The Post Visit Slump

Anyone else get that? I always have about a week after a visit where life just takes a nose dive. It's always a whirlwind visit. The emotions leading up to it, the different emotions during the visit, and then the culmination of it all afterwards is almost too much. It makes me want to find a cave somewhere that I can just be alone and process life. But life goes on. The next day is too full, as is the day after that, and the day after that. Even on the busy days, though, I still feel those emotions. They are like a little rubber bouncy ball going from the tips of my toes all the way up to my brain -- jolting everything in me with each bounce. I guess they don't want me to forget they are there -- waiting to be dealt with. Lucky me.

The visits are always nice -- don't get me wrong. I cherish them! And I especially cherish the one I had last weekend. It was sacred alone time with just my son. The very thing I have waited 8 years for. It was pure heaven. And pure hell. This is the part of life that I have to take captive -- my thoughts -- and re-align it with Christ. Every single time. If I don't do that, all the what-if's and the could-have-been's would just eat me alive. I look into my son's eyes and nothing else matters. We talk as if nothing is abnormal about our situation. All weirdness melts away and we are just two souls, sorting through the ties that bind us. But see, I bought into a huge lie at the start of my adoption journey. It was a lie I repeated over and over again. "I am giving him a better life," I told myself. As time has gone on, I have accepted that even at the lowest point of my life, I was giving my kids a good life. I didn't give my son a better life by choosing adoption for him. I just gave him a different life. I heard a fellow birthmother say this a few years back and I have not stopped thinking of it since. It really is true. I know it isn't the case for every situation, but here it is. All the things I wanted for my birth son, God provided right here in my own home.

I think we all, as birthmothers, hit a point where we look at our lives and think, "I could have..." I have thought it many times already and I'm sure I will more in the future. The control freak in me starts to obsess about all the details of life -- not just in adoption either -- and I have to stop, breathe, and remember. I have to call my thoughts in to obedience. I have to remember the prayer and gut-wrenching raw, honest pleading I did with Christ. Life is messy, man. It's rough. And just when the ocean seems calm, new turbulence begins to develop. If I'm standing in the sand, my progress is washed away with each crashing wave. If I stand on the Rock, no matter the wave, my progress rests on a solid foundation until the storm passes.

I chose adoption in obedience to Christ. I will stick to it in obedience to Christ because my ways are not His ways and my thoughts are not His thoughts. Thank God.

We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.   2 Cor. 10:5 ESV

Prophetic Words Spoken Over My Teenage Self

In the summer of 1995 my Grandma drug myself and my friend to hear a man by the name of James Spencer speak. I was 17 at the time and absolutely did not want to be there. However, my Grandma loved to torture me back then. On a side note, all that "torture" was really God's prep work in my life. Anyway, there I was in a conference room full of people just waiting for it to be over with. I was trying to be inconspicuous, but God singled me out. From my perspective, it seemed James Spencer honed in on me randomly and wouldn't let go. By the end of it all, I remember crying, accepting the Lord, and I remember him speaking what would end up being prophetic words over my life. He told me "God had big plans for me". Some would say this is just a vague reference, that could be said of anyone. I get it. I really wanted that to be true and I held it tightly in my heart all these years; often telling the story after I saw my conversion in the Lord begin to happen. When he spoke those words, I couldn't imagine it being true but I held fast to it anyway!

The next month, my Grandma told me Mr. Spencer had written about our encounter in his newsletter. I don't remember caring a whole lot and by then was probably already back to my old ways but I've never forgotten about his newsletter either. As I grew in my relationship with Christ, I began to get more and more curious as to what it was he wrote about me.

 I was speaking of Mr. Spencer this past weekend with some friends and it got me thinking. I began to wonder if I could contact him and get a copy of his writing. It was nearly 18 years ago for one, and for two he would have to remember something about it to be able to recall it. "What are the chances of that," I asked myself. Well, yesterday I decided to give it a shot. I looked him up, shot him an email briefly describing our encounter and had a response from him within a few hours.

He recalled that night vividly! He said he wept when he wrote it and he wept when he revisited it yesterday just seeing God at work! I know I've said this before but when God writes a story, He writes a story! Now I can look back on a day in my life and gain heavenly perspective written by a mere human who dared to be the hands and feet of God in my own life. The story immediately dropped me back into the dark place I resided in at the time, but more than that, it filled me with overwhelming joy at God's redemptive powers and the restoration he provides in our lives regardless of how many times we fall or how broken we are.
Take a peek into a day in my teenage life written by James Spencer, author, speaker, hands and feet of Jesus:

The turn out in Twin Falls was small and the audience was tired.  So was I.  Have you ever tried to dig up concrete?

          Don’t get me wrong, these were good people in a good church with a good pastor.  But it was hard that Sunday night just this past month.

          Before the meeting a woman came up to me, escorted by two teen-age girls.  “I saw you when you were in Buhl,” the woman said.  One of the girls obviously was her daughter.  The other one hung back and looked at the floor.

          As I began to preach my prepared text, I was struck by how bored we all were.  The congregation was bored, the pastor was bored, and I was bored.

          That’s when I knew something was up.

          See, I am not bored about preaching the gospel.  Neither is the pastor nor his people.  But that night we were.  Hello?

          When the kitchen sink comes flying through the window—when the devil is working overtime—its time to get excited!  Something is up.  Opportunity is afoot.

          I didn’t know what was up.  But I have been preaching long enough to know when to shift gears.  I began to pray in the Spirit, even as I preached.  What’s going on here, Lord?  What are you trying to do?  Where should I go?

          I began shuffling the deck.  Searching the faces of the people as I allowed God to move me through several ideas in rapid succession.  I was fishing.  I was looking for direction.  Then it came.

          I saw the young girl in the back, sitting hunched over, face to the floor.  The devil wants to keep her in bondage!

          I swung into a salvation message.  At that point I didn’t care about anybody else in the meeting.  Although I didn’t look at her, I preached to her.  (Nothing obvious, no one in the room knew what was going on.  I doubt that even she knew I was focusing on her.)

          You was unmoved by my preaching.  However, the congregation woke up.  I woke up.

          The pastor looked at me like he knew I suddenly knew where I was going.

          When I gave the altar call, several responded, but not my girl.  I prolonged the invitation.  “Don’t let this moment pass.  Don’t leave here and allow the sensitivity you are feeling in your heart dissolve away.”

          Still nothing.  Eventually I had to bring the meeting to a close.

          However, the pastor and I (who work very closely together in the Spirit) both knew the meeting wasn’t over.  He led the congregation in a couple more choruses.

          He called a man out of the congregation and we prayed for him.  We prayed for a family in which the grandparents were raising three grandchildren because the mother was unable to do so at this time in her life.  As we prayed for the children, they began to weep.

          Suddenly, I had eyes in the back of my head.  What I mean is that in the Spirit, I saw my teen-age girl who was seated several rows behind where I was standing.  I turned around and she was still sitting with her face lowered to the floor.

          Do you know you can be in the flesh, even at these moments?  I knew I should go back to where she was.  The draw was almost irresistible.  Is it just my pastor’s heart?  Will I make the situation even worse by publicly embarrassing her?  Will I simply harden her to further ministry?

          I walked back to her and said, “Miss, stand up.”  She stood up but looked at the floor.  Is she a hard case?

          “Miss,” I said.  “Have you accepted Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior in your life?”

          She shook her head.

          “Would you like to do so?” I asked.

          She looked at me for a long moment and then said, almost inaudibly, “I said I wouldn’t do that.”

          Said it to whom?  Said it to me?  Said it to God?  Herself?

          “I didn’t ask you that,” I said.  “I asked you if you wanted to accept Christ.  Do you want to do that?”

          Tears came to her eyes.  She nodded her head.

          “Why are you afraid? I asked.

          She didn’t know.

          “Is it because someone in your family will be unhappy with you?

          Apparently not.

          “Can I pray with you?”

          Yep, I could.  And I did.  And she broke and wept and fell into my arms.  And I broke and wept—and am weeping now as I write these words…

          Listen, God wants to send me to lost people to bring them His message of reconciliation.  He sends me in seminars, in books, and through radio and television.

          Why am I telling you this?  Because I can’t go unless you send me.  Please send me.  How much is the soul of a teen-ager worth?

Sit Tight

Not a day goes by that God doesn’t whisper into my ear saying, “Be still”. The word, “still”, by definition goes against every fiber of my being. Until the last 5 years or so, I haven’t understood what that would even look like. However, God never fails to present these situations that in the past would cause me to squirm, fidget, or even run. Given that I am such a socially awkward person you can imagine how many moments I have in one day!

On any given day I am prone to have multiple situations I would prefer to run from. Somewhere in my life I developed a coping mechanism for each awkward moment. In silent moments, I always had to interject something. In tense moments, I always had to make a joke. In teary moments, I would emotionally separate and probably still make a joke. In moments of disagreement or situations requiring confrontation I would run. In moments of strife, I would jump in and “fix”.

In the last few years though, God has been working with me on this and just really asking me to “sit tight” and feel whatever is presenting itself at the moment – asking me to just let there be silence, let there be tension or tears or whatever may be. Naturally being a “fixer”, it was hard to resign myself to just being present but not coming up with solutions. The idea of just being surrendered to what comes and to be sensitive to the idea that it may be just what the Great Doctor ordered; no matter how uncomfortable it feels to me.

It has itself playing out when I visit my hospice patients – just listening to what they are saying and what they aren’t saying – and staying with it regardless of how uncomfortable it is. It plays itself out in my friendships, just sitting tight and praying for friends or family when they hurt my feelings or gossip or whatever the circumstance may be. This was the point I used to run. Now I feel God asking me to just stay and wait it out. How hard this is! I find myself asking the Lord how long I have to wait. How many times do I have to hear a friend gossip before I can be done? **That was a lesson I learned years ago from a best friend – I loved hearing her juicy gossip about others, but was somehow blindsided when she gossiped about me** Now when I spot a gossip I am the first to turn my head and disengage – let alone pursue friendship. “Lord, you really want me to be a sitting duck just to be obedient to you?”

God is funny that way, though. Somehow He brings people and situations in and uses them to refine us. I can complain all day about others and how they’ve wronged me, hurt my feelings, or gossiped or cheated me -- but it isn’t about others. It’s about me. It’s about what I’m going to do with it. How am I going to handle it? Am I going to sit tight and trust God? And no matter which way I turn, I feel God gently asking me if I’m going to sit tight and trust in Him; to be still and know…that He is God.

I’m convinced it’s Satan voice I hear when the words “run” or “give up” nowadays. I won’t say that God will never tell us to steer clear of someone or some situation – I know better than that. But many situations in life are just that – temporary situations that God is working on behind the scenes. We just have to be willing to sit in the uncomfortable hot seat as long as it takes. It isn’t always pretty, but honestly, the view from that seat is raw and real and most definitely perspective changing.

The Game of "Life"

It’s family game night. Much is riding on the game as it’s coming to a close. Usually, in this competitive family, it’s a race to the finish. Normally, the kids are clasping their hands together with anxious laughter, hoping to get the best of their parents; especially dad. Oh how they love to beat the man of the house!

That man symbolizes half their heritage. Half of who they are and who they will become is shaped by their dad’s life – for better or for worse. By watching and listening, he both consciously and unconsciously tells them how to be, who to be. His kind and loving words, though sporadic and sparse, are felt to their core. They know that when he says them, he really means them. He is the one that teaches and guides. If the hours clocked teaching little boys about fast cars could build a stairway to heaven, this daddy would have reached the gates in just a few short years. The time spent hunting, fishing, and wrenching with his kids would be enviable by any parent’s standards.

At the beginning of the game, dad was so far in the lead it seemed no one was going to catch up to him. His game plan seemed so strategic and his confidence unshakeable. It was one of those games that seemed destined to go on forever. With each spin of the wheel, the excitement would build. For the kids, the anticipation of what the end would look like was almost too much to bear – with both fear and victory filling their insides until it felt like they might explode!

Towards the middle of the game, dad’s lead started to slow. The kids were beginning to see the holes in his game plan; the flaws in his strategy. With each turn, they began to catch up and even gain on their father. They watched intently, turn after turn, as dad lost his lead. They prodded and pressed forward with the hopes of coming in first. At one point in the game, they got so focused on the end in sight, they nearly forgot about their dad even being in the game. When they looked back to see how much of a lead they had, they quickly realized that somewhere on the multi-colored squares of the “Life” board, their daddy’s car had crashed. Nobody had even noticed the tiny black square dad’s car had landed on…it said “Meth Addiction”.

Our dad was stuck. It was as if his little, blue plastic car had landed in a tar pit and we weren’t sure how to help him get out. We hurriedly checked the directions that came with the game, but it offered no suggestions on how to get off that little black square. All we could do was sit and stare at each other. Feeling helpless, we kept spinning, hoping to land on the right answer to move our dad further along in the game – or better yet, to just keep him in the game and moving. Our worst fear being that dad would give up. Will he throw in the towel because the game has gotten too hard? Will he quit on us, leaving us to finish the game alone? Why are there so many rules to “Life”, yet when someone gets stuck on this one black square, the game suddenly becomes an urgent mystery?

Here we sit…at the end of the game. Crunch time. The time we normally relish. The time we are usually oozing with cockiness and loving every minute of it. Of course we learned that from our dad! We three kids are in the red zone of the game of “Life” but the chances of a tragic let down seem more likely than a score. We have now stopped spinning, even with the finish line in sight. We have quietly decided we will settle for a stalemate because we don’t want to win. Even more importantly, we don’t want to know who loses. We can spin and spin on our turns but it won’t matter. The driver of the car stuck on the little black square has to take his turn. He must spin and then emerge extremely ticked off that he’s lost so much ground in the game. But will he?

Has Anyone Seen My Thankfulness?

     When reading the story of the Israelites being led through the desert, provided for at every turn by God himself, I have admittedly thought to myself, "How could they doubt with all the Presence they were blessed with?" How could they, how could THEY, how could they? It seems so implausible given the circumstances, that they could actually complain, grumble, and doubt the fact that they were being Divinely cared for. The day's manna hadn't even digested before they were doubting and grumbling again. And again. And again.

     Four months ago, a doctor asked me if I wanted a chaplain to come sit with me while she and others tended to my son's medical emergency. Two words a parent never wants to hear in the same sentence...chaplain and son. She said, "This could get dicey". For about 20 minutes my little world became a monstrosity of emotions. When they came to get me from the waiting room, a flood of thankfulness overtook me as she said, "The ventilator tubing had kinked itself inside of him. We never see that." Thank God. The problem was not with my son but with the equipment and it was an easy fix. Thank God. Thank God. I wish I could say that was the first time I had seen medical staff have to perform resuscitation on my son. It wasn't. With his seizure disorder, I had seen it before. It looks the same in every doctors eyes. The first time it happened, no one had time to remove me or my mom from the room. We just sat and watched. We watched him seize for over half an hour. We watched him turn ashen gray.

     All of this to say, today, he's a healthy 14 year old boy with nothing medical looming over his future. I have witnessed miracles. Huge miracles. I have been fed daily manna from my God just the same as the Israelites. I have clung to God as my world threatened to crumble around me and asked Him to just stay beside me and give me what I needed to get through that moment. And the next...and the next. Here's the kicker: I have turned right back around and grumbled. Grumbled that I didn't have enough. Grumbled that I wasn't enough. Grumbled because I couldn't feel Him. Grumbled because He wasn't fixing some problem for me. I have grumbled and complained to the very God that has spared my son's life over and over again.

     Hi my name is Cynthia and I am like the Israelites. How could I? How dare I?

     How quickly I can forget the tender mercies of yesterday. The miracles I have been witness to. I have personally seen God do big things! I have had some of the best seats in the house and yet, I have found myself telling God I need more, I want more, show me more. Someone said something today that got me thinking about this. I have seen such great wonders of God. The Israelites had seen such great wonders of God. What if, because they saw such huge and obvious blessings literally pour from the heavens, they became addicted to the constant shower of Presence and the rush of adrenaline God provides. What if the greatness of what they saw made everything else about life mundane and boring? Laborious and monotonous. Thus came the grumbling and complaining. What if they had seen God provide so much they wondered in their humanity when God would stop showering them with blessings and do away with them because of their lack of faith or disobedience?

     I would be lying if I said I never think those things for myself. I have experienced the Presence of God in huge ways -- as if He were sitting next to me. So in between those huge experiences, I find myself asking Him why I can't feel Him. As if He has left me. Yeah right. It's my attitude that has tried to leave Him. It's the world, Satan, that has crept back in to my thoughts telling me I don't have enough, I'm not enough, I will never be enough.

     So, what is enough? When has He done enough? When will I stop complaining? When I force myself back to the beginning. When I pull myself out of my stinkin' thinkin' and grab hold of my foundation again. Christ dying on the cross just for me is enough. I know that, it's huge. Yep, that's enough. But He didn't stop there for me and He doesn't stop there for you either. He's already done enough but He keeps doing. He spared my son's life multiple times when the reality is He didn't even spare His own Son's life.

     I tend to read the Israelite story with disgust at how they could lose heart with God right there, providing just because they were His chosen people. And yet, I, four months out of my son's surgery found myself losing heart and becoming frustrated with life's situations. I found myself asking God where He was and why I couldn't feel Him. Once I get my heart right, I realize He's still here, still right next to me. Still doing big things, but how could I notice when I won't pull my head out of my worldly "ars" and look with my heavenly eyes? God never abandons us, but too often our perception does.

Meet Kelly...Absolutely Awesome, Adorable, Admirable, Adoptive Mom!

This year I am participating in The Adoption Blogger Interview Project. Anyone in the adoption blogging realm throws their name in the mix and are paired with someone else to expand all of our adoption horizons a bit :) I am blessed because I was introduced to someone on the other side of the fence and got to know a little about a woman living out the heart of God with regards to adoption. Her name is Kelly. Her story is one of an adoptive parent, adoption advocate, wife, and child of God. **Not in that particular order**

I had the pleasure of asking her questions about being an adoptive mommy, the non-profit she and her husband started, called The Sparrow Fund and also a great little store called The Nest, that helps adoptive families all over the world. This is one busy woman to be sure! Read more about her life, mission, and passion in the following interview questions.


1) For you personally, what was the biggest challenge to adopting?

We did a lot of training. I read a lot of books, read a lot of blog posts. I was prepared for our daughter to have challenges attaching. I was not prepared for my own response to those challenges. It was hard when she didn't see me as her mommy. It was hard when she preferred my husband's care over my own. We danced a bit with our attachment process. When I acted like her mother and she'd showed any sign of responding like my daughter, I'd respond in kind, and the cycle would continue. It took a good while for us to dance well together as mother and daughter. But, we got there. Some days we aren't always in sync. But, we're still dancing.


2) In International adoption, what place do birth families have?

In any adoption, birth families play a significant role exclusive only to them. They were our children's first families; we cannot not acknowledge that role even if we do not know them at all. In many international adoptions, particularly in China, birth families' identities are mysteries, leaving many more questions than answers for our children. But, the mystery doesn't negate the significance of their role in our children's lives. We look for opportunities to talk about birth families in general and our daughter's birth family more specifically, always aiming to honestly honor them. We keep it casual and normal so that our children all know that we are comfortable with whatever questions may come up whenever they come up.


3) What kind of support and encouragement do you provide through "The Sparrow Fund"?

We had only been home a few months with our daughter when we felt compelled to do something to support adoption. We found that there were some great organizations ministering to orphans directly all over the world as well as promoting adoption, but there were few nonprofits committed to serving the families who brought those children home. We started The Sparrow Fund with the mission of supporting and encouraging adoptive families through grants so that they could enroll in programs to receive preadoption counsel, support while they travel to bring their child home, and postadoption support. We have more recently taken on a more active support role ourselves, providing training opportunities for adoptive families in all seasons of their family life - waiting to adopt up through parenting older children. The response to these trainings and opportunities to be encouraged alongside other families has been overwhelming.


4) I noticed that "The Sparrow Fund" only supports International adoptions...why not domestic adoptions also?

We actually do support all adoptive and foster families through the trainings we offer. We are hosting our first couples' retreat (Together Called) this February. The couples attending represent all sorts of adoptive experiences from fostering to adopt, private domestic adoptions, sibling group or older child adoption, special needs adoptions, and adoptions from all over the world. The grants we give are specific to international adoptions only because the programs we help families enroll in focus on reviewing the referral and providing support to families to better help them understand that referral of a child they cannot physically meet and have evaluated here in the states prior to committing to adopting him or her. International and domestic adoptions are very unique regarding the extent of information families are able to have prior to finalizing an adoption.


5) What kind of, if any, incentives or special funding do you provide for special needs adoptions?

We view all adoptions as being special needs adoptions to some extent. There are issues adopted children deal with and need to process that requires special attention from parents. There is always brokenness before an adoption even takes place. And, these precious children are in the middle of that brokenness, resulting in what we feel is a special need. For some children who have been in varied foster homes, have experienced abuse or neglect, were institutionalized, there can be very significant special needs as a result. Our grants and training we provide to families are not exclusively for families who are adopting "special needs children," according to the more commonly understood definition. All adoptive families need the support we are seeking to provide to them.


6) Tell me about "The Nest",  the women who make the jewelry, and how the profits are used.

The Nest has become an incredible way for us to broaden the reach of our support to adoptive families. Through The Nest, we have been able to support adoptive families in Nairobi, Kenya as well as help fund our programs for adoptive families stateside. Through personal friends, we have embraced a collaborative of women in Nairobi who make paper bead jewelry as well as peanut butter that they sell and trade in their local marketplace. They pool all their earnings and distribute according to need amongst the women and their families, most of which are adoptive families. We have become their major source of provision as we sell their wares on Etsy and at events. With the women's full support and joy over being a part of our work, about half of each sold item gets wired to Nairobi to these women while the other half supports our programs.


7) What is one thing you would most like to tell people about your life's mission?

As a family, we are truly seeking to glorify God by caring for people - through The Sparrow Fund, we feel like we are able to do that as we provide a way for families to get the support they need as well as offer opportunities for them to continue getting support long after "Gotcha Day." Our days are full and often extend well into the night in order for us to keep up with it all. But, we're excited about where we are and where God's leading us next.

Kelly with her babies

Kelly's blogging home is: My Overthinking -- hop on over there to learn more, purchase from 'The Nest', or find out how to get involved!

Children...God's Gifts or Off-Loadable Goods?

I haven't blogged much this year on adoption because I had my stance on open adoption thrown in my face early in the year and it caused me to clam up, reevaluate, and check myself. You've probably heard me talk about us being a blended family before. Nothing about that will ever change but early in the year we had a decision to make when the birthparent to one of our children refused to follow the court order and carry insurance on said child. No biggie, he had only been in contempt of court for 9 years on the insurance issue. Hubby and I had been paying cash for all medical bills on a special needs child up to this point. Being a self-employed family, group insurance wasn't an option for us and due to pre-existing conditions, no private insurance would touch our child. Even after stating that doctors had said our son would have more surgical options for his complicated scoliosis case if he were carried on insurance, birthparent refused to comply with court order unless we signed an agreement he (birthparent) came up with stating that we would never hold him financially responsible for anything for our child ever again. When I refused that agreement, I was told that if I didn't agree, birthparent would like a say in what therapies and interventions we choose for our child (since he would have to help pay) because we go over and above on treatment for our child. First of all, what kind of parent actually says they would do the bare minimum necessary in order to save money regardless of necessity or quality of life for their own flesh and blood?

At this point you are probably wondering what this has to do with adoption. I am getting there, I promise!

I was so completely disgusted at what I was hearing come out of a birthparents mouth. I went from 0 to 50 in 6 seconds flat and that was just the number of emotions I experienced! After kindly kicking the beloved humans out of my home, I really thought about what they were saying. I soaked it in and by the evening, I had a plan. I talked it over with hubby and we decided to offer birthparent the right to relinquish his parental rights and my husband would officially adopt the son he was already raising as his own. Less than 48 hours later, birthfather had agreed.

When presenting the option of adoption, birthparent said "would this be an open adoption?" **Wait, wait....so let me get this straight...you want out of your financial obligation to save a few hundred dollars each month yet you want the right to walk in and out of your child's life anytime you wish?** The kicker to that idea is that even when visitation has been an option the best we've ever gotten is showing up a few times a year -- mostly when a new girlfriend arrives with questions and he needs to show him off. So, you would like an open adoption because you know I'm a vocal open adoption proponent? Touche God's beloved.

As you can probably guess, just the comment brought about a myriad of questions within myself about what I truly believe about the birthparent/child relationship. This all happened in January and I'm just compiling all of my thoughts in this for this post. Not to mention that this year was riddled with tons of medical issues with said child. January started migraine headaches that consistently landed us in doctor's offices and ER's for the first half of the year, and if you've been following this blog, the second half was major surgeries, of which the last one was 3 weeks ago. I haven't slept in my own bed in three weeks because I am round the clock care for my son. And as for my hubby, he is working sun up to sun down trying to make enough money to cover the immense medical debt we have acquired this year. So seeing him at this point is at a minimum. Although, I should add we found a private insurance plan for our son that would waive his pre-existing conditions -- Hooray for Kaiser Permanente -- they saved us from completely going under!

So for a month or so after birthparent put a "price" on our child, I struggled with depression over the idea that strangers fall in love with our child and yet his birthfamily could write him off for a dollar amount -- a minimal dollar amount at best. Our child is so completely awesome and my feelings were so incredibly hurt. I have always believed that if you aren't going to love 100%, go away. I don't think there are various degrees of love for our children. Our kids are not toys to take off a shelf and play with once in a while and then put away until you need your fix again. You either do love or you don't. And your actions prove your station.

I kept asking myself how this scenario was both different and alike from birthparents who relinquish from the beginning. Birthparents sometimes relinquish because of money struggles. Sometimes they relinquish because they don't have enough to offer, they want more for their children. There are so many reasons why we birthparents choose adoption and every single birthparent that chooses open adoption does so because they want to maintain a relationship with their child.

What lost me in this case, is how could someone...after 13 years of being even semi-involved ,come tail wagging, mouth drooling at the idea of relinquishing their child to acquire more worldly possesions and self-gratification? I am speaking of a human, a child, a loving child who would give his life for anyone; who is so thoughtful and caring that he will be the first to jump in and help anyone. Yet he can't expect his own flesh and blood to do the same in return. One week before my son's last surgery I got a call from a social worker telling me that I wasn't filling out the adoption paperwork fast enough and birthparent had contacted them to get the ball rolling faster. Really??? I proceeded to tell her that in one week our son was facing life changing and risky surgery...and birthparent would like me to stop everything to fill out his paperwork? We want an official adoption as much as birthfather but his comfort was the least of my concerns this whole year. This family has had our plate full!

So, in closing...my sentiments on birthparent/child/open adoption stuff...I offer nothing spiritual, nothing sweet. If you are a deadbeat parent, you suck. If you haven't convinced your child 100% that you have their back and would go to the ends of the world for them, you suck. If you are choosing adoption at the beginning of a child's life because you want more for your child, you rock. If you are choosing adoption later in your child's life to get out of responsibility and in the process have shown your child they are off-loadable goods that can be traded for something shinier, you suck. If you are considering adoption is it because you are being selfish or selfless? Motives come out in the end, and truly the only one that gets hurt is the child. Trust me, I just talked to a social worker whose job it is to tell children they won't see their birthparents again. THAT has to be the crappiest job in the world. My child has an uncanny ability to read people in a way that I will never understand, so our job of explaining the birthparent disappearing act went smooth. He didn't seem shocked and we haven't heard him utter anything about his birthfamily since. But in our case, he may have realized where he stood with his "birthfamily" when they invited him to Christmas dinner last year and took a family picture that included the family pet but not my son. Disgusting. Vile. Creatures.


Transparency, good or bad, it's my trademark and it's what's for dinner. I'm back people!

Disclaimer: Yes, I love the Lord. Yes, I know Jesus loves everyone. Yes, I know we should not harbor unforgiveness or hatred. Yes, I know He offers forgiveness to any and all. Yes, I am thankful for that. Yes, I am cynical, sarcastic, and blunt. Pray for me.