Captain Sleepy Head

For a little boy who wears pajamas with the tagline “Captain Sleepy Head” he sure lives up to “Captain Sleep Next to Mommy’s Head” better. I guess this would take up too much room on his tiny 9-month nightshirt.

As advice poured in from well-seasoned parents previous to Arie’s arrival, the phrase: “whatever you do, don’t let him sleep with you” trumped ALL counsel. We never thought it would be an issue in our family, as our little man made his way into his crib at eight weeks old, sleeping twelve hours each night without interruption. The truth seemed too good. After a rough season of colds, flu, and upper respiratory issues, resulting in many nights next to us in our bed, this “too good to be true” routine was no longer.

With an over priced video monitor, that was just shy of being able to administer nighttime medications, as new parents we just couldn’t rest without him by our side.  At the time, we did not have fear of the future; picturing our eighteen-year old son still in bed with us, but nearly four months later, we’ve grown concerned.

It’s like our “dirty little secret”. Advice ringing heavily in our ears, not wanting to admit to the fact that even after receiving warning about this exact situation, we have somehow found ourselves deeply entrenched in this accidental turn.

As I heard Captain Sleepy Head awake from his crib in the middle of the night, calling to come into the much more comfortable, king-sized arrangement, I’m not going to lie, my heart was at ease. There’s something so fulfilling about wrapping my arms around this luscious little bundle, and pulling him towards my chest as we complete our night’s sleep. After so many years of waiting for these moments, why wouldn’t we want this? I get it; it’s a behavior, a conditioned one that only we have created. But sometimes behaviors are well worth the consequences that are tied to modification. I doubt when Arie is eighteen he will continue to reside in our bed, that would just be weird, and I bet he would think so too. But for now, there is just nothing weird about it; it’s just too natural and fulfilling. So here’s to another night “Captain Sleep Next to Mommy’s Head”!   

No Need For A Map

As humans we desire to know answers that depict our future, much like a road map, providing direction through life’s winding paths. But in some instances we are not handed life’s map, but rather a compass. This is a story about two friends, two journeys, one perfect plan.

Shortly after Jeff and I moved to California I was introduced to what felt like my twin, my best friend, Joni. Initially introduced because of our interest in running, our friendship was built on many hikes, runs, and outdoor-adventures. Little did we know, there was something much greater in store for our friendship.

With our common desire to one day become mommies, we would spend hours, dreaming of mommy-hood and planning our futures together, everything down to our “dual” baby shower. We had it all mapped out.

As time marched on, so did our conversations, drifting from the ever so hopeful topic. Pretty soon we stopped planning, it was getting depressing. It was at this point in the strenuous trek Jeff and I decided to pursue adoption. Both our families continued in our individual journeys to parenthood.

The day finally came, I remember getting “the” call from Joni, announcing their pregnancy. I was so happy for them. I could not stop shopping. Auntie Sarah was out of control. Amidst my celebration, I grew concerned with our own process. Would this ever happen to us? Would we still be mommies together? Jeff and I had started our adoption process but there was no way we would ever catch up, this could be a three-year voyage.

Plans continued to go against expectation. Joni and her husband’s pregnancy became a devastating downward spiral. After several weeks of enjoying the new idea of becoming parents, Joni’s pregnancy rapidly shifted into one of worry, stress, and grief. The journey went from the elated emotions of finding out they were expecting twins, to the loss of one baby within the first trimester. This grief continued, in following appointments finding out about their little girl having Down Syndrome, heart difficulties, and a struggle to grow in the womb. The road for them felt less traveled as feelings of emptiness and sadness filled their minds as they were sent home at 21-weeks to “lay down, rest, and prepare for the worst.” I remember lying next to Joni that day; we just cried!

Time continued on, Joni laid low, followed the doctors orders, and the baby continued to truck along, not growing much but had a strong heart beat. This little warrior princess was proving to be a fighter. Mom too continued to fight, bedridden in the hospital for the month leading up to the baby’s birth at 32-weeks.

Life for Joni and her family started looking up, although storms were still in the forecast, God had a plan all along. After 120 days in the NICU, two heart surgeries, and two years later, sweet Canon Joy, had made her mark! A true miracle.

Shortly after her last heart surgery, Jeff and I completed our adoption home study. It was a month after Canon’s first birthday, our little Prince Arie was born and came home to be a part of our family. No waiting around for us! Now the two have play dates and will grow up side by side. We caught up!

Looking back, God knew His plan. Maybe not providing the road map with clear direction but keeping us strong in our faith, always pointing us to hope, allowing us a firm grip on His compass. Through the stress we could rest assure He was in control, we just had to wait patiently to see the outcome. The evidence is in our two blessings, two journeys, one perfect plan!   

Arie's Highlight Video

Thanks to a my wonderful friend Dayna for making this beautiful video of our sweet baby boy from the time he came home to the moment he was forever ours! CLICK HERE to watch, enjoy.

Different Stripes

When Arie first arrived into our lives, I remember handing him to anyone and everyone who entered our home. We were excited to share the sweet bundle of love, warmth, and cuddles. It is strange to think that everyone who visited within that first 24 hours, knew this new member of our family as well as we did. Upon his arrival, I recognized that by not carrying him before birth, a progression of bonding needed to begin immediately. 

As days and weeks passed, I began reacting a bit differently to “sharing” the new arrival like I did in those first several hours. I found myself mirroring some behaviors that of a Zebra. Yes, I said Zebra. You see Zebra foals will follow literally anything that they see moving. A mare’s response and defense to this reaction, is to hover over their young, by only allowing them to see their stripes. This type of imprinting allows the foal to learn the unique striping pattern, scent, and vocalization of their mother’s compared to the other members in the herd.

With many people coming and going, and a need for new caretakers as I had to head back to work, I often felt at times this child’s surroundings were much like that of a herd. It’s amazing how quickly my new motherly instincts surfaced, and I began “hovering” and trying my best to surround him with the sounds I wanted him to recognize unique to me. I became protective and defensive of any “bonded-like” look he would give someone else in the room, causing a reflex type reaction to quickly remove him from their site, once again, only to display my “stripes”.

The voices he was hearing were foreign to the one’s he had bonded with before entering this world. I was afraid he would react to life, like that of a baby Zebra, bonding and following any voice that would last for any length of time. I was his momma and he had to learn that.

Well much to my surprise, it did not take long before I would enter the room, begin talking, and his little noggin would turn my direction, clearly responding to my voice. I began trusting more of our unique connection, becoming more confident that he saw me as his mother. I found myself searching for others to notice, wanting them to recognize his love and acceptance for me.

Obnoxious, selfish, insecure, call this what you would like. I see this as nothing but normal feelings, reactions, and emotions in response to something so new, so scary, but yet so satisfying. The love Jeff and I feel for this little boy cannot be described. We have never felt a love like this. We are more than excited to announce that this love will continue to grow and grow, into something much more over the course of our lives, as we will be finalizing Arie’s adoption, this coming Monday, January 27^th, 2014. Arie’s “Forever” Day, when God will permanently gift us with this little Zebra, is finally here.

This is really beginning to feel like “forever”…

 

The Early Bird

Much like the average person, Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning were such a time of anticipation and excitement for me. Trying to fall asleep, waking many times in the night checking the alarm clock to see if it was time to get up, and finally rising before the sun came up. I remember our routine on Christmas Morning: I would run into the living room and grab the stockings from under the tree. Trying not to take a peak in the large socks, I would then bust through my parents door waking them up with my less than quiet entrance. It was time to curl up in the middle of mom and dad in bed and begin pulling out each item. At that moment I would get all settled and ready to go, dad would roll over, bless me with a Christmas Greeting and instruct me to first go make a pot of coffee. Seriously! We had some serious work to do, no one had time for such nonsense. It was clear to me at these moments why dad had taught me at such a young age to make a good pot, regardless if I actually would partake of such grossness. What felt like days later, the pot was brewed and mom and dad were ready.

Here I am thirty something years later, awake in my bed, coffee in hand, full of excitement for the rest of the house to wake up on this beautiful Christmas Morning. Why, at such a “mature” age, would I be experiencing such child like anticipation? My waking up every hour on the hour to check the clock, setting the alarm for a time that usually feels like murder, hopping straight out of bed, debating whether a cup of coffee is even necessary, is all catching me quite off guard. I thought I had already grown out of these eager behaviors.

As I sit and wait for the rest of the house to join me, I hear the sweet short breaths of our brand new baby boy coming from the monitor in his nursery. Today will be this little boy’s first Christmas. A year, when paper, bows, and boxes are the most exciting part, however, the tree is filled with much more. But why? I feel I have spent the last several weeks trying to prepare my heart for the true meaning of Christmas, spending time focusing on Christ’s birth and trying to lower my child like expectations of what society tells us Christmas should look like. So why am I still reacting in such a way as this?

I have come to the realization it’s ok, today we are celebrating Christ’s love and sacrifice for us. As part of his love for me and my husband, we were gifted with this sweet bundle of joy. Today, we celebrate life. We celebrate love. We celebrate joy. We celebrate hope. We celebrate peace. We celebrate family. With this celebration comes: anticipation, gifts, and blessings to and from others. God is so faithful, God is so loving, and today we fully embrace that as we wake early, as we spend time with our families, as we gift those we love, and as we thank the Lord for sending his son to this earth.

Merry Christmas 2013!

- The Early Bird

And For This I Am Thankful...

I never expected that in my most joyful moment I would experience such pain. A pain I have never felt before. It was someone else’s pain, a stranger, who I so rapidly felt love toward. In this moment my joy was overwhelming, it gleamed from my soul. After a season of experiencing the dryness of the wilderness I could see the black cloud in the distance, rain was approaching. God’s showering of blessings in my life was nearing.

In knowing something so wonderful, so life changing was about to take place, how could I feel such grief? Empathy, compassion, love, and mercy, were all things I prayed for in this moment and so desperately needed. God placed me in this humbling and sober place. I knew he would get me through. It was Friday, July 12^th, 2013, five days before my husband and I would be bringing home our brand new baby boy, a newborn not born to us, but given.

The day we had been waiting for, the day we dreamed of, was quickly approaching. The day we had so earnestly prayed for. On that Friday afternoon, we were faced with the grief of two parents who had grown to know this little boy for nine months, feeling him move and grow in his mother’s belly. The day came when this couple knew their time with their little boy was up. They could not care for this child once he was born. These nine months were all they would ever have with him. The mother, making the hardest decision of a lifetime, followed her heart, and relinquished this sweet precious baby, never once seeing his face.

Our conversation with this couple was an hour of listening to their heart crying out, hearing their wishes for this child, and telling us that they believe we are the couple to carryout and finish what was started. That day, in that room, God’s presence was thick. My husband Jeff and I prayed that God give us his wisdom, his words, and his love as we heard from this hurting couple. He met all of these.

On Friday, July 12^th a couple so courageously gifted my husband and I one of the best gifts we have ever received. On that day, a child to us was born, and on that day, a child for them was lost. We grieved with these strangers over their loss, and hugged them with joy for their gift.

After hours of classes, interviews, and conversations preparing us for this moment in adoption, no one could ever prepare us for this authentic meeting in God’s grace, love, and mercy. It is that day, in that moment, I rejoice. I reflect on that day, a short four months ago. We were brought together, forever through our child, with this broken and hurting couple, a relationship that will forever be a journey. This baby, this gift, has changed our lives, our home, our relationship. God is faithful and truly is completing in us, what he has started. And for this I am thankful… 

MASH

As a young girl, I remember frequently playing MASH with my best friend, a paper and pencil game, commonly played by preteens intended to predict one's future. These predictions included the two of us living on neighboring farms, marrying tall blondes with blue eyes, tending to our herd of horses, while raising our children. To be even more specific we each would have three children, for myself, it was two boys and one girl, with the girl being the youngest of the bunch. We would drive trucks, and ride and train horse for a living. Life on the farm would be perfect, and all personal needs/desires would be sufficiently met.   

If only our future could be so easily predicted, dreamed up, and even as clearly mapped out as this. Often times as we try to navigate through our lives with such control we find ourselves only confused and disappointed when our personal plans and expectations fall through. We place such pressure to succeed and fail to plan how we will react when this expected success does not happen.

Around my husband’s and my seventh wedding anniversary we finally had decided to take the next step in life, parenting. Given the fact that we had the opportunity to witness many friends enter this stage in life much before our decision to. We realized we could be embarking on a “not-so-fun” adventure, trying to conceive. Both Jeff and I had decided to make a decision before we began trying to get pregnant, discussing how we would handle fertility, if we were to struggle, and at what point would we implement “plan b”, whatever that would end up being.

At the beginning of this new season in life, we made the heartfelt decision to adopt if getting pregnant was not on our side. We enjoyed the first several months of this journey and tried to make this time together fun and not stressful, however, reality and doubt began to hit. I would be lying if I said I did not experience frustration and sadness as I began to wonder about our future with the more and more time that passed. It was a future that years ago, was so clear, now fogging over with confusion and hopelessness.

Even though we had made a plan for the unexpected possibility that pregnancy may not naturally happen, I did not feel it was concrete or possible. Adoption felt so comfortable to discuss when it was just a plan that was never to be needed, but when the reality of our situation continued to hit us, adoption felt scary and unknown, yet a glimpse of hope. God began placing people in our lives who, had adopted children or were currently en route. We started using the term more frequently, as if we knew what it meant for our lives. The foreign word and concept started to seep into our minds, hearts, and relationship. This “plan b” became our primary focus, all we wanted, all we knew.

When it comes to God’s plan for our lives, all he is asking from us, in the way of helping, is to have faith in him. The day we brought our twelve day old baby boy home, was a day that my faith in God grew. God reveled his love for us through sending this little boy, who so desperately needed a family to love him, into the arms of a couple who so desired to share their love. I could not have pictured anything more perfect than this.

I recognize that starting a family and the decisions that need to be made are emotional, personal, and overwhelming. How can something so wonderful be so stressful? How can something so well thought out, planned, dreamed, mapped, feel so unorganized, messy, and frustrating? Without God completely driving the ship, we are left wandering through this scary place of life alone. My encouragement not just to parents, but to every individual, is to put down the paper and pencil that continues to map out the perfect scenario and future, it will never be perfect, as long as you continue to try and draw it out on your own. Pray that God change the desires of your heart, pray that you begin to see more clearly his plan for you, that you feel the passion for his calling. Allow time to grieve and readjust your lens on life, and make sure to submit to God’s plans and understand, that no matter what they are they will always be best for you.