I was reading on a discussion forum today and started crying. By God's grace alone I was able to respond in what I think was an upbeat manner, we'll see how people react.
The problem was language. The thread was about a potential adoption opportunity in which both of the birth parents have some form of seizure disorder or mental disability, it's hard to tell exactly.
The overall note of the thread was open, honest and good. What bothered me was that a few posters used terms like "suffer from a disability" or "Down syndrome babies".
Have you seen the photos of my boys? Are they suffering? Are they defined by a third 21st chromosome, giving them a title of Down syndrome baby.
These little stinkers amaze me so much. I think of Schmoozer. Born with 5 weeks early with Down syndrome and Hirschsprung's disease (which was not treated until he was 15 months old). Developed Hypothyroidism and has moderate to severe hearing impairment, and deals with Cyclical vomiting syndrome to boot. Yet this little man is so full of life, so ready to give each day his best, so bright and beautiful! He has so many knocks against him, yet he's out to rule the roost and live the good life.
And Bert. Again, born with Down syndrome, his sensory systems send crazy mixed signals, he has to work hard to find a word he wants to use, and even harder to get his mouth around it. But his is such an incredible little person, he brings a smile and light everywhere he goes, and digs in and gives his best, he meets each challenge he faces with eagerness and excitement.
My sons are not suffering with mental retardation. They have not been afflicted, and it doesn't define them. They are children of God. They are beautiful and incredible. My biggest wish is that the whole world could see them as I do!
Showing posts with label adoption. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adoption. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
2 Years of Schmoozer
I adore this kid. He amazes me. He is so full of life and confident, fun and funny. I am so grateful to be his mom. Happy Birthday Schmoozer!
It's funny though. I called Medicaid to find out about hearing aid coverage. (We're all set, no out of pocket expense after private ins. and medicaid YAY!) Anywho, he still has his birth name on his medicaid card. This fact causes me some grief in using it, but I like it that way. For that same reason I have never gotten an amended birth certificate. The Schmooz had a SS# when he came home to us, so we never needed it. I think Bethany was supposed to have done it, but alas, it didn't happen. To be honest I couldn't care less. So when the very helpful young woman at Michigan Medicaid offered to send me a card for Schmoozer with our last name on it, I found it hard to accept. It's only reasonable, but it feels weird.
I think about the Writer and the Prosecutor a lot on Schmoozer's big days. I wonder how their day is going. Though we are in contact, it is by email, and mostly from me, so I don't know much about how they are doing.
I never anticipated that it would be this complicated. That I would have a very real and genuine love for the people who brought my son into the world, and that there would be many times that I would wish they could benefit from the delight he brings us, that they could know him and love him like I do. It's just so complicated.
My boy is 2, and I couldn't be prouder of him!
Monday, December 31, 2007
OK, Here's the Problem
I won't go into the subject of infertility. That is an entirely different matter to say the least.
But, many pre-adoptive parents have certain desires that, in order to meet those desires, a clean, sober, young, mentally and physically healthy, usually white woman must have a pregnancy and choose to relinquish, preferably quickly after the delivery and with no second thoughts. The baby of course must be flawless and newborn.
If pre-adoptive parents had conceived, yes, that baby would have been born drug and alcohol free, and most predictably healthy, one could assume, right? So why shouldn't a family who is for any reason not able to conceive and bear a child have every right to expect to adopt a baby such as they would have if they were able to have a child?
The children that are born as a result of the pregnancy above would likely not need adoptive parents. Given support and help, the expectant mother would likely be able to parent. Given a chance to really explore that option without outside pressures, often she would.
But what about the baby whose mother uses drugs and/or alcohol during pregnancy. Most often, that mother is not fully prepared or able to parent. What about the baby born with medical or physical challenges, the baby whose single mother really cannot properly care for them? What about the mentally ill or disabled mother who is impaired at a level that leaves her unable to parent?
Far to often, fully capable pre-adoptive parents reject these situations, saying there is a better parent for this baby, and hold out for the baby of their dreams.
This is where the rubber meets the road: The baby of your dreams very likely doesn't need adoptive parents. The baby that needs adoptive placement is very likely not the one you were dreaming of.
A+B does not = C
This does not even touch the subject of waiting children, foster care placements or any of those bigger issues.
I'm not sure this cohesively addresses the issue, I'm not sure I got out what I wanted to say.
There's just this matter of women unnecessarily parting with their babies, and families who want that perfect child instead of that child that needs a home. Once you see it, once you open your eyes, it's ugly, it's awful it's abhorrent. It needs reformed. It needs fixed.
But, many pre-adoptive parents have certain desires that, in order to meet those desires, a clean, sober, young, mentally and physically healthy, usually white woman must have a pregnancy and choose to relinquish, preferably quickly after the delivery and with no second thoughts. The baby of course must be flawless and newborn.
If pre-adoptive parents had conceived, yes, that baby would have been born drug and alcohol free, and most predictably healthy, one could assume, right? So why shouldn't a family who is for any reason not able to conceive and bear a child have every right to expect to adopt a baby such as they would have if they were able to have a child?
The children that are born as a result of the pregnancy above would likely not need adoptive parents. Given support and help, the expectant mother would likely be able to parent. Given a chance to really explore that option without outside pressures, often she would.
But what about the baby whose mother uses drugs and/or alcohol during pregnancy. Most often, that mother is not fully prepared or able to parent. What about the baby born with medical or physical challenges, the baby whose single mother really cannot properly care for them? What about the mentally ill or disabled mother who is impaired at a level that leaves her unable to parent?
Far to often, fully capable pre-adoptive parents reject these situations, saying there is a better parent for this baby, and hold out for the baby of their dreams.
This is where the rubber meets the road: The baby of your dreams very likely doesn't need adoptive parents. The baby that needs adoptive placement is very likely not the one you were dreaming of.
A+B does not = C
This does not even touch the subject of waiting children, foster care placements or any of those bigger issues.
I'm not sure this cohesively addresses the issue, I'm not sure I got out what I wanted to say.
There's just this matter of women unnecessarily parting with their babies, and families who want that perfect child instead of that child that needs a home. Once you see it, once you open your eyes, it's ugly, it's awful it's abhorrent. It needs reformed. It needs fixed.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Ready or Not, Here it COMES
I know I've hashed this over here before, but why, oh WHY do pre-adoptive parents get so wound up in what type of child they would accept?
Checklists and questions and what if's. Drug or alcohol use by mom, physical impairment, developmental disability, race, color, creed or gender.
I understand the reasoning behind the agency's asking, but I still despise it. It further promotes an industrial feeling to adoption, and maybe I'm overstepping (but hey, it's my blog), but I really think that people may just be rejecting a chance to really see Jesus.
Since I have said it until my toenails fell of from lack of oxygenation, let me give you another example. My favorite local station is 91.3 WCSG. While listening last week, a key member of our local Down syndrome association sponsored a day, dedicated to her daughter Ruth, who turned 9 that day, and has Down syndrome. I do not have access to the exact words of the dedication, but she speaks of the lessons Ruthie has taught her, of the person that Ruthie has helped her develop into. In closing, she states, "God rescued me through you, Ruth Noel"
I cannot say it better. I was a Christian, a decent ethical person, and in desperate need of rescuing. God rescued me. Starting with Bert, then Rockstar, then Schmoozer.
Had God given me a checklist to fill out at the beginning of my pregnancy with Bert of conditions, which I could accept or decline, would I have put Down syndrome on my list? I don't rightly know, but I suspect I wouldn't have. 6 years ago, I would have told you, hands down, no way do I have the tools to parent a child like Bert. No friggin' way.
Had it been up to my own good intentions, would I ever have adopted a teenager? I know for sure, NO WAY! Not a chance, don't even think about it. I wouldn't have needed a checklist, it would have been a flat "no". Had I known that Rockstar would become ours forever, that she would grow to consider me her mom, that reconciliation would never happen, that I was in this for good, I'm not sure I would have taken her home in those early days, I'm not sure I wouldn't have pushed for her to go with her grandma, dad, or someone else. I would never have believed that I could parent her, not just house her.
I did fill our a checklist for Schmoozer. It was really pretty wide open, by then I trusted God, but would I have jumped in to try to adopt so quickly had I known just what a medical mess would follow? Would I have been so brave as to take my youngest son with full disclosure of all we have been through in this first year and a half with him?
Many people with a house full of healthy kids routinely tell me that God wouldn't give me more than I could handle. It's a cute, pat phrase, especially when you're not living it. God has given me more than I ever wanted to handle, he's given me far more than I ever wanted. He's rescued me, a thousand times over. Each and every struggle I broach with my amazing brood of kiddos brings me closer to Him. Each new voyage is to a place that my Lord and Savior has planned for me.
It is not out of spite that I get frustrated with those who say "no". I would have too. I feel sad for them. I know that God can and will and does work in each life differently, and can and will and does work in those lives too. But I just cannot help but believe that I had more blessings laid upon me than the average, simply because I did not have the chance to say "no" to them. My God has become so big, so real, so amazing to me, simply by virtue of the children in my home.
My God does not fit into any box, nor would I want him too.
Checklists and questions and what if's. Drug or alcohol use by mom, physical impairment, developmental disability, race, color, creed or gender.
I understand the reasoning behind the agency's asking, but I still despise it. It further promotes an industrial feeling to adoption, and maybe I'm overstepping (but hey, it's my blog), but I really think that people may just be rejecting a chance to really see Jesus.
Since I have said it until my toenails fell of from lack of oxygenation, let me give you another example. My favorite local station is 91.3 WCSG. While listening last week, a key member of our local Down syndrome association sponsored a day, dedicated to her daughter Ruth, who turned 9 that day, and has Down syndrome. I do not have access to the exact words of the dedication, but she speaks of the lessons Ruthie has taught her, of the person that Ruthie has helped her develop into. In closing, she states, "God rescued me through you, Ruth Noel"
I cannot say it better. I was a Christian, a decent ethical person, and in desperate need of rescuing. God rescued me. Starting with Bert, then Rockstar, then Schmoozer.
Had God given me a checklist to fill out at the beginning of my pregnancy with Bert of conditions, which I could accept or decline, would I have put Down syndrome on my list? I don't rightly know, but I suspect I wouldn't have. 6 years ago, I would have told you, hands down, no way do I have the tools to parent a child like Bert. No friggin' way.
Had it been up to my own good intentions, would I ever have adopted a teenager? I know for sure, NO WAY! Not a chance, don't even think about it. I wouldn't have needed a checklist, it would have been a flat "no". Had I known that Rockstar would become ours forever, that she would grow to consider me her mom, that reconciliation would never happen, that I was in this for good, I'm not sure I would have taken her home in those early days, I'm not sure I wouldn't have pushed for her to go with her grandma, dad, or someone else. I would never have believed that I could parent her, not just house her.
I did fill our a checklist for Schmoozer. It was really pretty wide open, by then I trusted God, but would I have jumped in to try to adopt so quickly had I known just what a medical mess would follow? Would I have been so brave as to take my youngest son with full disclosure of all we have been through in this first year and a half with him?
Many people with a house full of healthy kids routinely tell me that God wouldn't give me more than I could handle. It's a cute, pat phrase, especially when you're not living it. God has given me more than I ever wanted to handle, he's given me far more than I ever wanted. He's rescued me, a thousand times over. Each and every struggle I broach with my amazing brood of kiddos brings me closer to Him. Each new voyage is to a place that my Lord and Savior has planned for me.
It is not out of spite that I get frustrated with those who say "no". I would have too. I feel sad for them. I know that God can and will and does work in each life differently, and can and will and does work in those lives too. But I just cannot help but believe that I had more blessings laid upon me than the average, simply because I did not have the chance to say "no" to them. My God has become so big, so real, so amazing to me, simply by virtue of the children in my home.
My God does not fit into any box, nor would I want him too.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Adoption Dichotomy
I have 2 adopted kids, Rockstar (actually a guardianship, her father still has parental rights) and Schmoozer. There is this awful dichotomy in my feelings about each of their birth families, that for the life of me, I just can't get my head around. I have thought of posting these thoughts dozens of times before, but my keyboard just wouldn't comply. Now there are three separate posts on the Bethany Boards that have brought my thoughts indelibly to this point, and I feel as if they are uncontainable.
The first post was about an aunt who had very brief custody of a nephew, who now lives with his mommy. The second was from a mom of a 16 year old girl who is pregnant, the third about relations with a birthfather, but the convo turned to TPR and the "proper" triad position of a birthparent.
So first, I started thinking of Rockstar announcing a pregnancy. At this point I don't believe she is sexually active, but I'm not foolish enough to believe that it couldn't have already happened, or happen very soon. Anywho, Rockstar tried to talk her friend into adoption when she was preggers. Rockstar sometimes wonders what her life would be like had she been adopted. I don't blame her. Her childhood stunk by every measure of the word. She didn't know her dad until she was 11, her mom pawned her off on grandma every weekend in order to go party, and brought her to parties and bars in the meantime. She had a string of at least 6 men who she called "dad", each of whom took turns verbally physically, and even sexually abusing her. Her mom was always an alcoholic, but the last 4-5 years delved into deeper and deeper addiction until she no longer even looked like she was trying to parent.
Then there are Schmoozer's parents. Great citizens. The Writer is a SAHM, the Prosecuter is gainfully employed. They are conscientious, gentle, warm people, who chose to make an adoption plan for a child that they had every right to parent, and arguably could have done a "better" job than the Chief and I, and no doubt could have provided more materially.
So where do I go with this. My SIL was a shitty mom. The worst of the worst. Even Rockstar's "good" memories of her mom are of ditching a school field trip with a group of girls to head up to Wal Mart, and of being the hit of the bar as a dart throwing 2 year old. At best she was irresponsibly fun, at worst she was neglectful, abusive and overtly harmful to her child. Schmoozer's parents are stellar individuals, fantastic parents.
Yes, if Rockstar were preggers, I doubt she would choose to parent. If she became a parent right now, I'd bet big money that she'd struggle for a few years, rally, and be a Rockstar of a mom--I think. There is the possibility that she wouldn't cut it, it's hard to say.
Yes, Scmoozer's parents could have parented him, but they believed the job too taxing for them, and wanted for him to have parents who were passionate and excited to raise their son with Down syndrome.
Where does this all mesh in my brain? It doesn't. Schmoozer's parents were responsible enough to know their limitations, but could have parented. My SIL appeared able to parent, but blew it, and who knows about Rockstar, hopefully we won't find out. I guess I just wish this all made sense.
***edited to add***
I guess what I'm getting at is this:
Was it better for Rockstar to endure a tragic childhood and maintain her biological connections to the Chief and his parents, and of course me, or would it have been better to have severed those ties at birth and save a child from enduring trauma that has resulted in PTSD?
Was it better that Schmoozer's parents made an adoption plan, and place him with us because we have a better support system and contingency and guardianship plans, or would it really be best to have maintained that biological connection, and kept him with a family that could certainly have parented, even if finding it remarkably challenging?
Are there any good answers?
The first post was about an aunt who had very brief custody of a nephew, who now lives with his mommy. The second was from a mom of a 16 year old girl who is pregnant, the third about relations with a birthfather, but the convo turned to TPR and the "proper" triad position of a birthparent.
So first, I started thinking of Rockstar announcing a pregnancy. At this point I don't believe she is sexually active, but I'm not foolish enough to believe that it couldn't have already happened, or happen very soon. Anywho, Rockstar tried to talk her friend into adoption when she was preggers. Rockstar sometimes wonders what her life would be like had she been adopted. I don't blame her. Her childhood stunk by every measure of the word. She didn't know her dad until she was 11, her mom pawned her off on grandma every weekend in order to go party, and brought her to parties and bars in the meantime. She had a string of at least 6 men who she called "dad", each of whom took turns verbally physically, and even sexually abusing her. Her mom was always an alcoholic, but the last 4-5 years delved into deeper and deeper addiction until she no longer even looked like she was trying to parent.
Then there are Schmoozer's parents. Great citizens. The Writer is a SAHM, the Prosecuter is gainfully employed. They are conscientious, gentle, warm people, who chose to make an adoption plan for a child that they had every right to parent, and arguably could have done a "better" job than the Chief and I, and no doubt could have provided more materially.
So where do I go with this. My SIL was a shitty mom. The worst of the worst. Even Rockstar's "good" memories of her mom are of ditching a school field trip with a group of girls to head up to Wal Mart, and of being the hit of the bar as a dart throwing 2 year old. At best she was irresponsibly fun, at worst she was neglectful, abusive and overtly harmful to her child. Schmoozer's parents are stellar individuals, fantastic parents.
Yes, if Rockstar were preggers, I doubt she would choose to parent. If she became a parent right now, I'd bet big money that she'd struggle for a few years, rally, and be a Rockstar of a mom--I think. There is the possibility that she wouldn't cut it, it's hard to say.
Yes, Scmoozer's parents could have parented him, but they believed the job too taxing for them, and wanted for him to have parents who were passionate and excited to raise their son with Down syndrome.
Where does this all mesh in my brain? It doesn't. Schmoozer's parents were responsible enough to know their limitations, but could have parented. My SIL appeared able to parent, but blew it, and who knows about Rockstar, hopefully we won't find out. I guess I just wish this all made sense.
***edited to add***
I guess what I'm getting at is this:
Was it better for Rockstar to endure a tragic childhood and maintain her biological connections to the Chief and his parents, and of course me, or would it have been better to have severed those ties at birth and save a child from enduring trauma that has resulted in PTSD?
Was it better that Schmoozer's parents made an adoption plan, and place him with us because we have a better support system and contingency and guardianship plans, or would it really be best to have maintained that biological connection, and kept him with a family that could certainly have parented, even if finding it remarkably challenging?
Are there any good answers?
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Schmoozer's Family
~Quick backtrack for some newer readers~ Schmoozer is adopted. We adopted him at birth specifically because he has Down syndrome. Though I have lots of thoughts and opinions about adoption, they are mostly aired on the Bethany Discussion Forums. This is a "family" blog, so I don't often "go there" with adoption stuff.
Last month I received some photos of Schmoozer's baby sister. You know, those mommy looking down at precious newborn photos. Photos of baby with daddy and big brother. My heart instantly soared with delight. Schmoozer's mom, the original, has been so broken by Schmoozer's diagnosis of DS, and subsequent months of making an adoption plan, and then placing him with us. I am so thankful that they have been able to complete their family, and have the joy of a newborn daughter.
We met them before we met Schmoozer, and though I didn't realize it could happen, we bonded. It is rare for us each to bond with both halves of a couple. The women I like don't have husband's the Chief likes, and vice versa. But we bonded with them. The Prosecutor and the Writer. They are engaging, intelligent, beautiful people. I really want them to have joy, laughter, and wholeness in their home, and I hope and pray that sweet baby girl is a big piece of that puzzle.
But sadness crept in. I want my son to know his mommy, his daddy, his brother and sister. I want for him to be that cute little ham sandwiched between his protective older brother and sweet baby sister. In my unconditional love for him, I want him to have his own family.
Our family is pretty cool. My husband rocks, my kids are amazingly atypical, and ya just couldn't find a better big sis than Beaner.
There's just something in my soul that feels like this is off kilter. Out of balance, broken. My baby has 2 other sibs, and though I hope and pray it will happen, I don't even know for sure if he'll ever get to hug them. It seems so wrong.
We live in a broken world. Things don't always work out as planned, and tough stuff happens. I wanted this adoption to be a good thing. To be best for all involved. No matter how I try to square it in my mind, I just can't believe that it is.
Please don't get me wrong. Please don't think I have regrets. I am certain that the Prosecutor and the Writer would have placed Schmoozer regardless of my part in it. I know that they found no other families with whom they really wanted their son to grow up. I am so thankful to have Schmoozer, he delights me beyond words.
It's just that no matter how much duct tape you throw on it, the break is still there, and needs to be acknowledged.
Last month I received some photos of Schmoozer's baby sister. You know, those mommy looking down at precious newborn photos. Photos of baby with daddy and big brother. My heart instantly soared with delight. Schmoozer's mom, the original, has been so broken by Schmoozer's diagnosis of DS, and subsequent months of making an adoption plan, and then placing him with us. I am so thankful that they have been able to complete their family, and have the joy of a newborn daughter.
We met them before we met Schmoozer, and though I didn't realize it could happen, we bonded. It is rare for us each to bond with both halves of a couple. The women I like don't have husband's the Chief likes, and vice versa. But we bonded with them. The Prosecutor and the Writer. They are engaging, intelligent, beautiful people. I really want them to have joy, laughter, and wholeness in their home, and I hope and pray that sweet baby girl is a big piece of that puzzle.
But sadness crept in. I want my son to know his mommy, his daddy, his brother and sister. I want for him to be that cute little ham sandwiched between his protective older brother and sweet baby sister. In my unconditional love for him, I want him to have his own family.
Our family is pretty cool. My husband rocks, my kids are amazingly atypical, and ya just couldn't find a better big sis than Beaner.
There's just something in my soul that feels like this is off kilter. Out of balance, broken. My baby has 2 other sibs, and though I hope and pray it will happen, I don't even know for sure if he'll ever get to hug them. It seems so wrong.
We live in a broken world. Things don't always work out as planned, and tough stuff happens. I wanted this adoption to be a good thing. To be best for all involved. No matter how I try to square it in my mind, I just can't believe that it is.
Please don't get me wrong. Please don't think I have regrets. I am certain that the Prosecutor and the Writer would have placed Schmoozer regardless of my part in it. I know that they found no other families with whom they really wanted their son to grow up. I am so thankful to have Schmoozer, he delights me beyond words.
It's just that no matter how much duct tape you throw on it, the break is still there, and needs to be acknowledged.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Adoption Thoughts
I have been thinking a lot about adoption again. I have never been outspoken about reform, as I have such a passion for all things Down syndrome, but I am tremendously saddened by every influx of new pre-adoptive parents who are in constant need of the truth, and who just don't get it.
Right now there have been a series of threads on a discussion forum that I enjoy about many different aspects of adoption, and the issues that need corrected. There are many new folks there that just don't want to hear it. After awhile things will quiet again and we will return to pleasant discussion of nurseries, milestones, and warm fuzzy things of that sort.
I personally have grown tired of warm fuzzies, and prefer the challenging dialog that takes place. There is one friend of mine in particular who tirelessly challenges many to think and rethink aspects of adoption that require a bit of thinking outside the box. She is an adoptive mom and professional beekeeper. ;-) She takes a lot of crap for relentlessly voicing her opinions, but she keeps coming back and making a difference. To you, my dear beekeeper, a pat on the back for a job well done!
Right now there have been a series of threads on a discussion forum that I enjoy about many different aspects of adoption, and the issues that need corrected. There are many new folks there that just don't want to hear it. After awhile things will quiet again and we will return to pleasant discussion of nurseries, milestones, and warm fuzzy things of that sort.
I personally have grown tired of warm fuzzies, and prefer the challenging dialog that takes place. There is one friend of mine in particular who tirelessly challenges many to think and rethink aspects of adoption that require a bit of thinking outside the box. She is an adoptive mom and professional beekeeper. ;-) She takes a lot of crap for relentlessly voicing her opinions, but she keeps coming back and making a difference. To you, my dear beekeeper, a pat on the back for a job well done!
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Wordless Wednesday-Best Buds
They are always together. From the time Ben came home, they are always together, for better or worse. This is what I had in mind for my boys, and this is what they choose!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
A Few Minor Epiphanies
First, Beaner is gone. I feel like part of me is missing. I feel empty, lonely, lost and disoriented. While she's been gone, there are adoption discussions on a favorite forum about relinquishment grief, in various areas. I am sitting here feeling all sad and sorry about missing Beaner who will return tomorrow (Lord willing), and meanwhile posting alongside mommies who never get to hold their babies. My heart aches for them.
Second, I realized that if all kids with DS were like Bert, that there would not be summer picnics, holiday parties and outings for the Down syndrome associations because nobody would go. The parents wouldn't take their kids, because it would be so exhausting that it wouldn't be worth going to the party, just like it is for us. I have found an awesome forum where parents of kids with DS discuss these things. I have realized that my son is not a typical child with DS. I am so thankful that we are pursuing help. At the same time, I am thankful for the personality he has, it is a gift.
Third, talking with Rockstar yesterday, I realized that God has blessed us amazingly with harmony and unity in our family during all of the trials of the past few years. With the stress of Rockstar's mom's decline and death, the Chief's parents, Phil and Millie with their alcoholic troubles, Schmoozer coming along with his unforeseen health trouble, Bert and his behavior, and the Chief being away most of the time for 10 months, I am amazed that our family is not in shambles. God has blessed us with ties to bind us together. I am humbled, amazed and in awe of our Father in heaven who has blessed us so abundantly.
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." James 1:2-4 NIV
Second, I realized that if all kids with DS were like Bert, that there would not be summer picnics, holiday parties and outings for the Down syndrome associations because nobody would go. The parents wouldn't take their kids, because it would be so exhausting that it wouldn't be worth going to the party, just like it is for us. I have found an awesome forum where parents of kids with DS discuss these things. I have realized that my son is not a typical child with DS. I am so thankful that we are pursuing help. At the same time, I am thankful for the personality he has, it is a gift.
Third, talking with Rockstar yesterday, I realized that God has blessed us amazingly with harmony and unity in our family during all of the trials of the past few years. With the stress of Rockstar's mom's decline and death, the Chief's parents, Phil and Millie with their alcoholic troubles, Schmoozer coming along with his unforeseen health trouble, Bert and his behavior, and the Chief being away most of the time for 10 months, I am amazed that our family is not in shambles. God has blessed us with ties to bind us together. I am humbled, amazed and in awe of our Father in heaven who has blessed us so abundantly.
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." James 1:2-4 NIV
Friday, August 24, 2007
Coming Together
Things are coming together for both of the boys. Schmoozer is getting an upper GI series and EGD to determine how serious we need to get about his reflux that keeps on giving. Hopefully the doc will tell us that everything looks good and that a few more months of smelling of baby barf all the time is all we're in for, but at 18 months, it's only prudent to be sure there are no structual abnormalities.Bert is more complicated.
The Neurodevelopmental Pediatrician wants a sleep study done because of his erratic sleep and behavioral problems. We also are getting a psych eval and behavioral support from a local agency that our insurance pays for. This is huge, I never thought we'd be able to pay for it, out budget is stretched as it is. This is the end all for his evaluation for autism, and whether or not he is on the autistic spectrum, we will hopefully get the behavioral help we need.I don't write much on it, but Bert is a very hard little boy. If you leave the house with him you are guaranteed to come home feeling like a boiled noodle. Whether it's collapsing in the parking lot, running out the door, kicking doctors in the groin (I've learned to prevent that one) throwing anything and everything he can find on the floor (or at me or another person), or getting so overstimulated being unable to leave that he bangs his head on whoever or whatever is nearest and starts pulling my hair and ripping my glasses off. If he goes swimming he submerges himself over and over, diving and diving. He gets water in his nose, swallows it, gags and vomits, and keeps going. He will do this until he is blue and shaking. If removed at any point in the process, he throws a fit that lasts usually 45 minutes plus. The longer he swims, the longer the fit. For the longest time we thought (OK, I thought, the Chief never did) that he would grow out of it, but at 5 years old and with valiant efforts at discipline, we are still struggling with the same things as when he was 18 months. It is obvious that my son has great difficulty in society at large, especially in large, social situations where he must do anything other than whatever he wants.
At home it's better, but he doesn't actually play with toys. In my several delusional years, I bought him every toy on the market, thinking we'd find one that really got his interest. He plays with them until he figures out how they work, then they go into the toybox. The toybox is where he sits and removes all his toys, bouncing them exactly 3 times on the edge before throwing each one. Then he gets out of the toybox, and bounces each toy three times and either throws it back in, or further away. Sometimes a toy will hit Schmoozer, who likes to sit in on the show. Schmoozer then cries, sending Bert to the moon. Bert starts screaming, and we have chaos until they both happen to stop at once. For entertainment he makes sqeaking noises, like when you hold the opening of a balloon and let the air out through the stretched opining. When he bores of this he goes into the kitchen and opens every single cupboard, the fridge, the stove, anything that opens. We have secondary locks on each door, as well as childproof door knobs. If he gets a door open, he goes wherever his legs take him, whether that is up the road (fortunately a cul-de-sac with a 15 mph speed limit), to the neighbors, accross the field, or into the car. Every babysitter we have ever had has lost him and are scared to try again. The only thing that stops it is TV. TV is my respite. It is the only way to keep him happy without a mess or direct 1:1 supervision. Now you know why I'm always home;-).
Pay no attention to the boy behind the curtain. That is what he is saying as a bit of his inner self comes out. We saw that boy a lot when he was a baby, now we just see little glimpses. I try to coax him out to play, but he never comes all the way out.
If you're wondering why I adopted a second child with Down syndrome, the answer is that I just had to. I don't know why. The child in the paragraph above sounds like a burden. He's not. His hugs are delicious, his passion is contagious, his zest and zeal for life is abundant, and when he breaks through, when you see the person behind the curtain, you can't get enough of him. He's incredible, amazing, delightful. Though Schmoozer is no more like him than Beaner is like Rockstar, I knew that a second child with Down syndrome would complete our family. It is through and because of Bert that I have discovered who I am, what I am best at, what I love to do. I love to parent kids with Down syndrome, it's what I'm meant for.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
2 Years
Two years ago today Cheesehead's mom decided to use heroin again after cleaning up for several months. We will never know what was going through her head, whether is was accidental, intentional or some weird combination, but that first delve back into that world was her last. She died of a heroin OD on June 14, 2005. We found out on June 15, Cheesehead's 15th birthday, her "golden year". The celebration turned macabre before it even started. The myriad emotions we all feel about it could fill a blog for months....
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Phil & Millie
Phil and Millie are my FIL and MIL. If you're a bit slow just say it out loud until you get it. Phil, Millie and I have some inherent differences. Though no parent is perfect, they really blew it, especially with Cheese. They spoiled, indulged, tolerated and worst, enabled her to the point of death, literally. But worse than that, they continue the legacy with Cheesehead. They treat her just the same as they did her mom, and I truly fear for the results. That aside, they are really nice people. They are misguided and broken, but very nice and easy to get along with. I am very grateful that the Spirit has given me grace to love and accept them. I couldn't do it on my own. So now there is a new story, but allow me a few moments to lay out the background.
It started last July, just over a month after we brought Schmoozer home. He had a fever and vomitting and a subsequent bowel impaction. The running theory at the time was that he got dehydrated from a virus, and with the tendency toward constipation, got impacted. I now believe it was a case of entercolits, secondary to the Hirschsprung's Disease we now know he has. Anywho, we were just told to prune juice the crap out of him, and spent our July Fourth week camping at Phil and Millie's with a very sick baby. (Millie's birthday is the 4th of July, so we always have a big shindig.)
As time progressed, we were unable to increase Schmoozer's bottle feeds over 4-5 ounces, 4-5 times daily. He was getting 16-24 ounces daily, which just isn't enough to sustain growth. In January, when admitted for RSV, we realized that he had only gained 6 ounces since November. The hospital staff marveled at the girth of this skinny baby's belly, and repeatedly asked about it. Our pediatrician seemed non-plussed, and told us it was low-motility secondary to Down syndrome and not to worry. Schmoozer lost about 20 ounces during his illness, and was put on Pediasure to ensure that he would regain the lost weight. At my insistence, our pediatrician ordered a Barium enema to check for Hirschsprung's disease. When it came back without the typical tell-tale sign, but showing Schmoozer's bowel dilated to about 4x the normal size, I asked the pediatrician what to do next. We increased Miralax, got him on Synthroid for hypothyroidism, and figured that would clean him out. It didn't, and I got pushy. I called the office daily for help, and finally insisted on a consult with a GI doc. The appointment was set for June 24, and on the chief's recommendation, I called for a cancellation list, getting an appointment with the Nurse Practitioner in April. The NP got all kinds of tests ordered, got us in with the surgeon for the rectal biopsy, and told us that she'd dig to the bottom of Schmoozer's problem and get our baby healthy and growing again.
Long story short, the rectal biopsy came back positive for Hirschsprung's disease, and we have surgery scheduled. This is where Phil & Millie come back in. Knowing that I'm typically a laid back and mild-mannered person, they knew that it took a lot of gumption for me to advocate for Schmoozer. Well, when it comes to my kids, that's the one area where my gumption is in long supply. In this particular situation, being covered by much prayer of family, friends and church family, there were some particular spiritual nigglings that got me farther than I ever could have on my own. So Phil and Millie are pretty impressed with me. Phil, in his grand way, insists that God put Schmoozer with us for such a time as this, and goes on to say that if he had stayed with his natural family that he probably would have gone undiagnosed for much longer.
WHAT?! First of all, the only reason I had to fight so hard was that our pediatrician dropped the ball--the pediatrician that I chose to care for my kids. Second, say Schmoozer had stayed with his family of origin, and still had the impaction in July. Who is to say that the Hirschsprung's would not have been caught by the medical professionals that his parents would have accessed then. To add to that, Schmoozer's paternal grandfather of origin is a Pediatrician! He spent Schmoozer's initial stay in the NICU reviewing records and making sure Schmoozer's care was up to his very high standards, I would assume he would have continued the same throughout Schmoozer's life, had he been able to, and have recommended tests and advocated for excellent treatment. Last, I know that Schmoozer's mom is a smart, savvy, lovely woman, and am certain she would have given him at least as much gumption as I did. So Phil STICK IT IN YOUR ASS!
OK, so that's not a good attitude. He had the best of intentions, wanting me to know that he thinks I'm a good mom to his grandson etc. That's all fine and good, but just don't do it at his natural mother's expense. please.
It started last July, just over a month after we brought Schmoozer home. He had a fever and vomitting and a subsequent bowel impaction. The running theory at the time was that he got dehydrated from a virus, and with the tendency toward constipation, got impacted. I now believe it was a case of entercolits, secondary to the Hirschsprung's Disease we now know he has. Anywho, we were just told to prune juice the crap out of him, and spent our July Fourth week camping at Phil and Millie's with a very sick baby. (Millie's birthday is the 4th of July, so we always have a big shindig.)
As time progressed, we were unable to increase Schmoozer's bottle feeds over 4-5 ounces, 4-5 times daily. He was getting 16-24 ounces daily, which just isn't enough to sustain growth. In January, when admitted for RSV, we realized that he had only gained 6 ounces since November. The hospital staff marveled at the girth of this skinny baby's belly, and repeatedly asked about it. Our pediatrician seemed non-plussed, and told us it was low-motility secondary to Down syndrome and not to worry. Schmoozer lost about 20 ounces during his illness, and was put on Pediasure to ensure that he would regain the lost weight. At my insistence, our pediatrician ordered a Barium enema to check for Hirschsprung's disease. When it came back without the typical tell-tale sign, but showing Schmoozer's bowel dilated to about 4x the normal size, I asked the pediatrician what to do next. We increased Miralax, got him on Synthroid for hypothyroidism, and figured that would clean him out. It didn't, and I got pushy. I called the office daily for help, and finally insisted on a consult with a GI doc. The appointment was set for June 24, and on the chief's recommendation, I called for a cancellation list, getting an appointment with the Nurse Practitioner in April. The NP got all kinds of tests ordered, got us in with the surgeon for the rectal biopsy, and told us that she'd dig to the bottom of Schmoozer's problem and get our baby healthy and growing again.
Long story short, the rectal biopsy came back positive for Hirschsprung's disease, and we have surgery scheduled. This is where Phil & Millie come back in. Knowing that I'm typically a laid back and mild-mannered person, they knew that it took a lot of gumption for me to advocate for Schmoozer. Well, when it comes to my kids, that's the one area where my gumption is in long supply. In this particular situation, being covered by much prayer of family, friends and church family, there were some particular spiritual nigglings that got me farther than I ever could have on my own. So Phil and Millie are pretty impressed with me. Phil, in his grand way, insists that God put Schmoozer with us for such a time as this, and goes on to say that if he had stayed with his natural family that he probably would have gone undiagnosed for much longer.
WHAT?! First of all, the only reason I had to fight so hard was that our pediatrician dropped the ball--the pediatrician that I chose to care for my kids. Second, say Schmoozer had stayed with his family of origin, and still had the impaction in July. Who is to say that the Hirschsprung's would not have been caught by the medical professionals that his parents would have accessed then. To add to that, Schmoozer's paternal grandfather of origin is a Pediatrician! He spent Schmoozer's initial stay in the NICU reviewing records and making sure Schmoozer's care was up to his very high standards, I would assume he would have continued the same throughout Schmoozer's life, had he been able to, and have recommended tests and advocated for excellent treatment. Last, I know that Schmoozer's mom is a smart, savvy, lovely woman, and am certain she would have given him at least as much gumption as I did. So Phil STICK IT IN YOUR ASS!
OK, so that's not a good attitude. He had the best of intentions, wanting me to know that he thinks I'm a good mom to his grandson etc. That's all fine and good, but just don't do it at his natural mother's expense. please.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Look to Your Left
You see that link (about how we hooked up with schmoozer)? It was about a year and a half ago that I first saw that page. I clicked a link on the DSAWM links page.
We had been thinking about adopting, especially me. I wanted another baby, yep, baby lust. We had ruled out another planned pregnancy since Chief was scared to death of childbirth after Bert entered the world. We had looked into international, but the expense and/or travel was a lot. So I called Robin, then called the Bethany Foster Care licenser to see if our homestudy would convert to domestic adoption. With a few simple updates, we could be domestic adoption ready. We had decided to pray on it until January.
January came and the chief wasn't mentioning another kid. Though I woke up January first ready to jump in with both feet, I knew that if I pushed an agenda it would just be my agenda, so I chilled on it for a bit.
OK so a little bit was only a couple of weeks. I talked to Robin again, and found out the wait was typical of domestic infant adoption. Any time period from a month to a year or more. So I ran it by the chief in a very non-chalant, non-agenda-pushing kind of way, and he said we could give it 6 months, and then if we weren't place, we would consider our family complete. I already had the paperwork complete, so off it was sent.
February 15, 2006; Robin calls and starts yatting away about us being Jewish and how cool that was because we matched all the other criteria this family had, and since they were Jewish how fantastic is it that we are Jewish too, and how great is all of this! I didn't want to stop her. I wanted her to think that we were the perfect family for this baby, but since I kind of figured that religious background was a fundamental issue, I interrupted and sheepishly and told her that we are neither ethnically or religiously Jewish, and figured the phone call was over.
But lo and behold, that wasn't a fundamental issue, just a convenience issue. AHA, I was getting a baby!
Is it ever really that easy? No, it's a journey.
So my undies are all up in a bundle since I had this big sisters trip to Germany planned at the end of February, and could we get him after that, and what else do I need to get done, and da-dat-da-dat-da.
Dear Birthmother letter? What on earth is that? Oh, just write a letter about why I'm adopting and introduce the bunch of us to this lady. I did it in an hour or so, and emailed it right away. It was off the cuff, and from the heart. I figured this mom would never give her baby to this bunch of podunk looney toons, but what the hey.
She liked it, she really liked it! I must've done good. So now what, do I get to go get the kid, I have to get my plans going for after my trip to Germany, man.
Off to Germany I fly with no set plans. Oh well, back burner, baby's in the hospital still, nothing I can do anyway. I have a great time acting like a teenager with my incredible sisters and lovely niece, and come home expecting all the t's crossed and i's dotted for me to get the baby.
But alas, no news at all. OK, I've never claimed to be patient, but I finally realized about 3 weeks after the initial call that my time line was just not factored into this equation.
S, schmoozer's mom, emailed me a few times, then wanted to set up a phone call. We set a day and time, and I was fit to be tied. I couldn't understand why this married couple with all sorts of worldly advantages would place a child with me, and I thought most certainly that if I didn't blow the whole gig out of the water, that my blunt and frank husband would. But we hit it off. Like big time! These were really nice people, and we realized right away that we were a lot alike. This was the end of March, and I figured we'd be off to get baby the following week.
Instead I got another email. S and J had made up a list of critical questions. Some were whimsical, like my favorite memories of each of my family members, and many were serious, like guardianship, estate, and life insurance stuff. There were 12 questions, and I answered them 2 at a time. It took a week. There were some questions I was certain I would "fail" at. Guardianship--we have nothing official and J, schmoozer's dad, is an attorney, so that would blow us out of the water. There were a few others too.
Again, they liked our answers. Not because we have it all together in a nice neat document, but because we care and were honest. Amazing, simply amazing.
Another phone call was set up, and Chief-boy there confronted me. He told me that he thought schmoozer's parents could and should parent him, and that we needed to tell them that. UGH! Why on earth did I have to marry a man with an inner compass?! But shit-the-bed, he's right!
This conversation started out much like the first. They asked more detailed questions about raising our son with DS. I told them how much I love it. I told them it's the most rewarding thing in the world. I told them they could do it. I told them it would be OK if they parented, and that either way, we were at peace with whatever happened. The chief was proud of me.
We had been thinking about adopting, especially me. I wanted another baby, yep, baby lust. We had ruled out another planned pregnancy since Chief was scared to death of childbirth after Bert entered the world. We had looked into international, but the expense and/or travel was a lot. So I called Robin, then called the Bethany Foster Care licenser to see if our homestudy would convert to domestic adoption. With a few simple updates, we could be domestic adoption ready. We had decided to pray on it until January.
January came and the chief wasn't mentioning another kid. Though I woke up January first ready to jump in with both feet, I knew that if I pushed an agenda it would just be my agenda, so I chilled on it for a bit.
OK so a little bit was only a couple of weeks. I talked to Robin again, and found out the wait was typical of domestic infant adoption. Any time period from a month to a year or more. So I ran it by the chief in a very non-chalant, non-agenda-pushing kind of way, and he said we could give it 6 months, and then if we weren't place, we would consider our family complete. I already had the paperwork complete, so off it was sent.
February 15, 2006; Robin calls and starts yatting away about us being Jewish and how cool that was because we matched all the other criteria this family had, and since they were Jewish how fantastic is it that we are Jewish too, and how great is all of this! I didn't want to stop her. I wanted her to think that we were the perfect family for this baby, but since I kind of figured that religious background was a fundamental issue, I interrupted and sheepishly and told her that we are neither ethnically or religiously Jewish, and figured the phone call was over.
But lo and behold, that wasn't a fundamental issue, just a convenience issue. AHA, I was getting a baby!
Is it ever really that easy? No, it's a journey.
So my undies are all up in a bundle since I had this big sisters trip to Germany planned at the end of February, and could we get him after that, and what else do I need to get done, and da-dat-da-dat-da.
Dear Birthmother letter? What on earth is that? Oh, just write a letter about why I'm adopting and introduce the bunch of us to this lady. I did it in an hour or so, and emailed it right away. It was off the cuff, and from the heart. I figured this mom would never give her baby to this bunch of podunk looney toons, but what the hey.
She liked it, she really liked it! I must've done good. So now what, do I get to go get the kid, I have to get my plans going for after my trip to Germany, man.
Off to Germany I fly with no set plans. Oh well, back burner, baby's in the hospital still, nothing I can do anyway. I have a great time acting like a teenager with my incredible sisters and lovely niece, and come home expecting all the t's crossed and i's dotted for me to get the baby.
But alas, no news at all. OK, I've never claimed to be patient, but I finally realized about 3 weeks after the initial call that my time line was just not factored into this equation.
S, schmoozer's mom, emailed me a few times, then wanted to set up a phone call. We set a day and time, and I was fit to be tied. I couldn't understand why this married couple with all sorts of worldly advantages would place a child with me, and I thought most certainly that if I didn't blow the whole gig out of the water, that my blunt and frank husband would. But we hit it off. Like big time! These were really nice people, and we realized right away that we were a lot alike. This was the end of March, and I figured we'd be off to get baby the following week.
Instead I got another email. S and J had made up a list of critical questions. Some were whimsical, like my favorite memories of each of my family members, and many were serious, like guardianship, estate, and life insurance stuff. There were 12 questions, and I answered them 2 at a time. It took a week. There were some questions I was certain I would "fail" at. Guardianship--we have nothing official and J, schmoozer's dad, is an attorney, so that would blow us out of the water. There were a few others too.
Again, they liked our answers. Not because we have it all together in a nice neat document, but because we care and were honest. Amazing, simply amazing.
Another phone call was set up, and Chief-boy there confronted me. He told me that he thought schmoozer's parents could and should parent him, and that we needed to tell them that. UGH! Why on earth did I have to marry a man with an inner compass?! But shit-the-bed, he's right!
This conversation started out much like the first. They asked more detailed questions about raising our son with DS. I told them how much I love it. I told them it's the most rewarding thing in the world. I told them they could do it. I told them it would be OK if they parented, and that either way, we were at peace with whatever happened. The chief was proud of me.
I didn't know it until later, but the main reason it took so long for schmoozer's parents to make their plan was because these highly educated people had made a research project out of their decision. They had spoken with parents who parented, parents who placed, and had a fantastic birthparent counselor who helped them work through this info and make a real decision. This agency really helped this couple make a their own choice.
So, they were still in the a-parent picking process when they signed the paperwork. Maryland adoption laws have a 30 day revocation, during which schmoozer's parents chose us to adopt schmoozer. We met them and were shocked at the connection. We met him, and then met them again. My sweet chief cried for Ben's mom, and we left to wait for Interstate Compact.
We went back to get schmoozer on May 25, 2006. I had told his parents that I would be grinning ear to ear that day, but I could hardly speak. We walked the same streets from the Metro to the agency that we had walked with his parents. We ate lunch at the same restaurant in which we had dined with Ben's mom and dad. It was like one of those horrible deja vu movies. It sucked.
I did enjoy seeing schmoozer. I did enjoy holding him on the plane, but it had a bitter aftertaste.
We got home, settled in, and started life as a family of six. I haven't heard from S since, she chooses not to respond to my emails and letters.
So, they were still in the a-parent picking process when they signed the paperwork. Maryland adoption laws have a 30 day revocation, during which schmoozer's parents chose us to adopt schmoozer. We met them and were shocked at the connection. We met him, and then met them again. My sweet chief cried for Ben's mom, and we left to wait for Interstate Compact.
We went back to get schmoozer on May 25, 2006. I had told his parents that I would be grinning ear to ear that day, but I could hardly speak. We walked the same streets from the Metro to the agency that we had walked with his parents. We ate lunch at the same restaurant in which we had dined with Ben's mom and dad. It was like one of those horrible deja vu movies. It sucked.
I did enjoy seeing schmoozer. I did enjoy holding him on the plane, but it had a bitter aftertaste.
We got home, settled in, and started life as a family of six. I haven't heard from S since, she chooses not to respond to my emails and letters.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
alrightly then
Yep, I said that my blog was about adoption, but I really haven't "gone there" yet. Quite frankly, I'm having trouble figuring out where to begin. I guess I'll start at the beginning, where else?
It was a sunny Saturday in November, 2003. We were on our way to Red Lobster, me, the chief, Bert and Bean. We were a cute little family, just the 4 of us. We were enjoying our day. The chief was in K9 school with his police dog during the week, so we had plans for family time for the weekend.
Everything changed with the ring of a phone. From about the time Beaner was born these phone calls had come. The chief's sister, we'll call her Cheese, since she's Cheesehead's mom, was quite the trouble maker. Her parents would get into a predicament with her that they could no longer handle, and call the chief for help. (He's called the chief for a reason). This time she was arrested for coke possession. The chief went and handled it, and we had 2 more kids for a few weeks. (Cheesehead's sister, Goober, came too at that time).
So time goes by, Cheese gets out of jail and sends her husband, Mush to get the kids even though CPS had strongly advised them to leave the kids here so they could get their act together. There was a time gap until January, when Cheese was so far gone that she couldn't hold anything together anymore. Off went the chief one more time. This time Goober's bio dad, Mush got her after a week, but we kept Cheesehead. CPS finally got around to filing a case, and off to court everyone went.
It was a bumpy ride. Cheese was in and out of jail, got preggers, used crack and heroine during the pregnancy, went to rehab, gave birth, got an apartment, started using again, and then, in June of 2005, died of a heroine overdose. The baby is Goober's bio sis, and they are both with their bio dad, who is now remarried. Cheesehead's bio dad wasn't much of a part of her life, they met when she was 12, so she stayed. She's still here.
So I inherited a child. She calls me "mom" now. She's a good kid, but there's a circus going on in her head, courtesy of Cheese. The more I find out, the more appalled I am at what she's been through, and the more appalled I am that we didn't do more for her sooner. Is it a good enough excuse that we just didn't realize how crappy it was?
Legally we have guardianship, but in reality she is adopted. She is ours. I look forward to being called "grandma" long before my contemporaries, courtesy of Cheesehead. I look forward to years of family gatherings with her and her husband and children.
It is weird, raising another person's teenager. It is weird that this kid is nothing like me, her nature and nurture were nothing like me until she came into my house. I used to think she should be grateful to me. Really, seriously grateful. Now I'm ashamed of that. Should she be grateful to me for changing everything she's ever known? Should she be grateful to me for imposing rules that don't make sense to her? Should she be grateful to me that she had to leave behind nearly every vestige of her life with her mom? Should she be grateful to me for having to try to learn "virtues" that have never have been useful to her before, and she can't see how on earth they could possibly benefit her now? Should she be grateful to me for making her go to school every single day after she had missed more than half of the two school years before she lived here and was so far behind that she still has gaps in her education? Should she be grateful to me for making her un-learn everything that helped her survive for 13 years, and making her re-learn my way?
Quite frankly I'm amazed at how well she's done at that. At how she gets up every day and faces school and me and the chief and her past and her future, and does so with a smile. I'm amazed that she's flexible enough to make all of those crazy changes we imposed on her, and to suck it up when we punished her for using her survival techniques in our home (like lying and cheating in school). She just keeps plugging away, and trying to become everything she was created to be. She rocks!
So, if you're tempted to pat me on the back for taking in this teenager, move your hand over a bit, and pat her on the back. Pat her on the back for adapting to a whole different way of life, and for putting her best into everything, despite every knock she had against her.
And while you're at it, stand back, cuz she's headed somewhere. Step out of her way, and watch her go!
It was a sunny Saturday in November, 2003. We were on our way to Red Lobster, me, the chief, Bert and Bean. We were a cute little family, just the 4 of us. We were enjoying our day. The chief was in K9 school with his police dog during the week, so we had plans for family time for the weekend.
Everything changed with the ring of a phone. From about the time Beaner was born these phone calls had come. The chief's sister, we'll call her Cheese, since she's Cheesehead's mom, was quite the trouble maker. Her parents would get into a predicament with her that they could no longer handle, and call the chief for help. (He's called the chief for a reason). This time she was arrested for coke possession. The chief went and handled it, and we had 2 more kids for a few weeks. (Cheesehead's sister, Goober, came too at that time).
So time goes by, Cheese gets out of jail and sends her husband, Mush to get the kids even though CPS had strongly advised them to leave the kids here so they could get their act together. There was a time gap until January, when Cheese was so far gone that she couldn't hold anything together anymore. Off went the chief one more time. This time Goober's bio dad, Mush got her after a week, but we kept Cheesehead. CPS finally got around to filing a case, and off to court everyone went.
It was a bumpy ride. Cheese was in and out of jail, got preggers, used crack and heroine during the pregnancy, went to rehab, gave birth, got an apartment, started using again, and then, in June of 2005, died of a heroine overdose. The baby is Goober's bio sis, and they are both with their bio dad, who is now remarried. Cheesehead's bio dad wasn't much of a part of her life, they met when she was 12, so she stayed. She's still here.
So I inherited a child. She calls me "mom" now. She's a good kid, but there's a circus going on in her head, courtesy of Cheese. The more I find out, the more appalled I am at what she's been through, and the more appalled I am that we didn't do more for her sooner. Is it a good enough excuse that we just didn't realize how crappy it was?
Legally we have guardianship, but in reality she is adopted. She is ours. I look forward to being called "grandma" long before my contemporaries, courtesy of Cheesehead. I look forward to years of family gatherings with her and her husband and children.
It is weird, raising another person's teenager. It is weird that this kid is nothing like me, her nature and nurture were nothing like me until she came into my house. I used to think she should be grateful to me. Really, seriously grateful. Now I'm ashamed of that. Should she be grateful to me for changing everything she's ever known? Should she be grateful to me for imposing rules that don't make sense to her? Should she be grateful to me that she had to leave behind nearly every vestige of her life with her mom? Should she be grateful to me for having to try to learn "virtues" that have never have been useful to her before, and she can't see how on earth they could possibly benefit her now? Should she be grateful to me for making her go to school every single day after she had missed more than half of the two school years before she lived here and was so far behind that she still has gaps in her education? Should she be grateful to me for making her un-learn everything that helped her survive for 13 years, and making her re-learn my way?
Quite frankly I'm amazed at how well she's done at that. At how she gets up every day and faces school and me and the chief and her past and her future, and does so with a smile. I'm amazed that she's flexible enough to make all of those crazy changes we imposed on her, and to suck it up when we punished her for using her survival techniques in our home (like lying and cheating in school). She just keeps plugging away, and trying to become everything she was created to be. She rocks!
So, if you're tempted to pat me on the back for taking in this teenager, move your hand over a bit, and pat her on the back. Pat her on the back for adapting to a whole different way of life, and for putting her best into everything, despite every knock she had against her.
And while you're at it, stand back, cuz she's headed somewhere. Step out of her way, and watch her go!
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WONDER WOMAN!
