For Her

Tonight was probably the night.  I say probably because we are just guessing that tomorrow was the day he was born.  His birthday is one of those assumed truths that we accept as if it is true, knowing that we will never really know for sure.

Was it an unusually cool night, like the one we are having now?  Were you scared? Were you alone?  Did you already know, deep in your soul, that you would not be able to hold him forever?  Or were you hopeful, and full of all those not-yet realized dreams that every waiting mother carries in her heart? I think, but it is only a guess, that you had no idea what lay ahead.  Because how could you?  How could you guess that your tiny little boy was going to be born so sick, fragile, and possibly deaf?

Tonight, while I snuggled close to him and kissed his cheeks as he fell asleep, I thought about you.  He likes to fall asleep that way.  Cheek to cheek.  Eye to eye.  Sometimes he leaves his little hand on my face as if he's checking to make sure I'm still there even after he has closed his eyes.  I lay there thinking that tonight must be a hard night for you.  Here I am, love drunk from this beautiful moment with such a precious little boy, and there you are, wherever you are, missing all of this.

Tomorrow is his birthday and we are going to fill it with as much joy as we can.  His family is coming here from far and wide just to surround him with love.  We are loving him well, I promise.

But birthdays are never just about the person being born.  There is always another person who relives the day again and again in her heart.  I remember the days Camdyn and Charlie were born like they were yesterday.  Always like it was yesterday.  Moments of fear, agony, and joy that are seared into my heart and cannot be erased.  How hard it must be for you, to carry those moments in your heart, to feel the weight of them, to remember him so well.   His birth-day is also your giving-birth-day.

Here is my promise to you: I will carry you in my heart tomorrow and in my prayers I will send Carter's joy back to you....through the air, on the clouds, in the wind.

The ancient ones called this the Ruach, the Breath of God, that moves between us, breathing life and hope and love out from God's own self, onto us.

My prayer for you is this-  that this Ruach Elohim, the Breath of God who is mother and father to us all, who gives us life and sets us free, will whisper in your heart and let you know...he is loved, he is loved, he is loved. (And so are you.)  

Sweet and simple

If I told you that adding a third child, a busy and active toddler at that, to our family has brought more harmony and order to our home, you probably would think I was telling a lie. I know it sounds completely crazy, but it is true- I swear. I think that in the months leading up to our trip to China, we both naively assumed that adding a third child would be like going from juggling two balls to three. Not easy, but doable. What we realized shortly after we got home, however, was that all of the balls were not staying in the air. In fact, a lot of our old routines and ways of doing things were suddenly no longer an option. The first several weeks at home, when we were focused on establishing boundaries and a routine for Carter, forced us to see that we had never done a good job with any of those things before. We also saw that if our new family of five was going to survive, we needed to stop juggling all together. First, because children are not flying objects. Second, because living life at a frenetic pace wasn't good for anyone, most of all our little ones. 

Around this time I also discovered the book "Simplicity Parenting" by Kim John Payne which has almost revolutionized the way I think about parenting. 

Because the few simple changes we made at home have caused such a major shift in our family life, I thought I would share some of what we have tried. 

First: less is more. Less toys and less stuff mean less clutter and less mess. Kids get overwhelmed by too many toys that are out at eye level. It mentally distracts them and keeps them from being able to get lost in a world of play. And play is what children need in order to develop healthy minds. I spent weeks cleaning out clutter from every place I could find- the kids' rooms, cabinets, closets, basements, etc. My motto was, "If we don't use it, we don't need it."  Amazingly, it became easier and easier for us to keep things clean and semi-ordered at home. Even after an entire day of toddler mayhem, we could clean it all up with a family 3 minute "cleaning blitz."  

Second, kids won't argue with a written word. In order to keep up with our routines and provide better structure for our older two kids, we started writing down their schedules and their weekly chores on these organization boards-

I call this wall "Command Central"

 A close up of our chore chart magnets

We also came up with a weekly menu plan and put it in the kitchen-

What I didn't expect was just how much writing down the plans helped Camdyn and Charlie stop fighting the plans. If mommy tells them they have to clean their room today, mommy can be argued with and her weak spots exploited.  The chore chart doesn't listen to any arguments and has no sympathy for whining. The chores get done.  In the same way, having a meal plan makes family dinner both predictable and non-negotiable. Meals get eaten and not complained about. It is almost like magic. (Not to mention how much easier it is for Justin and myself to have a plan in place for every night of the week!)

Finally, if you build it they will read...or draw...or just be.  We have tried to give them more spaces in the house that are kid centered and serve a specific purpose. Like Carter's art table in the kitchen-

Though, to be honest, keeping markers within Carter's reach might not have been my smartest mom move ever:

We also turned a guest room into a study and reading room for Camdyn and Charlie. With all of the extra noise and activity that a toddler brought to the house, we saw that they needed a quiet place to get away for reading and homework. We let them pick out their own comfy reading chair for their study, which might not have been the best idea because more than once I have sent one of them in there with a book only to find them fast asleep in their chair an hour later. 

   

Sometimes more silliness than studiousness happens in the new study- 

 

  (Yes, that is underwear on his head.)

I am sharing all this not because I want people to think that we are super organized parents who always have our you-know-what together. Really, I have always felt like any semblance of structure and consistency at home were just out of reach and never quite attainable. However, I am learning slowly but surely that simplicity is a gift that allows all of us, parent and child, to thrive. This may seem like common sense to many super moms who have been running their homes like a well oiled machine for years, but for me- a chronically overwhelmed working mom who never feels like she can get anything done - I feel like I've found the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. 

And that is why having a third child has brought order to our home. (See, I told you I was telling the truth.)

Rhomboids and clovers

Yesterday marked two months with our little Carter Jack Allen!  It seems like forever and it seems like only yesterday that we were here:

And now we are here:

and here:

Carter loves shapes. When I say love, I mean as much as any almost two year old can adore an inanimate object. He has been with us now for exactly two months and he can already correctly identify stars, diamonds, squares, circles, ovals, hearts, clovers, triangles, and rhomboids. Rhomboids aren't a shape, you say? Well, yes. Rhomboids are back muscles.  I guess my mommy brain and my doctor brain got a little muddled on maternity leave and after I taught him to say "rhomboid" he now refuses to say any other name for his favorite shape.

     Mr. Star is out for a ride

Carter is also determined to learn the alphabet. How he knows that letters are things to be learned is beyond me because we really have been focusing on basic things like, "More noodles, please" instead of the alphabet. But once he realized that letters were things that needed to be learned, there was no stopping him. As of today, he can recognize the letters, B, P, M, L, O, A, Y, & C. 

     Blueberry syrup everywhere!

We lost track of how many English words he can say at 100. He talks non-stop. Even Charlie, our talking machine, will beg Carter to stop talking "for just two minutes, please!"  New words have to be repeated at least 50 times. He makes me repeat them, too, just to make sure he is saying them correctly. A typical conversation goes like this:
Carter: "Mama, what's that?"
Me: "That's a butterfly."
Carter: "Butterfly? Butterfly...butterfly....butterfly. Mama? Mama! Mama! Butterfly?"
Me: "Yes, butterfly!"
Carter: "Butterfly, butterfly, butterfly, BUTTERFLY!"

 Before he goes to sleep at night he has to look around his room and catalogue everything he sees that he knows how to say, "Owl, alligator, backpack, fan, bed, light, Mommy, owl, alligator..."  Over and over and over again.  It takes all of my willpower to sit there and just rock him, waiting for his little brain to finally slow down and be ready for sleep.  Whenever I start to get impatient, I remember all the nights he didn't get rocked, all the conversations with a mama that didn't happen, all the hours he must have lain in his crib alone with no one to hear him talk, and I suspect that he is just trying to make the rocking, the snuggling, the holding, and the kisses last a little longer.  I think we both know that those are magic moments when his heart is being healed.  

   

So sweet I can hardly stand it. 

I'm shamelessly bragging on Carter for one reason: this brilliant boy was at one time considered almost unadoptable and I am haunted by the realization that there are countless other brilliant children just like him with scary medical files who just need one thing: a family. Had he remained an orphan in China, his visible ear deformity coupled with his orphan status would have kept him from ever getting an education or being able to choose a career. In our country, we assume that anyone can overcome the odds and rise to the top if they have the desire to learn and work hard. But for orphans around the world who have no one to advocate for them, this is simply not the case.  Their futures are often without hope. For orphans in China with special needs, it is virtually impossible for them to get accepted to a university or to find successful employment opportunities. I cannot imagine what it would be like for a child to live without hope and without promise of a future. I think of the millions of children who are still waiting and my heart becomes paralyzed with the vastness of it all.

Every day I look at Carter and think that he is nothing short of amazing. I wonder what his future holds and I know the possibilities are endless. They say adoption is a miracle. That is true, but not really. Adoption is not a miracle, but many endless miracles that continue to unfold day after day.  Seeing the way Charlie and Camdyn have grown in their love for Carter, that is a miracle.  Each time Carter leans over to give us a kiss, that is a miracle.   Every person who tells us how much joy they've gotten from following our family's journey, that is a miracle.  Finding out that the hole he once had in his heart is now so small the doctors consider it gone, with no follow up testing ever needed again, that was a miracle. But, the miracle that I am most grateful for today is Carter's future. The doors that will open for him. The choices he will have. The limitless possibilities that wait for him simply because we took a leap of faith and said "Yes" to a baby who had only ever been told "No."  The thing about miracles is that  they require more faith than action or ability on our part.  It is God who steps in and does the rest.   When I see this boy smile, I know that God has stepped into our lives in a big, undeniable, beautiful way. What is more miraculous than that?  

"To love another person is to see the face of God." 
           (~Victor Hugo, Les Miserables)

A Truce Declared

 A story in the Bible that I have struggled with lately is the one about Hannah and Samuel.  This is a story about a woman who is given a child by God after years of infertility.  It is also a beautiful story about faith, a woman's faith that held fast despite the shame, mockery, and ridicule that were hurled upon her from almost every direction.  Most of us know that Hannah's prayers are eventually answered. God hears Hannah and gives her a son.

But that is not the end of the story.  Because Hannah gives her son away.

We don't really talk about it that way, but that is what she does.  After he is weaned, when he is still very young, she takes him to the temple and leaves him with the priest Eli and his sons.  That's not so bad, right? She is giving him to God and leaving him with godly men who will raise him as well as any mother could.  Well, not exactly.  Eli was old, apparently not a good priest, and willing to turn a blind eye to the evil of his own sons.  The Bible says that "Eli's sons were scoundrels; they had no regard for the Lord or for the duties of the priests to the people," (1 Sam 2:12).

Think about that for a second.  Hannah may have given Samuel back to the Lord in a literal and figurative sense, but she also left him alone without a mother, to be raised by a man who clearly did not know how to parent and to live in a home with men who were notoriously corrupt.

"She left him there for the Lord."  (1 Sam 1:28)

This was the child she had longed for and wept countless tears hoping for...and she left him there for the Lord.  Here is the part that I just can't get past: God did NOT ask Hannah to do this.  This wasn't part of some bargain. This was Hannah's calling.

I sit here listening to one son sing silly songs at the top of his lungs while the other son is taking a nap beside me on the couch and I realize that what I really want to do is pass judgement on Hannah. How could she think that sending Samuel away from her was in any way the right thing to do?

Here is the truth: I want to judge Hannah for leaving Samuel the way I have judged myself for not being home with my own children all of the time.  Wrestling with Hannah's story and how it makes me feel has shone a light into my own ideas about motherhood and what it means to be a "good mother." Those who like to promote the idea of "Biblical womanhood" will tell us things like: Good mothers stay home with their children.  Good mothers plan science projects.  Good mothers bake organic homemade bread.  Good mothers sit beside their children on the floor while they play with developmentally appropriate toys.  Good mothers are mothers first, and doctors second.

Like it or not, the mommy wars of the last few decades have made victims of us all.  Even though I have spent the last decade refuting all these ideas in my head, in my heart there has always been doubt about the choices I have made. Every time I have walked out the door to go to the hospital or the office, I have faced the same wave of guilt, wondering what damage my choice to have a career has done to my little ones.  There have always been voices, real and imagined, that have said, "You should be at home with them."

But this narrative, the one we have accepted as the definition of "biblical motherhood" leaves no room for women like Hannah who followed her heart and left her son with the Lord.  There is no room for Carter's birth mother who must have felt that her only choice was to leave her tiny, sick baby in someone else's care because try as she might, she could not provide the medicine and food that he needed to survive.  There is no room for the mothers in Africa who leave their children at home so they can walk for hours every day just to find clean water.  There is no room for the single mother who works two or three jobs at a time so her children will have food, clothes, and shelter.

I am going back to work next week and Carter will start a two day per week daycare program.  The amount of sadness, guilt, and dread that I have put into this is matched only by the same emotions I felt when Camdyn started daycare ten years ago and then Charlie a few years later.  The more I come back to Hannah and Samuel, the more I begin to hear it, deep in my heart, and believe for the first time that maybe God sees motherhood differently than we do.  Maybe, being present with our children isn't God's mandate for women, but a privilege.  Maybe, I should not feel guilty for the 30 hours each week that I leave my children to go to work...because the other 138 hours that I am present with them are evidence of the fact that I am more privileged than I realize.

I know that being a pediatrician allowed me to look at Carter's file and see instantly that his three listed medical problems were either mislabeled or untrue.  Privilege.

I know that having a home with more room than we need, enough money in our bank account to pay each bill, and a loving family made our decision to adopt that much easier.  Privilege.

I know that being married to a man who walks through life as my partner and my friend gave me the strength I needed to face each agonizing day of waiting to bring Carter home.  Privilege.

Privilege has allowed me to become Carter's mother.

The thing about privilege is this:  God sees our privilege, too.  Privilege makes me nervous, honestly, because in the Bible God doesn't seem to favor those who have as much as those who have not.  The same God who sees my privilege also said, "Blessed are the poor, for they shall inherit the Kingdom of God."  The same God who sees me cry over filling out a daycare form, looked at a woman named Hannah and called her blessed, not because she held tightly to her child, but because she followed the calling in her heart and gave him to the Lord.  This is what I know for sure- the same God who called Hannah has also called me.  I love being a pediatrician.  I love taking care of sick little ones and being the one to help them get better.  I love being able to reassure a worried mother or calm a scared child.  I love having silly conversations with three year olds about mermaids and dinosaurs.  I love almost everything about my job.  What I also know is that being a physician is just as much my calling as being a wife, or a mother, or any other role I've been given.

Next week will be hard for all of us, I'm sure.  But I think that it will be easier this time because I have decided that my mommy war is over.  It feels good to finally declare a truce on oneself, an end to feeling like you will never quite measure up.  Like Hannah, I will give my children to the Lord and let God's grace cover all of my failings as a mother, both real and imagined. Grace covers everything.  Everything.  Grace has even taken my old mommy-war battle wounds, all the insecurities and self doubt, and turned them around into something beautiful- an overwhelming sense of wonder at just how blessed I am to be a mother to these three amazing little children of God.

Hannah's prayer:

I’m bursting with God-news!
    I’m walking on air.
I’m laughing at my rivals.
    I’m dancing my salvation.
 Nothing and no one is holy like God,
    no rock mountain like our God.
Don’t dare talk pretentiously—
    not a word of boasting, ever!
For God knows what’s going on.
    He takes the measure of everything that happens.
The weapons of the strong are smashed to pieces,
    while the weak are infused with fresh strength.
1 Sam 2:1-5 (MSG)

Sweet Tennessee

Watching all three kids play and laugh together is one of my new favorite things. Carter thinks it is hilarious when Charlie fake vomits and Camdyn freaks out. Two brothers giggling and going "Blaah" while their sister pleads "Stop!" is awesome to watch. 

     A blur of laughter and fun

I am very ashamed that after just a month in our country he already knows the second we pull into a drive through and starts saying, "Eat! Please! Eat!"  He understands if we ask the kids if they are hungry and will start to frantically say and sign, "Eat! Please! Eat!"  My biggest fear is that someone will hear him and call social services because he begs for food so desperately that clearly we don't seem to be feeding this child enough.

I am also ashamed that it took less than two weeks at home for him to be totally and completely obsessed with Elmo, or as he calls him, "Melmo."  And Bubble Guppies, or as he calls them "Buppies."  On our eight hour drive to Tennessee he watched Bubble Guppies the entire way. Non-stop. I am NOT ashamed that I used a video screen to keep him entertained for so long. The alternative (being trapped in the car with a screaming toddler) would have been misery for all of us. 

"Don't even think about turning off my Buppies."

Our trip to visit family in Tennessee and Georgia has been great for lots of reasons but mostly because it has allowed us to see just how much progress we have made with his attachment. He no longer seems to be "mommy shopping" and treats new grown ups like any two year old would- by ignoring them as much as possible. 

    Short visit with my Aunt Shirley in Georgia

He loves his Nanny and Papa but clearly doesn't think they are there to replace his mom and dad. 

We are the ones he goes to for comfort and security and food and kisses when he gets a boo-boo. (Every boo-boo requires we give a lot of sympathy kisses and much dramatic acknowledgement of his great suffering.)  They are there for laughs and fun and I think he is starting to get the difference. We have still been careful about some things and only Justin and I are carrying him, feeding him, or changing him.  

   Posing and telling Papa to take his picture

     Then insisting he take a picture of Papa

I love that my kids get to come to my parents' house and feed cows, gather eggs, and care for baby chicks. 

Drying off a chick that got caught in a storm.

I love taking them up to the Ocoee river to go swimming in places only locals know about with names like "The Blue Hole."

     

I love that they get to go fishing with their Papa at his church, because Papa's church has a fish pond like all awesome churches should. 

I love lazy summer afternoons when we all have nothing better to do than to tape my iPhone to the front of the air buggy that Charlie and I built and video it's ride around the driveway...

http://youtu.be/toBHRGRrt1w

  

I love sending them outside with nothing but a ball and watching them play...

I always love coming home, but this trip with Carter has made me see it all again- the mountains, the cows, and the swing in the tree- through his eyes. To him, everything is wonderful and new and I know he senses the magic here that captured the hearts of his brother and sister when they were little, too. 

I've also thought a lot about the beauty of having a home, a place you can always return to. A place where you can come with a weary heart and and leave feeling whole again. Home is a more than just a house (or in my case a modern day Green Acres.) Home is a sanctuary filled with security, comfort, acceptance and most of all, a deep sense of belonging. It is my parents and all the love that they have given me, embodied in one sacred space. 

Every night since we've had him, I tell him  these words while I rock him to sleep:

"I love you. God loves you, too. God has loved you since the beginning of time. Every second of every day you have always been loved. God loved you so much that God sent us all the way to China to get you and bring you home. Because this is your home, and we are your family, and you belong here with us.  Mama loves you. Daddy loves you. Cammy loves you. Gugga loves you. Nanny and Papa love you. GG and Pa love you. We all love Carter."

I want him to know that love is what sent us looking for him and love is what ties us together, and more than anything, I want him to know that he belongs here with us, because adoption is more than just giving a child a new name, a new citizenship, or even a new family. Adoption is the gift of home.