Perspective

 



 (Originally written September 1, 2009)

I work for an amazing network of parents raising kids with extra needs.

 

We support new Mom's and families who are experiencing a high-risk pregnancy, have a baby in the intensive-care unit, or whose child has just received a diagnosis of some type of health issue, disability or delay.

 It is the perfect way to "give back" a tiny bit of the support others gave me when my son was born very early.

It seems amazing, though, how everything is interlinked and interwoven in my journey.

I recently visited a young Mom on bed rest in the same hospital that my son was born and hospitalized four years ago.
It was surreal to walk those long halls and enter the familiar room where my son and I literally fought for our lives.

I remember hearing women giving birth at all hours, while I lay hooked up to monitors and magnesium sulfate praying to live; listening to them push and cry out in joy when they held their babies.

So when I entered the room today and saw her laying there, my heart broke.
Showing her the birth picture of my one pound son and watching her face react in surprise and HOPE that he made it (and so can her baby);
it was empowering and healing.

The strange part of this experience was the exchange I had at the "check-in" desk for visitors, before I could go back to visit her.

Waiting in line, I over-heard an adoption agency "mentor" asking questions regarding the "protocol" for when she brings her "mentee" in for a scheduled c-section.  She was concerned about where the "adoptive parents" would "wait" to see the baby.

As the older lady asked these questions, I noticed the pregnant Mom playing quietly with her other young child, who was with them. The little girl was so sweet and cute, and as she walked by we made eye contact.
I looked into her innocent eyes and wondered how she will someday deal with the reality that her Mother "placed" her sibling for adoption. 
 When will this young mother REALIZE the huge life-altering decision she is making? And why aren't there more resources available for mother's like this to receive support, without encouraging her to surrender her baby?

I happened to KNOW this "mentor." 
 When she turned around, I re-introduced myself and we talked.
She is the wife of a former state senator, whose district I happened to live in a few years ago, and we also attend the same church.
I went to one of their open houses and enjoyed talking to her about adoption and the IMPORTANCE of adoptee access issues.
She shared with me her passion for "orphans" and how she someday would like to be involved in helping more than she was able to while her husband was busy with politics.

I guess her "someday" has come.
We are both at a place in our lives with roles of "helping" but with completely different perspectives.

 

As an adult adopted person, my idea of "helping" a young mother does not involve "encouraging" her to be a hero by "gifting" her own flesh and blood, simply because others are married, or have more money, or badly want a child.

The gravity of separation between a mother and her child ~ whether to miscarriage, prematurity, or adoption ~ is profound.

Adoption should never be "encouraged" to provide a child for another,
even if they have waited and hoped for a long time.

Support (in my mind) would involve equipping young mothers with the knowledge and tools to embrace the miracle of Motherhood.

I WISH there were more resources available to pregnant mothers, that did not involve the "option" of surrendering their babies.
When this "option" is included in pregnancy "counseling" it seems to be ripe with conflict of interest and serves only to plants seeds of doubt and low self-esteem in an already vulnerable mother and baby. 

Stranger still is this all occurred not only in the hospital my son was born, but also the same hospital I was born and lost my Mother in, in 1968.
My records (that I have had to fight for) mention "prolonged crying" in the new-born nursery the day I was discharged to the attorney.

Maybe I already knew.

The day I gave up hope of being "me" with the Mother and family God originally ordained me to be. The day that would start the journey of life-long search & necessary healing.

As I experienced this day, I found myself empathizing with the feelings of so many ~ the way my first Mother must have felt (like the pregnant mother awaiting the birth of the child she would turn right around and relinquish to others); the loss her small daughter will feel someday as she realizes the minutes, days, and years she lived without her sibling; and the fear I saw in the eyes of the other expectant Mother, 26 weeks pregnant and praying for one more day, one more month of carrying her precious infant close.
Having to surrender her child to metal beds, loud noises, sharp sticks, and bright lights in the NICU ~ so many emotions.

 

All interwoven and all involving the most primal, important, and profound relationship of all ~ Mother & baby.

My son (born 3 months early) STILL doesn't have a strong sense of self.
His use of pronouns ("I", "me", "you") are all mixed up, especially when it comes to conversations involving me (his Mom) and him.
We are ONE (still) in his little mind, because his development is so delayed from being born premature and being separated from me so early.
Not to mention his anxiety, attachment, and trust issues.
It breaks my heart and reinforces the profound importance of the early mother/baby bond that is lost with premature birth AND adoption.

No matter how many "professionals" (making their living from this 'business') want to gloss it over or completely deny it ~ it affects every aspect of an adoptee's development and life-long perspective. EVERY ASPECT.

If organization skills are really a picture of our inner-life, no wonder it has been so hard to live by the rule I grew up with ~ "everything in it's place". 
 Some things may never find "it's place." 

 This adopted woman's life was forever blessed,
the day I became a Mother. 

 Yet I profoundly felt my son's pain of being separated from me. 

 My hormones screamed for him while the primal inner child in me wept; 
 knowing his cries were for his Mother, and yet not able to hold him in the place we both longed for. 

 My womb. My arms. 

 I shudder with memories of walking away from that incubator each evening feeling intensely broken.

It's taken me 2 hours to write this. 
 I've been blessed to hear a little voice yelling "Mommy" every few minutes ~ my son wakes from napping and realizes I'm not beside him.

Thank you, God, for that voice. Thank you...

Deal?

“What is the price of five sparrows...
two copper coins?

Yet God does not forget a single one. 
 So don’t be afraid...the very hairs on your head are all numbered.
 
You are more valuable to God
than a whole flock of sparrows."
Luke 12:6-7

(originally written in '09) 

Rushing out the door this morning to get my son to school, my hands were full.
It's been a rough few weeks and his separation anxiety looms.

Just like every other morning, I tucked my son into his car seat,
 and turned to lock the front door
(our driveway goes right up to the door,
where he never loses sight of me)...

when panic set in 

Terrified that he would be left alone,
my son grabbed on to me for dear life; 
 completely overcome by fear. 

 

Realizing he couldn't hear a word I was saying,
I finally just settled into his grasp, 
letting him know I wasn't going anywhere.
He calmed down enough to finally get his words out,
and this is what he screamed...

 

"Don't go...DEAL?"

 

"Deal!", I passionately reassured him.
With this, his little body finally relaxed.

 

Falling into the front seat of the car completely exhausted and in tears
...it hit me.

What a beautiful gift.

My precious son is teaching me...
to take the time
even when I feel rushed,
to really listen 
to my own needs and those I love...
no matter how long it takes.
 

Suddenly I felt a wave of comfort...
a flood of peace which had eluded me for weeks.

God's compassion towards us is even greater
than the overwhelming love we feel for our own children.   

When my son struggles, the last thing I feel is anger;
knowing he needs most my gentleness, closeness and mercy.
But how often I'm afraid that God is mad at me
for not being able to fully trust or surrender...
even when I truly want to. 

It breaks our hearts when we see our children suffer...
How much more must our Creator desire to deliver us.  

My Father gently reassures that even when I'm panicked
and not functioning at the level I wish I could...

when I'm fearful or living in numbness,
that He loves me and understands my needs.     

 

Lord, thank you for your mercy and love.
For teaching me so gently.
 

Thank you for holding me
 when I need your calming reassurance..."Deal?"

God's Eye

 

 

On a recent school day I pulled a beautiful piece of Gods-Eye artwork 
out of my son's backpack.
Instantly recoiling, he begged me to put it back. 

 

Surprised, I asked "Why?", he was so upset. 
To me, it was the most perfect thing I'd laid eyes on...
simply because his own sweet hands had created it.
This was his reply.   

"Mom, it is all wrong.  I tried. 
But I just couldn't get it right. 
It is junk!
  Throw it away.

 Even though the teacher kept showing me over and over,
I couldn't do it, so she finally just said,
 
'oh well'  

"It doesn't look like the other kid's, he exclaimed .
It is supposed to look like an eye...not that!" 

 

...and although he couldn't quite articulate it,
"shame" dulled his innocent eyes. 

My heart broke...right along side his. 

 

Holding back tears, I took Andrew into my arms.

 

"Honey, I think it is perfect". 

The way you made it is exactly the way it is supposed to be. 

God didn't want yours to look like everyone else's
because He wanted your art to reflect your story...
and how He took care of you.

 

What did He do for you when you were a tiny baby in the hospital? 
"He healed me". 

 

And what else? 
"He held me" 
Exactly. 

 

My husband and I prayed that God Himself would hold our son close
those long months in the NICU, when we couldn't physically hold him. 
And I believe He did.

"I will offer you peace like a river,
and as a mother comforts her child,
so I will comfort you".   

My son may have felt abandoned in that dark incubator.
 But he was never alone.  

I was always near, experiencing every painful aspect
of his journey right along with him,
 yet he may not have felt my presence as I longed for him to.     
The tubes I was afraid might strangle my son, became instruments of life for him. 
The needles that scarred his wafer-thin skin, brought healing.
That very dark place is where God saved his life.  

 

When we finally came home, after four long months,
all I could do was hold my beautiful child for hours on end. 
And cry. 
I prayed that God would turn it for good. 
That Andrew would somehow feel God's love
so deeply that his heart could heal.    

 

"That is what your art is", I continued..
"It's a picture of Jesus' promises that wrap around our hearts and hold us". 

 

To me, who could see my son's journey in big picture format...it was clear. 
But to him, his art looked like a tangled mess.          

 

Then it hit me...

 

Maybe God wants to reassure me when I feel discouraged, or misunderstood.      

 

"Your story reflects my faithfulness too. 

I've been with you your entire life and have full understanding.
You will someday too...I promise. 
Oh, how I've longed to hold you, my child. 
I am on my feet, hands clapping, 
with overwhelming love and excitement over you...
just like you are your son. 
My heart breaks when I see you hurting. 
Please let me love you. 
I will never, ever stop."

 

The circumstances used by the enemy of our souls
 to frustrate and strangle the life out of us,
can be the very instruments 
God uses to weave our lives into galleries of hope.            

 

All too often we feel like God is far away,
 watching only from a distance.
Life experiences scream at us, making us feel that God has abandoned us,
or is only there to punish us when we don't measure up. 
And we never can. 
Yet He says, 

 

"Peace, Peace to those near and far...
and I will heal them."

 

His eye is on us - yes. 
But as a loving Savior
who longs to draw us into His arms of mercy. 
He will take the tangled threads of our lives
and transform them into a masterpiece; 
if we allow Him to carefully stitch our broken hearts
back together,
piece by piece.    

We can breathe a sign of relief and feel our hearts
 come alive again,
embraced by His promises. 
~ Envelope us with Your Love, Father ~

 

He is closer than a brother. 

The Prince Of Egypt: "When You Believe"

I've been hesitant to write this entry, simply because there is much I would like to express ~ so many layers. I truly don't know where to start, or end.

To begin with, I PRAISE God for TEACHING me that He is trustworthy. Yes, even this adoptee with major trust issues. I cried out and He answered me, in so many ways. One way He has proven His love to me is through the miraculous birth of my son, six years ago. He was born on January 14th weighing only a pound, but was not due until April 8th.

A year after his birth, I was reading the Bible and happened to come across the story of the Passover in Exodus. It said that Passover was celebrated the "14th day of the first month" (my son's birthday!). It hit me like a hammer!

When my son was born we continually spoke God's Word over him, during the long hospital stay. We even put a tape in his incubator so healing scriptures would be playing for him 24/7. Although this adoptee was filled with fear, I asked God to please teach me to trust Him. We believed that the healing power of God's Word would infuse life in our son's frail body (Proverbs 4:20-23). Just like the Hebrew children in Exodus applied blood over their doorposts to be spared from destruction, (hence, evil "passed over" them ~ Passover) we put our faith in Jesus' blood to spare our son. 

It wasn't until a year later, and reading about this account in the book of Exodus did I noticed that my son's birthday was the "14th day of the 1st month" ~ the same day the Isrealites celebrated their deliverance from slavery and death.  I felt like God was telling me (yet again) that He knew when my son would be born, and had Life for him.

My son's due date would have been April 8th, and "WOW" is all I could say when I saw that in today's calender, Jew's celebrate Passover in April. Both dates were covered. God KNEW I would need double-confirmation that it was truly Him who planned my son's birth and deliverance. I write with overwhelming thankfulness and tears.

Adoptees, His banner over us is LOVE, and it covers us ~ from birth, through relinquishment, adoption, and search.

The day after my son's birth, I was sitting in my hospital bed with my Bible open, searching for comfort and strength. Amazingly I came across a scripture in Isaiah 66 which gave just that. It said "He will comfort you as a mother comforts her child". I was in despair, not being able to hold my son, feeling all those waves of relinquishment, loneliness, and abandonment wash over me in dread ~ so distraught that my son was alone, without his mother, feeling the same emptiness I had become accustomed to, as an adoptee. BUT GOD spoke to me through that scripture ~ He is able to comfort us just like our own mother would have, could have, should have. His comfort would fill that need for me, and for my son.

Moses was led by God to return to his family of birth (the Jews). He didn't cower from his "exodus", even though it would have been easier to. He couldn't deny his identity and his heritage. It was who he was. Adoptees can't deny who we are.

God will reveal the hidden things, and set our people free of sealed records, hidden identities, secrecy and shame.

I found my natural family years ago and was surprised to find out that I came from a huge Jewish clan. It has been amazing to find these roots and identify, finally, with my heritage. My son's heritage. God is truly about heritage and family. Even when families were separated (look at stories like Moses & Joseph) God brought reunion, reconciliation, truth, and miracles out of the pain people experienced. We just have to believe.

"The Prince of Egypt" is the story of Moses and the complexities of his adoption, search, reunion, and destiny. It is my son's favorite movie right now, so I've had the priviledge of watching it many times!

Here's just a few of the thoughts I could relate to in Moses' journey as an adoptee. One poignant quote from the movie was when Moses was confronted with his true identity and he fled in fear. He ran back to Pharoah's palace to surround himself with the only identity & familiarity he found comfort in. It took many days for him to slowly "wake up" to his true identity as an Isrealite and realize that the life he had lived was not his complete story.  He finally realized, "I did not see because I did not wish to see." How often adoptee's wander in a desert of isolation because fiercely engrained loyalty issues quench or skew our emotions, rather than being free to live in true authenticity?

In the midst of this emotional upheaval, Moses' burned with anger (a very real component of grief) and killed an Egyptian man (his adoptive heritage) who was attacking an Isrealite (his birth heritage). He couldn't forgive himself, and so he fled from it all into the desert. There, God sent refreshing waters to revive him, and he met and married Zipora, who helped restore his trust in "The Tapestry of Life" ~ in himself and his destiny.  THEN God gave him a burning bush experience and restored his lineage.  It was in both families that Moses' destiny was found, and only after going back to his land of birth was his calling fulfilled. 

Notes and Perspectives

This Mothers Day I am overflowing with pride.  You, my son, have overcome so much, and brought more joy than you could ever imagine, in your first eight years on Earth. 

Eight years ago you graduated the NICU...after 98 days of fighting for your one-pound life.  Heart surgery, sepsis, transfusions, isolation...nothing stopped you, my little One.  Nothing. 

Today you graduated from your first-year "Sing & Play" piano class and played your first solo piano piece...only three notes, but mixed with your sweet voice, it was the most beautiful sound your Mommy's ears have ever heard. 

I wish I had the chance to explain to the other Mothers, but then again, I don't need to.  Don't judge, or even feel sorry for me when my son screamed out for HELLLP!" to find Middle C in the middle of the group piece, or when he wiggled right off his piano bench, and then pouted because he had to move from "the fancy black bench" to the piano with the sturdy white one...

Sweetheart, You FINISHED the class...you held yourself together through all that and more. More than most have experienced in their entire lifetime.  AND you make beautiful music. You are my hero, and I love you more than words can say.    

Never Let Go...

My son was born weighing 1 pound 4 ounces...the same size as the preemie featured in this story. There are no words to describe what we went through.  Yet as I look back over this almost eight year journey, I can see God's grace being poured out in miraculous ways.  More than can be counted.

Their entire story can be read here...worth the read. 

http://www.tampabay.com/news/health/medicine/for-micropreemie-in-nicu-each-moment-is-a-fight-for-existence/1265497

The Bare Necessities

I may go by "Peach", but lately feel like a pile of pulp, dualing a giant scowling strawberry.  Let me explain.  It's 2am and I should be in bed catching much needed zzz's for a 7am wake up.  But no, I'm up, trying to wind down from yet another twilight zone experience with my son's school.  Oh, for the calm days of summer again. 

My son deals with sensory integration issues.  He can't eat at school because of an overloaded sensory system, with no real supports in place.  Even though we've worked for over a year to convince the school of his needs.  It seems that this school feels they know better than pediatrician's, dentists, and feeding therapists.  Momma just sends the wrong food, you see.  Those are the notes I deal with on a daily basis, while I'm exhausted trying to spoon-feed my son ALL NIGHT LONG to get in enough calories to make up for the ones he missed in a six-hour school day.  He is a very picky eater.  We're talking crazy picky.  If it isn't the same blue lid on the same brand vanilla yogurt, he won't touch it, kind of picky. 

So today I happened to run out of it.  And had to send strawberry instead.  At home, I can get him to eat the strawberry (only 2 vanillas come in the package, so we are stuck with strawberry if I can't get him to eat them as well), but I have to tell him it is made out of vanilla milk, not strawberry, and he will eat it and LIKES it.  So I had to send the strawberry to school today and spent the whole drive there, trying to explain to a freaked out little boy that, yes, it is red, like strawberry, but actually made out of vanilla milk, hoping he would still eat it.  Because that is about the only thing he'll eat at school consistently (along with lunch meat).  All the while, I'm beating myself up over lying to my son about the flavor of yogurt.  Trying to figure out a way to explain it to him so he will still eat it.  No wonder I feel half lunatic. 

The special ed. teacher at school (he is mainstreamed, thank you Lord, but needs extra help at lunch, which he is not getting) will innocently mention to Andrew what he's eating, and then he will refuse to eat it.  Juice for example.  We can't call anything juice or he freaks and won't drink it.  We have to call it by another name.  IF the special ed. teacher would JUST COMMUNICATE instead of brushing off these real needs, it could be worked through.  But instead, she sends notes saying "he just isn't hungry".  He doesn't need a weighted vest.  He doesn't need extra time to eat.  He doesn't need social skills groups at school, or significant OT.  He doesn't need anything.  He holds it together all day (on the outside).  Yet he is so hungry and deregulated by the time he gets home, he can't regulate himself enough to eat.  He has meltdowns and begs not to go to school.  He is a defiant little bear.  Then his Momma Bear loses it at school.  By "loses it" I simply mean I complain instead of working smart.  Complaining gets you no where. 

Slowly, this Momma is getting smarter, being taught advocacy by the best teacher there is ~ Necessity.  Finding advocates to come along side, ready to attend meetings.  Yet another stack of documentation, at a major cost that we don't have and could have been better spent on private occupational therapies.  Most of all, we have an Advocate above who has promised to go with us.  But I still lose it sometimes.  I get tired and fail.  And I hurt.

You know what, though.  My amazing son is worth it all.  He deserves everything he needs to help him succeed.  If only I had the energy to write about his strengths, the little things he says and does every day that make us laugh with hilarity and smile with so much love we feel we will burst, it would take reams.  Someday, I hope to have that energy.  But for now, I will just relish those moments and hopefully not let the hard times overshadow the good. 

Side note ~ Speaking of Bears & Necessities, that reminds me of my favorite Disney movie.  I can still remember the first time I saw "The Jungle Book".  I sat glued to the television, with a weird familiar feeling inside.  A little lost boy, being raised to believe he belonged in a world that wasn't his ~ taught to live happily with "...just the bare necessities of life".

I couldn't figure out why that catchy little tune brought comfort all during my growing up years.  When I saw the same movie as an adult, and sat holding my breath at the last scene, I suddenly realized why.  Mowgli, just like adoptee's everywhere, somehow found the courage to cross back over that bridge from where he came, into his own village, his true identity ~ truly spell-binding.  I felt it to my core. 

(Oh, and did I mention I still feel as if I'm trying to communicate with a few chattering monkeys some days ~ no never). 

 ~ Today would have been my first Mother's 65th Birthday.  I wrote this post a few years ago about the significance of her birthday falling on 9/11.  I love you, Mom, and so wish you were here.  I need(ed) you. ~

Lord, please make a way where there seems to be no way.  Thank you for being my Comforter.  Teach us.  Provide.  Heal.  We love you.  Please help us keep the big picture in mind and not get bogged down by every day demands that overwhelm.  Thank you for miracles.Every.Single.Day.  Show us the way of Peace, Father.  In You. 

Naked Summer Fun....and other sundry days

I have never worked so hard in my life and enjoyed (almost) every moment of it, since becoming a Mother to my miracle.

I think this year has been the hardest ~ transitioning into public school. It also took a long time to overcome the early trauma and shock of having a one pound preemie. Much like "waking" up alittle more each year, after reunion. Layers and layers of grief and finally feeling "real".

My son has sensory processing issues which makes everything ultra-intense for him and us. He yells a lot just in trying to express himself and regulate the huge emotions flowing through his little body. He is the most joyous, wonderful person I've ever met. A true fighter and sweetheart. I am exhausted. Literally.

 This is the first summer he will not be in a year-round educational/therapy program, and he has a really hard time trying new things (refuses) so I work extra-hard to reassure him, like extra-hard, all the time. I haven't been able to blog much because of this.

 But this week it seems things have happened so quickly I don't have time to process any of it emotionally, with no time for rest or even to think (literally). My husband works alot and is tired when he gets home, so not much down-time for me, or him. Help! Being a reunited adoptee, I have family all around me, but no help. It is hard seeing friends rely emotionally on their extended family, and we don't have that option. My Mom is in assisted living, and we help her a lot. In fact, tonight I made my annual trip to get Memorial Day flowers, which (as an adoptee) triggers even more difficult emotions. I wrote about that in 2008 in this post.  Reunions reveal deeply buried pain.  Like the waves of the sea, they ebb and flow between avoidance (pain) and connection (courage).  It takes years of perseverance to build lost relationships.  (After The Honeymoon).  

On top of all this, my birth father surprised the heck out of me last week (still in shock) after finally getting together again after many months. I knew he was going through difficult times, but nothing like he revealed last week ~ talk about leaving me with sadness & mixed emotions.

A birthday party at the pool yesterday consisted of chasing my naked son trying to put clothes back on that he stripped off before I could stop him; rescuing him from "going under" in the pool (he doesn't know how to swim yet, and although he was in the shallow end, he got splashed and lost his footing.) This was the first time ever his face went under water, and he panicked. He came bounding out of the pool yelling, "I was going to die, I was going to die" at the top of his lungs. All the while, getting odd looks from kids and parents who don't understand why he is so intense, loud, and anxious ~ and so is Mommy.

We get "evaluated" this summer and I have mixed feelings about that, also. Understatement. I don't want him to be "labeled". Not sure if it will affect our insurance and so many other things. Yet, we are in the third freaking phase of "appeal" for the public school to allow him to repeat kindergarten. Something everyone realizes he needs desperately, yet because he is a "special education" student we have to go through stressful "appeal" processes for the same placement that other students at his developmental & academic level would automatically be given. It is like pulling teeth to get adequate services of speech and occupational therapy in a public school. We so wish we could afford to send our son to a school which would address these needs more appropriately.

There is a school in our city that I've heard children "blossom" at who have struggled in public schools. I can't work right now because of exhaustion and the fact that my son will not even stay with a babysitter (because of anxiety over sensory-related struggles he deals with at school, and then refuses new experiences in the community due to working so hard to navigate friendships, social interactions, etc. at school without the proper supports). All this feels like a vicious cycle that causes stress at home, in our relationships, our physical bodies, and so forth. Lord, please help us. I am so thankful God has brought us this far, and will continue to see us through. Strengthen us so we can walk without regrets, Father. Help us do everything we need to do for our son. Please. I feel so helpless without You.

“Make the most of your regrets; never smother your sorrow, but tend and cherish it till it comes to have a separate and integral interest. To regret deeply is to live afresh.” Henry David Thoreau

 It seems like I am working overtime to teach my son the same things that come more easily for most. But I love every minute of being with him. He is amazing. The other day at the park he was playing beautifully (which I never take for granted) with a little girl who happened to be african-american. A boy from his kindergarten class (and his older brothers) showed up and my son immediately wanted to play with this friend. Awhile later I overheard a conversation between them and although the little boy was speaking softly, my son doesn't have that luxury and was talking very loud about the "ghetto" girl (the other boy used that word and although my son had never heard it or knew its meaning) kept asking "why I wasn't supposed to play with her?" ~ all this right in front of the little girl and her parents.

All I could do was sit there in shock and try to figure out how to resolve this with some sense of grace. I walked over and told my son it was time to go (instant meltdown) and to tell BOTH his friends goodbye. As we walked out of the park I had to explain how that word was not nice and would hurt the little girl's feelings. I CANNOT BELIEVE it is 2012 and I was having to have this discussion with my son. (Think about it, though, here it is 2012 and we're still dealing with "sealed records" in adoption, as well). He felt bad and that led to yet another meltdown because of not understanding.

I was so proud of him, though. His little heart was broken when he realized the depth of what had happened, and he "got it". That meant so much to have this teaching moment and I so hope he will continue to understand social interactions as he grows and develops. His little heart is so tender. I could not be more proud. Even when I'm getting looks from those who don't understand what he deals with sensory-wise. Tears. My heart (emotions) and body are tired but so full. Lord, please give us all a wonderful summer. And all those who read this blog.

A dear adoptee friend wrote me the most beautiful poem this week and I feel like I haven't had the energy to adequately absorb it's amazing depth or express my gratitude fully. So thankful for friends who care and who understand. Bless you.

"Mr. Caterpillar": The Saga

© Photographer: Mkoudis | Agency: Dreamstime.com

It's amazing how every day "life" shares wisdom, if I am just open to listen.

One of my favorite times of the day is when I get to pick my son up from school. We are so blessed that he attends what I consider the BEST preschool in our hometown. Truly. He loves it, is growing and developing, feels loved, and shines the biggest smile both when he walks in the classroom each morning, and when I pick him up in the afternoon. I so wish he could get his college degree from this school! lol

Anyway, this afternoon, after my brief bask in feeling his little arms around my neck in our "pick me up from school hug", my son eagerly lifted his index finger to my face, proudly displaying a smiley face that had been carefully drawn with a marker. "Look Mommy", he excitedly said. "Mr. Caterpillar!" I drew my head back to focus on this tiny miracle of a finger he was so proud of, brought it to my lips, and gently kissed the smiling "caterpillar", which matched the smile on both our faces. What a joy he is.

We hurriedly made it down the hall and to the bathroom for our traditional "potty" stop before heading home. And that's where this tragedy began. In the stress of trying to hurry through the routine and make sure our hands were washed, I failed to take the time to really listen. You see, being premature, my son struggles with communication. He tries so hard, and is doing an amazing job. But it takes extra patience to encourage his voice, his words, for him to get his complete thought out, instead of being overcome with frustration and emotion in trying. Any time we are pressed for time or feeling the least bit stressed, it complicates this for him. That alone motivates me to grow as a person and parent. I take nothing for granted. Nothing. Because he was so small.

But in trying to get out of the bathroom quick, to let the next person in, I hurriedly "helped" him wash his hands and couldn't understand why he was so frantically protesting. "It's just dirt and we have to wash it off," I impatiently exclaimed, as Mr. Caterpillar's eyes and mouth (too tiny and unrecognizable to even jog my memory of the loving moment of our introduction just moments ago in the classroom) disappeared down the drain. Finally able to spit it out, "But Mommy, his eyes!", it was too late. "Mr. Caterpillar" was gone. In the minutes that ensued of anger and rebuke, I knew my son's heart was broken.

I so pray he will learn to more easily cry when he is hurt or disappointed. For his own sake. It hurts (understatement) to imagine what he must have endured those months in the NICU, along with the pain of being separated from his Mother. Jesus, fill him with Your "intensive care" to completely heal his heart and emotions, I pray.

After profusely apologizing, we finally made it out to the car. I rejoiced inside to see Andrew's sweet smile erupt as we artfully re-discovered "Mr. Caterpillar", his beloved friend. Not only did we draw "Mr. Caterpillar", but Mr. Caterpillar's Mommy & Daddy! What a love-fest as they all hugged and kissed in sweet reunion. MMMAUH!

This not so insignificant incident reminded me in so many ways of adoption.
Adoptee's very identities are legally washed down the drain, through "sealed records", yet how many times are they dismissed in the struggle to communicate, when this is such a primal (even preverbal) part of their experience?

Why aren't they heard when protesting "sealed records", or the unethical practice of "adoption" in today's society, which essentially equates to selling humans and sealing their identities from them? The outrageous financial transactions, unethical practices & laws surrounding adoption (fees, marketing and "incentives", and "sealed records") are screaming this truth, if only someone will listen. Thank God for the six US states who have listened (even The Child Welfare League of America supports adoptee access legislation) and passed laws restoring the civil right of adult adoptees to obtain their original birth certificate.

Is it too hard to hear because we are trying to accomplish a different agenda?

Even "Mr. Caterpillar" needed a little help to find himself out of the drain. Maybe now he can become a butterfly!

"A little child shall lead them."

Thank you, God, for such great teachers! Help us all learn to listen, I pray.

Happy Easter 2012

© Photographer: Tomo Jesenicnik | Agency: Dreamstime.com

This short devotional by Mark Brazee says that Jesus went to the cross on the day Passover was celebrated (when the blood on their doorposts kept them alive).
He died "in the evening" when the lambs were slain, as a sign that He truly is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.

Passover was "the 14th day of the first month". As I read this I was reminded that Andrew (our one pound miracle baby, now 7 years old and loves lambs) was born on Jan. 14th at 8:41pm. His actual due date was April 8th ~ Easter this year.

I was, once again, overwhelmed with emotion. Thank you, Lord, for speaking through every last detail of our lives. For showing me that You died, so that we could live. Help me to listen and never give up.

This is also the 5th anniversary of when I started this blog.

Thank you, God, for never giving up on me, and answering my hearts cry to teach me to trust You, even through my many shortcomings & weaknesses.

Behold the Lamb of God

The next day John seeth Jesus coming unto him, and saith, Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world. —John 1:29


When God gave the instructions for the Passover, He gave very specific instructions about the lamb: Your lamb shall be without blemish, a male of the first year: ye shall take it out from the sheep, or from the goats: and ye shall keep it up until the fourteenth day of the same month: and the whole assembly of the congregation of Israel shall kill it in the evening. (Ex. 12:5,6). Jesus fit every one of these qualifications. He was a Lamb without blemish for He’d never sinned. He was the firstborn in his family, “a male of the first year.” There was even a particular time this Lamb had to die: “in the evening.”

The very hour Jesus died on the Cross was the time when Passover lambs were sacrificed. Who killed the Passover lamb? “The whole assembly of the congregation of Israel.” In Acts 2:23, Peter preached to the Jewish multitude about who was responsible for Jesus’ death: “Him, being delivered by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God, ye have taken, and by wicked hands have crucified and slain.” Jesus was condemned by the Romans and crucified by Israel, but He laid His life down willingly for you and me. He took our sin and our sickness upon Himself. He knew it was the only way you and I could be delivered from the bondage of sin and sickness.

Confession: Jesus was the Lamb slain to take away the sin of the whole world. Yet, Jesus died for me. Through Him I receive all the benefits salvation includes. I’m saved, healed, and delivered!

The Declassified Adoptee: The Disablist Nature of Anti-Rights and Anti-Narra...

I've spent the last few weeks advocating with the school system to make sure the proper supports are in place for my son to be able to succeed at school.

He has Sensory Processing Disorder, which affects his brain's ability to process visual, auditory, and emotional stimuli. Loud noises & bright lights can be physically painful to him and it affects his ability to focus and communicate. He was born 3 months early and only weighed a pound. When I remember back six years ago, helplessly watching him endure so many medical procedures in the loud environment of the NICU, I marvel at the miracle of how wonderful he is doing. But he still has much to overcome.

He has been having a hard time, and after several tries, we are hoping that a transfer will be approved for him to attend a slightly smaller, less sensory overwhelming school.

As as an adult adoptee and Mother of a child with special needs, (living it so close right now that I can't even come close to capturing the resulting emotions), it was a treat to read Amanda's post below.

Unfortunately,(especially for those disenfranchised within a system of "experts" who lack personal experience of the needs and rights of those they "serve"), many life-stories never get written except within.

It is with great hope that so many are writing about these issues...educating.

There is a time to stand up.


The Declassified Adoptee: The Disablist Nature of Anti-Rights and Anti-Narra...: Every time I see "mental illness" used as a label with the intention of controlling, negating, or silencing an adoptee's (or anyone's) n...

"What I'd Like the World to Know About My Son"

Could have written this myself...

What I’d like the world to know about my son
August 12, 2011 by shimmerbutterfly

Our son, let’s call him J, was diagnosed by an occupational therapist (OT) a month ago as having Sensory Processing Disorder. Although being alerted to something amiss by his crèche teacher about a year ago, it took us a while to pinpoint how to get help, what exactly to get help for, to fight with our medical aid for authorization, and to just accept that our son might have a disorder.

Seeing as this is brand new to our families, friends and others in our circle, I thought it would be good to share what my husband and I want them (and the rest of the world) to know about our son.

• SPD is a neurological disorder, which means his brain cannot properly decipher the messages his nerves are sending it. It messes with his ability to decipher messages from his sense of hearing, touch etc.
• It is NOT a mental disorder as Oprah Winfrey mistakenly portrayed it in one of her recent episodes.
• He isn’t retarded, slow or mentally challenged. In fact, he is bright as a button and advanced in quite a few spheres.
• He doesn’t have a behavioural problem. When he refuses point blank to do something, is aggressive, or has a ‘meltdown’ it is because he either cannot properly interpret sensory input or he is trying to protect himself from unknown sensory onslaught.
• When he suddenly begins screaming and runs terrified by a sudden noise, he is not ‘acting up’ or being silly. It is because he cannot stand sensation in his ears.
• When he is faced with a new situation and refuses to participate or enjoy it like other children, he is not being defiant or picky. It is because he feels threatened and cannot handle all the new sensory information being thrown at him as fast as other children can.
• When he has an ‘accident’ in his pants after holding in a poo all day, it is not because he is a ‘baby’, it is because his interoceptive (internal) sense still has figure out how to tell his brain that his body needs to ‘go’.
• When he flits from one activity to another like a butterfly, is super distracted, and gets up and does his own thing, he is not ignoring instructions to settle down/participate or is deliberately being disruptive to the class.
• He is not sometimes anti-social because he is shy or because he wants to be a loner. Sometimes he needs to separate from others because they are loud, scary, unfamiliar or there are too many people for his senses to cope with.
• He is not demon possessed. You might be tempted to think so when he’s sick or when he is overwhelmed with sensory information!
• He is not being spoiled or attention-seeking when he overreacts to being hurt and takes ages to calm down. His senses have just been dealt an extra traumatizing blow.
• He is not being irrational or a cry-baby when he freaks out at a seemingly harmless situation or a creature with which he has previously had an unpleasant experience.
• He is not being ungrateful or spoiled if he refuses certain foods. He likes a limited repertoire of textures and tastes he can handle and is familiar with.
• He does things ritualistically because doing familiar things feel safe and limits the possibility of unfamiliar input.
• His condition is not imaginary and there is no quick fix. He will grow out of some of it, and a lot of occupational therapy, love, understanding and prayer will help him to cope with the rest of it.

My son goes through life chronically stressed out and on the defensive. J’s OT described him as ‘clinging to the corner of the ceiling’ – I almost cried when I heard that. Our task is now to get him down to earth and into a tricky balance between awareness and attentiveness.

So this is what my husband and I would like the world to know about our son before they judge him: He is an exceptional little boy – a gentle, sensitive, loving and compassionate soul who is often misunderstood and mishandled because of his sensory issues. He is a miracle of God (born after a difficult pregnancy), an answer to a longstanding prayer (born after 15 years of marriage) and a constant reminder that parenting a child with extra needs is certainly not for sissies!

http://www.spdbloggernetwork.com/2011/08/12/what-id-like-the-world-to-know-about-my-son/

The Tapestry of Life

For there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, and nothing concealed that will not be known or brought out into the open. ~ Luke 8:17 ~

I've been hesitant to write this entry, simply because there is much I would like to express ~ so many layers. I truly don't know where to start, or end.

I thank God for teaching me that He is trustworthy. Yes, even this adoptee (whose name actually means "teachable") with major trust issues. I cried out and He has answered me, in so many ways. One way He has proven His love is through the miraculous birth of my son, six years ago. He was born in January, three months early, weighing only one pound.

A year after his birth, I was reading the Bible and happened to come across the story of the Passover in Exodus.

You see, when my son was born, we believed that the healing power of God's Word could infuse life in his frail body. Just like the Hebrew children in Exodus applied the blood over their doorposts, (hence, destruction "passed over" them) we put our faith in Jesus' blood to save our son.

My son, pay attention to what I say;
turn your ear to my Words.
Do not let them out of your sight,
keep them within your heart;
for they are life to those who find them
and health to one’s whole body.

~ Proverbs 4:20-22 ~

It wasn't until a year later, and reading about this account in the book of Exodus did I notice that my son's birthday was the "14th day of the 1st month" ~ the same day the Israelites celebrated their deliverance from slavery & death. I felt like God was reassuring me (yet again) that He knew when my son would be born, and had Life for him.

My son's due date would have been April 8th. In today's calender, Jew's celebrate Passover in April. God KNEW I would need double-confirmation that it was truly Him who watched over my son's birth and deliverance. I write with overwhelming thankfulness and tears.

The day after my son's birth, I was sitting in the hospital bed with my Bible open, searching for comfort and strength. Amazingly I came across a scripture which gave just that.

"He will comfort you as a mother comforts her child".
~ Isaiah 66:13 ~

I was in despair, not being able to hold my son, feeling all those waves of relinquishment, loneliness, and abandonment wash over me ~ so distraught that my son was alone, without his mother, feeling the same emptiness I had become accustomed to, as an adoptee. BUT GOD spoke to me through that scripture.

He is able to comfort us just like our own mother would have, could have, should have. His comfort could fill that need for me, and for my son.

Adoptees, His banner over us is LOVE, and it covers us ~ from birth, through relinquishment, adoption, and search.

I found my natural family years ago and was surprised to find out that I came from a large Jewish clan. It has been amazing to find these roots and identify, finally, with my heritage. My son's heritage. God is truly about heritage and family. Even when families were separated (look at stories like Moses & Joseph) God brought reunion, reconciliation, truth, and miracles out of the pain people experienced. We have to believe.

"The Prince of Egypt" is the story of Moses and the complexities of his adoption, search, reunion, and destiny. It is my son's favorite movie right now, so I've had the privilege of watching it many times!

Here are just a few thoughts I could relate to in Moses' journey as an adoptee.

One poignant quote was when Moses was confronted with his true identity and he fled in fear. First, he ran back to Pharaoh's palace to surround himself with the only identity & familiarity he found comfort in. It took a lot for him to slowly "wake up" to his true identity as an Israelite and realize that the life he had lived was not his complete story. A distantly familiar lullaby finally helped him realize, "I did not see because I did not wish to see."

In the midst of this emotional upheaval, Moses' burned with anger (a very real component of grief) and killed an Egyptian man (his adoptive heritage) who was attacking an Israelite (his birth heritage). He couldn't forgive himself, and so he fled from it all into the desert.

There, God sent refreshing waters to revive him as he stripped off everything he thought he knew, and he met and married Zipora, who helped him "re-join the dance" and see the tapestry of his life "Through Heaven's Eyes".

How often adoptee's wander in a wilderness of isolation because fiercely ingrained loyalty issues quench and skew our true emotions, rather than being free to live in truth & authenticity?

Moses was led by God to return to his family of birth. He didn't cower from his "Exodus", even though it would have been easier to. He couldn't deny his identity and his heritage. It was who he was. Adoptees can't deny who we are.

God will reveal the hidden things, and set our people free of sealed records, amended identities, secrecy and shame. This time must come.

He split the sea right down the middle so Moses could lead his people to freedom. Adoptee's must cross over their dichotomy of adopted self versus authenticity in much the same way.

Neurofeedback: A Treatment...

"... in the absence of self there is absence of other. He lives as a child or adult within the mirrored reflection of the original infant state, one in which he had no experience of mother and, as a result, no experience of the reality of other or of self."

Neurofeedback: A Treatment for Reactive Attachment Disorder
Sebern F. Fisher, M.A.

In 1939, John Bowlby began what amounted to a campaign for the recognition of the primacy of attachment in the development of the human infant. Near the end of his life, in 1991, he reportedly expressed some measure of satisfaction that his ideas were gaining acceptance. It has only been within the last decade that attachment paradigms have become widely enough accepted to encourage widespread research and an increasing body of literature on theories of attachment and disordered attachment. Attachment research is still under-funded. Findings remain controversial in the field of psychotherapy, and in the arena of public policy, their implications go unheeded.

Trauma May Imprint DNA

Childhood trauma may leave a lasting imprint not just on the psyche but also in the DNA. This news comes from McGill University and the Suicide Brain Bank, a Quebec-based organization that carried out autopsies on suicide victims who had been abused as kids. Across the board, their brains showed DNA modifications that made them particularly sensitive to stress. Although gene variations are primarily inherited at conception, the findings show that environmental impacts can also introduce them later on. “The idea that abuse changes how genes function opens a new window for behavioral and drug therapy,” says study leader and neuroscientist Patrick McGowan.

During periods of adversity, the brain triggers release of cortisol, a hormone responsible for the fight-or-flight response. Due to differential gene expression associated with stress, the brains of child-abuse victims had lower levels of glucocorticoid receptors, McGowan found. Cortisol normally binds to these receptors; with fewer of them present, there is more cortisol and less resilience to feelings of stress.

In his study, McGowan reviewed medical records and police reports and interviewed family members to determine whether a subject was abused early in life. He then examined the subjects’ brain tissues and found that among those who had been abused, glucocorticoid-receptor expression was reduced by 40 percent. “If we can identify how these changes occur, we can identify those at high risk and ultimately find ways to treat them,” McGowan says. (see http://discovermagazine.com/2010/jan-feb/061)

*I've heard one definition of "to abuse" as "to use for the wrong purpose." Adoptees suffer profound trauma from early separation from their mothers, and are then transferred to strangers with whom they share no genetic markers. Their identity and history is stripped from them through "sealed records" laws. All to fulfill the demand of baby-buyers in a billion-dollar industry. This, my friends, could not be a better definition of "abuse."

Research done by John Bowlby and many others have provided adequate legitimacy to the effects of early separation of mother & baby. Scientists are just now beginning to "prove" these early impacts and how they should be heeded for "best practice" reforms. It seems they are just now beginning to impact the fields of medicine and neonatology but in the field (business) of adoption they continue to be dismissed.

Infant-Maternal Separation Has Lasting Effects

© Photographer: Dmccale | Agency: Dreamstime.com

"Separation in early life is associated with changes in

hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal (HPA) responses to stress [38], transient and

long-term changes in immune competence in non-human primates [39], and reduced

maternal-infant attunement [40]. The impact of maternal-infant separation during
the sensitive period may permanently alter affectional ties [23], and may
consequently influence developing organ systems, including the nervous system[8].

 

Events that affect the ability of the mother to attend to her infant shape
the capacity of the newborn to tolerate stress, since the immature nervous

system is unable to regulate states of high arousal. Events occurring during

labor and delivery that may affect the mother or the infant's ability to bond

include early separation, pain in the mother or infant, the use of medication

such as anesthesia, and anxiety, among others [23]. Whereas healthy newborns

demonstrate more rapid returns to baseline cortisol following exposure to stress

[41], babies born following mild obstetrical complications have less optimal HPA

responses [42] as well as decreased habituation and sensitization to stressors

[41]. Maternal-infant separation following cesarean sections is common and

appears to negatively impact quality of maternal-infant interactions [43-46] as

well as frequency of breastfeeding [46]."

http://www.veroniquemead.com/somatic_early.php

 

"CONCLUSIONS: Skin-to-skin contact, for 25 to 120 minutes after birth, early

suckling, or both positively influenced interaction 1 year later

when compared with routines involving separation of mother and infant."

***NOTE: If a ONE HOUR PERIOD of bonding with mother influences

relationships a year later, then what does mommy disappearing do???

My friend and fellow advocate (a first mother) Lori also pointed out in her comment a revealing article from Psychology Today:

An infant, due to the amount of time in the womb, and until the discovery of motor skills such as crawling, usually around 9 months old, is unaware that they are not a physical part of their mothers.

 

*Being both an adoptee as well as mother to a preemie who spent his first four months in a neonatal intensive care unit, reading these studies 'explain' the issues and behaviors so readily apparent in both myself and my son, and also saddens and angers me. Dr. John Bowlby and others have researched the importance of the mother/infant bond for years.

 

Yet both the medical and adoption communities have been either too slow or completely unacknowledging of the ABUSES they have committed against human lives.
Taking an infant away from mother immediately after birth is damaging to a child. Yet it is practiced daily in hospitals everywhere, and applauded in "open adoption", all for the benefit of waiting adoptive parents. Furthermore, research like this is avoided during "options counseling" when adoption agencies spout the "benefits" of adoption in marketing pregnant mothers. These conclusions are certainly not provided to prospective adoptive parents either.

 

How can we call "counseling" provided by the very "professionals" who make their living in adoption non-directive or ethical?
 

I recently attended the "grand opening" celebration of a new NICU in our local Children's Hospital and could hardly hold back the tears touring this beautiful "mother/child" friendly facility. Each room is completely private, with a warming bed/incubator, a comfortable recliner, and even a pull-out bed. The best-practice philosophy in neonatal care is "family-centered" where the mother (rightly) becomes an integral part of her newborns care from day one, including "kangaroo care" (skin to skin contact) as much as possible. I would have given anything for this environment when my son was born. He lived in a "pod" of open space with numerous other babies within just a few feet. I sat for four months propped on a tall bar stool by his side, with no privacy, noise and traffic surrounding us continually. The "alarms" alone were enough to send even an adult through the roof at times. What did they do to tiny, under-developed nervous systems? Just thinking back to this experience causes my heart to race with anxiety.

Last night I snuck away to a women's meeting at my church and then went out to eat with a dear friend afterwards. I got home after my son was already in bed asleep. Mind you, he is 4 years old now and has come a long way after his traumatic start in life. But this morning, he threw a huge panicked fit, ordering me to "GO AWAY!!!" over and over again. He was still reeling from my (just a few hours) absence last night. This is very typical for him and it has been so hard. It hurts me to see him hurting - dealing with high-anxiety and insecure attachment. All because he was separated from me for so many months at the beginning of his life.

True, I got to hold him when he was two weeks old and then on, but only for minut periods of time. Getting to hold him for even an hour a day was a privilege that we didn't get to partake of until he was well past 2 months old. His vital signs calmed, and so did mine. But even that was not enough to give him the foundation he needed. God comforted me with a verse in Isaiah 66 which promises, "I will comfort you as a mother comforts her child" and I literally lived and breathed this to keep going.

I am so thankful the medical community is finally beginning to "catch up" with the known research of maternal/infant health.

 

Yet, the adoption community continues to ignore and contradict these important studies for their own benefit.

 

According to the research above, not only are children affected emotionally and psychologically by being separated from their mother, their physical health is detrimentally affected as well.

This growing body of research can't be ignored much longer. We call upon ethical professionals to take these studies seriously and use the knowledge to change policies and laws surrounding adoption. To protect voiceless children who are caught in the web of a financially, supply/demand driven adoption industry. Even puppies are not separated from their mothers until well after the time of weaning ~ for a reason. Shouldn't human children be given this same respect and more?

While finally allowing myself to grieve the loss of my own mother through adoption (several years before the birth of my son) I wrote several poems. The feelings of a human-being who experiences the trauma of pre-verbal separation from mother run so deep, it is truly fearful to acknowledge and experience them (especially in a society which disregards them, causing further trauma,'disenfranchised grief'). Yet, that is exactly what is necessary to bring healing. That which is kept in the dark and is never exposed to the light can never be healed. You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free. That is why "sealed records" in adoption is a crime, perpetuating painful shame for all involved.

Here I Lay

Alone in the nursery I lay
Cries ring out like radar
Searching, searching, searching
In circles around my bed they reach
Striving to find the woman I know
Her breath, her hair, her touch
No where.

Alone in the nursery I lay
The ceiling so far away
Arms flinging hoping to find
Nothing but emptiness I feel

Where is she? Why isn't she here?
I am lost and alone. I can't feel.
The cries stop. There is no use
She is long gone
She or me? I do not know
Here I lay in the nursery alone.