's darn near impossible to ever have spotless perfection. That has been a difficult concept for me to grasp, especially when my freshly-vacuumed floor looks like it's gone weeks between cleanings within an hour or two. So.much.dog.hair! I've noticed the excessive amount of fur and slobber (thanks for that, Miss Beasley) on a daily basis, but now I'm also beginning to see random marks on the walls, cobwebs in the super high corners that I can't reach, spots on vases, dust--oh! so much dust!--on the fans and light fixtures, an especially funky smell coming from the garbage disposal, and so on. I always sort of thought I was a neat freak, but I'm beginning to realize that's far from the truth.
While I was standing on a chair and marveling at the disgusting handfuls of dust I was getting off the fan (which is always on, so I have no idea how a perpetually moving object can collect so much dust!) just in case our caseworker demands to see it turned off so she can count the dust specks, I started to think about all the bits of hidden or unnoticed filth in my own heart. This whole concept of opening up our lives to a new child--one we actually have to choose to receive instead of just having it given to us like our biological children--is rather unsettling. It has been stirring up a number of emotions and realizations that I've got many dirty and unworthy areas that need to be cleaned out and spruced up. How can I possibly be good enough to be chosen to raise a precious little one who will need extra assurance of love and acceptance thanks to a painful backstory? How could any birth mother look at us and think we are the ones she wants to give her baby to?
It's easy to make things appear better than what they are, whether it's our home or our family profile or even ourselves, but I don't want to just pretend my way through this. While I want to win the grand prize of a new baby, I don't want to cheat my way through or mislead the birthparents about who we really are just so they'll pick us. We aren't perfect. We aren't mind-bogglingly wealthy or talented. We spend too much time in front of the TV and not enough time getting gnawed on by mosquitoes in the backyard. I'm far from being one of those supermoms who always have a fun and messy craft project to do with their kids. I sometimes get annoyed when I have to stop what I'm doing to hunt for another lost toy or to referee another silly argument, and I get grumpy when they wake me up too early. I'd rather read Jane Austen than that horribly boring book they chose at the library and now want me to read six hundred times (a giant Vidalia onion in overalls, really?!). I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes and sighing when they repeat the same ninja turtles story over and over. I'm pretty darn selfish, and I don't deserve the kids we already have, let alone one that currently belongs to someone else.
I admit that I didn't include any of that in our family profile. Instead, while I'm scrubbing the baseboards and wiping down the counters, I'm asking that God will keep pointing out dirty spots in my heart that I need to let Him clean. That He will make me into exactly the mother all of our children need me to be. And I pray that next time one of my little ones ask me to read a poorly-written book to them or knock on my door at 3am to ask for a drink of water, that my first response would be gratitude for the incredible privilege I have to take care of our children. And a lot of grace, coffee, and wine to get me through the hard days. *wink*
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
Welcome, September!
I had an adoption update all written up and ready to rest a few days before proof-reading, but then I never went back to edit and post it! So now that one is outdated and will be replaced with whatever this one turns out to be. Sorry to keep you waiting in the midst of overwhelming anticipation like that! (It makes me feel better about my writing if I pretend I'm a well-sought-after author with a huge fan base anticipating my ever word.)
My emotions have been fluctuating a lot lately with this whole adoption thing. I was feeling pretty good about our progress with the home study stuff, then I realized I have to get moving on our family profile (the photo-filled story of our family that will be presented to prospective birth parents once our home study is complete), gathering the extra things required by a few of the agencies we might end up working with, and of course, applying for grants/loans/etc. and trying to raise enough money to pay for everything. All this while already feeling overwhelmed and conflicted about regular stuff going on in life, so I've been a bundle of nerves lately. I've been trying to remind myself to just relax and trust God to handle things in His timing instead of trying to force things into place before their time.
We've all completed our medical evaluations, and Darling and I have gotten one set of fingerprints done. I learned that my fingers are not very cooperative with whatever that machine is called, and I barely have any prints at all. Darling's hands are much better suited for such things. Perhaps I was born to be a cat burglar, but that isn't something that would work out very well with pursuing adoption. Maybe I'll squeeze into a black leather cat suit when I'm ancient, and see if I can steal dentures from friends' nightstands.
Our Amazon link has been getting some use, and has brought in $26 and change in the past month! Thank you to all who have used it and/or shared it, as every bit helps. We have plans for an upcoming yard sale soon, which will hopefully bring in some more funds, and we've been working so hard to avoid eating out. That's a tough one for us, since we love food and are sometimes too lazy to make it ourselves. But $40 or so for a single meal is pretty ridiculous when we are trying to add to our family, so the sacrifice is worth it. Our budget has a lot of fat on it that we could cut, but we have a hard time agreeing on how extreme to go with it. We are planning on taking a final vacation with just the four of us, since some things will be out of the question with a baby in tow, and since we have no idea where we will be living a year from now. I admit that I feel pretty guilty about it, even though I think it will be a good memory-making opportunity for us that we might not have again. I really don't want to be one of those people who asks for financial help while being frivolous with our own money.
The past few weeks have been full of missing our sweet Osias, even though he was already gone this time a year ago. I don't know where the time has gone. We saw the most precious little girl at church the other day, and her adorable wobbly dancing and clinging to/patting her daddy's shoulder was a huge reminder of what we are missing with our precious boy. I try to imagine his little voice babbling and his chubby hands getting into trouble, only to return to the harsh reality that those things will only take place in my imagination. Even the munchkins have been talking a lot about him lately, and I so hate that those conversations usually begin with "I wish Osias didn't have to die." Adopting a baby will probably make us all think of him even more, especially since J has already begun saying, "I really hope this baby doesn't die too." It has given us many opportunities to talk about the uncertainties of life and death, and she is more diligent in her pilgrimage to the "Celestial City" we've been reading about in Little Pilgrim's Progress
so she can join her baby brother someday.
My emotions have been fluctuating a lot lately with this whole adoption thing. I was feeling pretty good about our progress with the home study stuff, then I realized I have to get moving on our family profile (the photo-filled story of our family that will be presented to prospective birth parents once our home study is complete), gathering the extra things required by a few of the agencies we might end up working with, and of course, applying for grants/loans/etc. and trying to raise enough money to pay for everything. All this while already feeling overwhelmed and conflicted about regular stuff going on in life, so I've been a bundle of nerves lately. I've been trying to remind myself to just relax and trust God to handle things in His timing instead of trying to force things into place before their time.
We've all completed our medical evaluations, and Darling and I have gotten one set of fingerprints done. I learned that my fingers are not very cooperative with whatever that machine is called, and I barely have any prints at all. Darling's hands are much better suited for such things. Perhaps I was born to be a cat burglar, but that isn't something that would work out very well with pursuing adoption. Maybe I'll squeeze into a black leather cat suit when I'm ancient, and see if I can steal dentures from friends' nightstands.
Our Amazon link has been getting some use, and has brought in $26 and change in the past month! Thank you to all who have used it and/or shared it, as every bit helps. We have plans for an upcoming yard sale soon, which will hopefully bring in some more funds, and we've been working so hard to avoid eating out. That's a tough one for us, since we love food and are sometimes too lazy to make it ourselves. But $40 or so for a single meal is pretty ridiculous when we are trying to add to our family, so the sacrifice is worth it. Our budget has a lot of fat on it that we could cut, but we have a hard time agreeing on how extreme to go with it. We are planning on taking a final vacation with just the four of us, since some things will be out of the question with a baby in tow, and since we have no idea where we will be living a year from now. I admit that I feel pretty guilty about it, even though I think it will be a good memory-making opportunity for us that we might not have again. I really don't want to be one of those people who asks for financial help while being frivolous with our own money.
The past few weeks have been full of missing our sweet Osias, even though he was already gone this time a year ago. I don't know where the time has gone. We saw the most precious little girl at church the other day, and her adorable wobbly dancing and clinging to/patting her daddy's shoulder was a huge reminder of what we are missing with our precious boy. I try to imagine his little voice babbling and his chubby hands getting into trouble, only to return to the harsh reality that those things will only take place in my imagination. Even the munchkins have been talking a lot about him lately, and I so hate that those conversations usually begin with "I wish Osias didn't have to die." Adopting a baby will probably make us all think of him even more, especially since J has already begun saying, "I really hope this baby doesn't die too." It has given us many opportunities to talk about the uncertainties of life and death, and she is more diligent in her pilgrimage to the "Celestial City" we've been reading about in Little Pilgrim's Progress
so she can join her baby brother someday.
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