Memorial Day

This Memorial Day was great. A friend of mine that I have not seen in 18 years had lunch with us. In this picture is Brian, who I have known since my Sophomore year in high school, Me & Corey, who I have not seen since we graduated in 1990. He and Greg, my husband, had never met. We had such a great time talking, laughing and reminiscing. It is so cool to me how you can not see someone for so long and still connect.

The last day of school...

I barely remember the last day of 2nd grade...which seems odd to me when I think of how "aware" I feel that Abby is. I very rarely think, "Man, I have hardly any concrete memories of the time that she is in now." or I guess I should say "distinct memories". I had a good childhood...i wish that each year could be remembered like a file folder, separate, distinct and organized. I do however, have very rich, multi-colored memories of 3rd grade. I remember Mrs. Underwood, who I still see from time to time. I have vivid recollections of my best friend, Kim, who still lives here and whose number is programmed in my cell phone. I remember writing notes, playing hand clap games in the hall and the smell of the hall. I remember our school custodian's name. Third grade was the year Capri Sun came out and OP was big. We wore Kanga-Roos (tennis shoes with pockets) and friendship bracelets were right around the bend. This next year will probably be the year that will "define, mark, memorialize" Abby's childhood. This will probably be what she will "look back" on and tell stories about. One day her child will probably say to her, "Tell me a story about you...when you were little."

I want to be deliberate without being controlling.
I want to be pro-active without being mechanical.
I want to teach her thoughtfully, enjoy her and love her passionately, and "paint her past" with great memories to reflect upon.

The Truth About Adoption...

When I think back over the past several years about how the Lord chose to grow our family through adoption I can hardly believe it! I remember driving home from Tennessee and Greg and I making the decision to begin "the process". Our biggest concern was the time commitment. We were going to have to start foster licensing classes, CPR/First Aid certification, Fire inspection, a Home Study...and a long complicated "wait".

After about 7 months we got a phone call about a little girl that was 6 months old - we were to be her third foster home. I will never in , my whole life, forget the first time that I met her. Our case worker called me to meet her at the hospital. It was about 40 degrees outside. When I saw her, she was wearing only a t-shirt and a diaper...she was wrapped in a Pittsburgh Steelers blanket. I remember thinking that her head was perfectly round and that she looked Samoan. I remembered making a conscious note, "She could be your daughter so make this moment 'count'." She was laying on the hospital bed in the emergency room, two case workers were setting there. I leaned over her, thinking that she didn't look anything like I had expected and said, "Hi baby, I love you...it's going to be ok." She was very sick and we stayed in the hospital over Easter weekend getting her well.

The emotion that accompanied the foster to adopt process is something that is difficult to put into words. I usually compare this time to what it must feel like if your child to has a terminal illness. I felt as if I were always waiting for her to be snatched away and all of the "investment" was to be lost. However, that was not the case.

I can still smell the courtroom. On the day of our mediation- this is when you, the foster parent, meets with birth parents, grandparents, etc., to say basically, "If you will voluntarily terminate your parental rights- we will do these things...i.e., send pictures twice a year, let you see them once with in the next year...whatever you feel comfortable with - which lasted most of the morning... we were "spent". We had lunch with the case workers and then "finished up" in the juvenile court. Leaving the court room that day made it all seem o.k. We drove to the house, my mother in law had cooked dinner for us, we ate and I went directly to bed. I was so tired - from the last 8 months.

The fostering aspect revealed alot to me about myself. The fact that I would view my "investment" as a loss if she were not to be raised by us. The fact that I really didn't care about her birth parents "wishes" for her until we had reached the mediation process revealed the "superior" view I had of myself concerning them. They were young, and "products" of their environments.

I can not remember a time when I have been so aware of myself and of everyone around me as the day that our third daughter became a "Fields". It was very "real" and almost tangible. A legal change, a gavel hit, a pronouncement made...and generations, families and futures were forever altered.

This has been one of the most difficult, invigorating, tiring, and messy endeavors that our family has ever been a part of. There are days when I look at my children, the ones who are made of someone else's DNA, have different mannerisms and foreign expressions, and I feel like I am trying to communicate with a stranger who lives in my house. There are days that I feel like I will never break through the fog that seems to rest over the deep black eyes of my little girl. There are hugs that seem distant and looks that I'm sure some relative would recognize.

But then there is another day. There are little feet that run to me in the early morning hours and faint voices saying, "Mommy, I'm scared." There are prayers that I know would have never been prayed and songs that would've never been sung. There are two big sisters who would've never known the joy of having two little sisters. There are tickles that would've died and clean towels that would not have been used. There are grandma's that would've never known the love of these two little bundles and lots of chocolate milk sippy cups never made. My heart seems to grow wider and deeper when I hear them sing , "Jesus loves me this I know."

As one friend said, "Adoption is not for the weak." It is messy...but it is also beautiful. I would not change a thing.