Friday, September 5, 2014
Squished with Gratitude
I don't know what to say. I went to bed wednesday and my indigogo had over $1,000 dollars. I cried. overwhelmed. relief. I have never been so humbled. The campaign has been shared by so many people. We were even asked to be the highlight campaign for the week. I declined. I don't want Js dad to find us, or to know what is going on. As of today the campaign has over $2,000 dollars. This means we only have to figure out the other $1,000. I am super amazed. I had no idea so many people loved us. This was the first time I have ever asked for help in my entire life. It was terrifying, and my friends made it the most amazing experience of my life. I can't express what it is like to face all we are facing; a move, the not quite adopted saga, and now my health issues, and have so many people say, "I love you". In so many different ways. I didn't realize how many wonderful people are in the world, and how lucky they are all in my life.
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
He IS my son.
We arranged for Casey's mom to come stay with the boys. I have already done lesson plans for them for 2 weeks. If I need to do more that will not be a problem. Baby boy has 3 appointments next week. She was going to take him to them. Yesterday was spent figuring out logistics like, should we drive? should we fly? What will insurance cover? What should we do with the Kids? I was on the phone all day with insurance, the hospital, and called and emailed our social workers several times to figure out what was going on with J. No one answered, and no one picked up.
Our insurance has a $1,000 cap that we will have to pay out of pocket, period. Last year, during Casey's deployment I asked to get my mom, and Casey's mom approved to stay with J after his open heart surgery, so that when they were here helping out I could leave the house. My mom wanted to stay in Chicago with me, so we asked Casey's mom to stay with the kids. We thought about driving us all up there, except that the boys have so much going on next week that it wasn't possible. It didn't seem fair to put their whole life on hold, they are already so upset and stressed out.
My brother and sister in law volunteered to buy plane tickets for casey and I. The total was over $1,000. On top of that we are staying in their apartment. I don't know what I would do without them. Everything seemed to be falling into place and I fell asleep and slept hard for the first time since the 28th.
This afternoon I get a call from our agency (not state DSS), saying that we cannot leave J with my mother in law because she was never approved to watch him. They also never approved our friend, Mark's, wife, so he can't stay with them either. I tell them that Mark and his wife just had a baby 3 weeks ago, and then they proceed to ask me if Mark can come stay at our house alone?! When I say "no" I am told our only option is put J in respite care, or fly him too. I had to borrow 1,000 dollars to fly us, where am I going to get 546 more dollars to fly J? I have 598 dollars to my name for the next 2 weeks. We are only allowed 7 days of respite care a year. Beside's the fact that baby boy who has finally over come his fear of abandonment would be with strangers, which would quite likely cause him to relapse in to that fear, I don't know if I will be able to retrieve him from respite care in 7 days. If I don't, we could quite likely lose him. Not only that, but if it were your kid, and you were facing either cancer treatment or major surgery, would you want to leave them with complete strangers? No, you wouldn't, you would want them with family.
I frantically call his CASA worker. Her advice, "take him with you." as the only way to ensure he isn't removed. I am beside myself. I have to get the travel approved by the state and in hand by the day after tomorrow, and I have to come up with the money. I vent to my private INFJ group, my close friends. They are desperate to help and beg me to start an indigogo account they can donate to, so I do. I know it won't be there by the time I need it, because I need the money today. So I call my mother in law and ask her to buy the ticket with the promise of repayment. She says yes, but I can't buy it until I have approval to take him with me. I am terrified the flights will sell out before we can buy a ticket. I proceed to call J's state worker and legal guardian. She still isn't answering. I wait 45 minutes for her to return an email, or phone call, and then panic. Finally, I remember that I have the cell phone number for his mother's worker, and she is still assigned to his case! I text her to please have Js worker call ASAP. Instead she calls.
I tell her what is going on. She immediately gets the information from me, and promises she will orchestrate this for me. I doubt it will happen in time. She and I talk on the phone several times in the next 45 minutes. She filled out the paperwork, sent it to the agency, the agency sent it back, she got it signed by the supervisor, and back to the agency in 45 minutes. She called me to let me know it was all complete, and that the agency had it. This was sweet. It was her way of ensuring the agency didn't have anyway out of letting us take him. Our worker at the agency is a good worker. The problem is above her paygrade.
At this time the Indigogo has about 300 dollars in it. That is wonderful. It will help us repay our tickets. Any bit helps.
Our insurance has a $1,000 cap that we will have to pay out of pocket, period. Last year, during Casey's deployment I asked to get my mom, and Casey's mom approved to stay with J after his open heart surgery, so that when they were here helping out I could leave the house. My mom wanted to stay in Chicago with me, so we asked Casey's mom to stay with the kids. We thought about driving us all up there, except that the boys have so much going on next week that it wasn't possible. It didn't seem fair to put their whole life on hold, they are already so upset and stressed out.
My brother and sister in law volunteered to buy plane tickets for casey and I. The total was over $1,000. On top of that we are staying in their apartment. I don't know what I would do without them. Everything seemed to be falling into place and I fell asleep and slept hard for the first time since the 28th.
This afternoon I get a call from our agency (not state DSS), saying that we cannot leave J with my mother in law because she was never approved to watch him. They also never approved our friend, Mark's, wife, so he can't stay with them either. I tell them that Mark and his wife just had a baby 3 weeks ago, and then they proceed to ask me if Mark can come stay at our house alone?! When I say "no" I am told our only option is put J in respite care, or fly him too. I had to borrow 1,000 dollars to fly us, where am I going to get 546 more dollars to fly J? I have 598 dollars to my name for the next 2 weeks. We are only allowed 7 days of respite care a year. Beside's the fact that baby boy who has finally over come his fear of abandonment would be with strangers, which would quite likely cause him to relapse in to that fear, I don't know if I will be able to retrieve him from respite care in 7 days. If I don't, we could quite likely lose him. Not only that, but if it were your kid, and you were facing either cancer treatment or major surgery, would you want to leave them with complete strangers? No, you wouldn't, you would want them with family.
I frantically call his CASA worker. Her advice, "take him with you." as the only way to ensure he isn't removed. I am beside myself. I have to get the travel approved by the state and in hand by the day after tomorrow, and I have to come up with the money. I vent to my private INFJ group, my close friends. They are desperate to help and beg me to start an indigogo account they can donate to, so I do. I know it won't be there by the time I need it, because I need the money today. So I call my mother in law and ask her to buy the ticket with the promise of repayment. She says yes, but I can't buy it until I have approval to take him with me. I am terrified the flights will sell out before we can buy a ticket. I proceed to call J's state worker and legal guardian. She still isn't answering. I wait 45 minutes for her to return an email, or phone call, and then panic. Finally, I remember that I have the cell phone number for his mother's worker, and she is still assigned to his case! I text her to please have Js worker call ASAP. Instead she calls.
I tell her what is going on. She immediately gets the information from me, and promises she will orchestrate this for me. I doubt it will happen in time. She and I talk on the phone several times in the next 45 minutes. She filled out the paperwork, sent it to the agency, the agency sent it back, she got it signed by the supervisor, and back to the agency in 45 minutes. She called me to let me know it was all complete, and that the agency had it. This was sweet. It was her way of ensuring the agency didn't have anyway out of letting us take him. Our worker at the agency is a good worker. The problem is above her paygrade.
At this time the Indigogo has about 300 dollars in it. That is wonderful. It will help us repay our tickets. Any bit helps.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
Where to go
So, I went to the asthma specialist today. My breathing difficulties are not caused my asthma. My tumor is 5cm lx4cm w x1cm t. It is pretty big. He said he didn't know of a single doctor in our area that could treat me. I would have to travel 4 to 7 hours minimum and rent a hotel room to receive treatment. We have family and friends in Chicago that we can stay with, thus cutting our costs significantly.
The boys need to stay here, they all three have appointments they HAVE to go to. I am terrified this is going to disrupt baby boys placement. I am more worried about him being separated from us or removed, than I am about surgery or cancer treatment.
The boys need to stay here, they all three have appointments they HAVE to go to. I am terrified this is going to disrupt baby boys placement. I am more worried about him being separated from us or removed, than I am about surgery or cancer treatment.
August 28, 2014
We were going to Lowes go pick up things to get the house ready to sell. The Army says they are moving us. In the car on the ride there I started to labor quite a bit to get breaths in to my tired lungs. This problem had been present for nearly 8 months and had been getting progessively worse. I just chalked it up to my asthma.
I had a similar episode the week before, but my husband was gone on a TDY and I couldn't go the ER and leave my kids alone. This time he happened to be driving. It was an unexpected return home that allowed him to be here with me. He went into Lowes alone as I lay in the car trying to capture my breath. He came back out and things had not improved. The ER was only a mile away, so he drove me there. I had a very short loss of conciousness.
The ER dr. didnt hear any wheezing so she felt it couldnt be asthma. She then proceeded to order an XRay and a ct scan. A couple of hours later she comes and and asks me I have had fevers, sweats or chills lately. I answered that, "yes, actually I have had shirt soaking night sweats for over a year, and now I am sweating while I am sedentary.." She left and entered a few minutes later and announced, "Your blood work is normal, but we did find an Anterior Mediastinal mass on your Ct Scan." and she left abruptly. My husband and I just exchanged a look of, "what the heck just happened."
We came home and he took the boys outside as I looked up the definition of Anterior Mediastinal mass. It looked as though the choices were surgery via sternumectomy (like in open heart surgery), or cancer treatment depending on whether the tumor was benign or not. I was numb at either prospect. My husband is gone most of the year. How was I going to recover from a surgery, or go through a cancer treatment? We have a TPR appeal hearing in October, are moving near Christmas, I homeschool our 11 and 14 year olds, and have been working on getting a diagnosis to explain why our 2 year old cant speak, though he tries his hardest. Who would home school our kids, and take our 2 year old to his 2 weekly speech therapy appointments. Soccer starts next week for the two older boys. I was bogged down by all the reasons I couldn't be sick. This was supposed be caused by my asthma. I don't have the time or money to deal with this.
So I cried. I cried hard. I screamed at the sky. "you have to fix this. I cant fix this." And we told the boys of what was to come, and my heart ripped in two at the thought of putting them through my recovery of either scenario.
I had a similar episode the week before, but my husband was gone on a TDY and I couldn't go the ER and leave my kids alone. This time he happened to be driving. It was an unexpected return home that allowed him to be here with me. He went into Lowes alone as I lay in the car trying to capture my breath. He came back out and things had not improved. The ER was only a mile away, so he drove me there. I had a very short loss of conciousness.
The ER dr. didnt hear any wheezing so she felt it couldnt be asthma. She then proceeded to order an XRay and a ct scan. A couple of hours later she comes and and asks me I have had fevers, sweats or chills lately. I answered that, "yes, actually I have had shirt soaking night sweats for over a year, and now I am sweating while I am sedentary.." She left and entered a few minutes later and announced, "Your blood work is normal, but we did find an Anterior Mediastinal mass on your Ct Scan." and she left abruptly. My husband and I just exchanged a look of, "what the heck just happened."
We came home and he took the boys outside as I looked up the definition of Anterior Mediastinal mass. It looked as though the choices were surgery via sternumectomy (like in open heart surgery), or cancer treatment depending on whether the tumor was benign or not. I was numb at either prospect. My husband is gone most of the year. How was I going to recover from a surgery, or go through a cancer treatment? We have a TPR appeal hearing in October, are moving near Christmas, I homeschool our 11 and 14 year olds, and have been working on getting a diagnosis to explain why our 2 year old cant speak, though he tries his hardest. Who would home school our kids, and take our 2 year old to his 2 weekly speech therapy appointments. Soccer starts next week for the two older boys. I was bogged down by all the reasons I couldn't be sick. This was supposed be caused by my asthma. I don't have the time or money to deal with this.
So I cried. I cried hard. I screamed at the sky. "you have to fix this. I cant fix this." And we told the boys of what was to come, and my heart ripped in two at the thought of putting them through my recovery of either scenario.
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
First Letter to you
A letter to my son's mother,
The life you made is beautiful. He is the gleam in my eye. He bows my mouth into broad smiles. He dances for me, just for me. He lights up when I clap for him. His chest puffs out, he is proud to know he has pleased his audience. I am the mother who puffs his chest out. I am the lucky receiver of his hug attacks. I will be the witness of his life. I am lucky that you have given this to me. I am keenly aware of the magnitude of what you have done for me, and saddened by what it means for you. It means your gift of him will be missed by you. I see you in him. He looks just like you. I see you looking at me through his eyes begging to be loved. I promise to love you both.
He is so happy, so full of joy, so full of love. I feel guilty that it is for my family and not you. My greatest hope for him is that he can be reunited with you in heaven. I would love see the joy that might bring to both of you. This is what I pray for, for both of you. I am guardian, caretaker, and mother of his soul brought to me through you, to be given back to you some day.
Thank you. Thank you for giving him life when ending your pregnancy made more sense. You had nothing for him but love. I know you tried. I know you wanted what was best for him, you proved this in the most courageous way. I admire you. He is lucky to have two mothers that love him; one in heaven and one on earth.
<3 comment-3--="" earth="" mom="">
The life you made is beautiful. He is the gleam in my eye. He bows my mouth into broad smiles. He dances for me, just for me. He lights up when I clap for him. His chest puffs out, he is proud to know he has pleased his audience. I am the mother who puffs his chest out. I am the lucky receiver of his hug attacks. I will be the witness of his life. I am lucky that you have given this to me. I am keenly aware of the magnitude of what you have done for me, and saddened by what it means for you. It means your gift of him will be missed by you. I see you in him. He looks just like you. I see you looking at me through his eyes begging to be loved. I promise to love you both.
He is so happy, so full of joy, so full of love. I feel guilty that it is for my family and not you. My greatest hope for him is that he can be reunited with you in heaven. I would love see the joy that might bring to both of you. This is what I pray for, for both of you. I am guardian, caretaker, and mother of his soul brought to me through you, to be given back to you some day.
Thank you. Thank you for giving him life when ending your pregnancy made more sense. You had nothing for him but love. I know you tried. I know you wanted what was best for him, you proved this in the most courageous way. I admire you. He is lucky to have two mothers that love him; one in heaven and one on earth.
<3 comment-3--="" earth="" mom="">
Gains and Losses
"I feel so bad for him."
"Really? Why do you feel bad for him. The judge did the right thing."
"I know he did. I just feel so sad. J's dad was so upset."
"Oh, you know that was for show, right?"
But what if it wasn't. What if this man's angst, and anger were real? I know for sure that they were real to him at that moment. Js dad took the stand to defend himself. He really couldn't. In fact he took accountability, in many ways, and I admired that. He said some very painful things aimed at us while he was up there, but I couldn't be angry with him. He was trying, desperately, to remain the father of his son. J doesn't know him. He wouldn't be able to pick J out in a crowd, but this doesn't make his pain any less real. He may not know his son, but he knows what it feels like to lose him. A feeling I hope to never feel. This is why I feel for him. As he talked I studied him. I committed myself to absorbing every detail about him so I might one day tell his son everything I could about who his father was and what his father looked like.
-Son, you have your father's deep, soulful, throaty voice. A voice like Louis Armstrong. You have his sturdy, well muscled frame, and broad shoulders. He fought for you. He wasn't ready to care for you, he admitted this, but he still fought for you. Otherwise, my dear, you look exactly like your mother, and you have her sweet demeanor.-
So, Js dad's rights were terminated. I should be happy, and I am, but I also mourn. I mourn for the loss, yet another loss, that J doesn't know he has suffered yet. When J realizes this loss, he will surely mourn. I mourn for the loss Js dad has experienced, a loss he felt acutely. Whether it was a show or not, he felt loss. I have to think that even if what he felt was a mirage of a true feeling, he knew, intellectually, the implication of the ruling. Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to put on a show in the first place.
Even if the permanent separation of a family is in the best interest of the child, as it is in this case, the situation is still a tragedy. Children are meant to be raised by their parents. If they can't be raised by both biological parents, it is best for them to be raised by one of them. Every child yearns for this. It is only in extreme cases that a child cannot be reunited with their parents. In these cases both child and parent suffer such great loss, the death of a primal relationship.
I can say this to Js mom, "you got your wish my dear. Rest peacefully. He will know how much you loved him."
"Really? Why do you feel bad for him. The judge did the right thing."
"I know he did. I just feel so sad. J's dad was so upset."
"Oh, you know that was for show, right?"
But what if it wasn't. What if this man's angst, and anger were real? I know for sure that they were real to him at that moment. Js dad took the stand to defend himself. He really couldn't. In fact he took accountability, in many ways, and I admired that. He said some very painful things aimed at us while he was up there, but I couldn't be angry with him. He was trying, desperately, to remain the father of his son. J doesn't know him. He wouldn't be able to pick J out in a crowd, but this doesn't make his pain any less real. He may not know his son, but he knows what it feels like to lose him. A feeling I hope to never feel. This is why I feel for him. As he talked I studied him. I committed myself to absorbing every detail about him so I might one day tell his son everything I could about who his father was and what his father looked like.
-Son, you have your father's deep, soulful, throaty voice. A voice like Louis Armstrong. You have his sturdy, well muscled frame, and broad shoulders. He fought for you. He wasn't ready to care for you, he admitted this, but he still fought for you. Otherwise, my dear, you look exactly like your mother, and you have her sweet demeanor.-
So, Js dad's rights were terminated. I should be happy, and I am, but I also mourn. I mourn for the loss, yet another loss, that J doesn't know he has suffered yet. When J realizes this loss, he will surely mourn. I mourn for the loss Js dad has experienced, a loss he felt acutely. Whether it was a show or not, he felt loss. I have to think that even if what he felt was a mirage of a true feeling, he knew, intellectually, the implication of the ruling. Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to put on a show in the first place.
Even if the permanent separation of a family is in the best interest of the child, as it is in this case, the situation is still a tragedy. Children are meant to be raised by their parents. If they can't be raised by both biological parents, it is best for them to be raised by one of them. Every child yearns for this. It is only in extreme cases that a child cannot be reunited with their parents. In these cases both child and parent suffer such great loss, the death of a primal relationship.
I can say this to Js mom, "you got your wish my dear. Rest peacefully. He will know how much you loved him."
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
His mother
The full moon stared at me through my bedroom window keeping me awake wondering if you were looking at it too. I wonder if you are cold tonight. I wonder if you are hungry. I wonder if you miss your baby sleeping upstairs. I wonder how the same moon can mean such different things to us. I wonder why your family couldn't love you, you seem loveable to me. I wonder a lot of things about you. I wish I could love you back to life the way I have your son. I wish I could have been there when for you more. I wish someone would have told you that you could be a wonderful mother. I wonder if your defeat is what kept you from getting the help you needed. I wonder if you know I do love you. I wonder if you know that when I look into your son's eyes I see you, or if you know that when he is difficult I try to handle him with the patience and love you'd want for him even if you couldn't do it yourself. I wish you did. I wish a lot of things.
January 17 2014
"Hello?"
"Mrs. Gasway"
"Yes"
The voice on the other line is Mom's social worker, but something is wrong. Her stoic voice is unsteady. My stomach knots.
"Js mom is dead."
Silence. No air. Drowning.
"I am sorry, what?"
"She was murdered. This morning."
I gasp for air, "WHAT!"
Her voice softens. "They found her body this morning near the base."
The house suddenly feels incredibly empty and impossibly quiet. I begin to cry.
"I am sorry. I just am having a hard time processing this." The boys look at me curiously and concerned.
"Mom, what's going on. Is dad okay?" I wave at them to be quiet. This makes them even more worried.
"I never in a million years thought this would happen to her. Why her!?" and the flood gates open and I begin to weep, big heaving, air gulping, embarrassing cries. I think about J. How horrible this is for him. Even if he doesn't understand yet, he will some day. There is silence on the other end, and the I can feel that worker is bewildered by my reaction. She doesn't understand that I loved his mom, just as I love him.
"Me either Mrs. Gasway. It is terrible."
I suddenly feel aware of my nakedness and just want to end this conversation, "well thank you for calling me."
"You are welcome. I am sorry."
"Me too. I will talk to you later. I need to hang up. I am very upset." I can't stop thinking about her last moments. She must've felt so alone. She must've thought of her children. She must've worried about their futures.
"I understand."
"good bye"
"bye"
I hang up and explain what has happened to the boys. The first thing they want to do go upstairs, wake J up and hug him. I say okay, even though I know it's more for them than for J.
We hug him. The boys and I sleep together all in one room. I send Casey several messages hoping he will answer. I want him here with me RIGHT NOW, and not half a world away. There are so many things I wanted to ask her. I had always hoped that she and J would someday be able to have a relationship. Every child wants to know the woman that gave them life, even if they aren't raised by her. I mourn the fact that he will never get that. I mourn his loss and worry about the impact it will have on him when he is old enough to understand. I can never replace her for him. I can love him with all my mother's love, but he will still long for her. All adopted children long for the woman that gave them life, even if only to look into the eyes that look like their own. He does look like her. He will only know her in pictures and this makes me very sad. I can't stop thinking, my mind is so loud and only my husband knows how to quiet it. Exhausted.
At 2am he finally calls, my sweet husband. He talks to me away from the edge of an exhausted anxiety induced break-down. At 5:30 he demands I call someone to come and help. I am slurring my words in my emotional and physical exhaustion he says. I don't hear it. I refuse. He tells me to sleep, but the kids are about to wake up. He asks to speak to Cooper. Alone. I overhear him telling Cooper to take charge until someone else gets there to help. I am offended. I think I am stronger than I am. He asks one of the soldiers to call his wife and send her over. It is 6:30 when she arrives unexpectedly. My husband knew I would refuse her help. I don't want anyone to see me like this, but she is sweet and comforting. I do not feel judged by her. She let's me sleep and feeds the boys. She was wonderful. For the next few days I am afraid to leave the house. I don't who the killer is. What if it is the guy from the library?
**I'd find out the day of our March court date that during that last torturous visit she would tell her worker (and later, the grandmother of her oldest children), "He picked that woman. He loves her. She is mommy now. I don't want anyone to take him away from her." She loved him so much. She loved him selflessly.
"Mrs. Gasway"
"Yes"
The voice on the other line is Mom's social worker, but something is wrong. Her stoic voice is unsteady. My stomach knots.
"Js mom is dead."
Silence. No air. Drowning.
"I am sorry, what?"
"She was murdered. This morning."
I gasp for air, "WHAT!"
Her voice softens. "They found her body this morning near the base."
The house suddenly feels incredibly empty and impossibly quiet. I begin to cry.
"I am sorry. I just am having a hard time processing this." The boys look at me curiously and concerned.
"Mom, what's going on. Is dad okay?" I wave at them to be quiet. This makes them even more worried.
"I never in a million years thought this would happen to her. Why her!?" and the flood gates open and I begin to weep, big heaving, air gulping, embarrassing cries. I think about J. How horrible this is for him. Even if he doesn't understand yet, he will some day. There is silence on the other end, and the I can feel that worker is bewildered by my reaction. She doesn't understand that I loved his mom, just as I love him.
"Me either Mrs. Gasway. It is terrible."
I suddenly feel aware of my nakedness and just want to end this conversation, "well thank you for calling me."
"You are welcome. I am sorry."
"Me too. I will talk to you later. I need to hang up. I am very upset." I can't stop thinking about her last moments. She must've felt so alone. She must've thought of her children. She must've worried about their futures.
"I understand."
"good bye"
"bye"
I hang up and explain what has happened to the boys. The first thing they want to do go upstairs, wake J up and hug him. I say okay, even though I know it's more for them than for J.
We hug him. The boys and I sleep together all in one room. I send Casey several messages hoping he will answer. I want him here with me RIGHT NOW, and not half a world away. There are so many things I wanted to ask her. I had always hoped that she and J would someday be able to have a relationship. Every child wants to know the woman that gave them life, even if they aren't raised by her. I mourn the fact that he will never get that. I mourn his loss and worry about the impact it will have on him when he is old enough to understand. I can never replace her for him. I can love him with all my mother's love, but he will still long for her. All adopted children long for the woman that gave them life, even if only to look into the eyes that look like their own. He does look like her. He will only know her in pictures and this makes me very sad. I can't stop thinking, my mind is so loud and only my husband knows how to quiet it. Exhausted.
At 2am he finally calls, my sweet husband. He talks to me away from the edge of an exhausted anxiety induced break-down. At 5:30 he demands I call someone to come and help. I am slurring my words in my emotional and physical exhaustion he says. I don't hear it. I refuse. He tells me to sleep, but the kids are about to wake up. He asks to speak to Cooper. Alone. I overhear him telling Cooper to take charge until someone else gets there to help. I am offended. I think I am stronger than I am. He asks one of the soldiers to call his wife and send her over. It is 6:30 when she arrives unexpectedly. My husband knew I would refuse her help. I don't want anyone to see me like this, but she is sweet and comforting. I do not feel judged by her. She let's me sleep and feeds the boys. She was wonderful. For the next few days I am afraid to leave the house. I don't who the killer is. What if it is the guy from the library?
**I'd find out the day of our March court date that during that last torturous visit she would tell her worker (and later, the grandmother of her oldest children), "He picked that woman. He loves her. She is mommy now. I don't want anyone to take him away from her." She loved him so much. She loved him selflessly.
December 7th 2013
10:30 am. The phone ring paralyzes me. This is normal now. It is the land line. This means it is either a social worker or a doctor. I don't want to answer it anymore. "Hello, Gasway's" The boys are doing their school work at the table a few feet away. They pretend they aren't listening, but I know that they are."
"Mrs. GAsway, I was wondering if you would be available for a visit today."
"Of course."
"is 1:30 pm at the library okay for you?"
"I can't be there until 2, well I have to drop one of the boys off somewhere at 2, but I can drop him off early, and try to be there before 2. I can't promise I will, but I will do my best."
"Well, mom has to be some where at 2:20."
"I will be there as soon as I can."
We hang up and I put J down for a nap. I hope that he can get enough sleep before he sees his mother. I want him to be well rested and ready to play. It has been 9 months and she has only asked to see him a handful of times, and only once did she actually show. That was in September.
1:15: I wake him up. I dress him in a pair of overalls, and a longsleeve t-shirt. He looks adorable. I doubt this is how mom would dress him, but I am not sure. I wonder if this will upset her, remind her that another woman is picking out his clothes, changing his diapers, wiping his tears. The thought crushes me. We all put on coats, hats, and gloves and pile into the car.
I can feel the familiar pressure building in my throat as I park the car in the library parking lot. I want my husband to be here with me. Why do I have to do this alone?
1:50pm: As we approach the library Mom, and her social worker meet us outside. Mom is wearing the same clothes she wore to court two days ago. I don't think she has washed her hair since either. This makes my heart ache for her. She reaches for him and he turns away from her. I pry him off my chest to hand him to her. She smells of cigarette smoke and fried food, "how is mommy's baby? Did you miss me? I missed you". He looks for me over her shoulder. This was hard, but is nothing compared to what is to come. I am not his mother.
When we get inside there is a strange man smiling at me. He is obviously with mom. He was at court too. Is this Js dad? Is this mom's pimp? Who is this man? Why is he here? Is he dangerous? We head into children's section. Mom walks far ahead of us with J and I hang back to talk to the worker. We are engrossed in a conversation about future visits, when J comes running out of the play section and slams into my legs. He begs to be picked up. He is terrified of this stranger, his mother. Regardless, she is his mother and I am not, and the only way for him to become familiar with her again is for him to spend this entire visit with her. They both need this. I grab his hand and head towards the table where his mother sits looking defeated. She looks completely broken. J complies until he realizes where we are going. I get a few feet from his mother and he throws himself onto the ground, kicks his feet, flails his arms, and starts screaming a scream he has only ever screamed when he was physically hurting. My tears come without notice, and I swear I hear the crackling of my heart as it wretches in my chest. I step over him, and look at mom's worker, "I can't do this". I walk to the other end of the library. He continues to scream for the next 10 minutes. I weep. I weep for both of them, but they cannot know. I send my husband frantic IMs on Skype hoping that he will get them and respond. Though I doubt it. I feel a twinge of guilt because Army wives are supposed so suck everything up and not bother their husbands with stress from the homefront during their deployments, but I decide I don't care.
"Annie?!"
I look up from my Ipad, and let out a relieved, "Nancy."
Another homeschool mom, a friend. Relief courses through me and I let out a long sigh, followed by uncontrollable sobbing that shakes my entire body. I feel weak to cry in front of anyone.
"do you hear that screaming?"
"yes"
"That is J. He is visiting with his mom."
"Oh, annie I am so sorry."
She hugs my shivering body. I feel so frail in her arms. She hands me a tissue and that's when I notice him. The strange man that came with mom. As Nancy and I talk he circles our table and leers at me. I feel like prey. I am so thankful that Nancy decided to come to the library at this exact moment, and I know that it wasn't a coincidence. I say a silent prayer of thanks.
After roughly 10 more minutes, Mom, the man, and her social worker appear in the hallway that connects the children's section to the adult section. I ask Nancy to wait for me, and she says, "Of course". What a wonderful human. I meet them. Mom wont make eye contact with me. J is wandering about the stacks alone and she seems completely uncaring and detached from him a shift from how she entered the building. I run and pick him up. He smiles at me, and I know that he is okay. The man keeps rubbing Js head, and trying to play peek-a-boo with him. I feel complete molested. They leave, but the worker stays.
We walk back to the toys and I put J down. I am a little worried that they will come back and steal him. I know it's irrational, but I can't help it. The worker begins to talk to me about our March court date. "I am going to recommend a straight goal of adoption at our next court date."
"Okay, are we going to continue visits?"
"Yes, I'd like to try to have a visit a week. That is, if mom shows up."
Really? We are going to torture this poor kid! I know that he will adjust and that if she shows they could build a bond.
"That sounds great to me. Though I would like for her to arrive before we have to show up so that if she doesn't come we aren't left waiting on her. I think it is best if Js life is disrupted as little as possible."
"I think that is reasonable."
We leave. On the way home Casey call's me. I begin to sob. I tell him how awful she is. How terrified J was. I tell him about the strange man and how I feel molested and completely vulnerable. I tell him that I wish he was at home because I would feel safer. I am sick of doing this alone. I think I might lose my mind. I didn't know this was the last time we would see her. For the next 7 nights in a row J wakes up with night terrors several times a night. I wonder what fears the visit triggered.
"Mrs. GAsway, I was wondering if you would be available for a visit today."
"Of course."
"is 1:30 pm at the library okay for you?"
"I can't be there until 2, well I have to drop one of the boys off somewhere at 2, but I can drop him off early, and try to be there before 2. I can't promise I will, but I will do my best."
"Well, mom has to be some where at 2:20."
"I will be there as soon as I can."
We hang up and I put J down for a nap. I hope that he can get enough sleep before he sees his mother. I want him to be well rested and ready to play. It has been 9 months and she has only asked to see him a handful of times, and only once did she actually show. That was in September.
1:15: I wake him up. I dress him in a pair of overalls, and a longsleeve t-shirt. He looks adorable. I doubt this is how mom would dress him, but I am not sure. I wonder if this will upset her, remind her that another woman is picking out his clothes, changing his diapers, wiping his tears. The thought crushes me. We all put on coats, hats, and gloves and pile into the car.
I can feel the familiar pressure building in my throat as I park the car in the library parking lot. I want my husband to be here with me. Why do I have to do this alone?
1:50pm: As we approach the library Mom, and her social worker meet us outside. Mom is wearing the same clothes she wore to court two days ago. I don't think she has washed her hair since either. This makes my heart ache for her. She reaches for him and he turns away from her. I pry him off my chest to hand him to her. She smells of cigarette smoke and fried food, "how is mommy's baby? Did you miss me? I missed you". He looks for me over her shoulder. This was hard, but is nothing compared to what is to come. I am not his mother.
When we get inside there is a strange man smiling at me. He is obviously with mom. He was at court too. Is this Js dad? Is this mom's pimp? Who is this man? Why is he here? Is he dangerous? We head into children's section. Mom walks far ahead of us with J and I hang back to talk to the worker. We are engrossed in a conversation about future visits, when J comes running out of the play section and slams into my legs. He begs to be picked up. He is terrified of this stranger, his mother. Regardless, she is his mother and I am not, and the only way for him to become familiar with her again is for him to spend this entire visit with her. They both need this. I grab his hand and head towards the table where his mother sits looking defeated. She looks completely broken. J complies until he realizes where we are going. I get a few feet from his mother and he throws himself onto the ground, kicks his feet, flails his arms, and starts screaming a scream he has only ever screamed when he was physically hurting. My tears come without notice, and I swear I hear the crackling of my heart as it wretches in my chest. I step over him, and look at mom's worker, "I can't do this". I walk to the other end of the library. He continues to scream for the next 10 minutes. I weep. I weep for both of them, but they cannot know. I send my husband frantic IMs on Skype hoping that he will get them and respond. Though I doubt it. I feel a twinge of guilt because Army wives are supposed so suck everything up and not bother their husbands with stress from the homefront during their deployments, but I decide I don't care.
"Annie?!"
I look up from my Ipad, and let out a relieved, "Nancy."
Another homeschool mom, a friend. Relief courses through me and I let out a long sigh, followed by uncontrollable sobbing that shakes my entire body. I feel weak to cry in front of anyone.
"do you hear that screaming?"
"yes"
"That is J. He is visiting with his mom."
"Oh, annie I am so sorry."
She hugs my shivering body. I feel so frail in her arms. She hands me a tissue and that's when I notice him. The strange man that came with mom. As Nancy and I talk he circles our table and leers at me. I feel like prey. I am so thankful that Nancy decided to come to the library at this exact moment, and I know that it wasn't a coincidence. I say a silent prayer of thanks.
After roughly 10 more minutes, Mom, the man, and her social worker appear in the hallway that connects the children's section to the adult section. I ask Nancy to wait for me, and she says, "Of course". What a wonderful human. I meet them. Mom wont make eye contact with me. J is wandering about the stacks alone and she seems completely uncaring and detached from him a shift from how she entered the building. I run and pick him up. He smiles at me, and I know that he is okay. The man keeps rubbing Js head, and trying to play peek-a-boo with him. I feel complete molested. They leave, but the worker stays.
We walk back to the toys and I put J down. I am a little worried that they will come back and steal him. I know it's irrational, but I can't help it. The worker begins to talk to me about our March court date. "I am going to recommend a straight goal of adoption at our next court date."
"Okay, are we going to continue visits?"
"Yes, I'd like to try to have a visit a week. That is, if mom shows up."
Really? We are going to torture this poor kid! I know that he will adjust and that if she shows they could build a bond.
"That sounds great to me. Though I would like for her to arrive before we have to show up so that if she doesn't come we aren't left waiting on her. I think it is best if Js life is disrupted as little as possible."
"I think that is reasonable."
We leave. On the way home Casey call's me. I begin to sob. I tell him how awful she is. How terrified J was. I tell him about the strange man and how I feel molested and completely vulnerable. I tell him that I wish he was at home because I would feel safer. I am sick of doing this alone. I think I might lose my mind. I didn't know this was the last time we would see her. For the next 7 nights in a row J wakes up with night terrors several times a night. I wonder what fears the visit triggered.
December 5th 2013
The waiting room provides no comfort. Long wooden pughs, pastel blue walls - a feeble attempt to calm us. I am not calmed. I pray she doesn't come. I love her. I want her to get well, but I don't think she will. I have been sitting here for nearly an hour as social workers, parents, foster parents, public defenders, and off duty police officers filter in and out. I wait anxiously to see her. The mother of my foster son. I love him too. I have good days where I thank her for all she has done for him, and I want so desperately for her to be reunited with him for them to live happily ever after. I have bad days where I want to punch her in her face for all she hasn't done for him, for all the struggles he faces because of her. I am the one to help him face those struggles, and it hurts to see him try so hard to overcome. Babies shouldn't have so much to overcome. She was just a baby when she first became a mother. The cycle of life for some, and this is where I always end up. Wishing I had a magic wand.
Black hoodie, dirty hair blonde on bottom black on top drawn up into a hasty bun on top of her head. She isn't alone. Who are these people. I feel the breath drawn involuntarily out of my body. I can't breath. They call his name and we all get up to head into the courtroom. As I stand up I cannot feel my legs. They are unreliable and I am so thankful that my mother in law has come today. I will need her.
More long wooden pughs. The only seat is next to her, and her companions. I find out later that I sit next to her sister. We are so close our thighs share space. "Your honor, I recommend the goal of Adoption." They gasp and I feel their eyes on me like erasers trying to rub me out of reality. It hurts. I don't want to cry here, not in front of them. I want to wait, but I feel it rising up inside of me. "I approve the concurrent goals of relative placement and adoption." I feel her heart break. I feel it inside of me as if it is my own heart and I am not sure I can keep these tears from falling. This is not what I wanted for her. I want her to hope, to work hard to be the mother her son deserves. I know she wants it. I feel her desire. I also feel her defeat.
We share the elevator on our way out of the court house. The silence is like concrete pressing down on us, engulfing us, drowning and paralyzing us. Finally her sister breaks the silence. I am grateful. "How is J anyway?" "He is great. He is teething, so he is crying a lot. But he is healthy." I want to ask why she, and his mom didn't come to the hospital for his open heart surgery, or to visit during the 5 days he was recovering, but I don't. I have so many questions. EDIT: I found out much later that sister didn't come because she was giving birth, and mom didn't come because she was terrified her baby would die during the surgery. This makes me glad that I reserved judgment, even if everyone else told me I was naive.
Black hoodie, dirty hair blonde on bottom black on top drawn up into a hasty bun on top of her head. She isn't alone. Who are these people. I feel the breath drawn involuntarily out of my body. I can't breath. They call his name and we all get up to head into the courtroom. As I stand up I cannot feel my legs. They are unreliable and I am so thankful that my mother in law has come today. I will need her.
More long wooden pughs. The only seat is next to her, and her companions. I find out later that I sit next to her sister. We are so close our thighs share space. "Your honor, I recommend the goal of Adoption." They gasp and I feel their eyes on me like erasers trying to rub me out of reality. It hurts. I don't want to cry here, not in front of them. I want to wait, but I feel it rising up inside of me. "I approve the concurrent goals of relative placement and adoption." I feel her heart break. I feel it inside of me as if it is my own heart and I am not sure I can keep these tears from falling. This is not what I wanted for her. I want her to hope, to work hard to be the mother her son deserves. I know she wants it. I feel her desire. I also feel her defeat.
We share the elevator on our way out of the court house. The silence is like concrete pressing down on us, engulfing us, drowning and paralyzing us. Finally her sister breaks the silence. I am grateful. "How is J anyway?" "He is great. He is teething, so he is crying a lot. But he is healthy." I want to ask why she, and his mom didn't come to the hospital for his open heart surgery, or to visit during the 5 days he was recovering, but I don't. I have so many questions. EDIT: I found out much later that sister didn't come because she was giving birth, and mom didn't come because she was terrified her baby would die during the surgery. This makes me glad that I reserved judgment, even if everyone else told me I was naive.
Monday, November 18, 2013
The storm
It is late and I should be sleeping. This memory, this beautiful memory haunts me. The steamy summer storm raged outside. We had the windows to the porch open wide to let in the thunder. We loved storms. The angrier the better. We sat on the couch, your hands on my belly, waiting to feel the life inside reach out to you. Only a few more weeks. I was terrified, and you were impatient to meet your first. The sirens went off. The sound sending us outside in mad anticipation. I couldn't get my body to leave the porch. I stood there in bare feet. The rain whipping about me, the wind pulling at my sundress, as you ran to the street to see if it would come. The rain falling so hard I could barely see you just a few dozen feet away.
I wanted to go too. I was paralyzed by my biology. Then I heard it. The familiar freight train roar growing louder that meant it WAS coming. And I yelled to you, "we have to go to the basement" but you didn't hear me. I could barely see you. Panick set in. I had only experienced curiosity, wonderment, and excitement in times like these, but now I wanted to run away from the noise. Then came the so-loud snapping of the oaks in the park on the other side of the narrow street. I yelled a yell that hurt, "we have to go inside, right now!" And you yelled back, "no, I won't, but you probably should". I thought I might puke. I could feel the fingers of it clawing at the inside of my raw throat.
Some readers will judge me for what I said next. My wet sun dress clung to my swollen belly, as I screamed, "I am NOT raising this baby without you! If you won't go in neither will I." So I stood on that porch drenched, being beaten by pellets of rain, that might have stung if I could have felt them, as the sound of trees snapping traveled down the park, now made invisible by the rain. The sound traveled parallel to our row of houses and into the distance. The park lost over 50 trees that day, but I learned something about us.
I would rather stand with you in any storm then stand alone in safety. I would rather enter the fray with you than be without you. This life, this military life, of forced separations is hard because you enter storms and I cannot come. I have to stay behind. But even so, know that when you think you don't see me there standing next to you in the rain, I am. I am definitely there. I made up my mind on a hot steamy summer day long ago that no matter what, I was weathering every storm WITH you.
Saturday, November 9, 2013
Time is relative
I have been holding back in posting more about our gift baby. He needs lots of care and attention. Plus, I wanted to give myself and my family lots of time and space to make an authentic, spirit-led, decision about adoption, to stop knocking on the doors to Casey's heart, to step back, get out of the way, and give them room to open. You see, when you are thrown a curve ball it is easy to duck. When our expectations aren't met, when we think we are aligned with God's will and then we are surprised unexpectedly it is easy to say "no", this isn't how it was supposed to go. This isn't what God wants for me. This is when prayerful reflection is needed most.
We became foster-adoptive parents to adopt a girl between the ages of 10-14. We had a neat little plan to build our family without adding "parenting years" onto our marriage. Wow, typing that I realize how selfish that sounds. Trust me, we had great intentions. We also truly and honestly wanted an older child because they are so much less likely to be adopted. We wanted a girl because we don't have one. Casey wanted a daughter to walk down the aisle, and I wanted a daughter with whom I could journey motherhood. We wanted to be witness to the life of a daughter. We still hope for that. Our problem was in thinking that we had it all figured out.
Isn't that how it happens? Just when you think you have it all figured out, "the joke's on you". In late April 2013, when we said "yes" to fostering gift baby we thought he was passing through our lives. We all prepared not to take ownership of him. He wasn't ours. I have said "no" to plenty of foster placements for various reasons, but this time I just couldn't do it. I couldn't. I convinced myself, "I will love him well, and then he will move on." It happened slowly, the way dusk creeps in on children at play. There is a huge, yet subtle difference between loving and caring for a child, and loving and taking ownership of them as your own. It felt intrusive to take ownership of a child whose mother I hoped would heal for him. I wouldn't do that to either of them. I couldn't do that. But he pried my heart open and crawled inside. Over time I died to my plan, and accepted this as God's plan, at least for now. What a beautiful plan too! I get to love and be loved by a beautiful soul I wouldn't know had I said, "no" on the grounds that he was not a girl between the ages of 10-14.
As time wore on, both of our boys began to refer to him as their, "little brother". First, during introductions. Then, when they were playing with him. As the days slipped from one to another it was as if he had always been a part of our family, as if he were meant for us. His personality is a blend of the older two boys. He shares their love of music, their sense of humor, even some of their quirks from when they were babies! The similarities are uncanny. Eventually, holding him ceased to be a duty and became a privilege. He ceased to exist out side of myself, but became an extension of me. His coos would come to me like enchanted notes carried on a warm breeze from a distant violin. They began to make me revel with joy for his existence, and every morning and afternoon I waited with anticipation for him wake up.
Casey agreed to adopt him, in writing. He was still nervous about all those plans he hadn't yet let die. I wasn't. A new plan, more beautiful than any we could plan, had unfurled before me day by day. The time came to change gift baby's placement goal. Fostercare adoption isn't linear. It isn't easy. In one instant they are going to be yours forever, and the next the could be ripped from your arms. This caused us to deny the depth of our feelings for him, but it was something we naively thought we might avoid. When this possibility reared its ugly head at us things really changed. That's when we had to be really honest with ourselves. Until that point it had been easy for both of us to pretend that we could go back to "normal" if baby boy left us. Facing this reality caused us to realize that things were never going to be the same. The boys and I especially, would grieve a lost child if he were to go. The idea caused my heart to twist and palpitate in my chest.
We sat on seat edge for two weeks waiting to find out if he would be staying or going. During that time, I tried to distance my heart from his and couldn't. Instead he became even more a part of me. I was sleepless, praying in my bed, as shadows washed over me, for the strength to follow His plan. Questioning Him, "why would you do this to us? I don't understand why." Then the day came when I found out what was really happening (can't wait to tell you all some day). The social worker gave me a speech on timing, the time line, and the legalities currently being adhered too. As the social worker explained to me what was going on, and what her goals for him were I realized I could have slept well if I had a little more faith. Not because she was telling me what I had longed to hear, "he is absolutely yours." No. I realized, who am I to question "the Plan"? His timing is perfect, it isn't my timing. I don't get what I want when I want it. I get what I need when I need it. We needed to have that epiphany right now. We needed a reality check. We needed to come together. I needed to understand that I am not in control. That I need to let go and trust God to do his thing. That is HUGE for me! I grew from knowledge to understanding through experience. It is a dangerous thing indeed to mistake knowledge for understanding, and humbling to realize that is exactly what you have done.
We love him. He is ours (for sure right now, but I hope forever). We love him. I literally feel as if he has been birthed through me these last few weeks. Hearing his voice cause me to swell to bursting with joy. Witnessing him experience life makes me feel so lucky, so blessed. It is a privilege, I am proud of him, and proud to be thought of as his mother. I can't explain how this bond builds just yet. It as strong as my bond with the other boys. He will always be a part of us, and us a part of him. No matter what. I am thankful. I am so incredibly thankful. The last few months have humbled me beyond measure, and taught me that in my darkest moments I have the most to be thankful for. I have experienced that in darkness God truly is working the most in me and for me. I had knowledge of that truth before this, but I did not understand. I have experienced that God really is good all the time. I have experienced God. Again. This time more beautifully and fully than I could imagine. I am but a speck, and yet he carefully tends my every need. He often does this in spite of my moaning and lack of gratitude.
It has also taught me that I need to listen more carefully to that still small voice inside of me when it shares the good as well as the bad. How many times do we look in on possibilities, as if we are standing in the doorway to a room filled with joyful strangers, horrified to step in, but desperately longing to? That little voice that says, "you can do this. This would be good for you." often gets ignored while we listen to all the reasons we can't or shouldn't. How long have we spend languishing in doorways? Don't listen to that negative voice (unless you are planning to take a barrel of Niagara Falls, then listen to it) telling you why you can't. Take the step, and trust in God's timing.
We became foster-adoptive parents to adopt a girl between the ages of 10-14. We had a neat little plan to build our family without adding "parenting years" onto our marriage. Wow, typing that I realize how selfish that sounds. Trust me, we had great intentions. We also truly and honestly wanted an older child because they are so much less likely to be adopted. We wanted a girl because we don't have one. Casey wanted a daughter to walk down the aisle, and I wanted a daughter with whom I could journey motherhood. We wanted to be witness to the life of a daughter. We still hope for that. Our problem was in thinking that we had it all figured out.
Isn't that how it happens? Just when you think you have it all figured out, "the joke's on you". In late April 2013, when we said "yes" to fostering gift baby we thought he was passing through our lives. We all prepared not to take ownership of him. He wasn't ours. I have said "no" to plenty of foster placements for various reasons, but this time I just couldn't do it. I couldn't. I convinced myself, "I will love him well, and then he will move on." It happened slowly, the way dusk creeps in on children at play. There is a huge, yet subtle difference between loving and caring for a child, and loving and taking ownership of them as your own. It felt intrusive to take ownership of a child whose mother I hoped would heal for him. I wouldn't do that to either of them. I couldn't do that. But he pried my heart open and crawled inside. Over time I died to my plan, and accepted this as God's plan, at least for now. What a beautiful plan too! I get to love and be loved by a beautiful soul I wouldn't know had I said, "no" on the grounds that he was not a girl between the ages of 10-14.
As time wore on, both of our boys began to refer to him as their, "little brother". First, during introductions. Then, when they were playing with him. As the days slipped from one to another it was as if he had always been a part of our family, as if he were meant for us. His personality is a blend of the older two boys. He shares their love of music, their sense of humor, even some of their quirks from when they were babies! The similarities are uncanny. Eventually, holding him ceased to be a duty and became a privilege. He ceased to exist out side of myself, but became an extension of me. His coos would come to me like enchanted notes carried on a warm breeze from a distant violin. They began to make me revel with joy for his existence, and every morning and afternoon I waited with anticipation for him wake up.
Casey agreed to adopt him, in writing. He was still nervous about all those plans he hadn't yet let die. I wasn't. A new plan, more beautiful than any we could plan, had unfurled before me day by day. The time came to change gift baby's placement goal. Fostercare adoption isn't linear. It isn't easy. In one instant they are going to be yours forever, and the next the could be ripped from your arms. This caused us to deny the depth of our feelings for him, but it was something we naively thought we might avoid. When this possibility reared its ugly head at us things really changed. That's when we had to be really honest with ourselves. Until that point it had been easy for both of us to pretend that we could go back to "normal" if baby boy left us. Facing this reality caused us to realize that things were never going to be the same. The boys and I especially, would grieve a lost child if he were to go. The idea caused my heart to twist and palpitate in my chest.
We sat on seat edge for two weeks waiting to find out if he would be staying or going. During that time, I tried to distance my heart from his and couldn't. Instead he became even more a part of me. I was sleepless, praying in my bed, as shadows washed over me, for the strength to follow His plan. Questioning Him, "why would you do this to us? I don't understand why." Then the day came when I found out what was really happening (can't wait to tell you all some day). The social worker gave me a speech on timing, the time line, and the legalities currently being adhered too. As the social worker explained to me what was going on, and what her goals for him were I realized I could have slept well if I had a little more faith. Not because she was telling me what I had longed to hear, "he is absolutely yours." No. I realized, who am I to question "the Plan"? His timing is perfect, it isn't my timing. I don't get what I want when I want it. I get what I need when I need it. We needed to have that epiphany right now. We needed a reality check. We needed to come together. I needed to understand that I am not in control. That I need to let go and trust God to do his thing. That is HUGE for me! I grew from knowledge to understanding through experience. It is a dangerous thing indeed to mistake knowledge for understanding, and humbling to realize that is exactly what you have done.
We love him. He is ours (for sure right now, but I hope forever). We love him. I literally feel as if he has been birthed through me these last few weeks. Hearing his voice cause me to swell to bursting with joy. Witnessing him experience life makes me feel so lucky, so blessed. It is a privilege, I am proud of him, and proud to be thought of as his mother. I can't explain how this bond builds just yet. It as strong as my bond with the other boys. He will always be a part of us, and us a part of him. No matter what. I am thankful. I am so incredibly thankful. The last few months have humbled me beyond measure, and taught me that in my darkest moments I have the most to be thankful for. I have experienced that in darkness God truly is working the most in me and for me. I had knowledge of that truth before this, but I did not understand. I have experienced that God really is good all the time. I have experienced God. Again. This time more beautifully and fully than I could imagine. I am but a speck, and yet he carefully tends my every need. He often does this in spite of my moaning and lack of gratitude.
It has also taught me that I need to listen more carefully to that still small voice inside of me when it shares the good as well as the bad. How many times do we look in on possibilities, as if we are standing in the doorway to a room filled with joyful strangers, horrified to step in, but desperately longing to? That little voice that says, "you can do this. This would be good for you." often gets ignored while we listen to all the reasons we can't or shouldn't. How long have we spend languishing in doorways? Don't listen to that negative voice (unless you are planning to take a barrel of Niagara Falls, then listen to it) telling you why you can't. Take the step, and trust in God's timing.
Monday, August 12, 2013
Prayer for my dark night
Just as I took baby boy's brokenness into the sanctuary of my heart, so too does Christ take my brokenness into His Sacred Heart. Just as baby boy screamed panicked screams when I went out of his sight, so do I now scream for You. I held him there, in my heart, loving him. It wasn't until he exhaled and emptied himself of his apprehension that my love could help him. Just as You hold me in your Sacred Heart, Jesus, and wait for me to exhale and empty myself so you can fill me with the breath of your love. Forgive me for fighting Your love, for trying to do it all myself. I can do nothing without You, Jesus. Jesus, help me pray, "Jesus, I trust in you" with sincerity. Let me collapse into your arms already wrapped around me. Help me realize how weak I am, and that just like baby boy, I cannot do anything for myself. Take my brokenness, my anger, my frustration and with your love transform me into love. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen
I am NOT Job.
I was relieved to head home with baby boy. I gingerly placed his delicate little body in his car seat. He reached down and grabbed the stuffed caterpillar Cooper had given him. He held it up to me and smiled! It was the first self-prompted smile I had seen from him in the month I had known him. He knew he was going home. Home. What does that mean to him? Does he know who Cooper is? Does he remember? It has only been 5 days, but so much has happened. We came home to a very interesting "Welcome Home" sign handmade by Will. It
Over the next few weeks Casey and I got into a routine. We talked a few times a day. He was living his life "over there". I was living mine here. He wasn't interested in hearing about the baby's eyes filling up with life, or his incision healing. I was crushed. He tolerated my ramblings and ventings, but he was NOT invested. He was listening to appease me. I couldn't blame him. This little guy had stolen all of my attention those last weeks, and was now dominating our conversations. It hurt to have so much inside that I wouldn't say for fear that it would be met with passivity. It hurts to have your passions met with passivity. It hurts a lot. I couldn't help but feel rejected.
Then I got my Court Summons, and affidavit. I learned everything there was to know about baby boys past. It made me angry! For his protection I won't go anymore in depth than that. It was infuriating. Everything made sense now. All of his apprehensions were completely rational. He didn't trust me, because he had learned that caregivers couldn't be trusted. Who does that to a baby? He was lucky to be a live, and I was delighted that he was.
Court day came. I ventured alone to the court house, a heavy, windowless building with a single door entry that looks dwarfed by the concrete surrounding it. I parked in front of the jail, walked into this seemingly tiny door, and tried not to feel completely insignificant. After passing the inspections of the metal detector and security guards I climbed the stairs to the 4th floor. Black marble everywhere, and nothing else. No benches, no trash cans, nothing. Just a large, empty room covered in black marble. I stood in front of a door that said "enter quietly" for a while trying to decide if it opened to a court room or a waiting room, and feeling a bit like I did on the first day of second grade when my mom let me find my room, on my own (at my request). I felt myself shrink at the idea that I would enter a courtroom to pairs of eyes with crinkled brows trained on me. I wished Casey was here. I waited until someone else, braver than myself, passed through it. I entered to find a tribe of people there for the hearing, but none of them was his mom. The air felt stagnant, and the room was covered in a film of dirt, traces of the others who had waited here.
While I was waiting, I was approached about adopting him, legally if it came to that. Of course I would. The guardian et litum said he had talked to Casey before Casey left and Casey had also said yes. I was curious, but elated. I couldn't wait to tell Casey.
After 5 or 6 hours I headed home, and When Casey called I told him. He was not just angry. He felt violated. He was far away dealing with his aching for the boys and I. There were no extra rooms in his heart at the moment. This is when the rabbit hole opened up inside of me. The moment I realized that no matter what would happen, my heart would be broken unless Casey's opened up. Casey's wouldn't open until he came home, and that was months away, and months after the final answer on the adoption was due. I had already lost so much in these few weeks. This seemed like an impossible situation. If only he had been there to hold my had in the waiting room. If only he had been there to be my courage in court. Then he would understand. Then his heart would be open. But he wasn't there, and I couldn't muster a single atom of anger toward him in my entire body. It wasn't his fault.
How many months must I endure this slow breaking, this dark night? I didn't know what God had in store, but I was starting to think I was being asked to make impossible sacrifices. "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Really, "I can do nothing without Christ" is more accurate, though no more of a consolation. I am weak and selfish. I want my way. I breathed the air into this life by giving it my own air. I have watched the emptiness inside of him fill with love of life. We have been brought together and that will never be undone. Even if he leaves, he will be forever a part of me that is fractured and broken. I will wonder about him, pray for him, worry about him, and miss him (somewhere deep inside of me a little voice reminds me that those feelings are inevitable because all children leave home). Why can't my husband just find the same investment in life. The same understanding that there is no higher calling in life than to breathe your air into another. The joy and peace my faith brought to me seem far from me now. I wonder at the aching inside of me, that won't go away with prayer or scripture, why?
The answers can come easily, "God is working on building your virtues...your faith... your humility". Knowledge, wisdom, understanding, and acceptance are not synonyms. This is a process, a very painful process. I will make it through, God's will be done (please). I am still angry. Angry that this process must take place when so much that I depend on is gone. I have read St. John of the Cross. I know that God calls us to depend only on him through circumstances exactly like this. I can't help to see this cross he has given me as Simon of Cyrene saw the Cross of Christ at first, as an unjust burden. Lord, help me to have a grateful heart. This anger brings me only darkness, and keeps me far from your peace. Amen.
Over the next few weeks Casey and I got into a routine. We talked a few times a day. He was living his life "over there". I was living mine here. He wasn't interested in hearing about the baby's eyes filling up with life, or his incision healing. I was crushed. He tolerated my ramblings and ventings, but he was NOT invested. He was listening to appease me. I couldn't blame him. This little guy had stolen all of my attention those last weeks, and was now dominating our conversations. It hurt to have so much inside that I wouldn't say for fear that it would be met with passivity. It hurts to have your passions met with passivity. It hurts a lot. I couldn't help but feel rejected.
Then I got my Court Summons, and affidavit. I learned everything there was to know about baby boys past. It made me angry! For his protection I won't go anymore in depth than that. It was infuriating. Everything made sense now. All of his apprehensions were completely rational. He didn't trust me, because he had learned that caregivers couldn't be trusted. Who does that to a baby? He was lucky to be a live, and I was delighted that he was.
Court day came. I ventured alone to the court house, a heavy, windowless building with a single door entry that looks dwarfed by the concrete surrounding it. I parked in front of the jail, walked into this seemingly tiny door, and tried not to feel completely insignificant. After passing the inspections of the metal detector and security guards I climbed the stairs to the 4th floor. Black marble everywhere, and nothing else. No benches, no trash cans, nothing. Just a large, empty room covered in black marble. I stood in front of a door that said "enter quietly" for a while trying to decide if it opened to a court room or a waiting room, and feeling a bit like I did on the first day of second grade when my mom let me find my room, on my own (at my request). I felt myself shrink at the idea that I would enter a courtroom to pairs of eyes with crinkled brows trained on me. I wished Casey was here. I waited until someone else, braver than myself, passed through it. I entered to find a tribe of people there for the hearing, but none of them was his mom. The air felt stagnant, and the room was covered in a film of dirt, traces of the others who had waited here.
While I was waiting, I was approached about adopting him, legally if it came to that. Of course I would. The guardian et litum said he had talked to Casey before Casey left and Casey had also said yes. I was curious, but elated. I couldn't wait to tell Casey.
After 5 or 6 hours I headed home, and When Casey called I told him. He was not just angry. He felt violated. He was far away dealing with his aching for the boys and I. There were no extra rooms in his heart at the moment. This is when the rabbit hole opened up inside of me. The moment I realized that no matter what would happen, my heart would be broken unless Casey's opened up. Casey's wouldn't open until he came home, and that was months away, and months after the final answer on the adoption was due. I had already lost so much in these few weeks. This seemed like an impossible situation. If only he had been there to hold my had in the waiting room. If only he had been there to be my courage in court. Then he would understand. Then his heart would be open. But he wasn't there, and I couldn't muster a single atom of anger toward him in my entire body. It wasn't his fault.
How many months must I endure this slow breaking, this dark night? I didn't know what God had in store, but I was starting to think I was being asked to make impossible sacrifices. "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Really, "I can do nothing without Christ" is more accurate, though no more of a consolation. I am weak and selfish. I want my way. I breathed the air into this life by giving it my own air. I have watched the emptiness inside of him fill with love of life. We have been brought together and that will never be undone. Even if he leaves, he will be forever a part of me that is fractured and broken. I will wonder about him, pray for him, worry about him, and miss him (somewhere deep inside of me a little voice reminds me that those feelings are inevitable because all children leave home). Why can't my husband just find the same investment in life. The same understanding that there is no higher calling in life than to breathe your air into another. The joy and peace my faith brought to me seem far from me now. I wonder at the aching inside of me, that won't go away with prayer or scripture, why?
The answers can come easily, "God is working on building your virtues...your faith... your humility". Knowledge, wisdom, understanding, and acceptance are not synonyms. This is a process, a very painful process. I will make it through, God's will be done (please). I am still angry. Angry that this process must take place when so much that I depend on is gone. I have read St. John of the Cross. I know that God calls us to depend only on him through circumstances exactly like this. I can't help to see this cross he has given me as Simon of Cyrene saw the Cross of Christ at first, as an unjust burden. Lord, help me to have a grateful heart. This anger brings me only darkness, and keeps me far from your peace. Amen.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
The lie
When we believe in a false narrative then everything else we tell ourselves about the topic is contrived so as to convince ourselves that we haven't been lied to.
I used to think I was pretty smart. Then I applied myself to seeking only the truth, and that's when it happened. That's when I realized I bought into a lie. I believed the my body my choice rhetoric. That contraceptives empowered me to make decisions about my body, and future. I couldn't wait to move out of my parents house, go to planned parenthood, get on the pill so I could "get some".
I was naive. I thought I was empowering myself, exercising my feminist rights taking the reigns of my sexuality, but I hadn't stopped to think about sexuality itself. I didn't stop to think that I might be selling myself short by buying into the belief that I must be sexual to be viable, that I must be sexualized to be loved. I hadn't listened when my parents told me I should be loved for who I am.
Planned parenthood certainly wasn't going to tell me this. Media, movies, pop culture definitely conveys feminine power and sexualization go hand in hand (basic instinct, Madonna, etc.). I didn't stop to think that woman has power outside of her sexual prowess, that was counter-intuitive, and counter-cultural. I should have realized to be valued intellectually had nothing at to do with sexuality. My self perception was definitely wrapped up in other people's perception of my sexual viability. How sick is that!
Exhibit A: planned parenthood's facebook cover photo for the election last fall... Notice it simultaneously sexualized women, while implying that our main political concern is limited to Pro-life/Pro-choice issues, not the economy, not foreign policy, not education. I am more than my private parts believe it or not. This might be excusable if it was a one time "mistake", but sadly this is status quo marketing (sexualizing, and marginalizing women).
I took my birth control religiously, more religiously than I received communion during this time in my life. I had a lot to lose! After 4 years I saw signs that my body had adjusted to the dose, namely break through bleeding, so I called Planned Parenthood, scheduled an appointment. They told me it was impossible to adjust to the dosage (mind you I had grown 1.5 inches, and gained and lost 20 pounds while on it). That I could continue as usual with no issues. 5 months later I found out I was 3 months pregnant... Their solution... An abortion. They were not at all worried about my well being, or they would have listened to me 5 months earlier. They treated me with a predatory attitude. I believed the lie that P.P. was looking out for me. I believed the lie that sex on demand made me independent, intellectual, and valued. In reality, i was still fulfilling the wishes, and roles of a male dominated culture for fear of rejection. What is a freedom that simply repackages your oppression and hands it back to you? Had I really been this blind? The entire premise of birth control is that I must be sexual to be viable. This is not true. I can be valuable, intellectual, and quite variable WITHOUT being sexual. Since this is true, if I would have followed this logic when I was younger I wouldn't have had to rely on Planned Parenthood. Contraceptives wouldn't have been necessary. I could have been healthier, as most women are(check cancer rates and contraceptives) without them, i just didn't know better. There are many lies out there about women's health. Even if I had known, I am not sure if I would have had the courage live out the truth.
The moral of this story girls is this, your body, your choice. The narrative of love, and sexuality has been so twisted, and our definition of Choice contrived, that you must seek the truth. Choice isn't what is sold to you by Jersey Shore, or the Kardashians, or Planned Parenthood. Choice is choosing to love yourself, and to demand without fear, to be loved for who you are, not what services you have to offer. This is scary, I know. Guys are used to getting sex on demand, and will likely move on to someone more willing to give them what they want. Let them. You are worth More respect than that. You do have a choice. When it comes to your body, honor it, and seek UNADULTERATED truth before you make choices about it, or what you put in it, (pun intended). Demand that the men in your life respect it also. Research! Btw please visit this link, it holds the truth about human sexuality, and I wish I would have known about it long, long ago... http://www.theologyofthebody.net/. Take courage, and know the truth is out there waiting for you to discover it and rewrite your narrative.
I used to think I was pretty smart. Then I applied myself to seeking only the truth, and that's when it happened. That's when I realized I bought into a lie. I believed the my body my choice rhetoric. That contraceptives empowered me to make decisions about my body, and future. I couldn't wait to move out of my parents house, go to planned parenthood, get on the pill so I could "get some".
I was naive. I thought I was empowering myself, exercising my feminist rights taking the reigns of my sexuality, but I hadn't stopped to think about sexuality itself. I didn't stop to think that I might be selling myself short by buying into the belief that I must be sexual to be viable, that I must be sexualized to be loved. I hadn't listened when my parents told me I should be loved for who I am.
Planned parenthood certainly wasn't going to tell me this. Media, movies, pop culture definitely conveys feminine power and sexualization go hand in hand (basic instinct, Madonna, etc.). I didn't stop to think that woman has power outside of her sexual prowess, that was counter-intuitive, and counter-cultural. I should have realized to be valued intellectually had nothing at to do with sexuality. My self perception was definitely wrapped up in other people's perception of my sexual viability. How sick is that!
Exhibit A: planned parenthood's facebook cover photo for the election last fall... Notice it simultaneously sexualized women, while implying that our main political concern is limited to Pro-life/Pro-choice issues, not the economy, not foreign policy, not education. I am more than my private parts believe it or not. This might be excusable if it was a one time "mistake", but sadly this is status quo marketing (sexualizing, and marginalizing women).
I took my birth control religiously, more religiously than I received communion during this time in my life. I had a lot to lose! After 4 years I saw signs that my body had adjusted to the dose, namely break through bleeding, so I called Planned Parenthood, scheduled an appointment. They told me it was impossible to adjust to the dosage (mind you I had grown 1.5 inches, and gained and lost 20 pounds while on it). That I could continue as usual with no issues. 5 months later I found out I was 3 months pregnant... Their solution... An abortion. They were not at all worried about my well being, or they would have listened to me 5 months earlier. They treated me with a predatory attitude. I believed the lie that P.P. was looking out for me. I believed the lie that sex on demand made me independent, intellectual, and valued. In reality, i was still fulfilling the wishes, and roles of a male dominated culture for fear of rejection. What is a freedom that simply repackages your oppression and hands it back to you? Had I really been this blind? The entire premise of birth control is that I must be sexual to be viable. This is not true. I can be valuable, intellectual, and quite variable WITHOUT being sexual. Since this is true, if I would have followed this logic when I was younger I wouldn't have had to rely on Planned Parenthood. Contraceptives wouldn't have been necessary. I could have been healthier, as most women are(check cancer rates and contraceptives) without them, i just didn't know better. There are many lies out there about women's health. Even if I had known, I am not sure if I would have had the courage live out the truth.
The moral of this story girls is this, your body, your choice. The narrative of love, and sexuality has been so twisted, and our definition of Choice contrived, that you must seek the truth. Choice isn't what is sold to you by Jersey Shore, or the Kardashians, or Planned Parenthood. Choice is choosing to love yourself, and to demand without fear, to be loved for who you are, not what services you have to offer. This is scary, I know. Guys are used to getting sex on demand, and will likely move on to someone more willing to give them what they want. Let them. You are worth More respect than that. You do have a choice. When it comes to your body, honor it, and seek UNADULTERATED truth before you make choices about it, or what you put in it, (pun intended). Demand that the men in your life respect it also. Research! Btw please visit this link, it holds the truth about human sexuality, and I wish I would have known about it long, long ago... http://www.theologyofthebody.net/. Take courage, and know the truth is out there waiting for you to discover it and rewrite your narrative.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Christmas Present
I met my daughter in a conference room in July 2012. She wasn't born of my body, but of my heart. I loved everything about her; her spirit, the pink streaks in her hair, her chuck tailors. It was that day that our family opened our home and hearts to her not knowing what would come of it, not knowing if she'd truly give herself to us.
It wasn't easy for her, and it was hard on my husband too. Our family isn't an easy one to adjust to especially if you are a 15 year old girl. We eat funny food and spend a lot of time in the woods. Her first week she tried so hard to be what she thought we wanted her to be. My husband wouldn't have it. He pushed her to be who she really was, to make demands that were true to where her heart was. She thought he was crazy, but she finally caved in, "Look I've had dozens of placements and I'm getting too old to keep trying to change myself to fit into OTHER people's boxes. You are right, I don't want to change anymore."
I think being allowed to speak those words out loud led to a deepening trust in us, and an epiphany within herself. Over the next two weeks we spent as much time together as possible. She was so sweet, and loving, and tried so hard to please us. I wondered when she'd crack. My husband left on a mission and it was just the four of us at home. I finally started to ask her what she wanted.
"What do you really want?"
"I want to be with you guys."
"We want you to be with us too, but I know it will take a LOT of adjusting for you. I know you can do it, and we of course will meet you half way, but I sense something more from you."
It was left at that for a few days. I had my fingers crossed that I was wrong, but my intuition isn't wrong that often. Then it happened, she had a blow up. I thought, "finally, she's acting her age." I had been worried that things had been too peaceful. I was a teenage girl once. I know that it is impossible to be pleasant forever! We went on a hike. On the way there she asked when we could go to the mall. I had said that we would go, but she didn't believe me. She was pretty upset, and worried that we WOULDN'T meet her half way, so she walked far ahead of the boys and I. I let her. I knew she was thinking, and honestly I felt she was dealing with her emotions in a really positive way. I knew that my assuring her wasn't enough. I knew she missed her friends. I knew it was hard on her, and that all I could do was continue to reassure her and follow through with my actions, and that's what I did. Things calmed down and we continued to build a really great rapport.
It was a few days later that she came to me, "Can I talk with you after dinner."
"Sure. Of course."
We ate our dinner. I sent the boys out to play so I could give her my undivided attention.
"I really like you guys. Like, I like you the most out of all the dozens of families I've been with. I love the boys. If I were 10 I would want to be adopted by you. When I was ten I still was willing to adapt, and all I wanted was a family JUST LIKE THIS. I'm not ten anymore. I'm 15 and I'm tired of adapting. I really just wanted a place where I could parent myself, I've been doing it now for a long time. You guys want to parent me, and I'm just not willing. I'm worried about the conflicts and what it would do to the boys. If I am going to be parented I want to be by my biological mom."
"Wow. Okay. Well, you are right, we want to parent you, and with little brothers you'd be setting the precedent and we couldn't allow you to parent yourself, even if you ARE perfectly capable. Where would you go if not here? Are you saying you'd rather be in a group home?"
"No. I'd rather be with my mom. I've realized that I'm past being adopted. I thought it was because no one wanted teens, and now I know it's that I just don't want that anymore. No one has ever asked me what I wanted until I came here, and you guys demanded it. I want to go back to my mom."
"I am not trying to kill your dreams, but is that even possible? I just really don't want you to be disappointed."
"Yes, it is. I worked really hard, and wrote our state senators to get a bill passed that would reinstate parental rights to parents who met specific criteria. It was passed this summer."
"Seriously!! That's awesome! Why didn't anyone tell us about this? Why didn't anyone look into that for you before looking for an adoptive family? I mean obviously it was important to you before now."
"No one asked me what I wanted. When I'd bring it up they'd tell me it was impossible, or talk bad about my mom. They'd say she didn't want me, or that she couldn't handle me, but she has my sister and brothers. I guess I just believed that she didn't want me. They told me it was bad for me to talk to her, so I unfriended her on facebook even."
At this point I feel like I need to talk to her mom, or at least listen to them talk to each other and let my intuition go to work. "Alright, does she know you feel this way? Your mom I mean."
"I ran away to her house in April. She called the police on me and had me sent back because she said she could get into big trouble. She said when I was 18 I could go back to her."
"Okay, I think you need to call her and let her know what you are thinking."
She called, and without my asking, kept the phone on speaker. Her mom was on board. Her mom was realistic and let her know that this could take a long time and even then might not be successful, "are you willing to risk it ALL for this? You have a family that wants you. I am working full time and getting my nursing degree. You will have only what you need, and will have to help with your little brothers."
"Yes mom."
"Alright, I'll talk to my lawyer tomorrow."
It sounded to me like her mom had gotten her life together a long time ago, and WAS willing. She sounded willing, and ready. She struck me as a women with a lot of guilt, who had let her daughter go because she felt she had no other choice. My intuition told me that this woman had been waiting for her daughter to give her the go ahead. She seemed as though she had hoped and prepared for this battle for a long time. I felt so optimistic. This reunion definitely felt as though it needed to happen.
Then I made her call her social worker who FREAKED out! We had a long conversation about how people were going to try to change her mind, and make her feel like she was crazy etc. That nothing worth it is easy and that she'd have to be strong. Then I drove her back to the group home.
I drove away terrified. I had just found her and now I was leaving her to the "wolves". Had I been manipulated? Did I do the right thing? What if her mother doesn't follow through? "Oh dear God please let this be what you wanted. Give us both strength to handle the next few months." I fielded several phone calls from social workers and psychologists wanting to know, "What went wrong". They all assumed that SHE had done something to "ruin it". Her worker said, "The mother hasn't even contacted me." Then my "daughter" called to tell me that her mother's lawyer had called the worker, and her mother WAS pursuing custody. I finally exhaled. The worker had said, "This isn't going to happen. This HAS NEVER happened in state history. I think she was just being her own worst enemy as usual. This is all part of her pathology." She had been wonderful. She had been obedient, cooperative, helpful, and fun! No one wanted to believe that we had a grown up discussion about what she wanted, and that I let her go after it. I heard from her on and off over the next few months. I even wrote a letter to the judge hearing her mother's request detailing our time together.
I got a text message from her yesterday, December 19th, 2012. The judge awarded her mother FULL CUSTODY! My daughter is with her mother who bore her. She did it! She did the impossible. She did what everyone said couldn't be done! She did what no one had ever done before! She fought to get the law passed and then she was THE FIRST ONE to take advantage of it. My best Christmas present this year is that she will be with her mother, and siblings this Christmas morning. I am still in complete awe of her. I am endlessly inspired by her. Oh yeah, and she was in all AP classes and on the A Honor Roll throughout this fiasco. Miracles do happen.
It wasn't easy for her, and it was hard on my husband too. Our family isn't an easy one to adjust to especially if you are a 15 year old girl. We eat funny food and spend a lot of time in the woods. Her first week she tried so hard to be what she thought we wanted her to be. My husband wouldn't have it. He pushed her to be who she really was, to make demands that were true to where her heart was. She thought he was crazy, but she finally caved in, "Look I've had dozens of placements and I'm getting too old to keep trying to change myself to fit into OTHER people's boxes. You are right, I don't want to change anymore."
I think being allowed to speak those words out loud led to a deepening trust in us, and an epiphany within herself. Over the next two weeks we spent as much time together as possible. She was so sweet, and loving, and tried so hard to please us. I wondered when she'd crack. My husband left on a mission and it was just the four of us at home. I finally started to ask her what she wanted.
"What do you really want?"
"I want to be with you guys."
"We want you to be with us too, but I know it will take a LOT of adjusting for you. I know you can do it, and we of course will meet you half way, but I sense something more from you."
It was left at that for a few days. I had my fingers crossed that I was wrong, but my intuition isn't wrong that often. Then it happened, she had a blow up. I thought, "finally, she's acting her age." I had been worried that things had been too peaceful. I was a teenage girl once. I know that it is impossible to be pleasant forever! We went on a hike. On the way there she asked when we could go to the mall. I had said that we would go, but she didn't believe me. She was pretty upset, and worried that we WOULDN'T meet her half way, so she walked far ahead of the boys and I. I let her. I knew she was thinking, and honestly I felt she was dealing with her emotions in a really positive way. I knew that my assuring her wasn't enough. I knew she missed her friends. I knew it was hard on her, and that all I could do was continue to reassure her and follow through with my actions, and that's what I did. Things calmed down and we continued to build a really great rapport.
It was a few days later that she came to me, "Can I talk with you after dinner."
"Sure. Of course."
We ate our dinner. I sent the boys out to play so I could give her my undivided attention.
"I really like you guys. Like, I like you the most out of all the dozens of families I've been with. I love the boys. If I were 10 I would want to be adopted by you. When I was ten I still was willing to adapt, and all I wanted was a family JUST LIKE THIS. I'm not ten anymore. I'm 15 and I'm tired of adapting. I really just wanted a place where I could parent myself, I've been doing it now for a long time. You guys want to parent me, and I'm just not willing. I'm worried about the conflicts and what it would do to the boys. If I am going to be parented I want to be by my biological mom."
"Wow. Okay. Well, you are right, we want to parent you, and with little brothers you'd be setting the precedent and we couldn't allow you to parent yourself, even if you ARE perfectly capable. Where would you go if not here? Are you saying you'd rather be in a group home?"
"No. I'd rather be with my mom. I've realized that I'm past being adopted. I thought it was because no one wanted teens, and now I know it's that I just don't want that anymore. No one has ever asked me what I wanted until I came here, and you guys demanded it. I want to go back to my mom."
"I am not trying to kill your dreams, but is that even possible? I just really don't want you to be disappointed."
"Yes, it is. I worked really hard, and wrote our state senators to get a bill passed that would reinstate parental rights to parents who met specific criteria. It was passed this summer."
"Seriously!! That's awesome! Why didn't anyone tell us about this? Why didn't anyone look into that for you before looking for an adoptive family? I mean obviously it was important to you before now."
"No one asked me what I wanted. When I'd bring it up they'd tell me it was impossible, or talk bad about my mom. They'd say she didn't want me, or that she couldn't handle me, but she has my sister and brothers. I guess I just believed that she didn't want me. They told me it was bad for me to talk to her, so I unfriended her on facebook even."
At this point I feel like I need to talk to her mom, or at least listen to them talk to each other and let my intuition go to work. "Alright, does she know you feel this way? Your mom I mean."
"I ran away to her house in April. She called the police on me and had me sent back because she said she could get into big trouble. She said when I was 18 I could go back to her."
"Okay, I think you need to call her and let her know what you are thinking."
She called, and without my asking, kept the phone on speaker. Her mom was on board. Her mom was realistic and let her know that this could take a long time and even then might not be successful, "are you willing to risk it ALL for this? You have a family that wants you. I am working full time and getting my nursing degree. You will have only what you need, and will have to help with your little brothers."
"Yes mom."
"Alright, I'll talk to my lawyer tomorrow."
It sounded to me like her mom had gotten her life together a long time ago, and WAS willing. She sounded willing, and ready. She struck me as a women with a lot of guilt, who had let her daughter go because she felt she had no other choice. My intuition told me that this woman had been waiting for her daughter to give her the go ahead. She seemed as though she had hoped and prepared for this battle for a long time. I felt so optimistic. This reunion definitely felt as though it needed to happen.
Then I made her call her social worker who FREAKED out! We had a long conversation about how people were going to try to change her mind, and make her feel like she was crazy etc. That nothing worth it is easy and that she'd have to be strong. Then I drove her back to the group home.
I drove away terrified. I had just found her and now I was leaving her to the "wolves". Had I been manipulated? Did I do the right thing? What if her mother doesn't follow through? "Oh dear God please let this be what you wanted. Give us both strength to handle the next few months." I fielded several phone calls from social workers and psychologists wanting to know, "What went wrong". They all assumed that SHE had done something to "ruin it". Her worker said, "The mother hasn't even contacted me." Then my "daughter" called to tell me that her mother's lawyer had called the worker, and her mother WAS pursuing custody. I finally exhaled. The worker had said, "This isn't going to happen. This HAS NEVER happened in state history. I think she was just being her own worst enemy as usual. This is all part of her pathology." She had been wonderful. She had been obedient, cooperative, helpful, and fun! No one wanted to believe that we had a grown up discussion about what she wanted, and that I let her go after it. I heard from her on and off over the next few months. I even wrote a letter to the judge hearing her mother's request detailing our time together.
I got a text message from her yesterday, December 19th, 2012. The judge awarded her mother FULL CUSTODY! My daughter is with her mother who bore her. She did it! She did the impossible. She did what everyone said couldn't be done! She did what no one had ever done before! She fought to get the law passed and then she was THE FIRST ONE to take advantage of it. My best Christmas present this year is that she will be with her mother, and siblings this Christmas morning. I am still in complete awe of her. I am endlessly inspired by her. Oh yeah, and she was in all AP classes and on the A Honor Roll throughout this fiasco. Miracles do happen.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Christmas Past Part I
There is magic in the Christmases when I had the least to give.
She stands outside the school. Crisp air cuts up her coat sleeve. The daily crowd is here to pick up their little ones, and clucking noisily as usual. No one clucks to her making today exactly like every other day since moving here. They chose to rotate staring at her instead, "The people and the weather have a lot in common here. Perhaps after awhile the cold saturates every part of your being?" She awkwardly shuffles her weight so one knee can bend itself in a gesture of cosmetic confidence, and pretends not to notice. "What ARE they looking at?!" Secretly, she wishes she had mirror to see if a little snot has snuck down onto her numb upper lip. She runs her mitten under her nose just to be safe. FINALLY, the kids trickle out. She sees a pair of smiling blue glasses with little blue hat. An unruly strand of blonde hair sneaks out the bottom. "I dot dis foh you, Mommy", a crumpled paper by way of a hug. Now, to collect the brown hatted observer for the walk home. She does so, and gladly walks away from the crowd.
"So are you guys excited to get a house?"
"Wioh we get to have Cwistmas pwesents?"
"You get a house, and if we can move in before Christmas you will get to have a tree too."
"So, mom, is Santa going to visit or not?" Mr. Brown hat cuts to the chase.
"I'm sure he'll bring you something"
"I's wanted one of dose big noeff guns"
"I think Santa was planning on bringing small things for your new room"
"We get to have our own wooms?! Well Okay!!"
"So we won't have to be all in one room anymore?! Can I have a dragon room?"
So the three of them chatter themselves back to the motel room they've share with Him since moving here 3 months ago. The abused paneling smells of someone else's cigarette smoke, a reminder that this is not theirs (thankfully). She makes them a dinner of microwaved raman noodles and hot dogs, then homework, bath and bed, all four of them together.
Friday, December 23rd the 4 of them unlock their new home. A container in which to treasure their laughter. Each joyful exclaim is accented by a little puff of smoke. She hurriedly harasses the gas company and Stanley Steamer so that her babies would be warm and safe before bed. Otherwise, it would be a long cold weekend with painful reminders of the previous owners cats.
"Mommy, I wike ouhs new house."
As she tucks him into blankets on the floor of his new room, "I am so glad!"
"I get mine OWN woom by myself! Is it okay though if I stioh come in and sweep wiff you sometimes?" He adjusts his stuffed managery.
"You bet. I know it is a big change for you to have your own room."
"Yeah. I wike it, but I ahso wiked sweeping ah of us in the same woom. But, it is nice that we have a kitchen now though."
"It sure is buddy. I love you. You need to go to sleep now."
"I wove you too. I wioh twy."
Once all was quite she set up a small 2 ft tree, wrapped the paint brushes and a few small toys from the Dollar Store. She paused to absorb the enormity of this small tree that dared to occupy such a large empty room all by itself. Fitting. Then She curled up next to her family on the floor of her bedroom. This might end up being her favorite Christmas yet.
The Christmas she felt like an alchemist.
She stands outside the school. Crisp air cuts up her coat sleeve. The daily crowd is here to pick up their little ones, and clucking noisily as usual. No one clucks to her making today exactly like every other day since moving here. They chose to rotate staring at her instead, "The people and the weather have a lot in common here. Perhaps after awhile the cold saturates every part of your being?" She awkwardly shuffles her weight so one knee can bend itself in a gesture of cosmetic confidence, and pretends not to notice. "What ARE they looking at?!" Secretly, she wishes she had mirror to see if a little snot has snuck down onto her numb upper lip. She runs her mitten under her nose just to be safe. FINALLY, the kids trickle out. She sees a pair of smiling blue glasses with little blue hat. An unruly strand of blonde hair sneaks out the bottom. "I dot dis foh you, Mommy", a crumpled paper by way of a hug. Now, to collect the brown hatted observer for the walk home. She does so, and gladly walks away from the crowd.
"So are you guys excited to get a house?"
"Wioh we get to have Cwistmas pwesents?"
"You get a house, and if we can move in before Christmas you will get to have a tree too."
"So, mom, is Santa going to visit or not?" Mr. Brown hat cuts to the chase.
"I'm sure he'll bring you something"
"I's wanted one of dose big noeff guns"
"I think Santa was planning on bringing small things for your new room"
"We get to have our own wooms?! Well Okay!!"
"So we won't have to be all in one room anymore?! Can I have a dragon room?"
So the three of them chatter themselves back to the motel room they've share with Him since moving here 3 months ago. The abused paneling smells of someone else's cigarette smoke, a reminder that this is not theirs (thankfully). She makes them a dinner of microwaved raman noodles and hot dogs, then homework, bath and bed, all four of them together.
Friday, December 23rd the 4 of them unlock their new home. A container in which to treasure their laughter. Each joyful exclaim is accented by a little puff of smoke. She hurriedly harasses the gas company and Stanley Steamer so that her babies would be warm and safe before bed. Otherwise, it would be a long cold weekend with painful reminders of the previous owners cats.
"Mommy, I wike ouhs new house."
As she tucks him into blankets on the floor of his new room, "I am so glad!"
"I get mine OWN woom by myself! Is it okay though if I stioh come in and sweep wiff you sometimes?" He adjusts his stuffed managery.
"You bet. I know it is a big change for you to have your own room."
"Yeah. I wike it, but I ahso wiked sweeping ah of us in the same woom. But, it is nice that we have a kitchen now though."
"It sure is buddy. I love you. You need to go to sleep now."
"I wove you too. I wioh twy."
Once all was quite she set up a small 2 ft tree, wrapped the paint brushes and a few small toys from the Dollar Store. She paused to absorb the enormity of this small tree that dared to occupy such a large empty room all by itself. Fitting. Then She curled up next to her family on the floor of her bedroom. This might end up being her favorite Christmas yet.
The Christmas she felt like an alchemist.
Monday, October 22, 2012
DEFINE choice
I sat on the edge of an examining table waiting for the results of blood work for a mystery illness. My body was rebelling. I hadn't been sick, yet I kept getting slower. My mile repeats 3 months ago were all between 5:05 and 5:20. Now, my mile in competition was barely a 5:10. Why when my training had been consistent, and manageable, was I getting worse?! The soft knock on the door stops the beating of my heart for a split second and forces a slight cough from my throat. The doctor enters. His face is white. Whatever is wrong with me it must be terminal. I can't look at him because when I do my skin prickles as the panic tries to find a way out. "Miss Cooper...." "you're pregnant". I laugh. He stares quizzically.
"What about the father?" I point to my left ring finger.
"He'll be excited." The Doctor exhales. Finally. The doctor finds relief, but I don't. I am on a half-ride athletic scholarship and I can't afford to continue my education without it. Not to mention that before this pregnancy my training had me on track to put out some really spectacular performances. This pregnancy could mess up everything; my education, my athletic and professional careers. Everything.
As some of my readers know I did contemplate aborting him. Instead, I told my future husband, and his enthusiasm helped to carry me through my fears about parenthood. I was terrified to tell my coach. He had the power to pull my scholarship for this. I was team captain, and our fastest distance runner. Most Division 1 coaches would pull my scholarship. This is where my story begins. My story is one about true choice.
I forced my husband to come along for our "reveal". He was afraid there would be a conflict. My coach and I had had a few of those in the past. Instead, there was a simple acceptance that this would require a "red shirt". In college sports that means that you sit out a season, but you'll get that season back the next year. My coach was very supportive of my situation. He let me keep my scholarship. He didn't force me to chose between motherhood and an education, or between motherhood and respect, or between motherhood and an ATHLETIC career. He allowed me to have it all. I'm not the only female athlete for whom he did this.
Our team was populated with several girls who had chosen to keep their unwanted TEENAGE pregnancies. You heard me, TEENAGE. I had several teammates who had their babies while still in high school, yet were able to be top athletes in their states, thanks to supportive parents and communities. He offered them scholarships while most other Division 1 Coaches scoffed at them. One of my teammates ran a 2:12 800m as a senior in high school less than a year after giving birth to her daughter. While IU laughed at her and told her that her daughter would never be welcomed at any team events, our coach allowed the kids to come to our practices. Daycare is not always available to young mothers that are full-time students. THAT IS CHOICE isn't it? Guess what, he was Catholic also. He was living his values. He never once proclaimed his place on the Pro-Choice/Pro-Life issue. He lived it. He was obviously pro-life. He didn't need to go out and hold up posters, because he was taking real action. Besides posters alienate and miscommunicate, but his actions were a clear embrace of what it meant to truly chose life. He truly support women's rights. When my teammate (the one I mentioned earlier) chose to leave the team for her daughter, it was truly HER choice because she was more than welcome to stay.
I think women deserve a choice, and right now they don't really have one. Your job or baby isn't a choice, it's an ultimatum. Our society makes it nearly impossible to chose to keep life when that life is unplanned, believe me I know. Our society treats unplanned pregnancy like a terminal illness, and abortion as its cure. In order to truly provide choice we must support women enough that they aren't forced to chose between a pregnancy and job, a child and a career, a baby and an education, or motherhood and respect. We must truly give them a choice by ceasing to treat unplanned pregnancy as a terminal illness. I know that some people view each pregnancy as being very unique situation. I disagree I think that fundamentally each choice that must be made is the same, it is usually an ultimatum and not a choice. Do I chose the life of this child or do I chose the values of this society? I think there needs to be a serious re-evaluation of our definition of "choice". I am for true choice, which at this moment doesn't exist except in small pockets where people like my coach make a true choice possible. I think that pro-lifers need to put down their posters and live their value. It is the responsibility of Pro-Lifer's to take the ultimatum out of the equation so that women CAN chose life. Let's start supporting women, and respecting motherhood FOR REAL.
"What about the father?" I point to my left ring finger.
"He'll be excited." The Doctor exhales. Finally. The doctor finds relief, but I don't. I am on a half-ride athletic scholarship and I can't afford to continue my education without it. Not to mention that before this pregnancy my training had me on track to put out some really spectacular performances. This pregnancy could mess up everything; my education, my athletic and professional careers. Everything.
As some of my readers know I did contemplate aborting him. Instead, I told my future husband, and his enthusiasm helped to carry me through my fears about parenthood. I was terrified to tell my coach. He had the power to pull my scholarship for this. I was team captain, and our fastest distance runner. Most Division 1 coaches would pull my scholarship. This is where my story begins. My story is one about true choice.
I forced my husband to come along for our "reveal". He was afraid there would be a conflict. My coach and I had had a few of those in the past. Instead, there was a simple acceptance that this would require a "red shirt". In college sports that means that you sit out a season, but you'll get that season back the next year. My coach was very supportive of my situation. He let me keep my scholarship. He didn't force me to chose between motherhood and an education, or between motherhood and respect, or between motherhood and an ATHLETIC career. He allowed me to have it all. I'm not the only female athlete for whom he did this.
 |
| Right after track practice! I'm too tired to shower! |
Our team was populated with several girls who had chosen to keep their unwanted TEENAGE pregnancies. You heard me, TEENAGE. I had several teammates who had their babies while still in high school, yet were able to be top athletes in their states, thanks to supportive parents and communities. He offered them scholarships while most other Division 1 Coaches scoffed at them. One of my teammates ran a 2:12 800m as a senior in high school less than a year after giving birth to her daughter. While IU laughed at her and told her that her daughter would never be welcomed at any team events, our coach allowed the kids to come to our practices. Daycare is not always available to young mothers that are full-time students. THAT IS CHOICE isn't it? Guess what, he was Catholic also. He was living his values. He never once proclaimed his place on the Pro-Choice/Pro-Life issue. He lived it. He was obviously pro-life. He didn't need to go out and hold up posters, because he was taking real action. Besides posters alienate and miscommunicate, but his actions were a clear embrace of what it meant to truly chose life. He truly support women's rights. When my teammate (the one I mentioned earlier) chose to leave the team for her daughter, it was truly HER choice because she was more than welcome to stay.
I think women deserve a choice, and right now they don't really have one. Your job or baby isn't a choice, it's an ultimatum. Our society makes it nearly impossible to chose to keep life when that life is unplanned, believe me I know. Our society treats unplanned pregnancy like a terminal illness, and abortion as its cure. In order to truly provide choice we must support women enough that they aren't forced to chose between a pregnancy and job, a child and a career, a baby and an education, or motherhood and respect. We must truly give them a choice by ceasing to treat unplanned pregnancy as a terminal illness. I know that some people view each pregnancy as being very unique situation. I disagree I think that fundamentally each choice that must be made is the same, it is usually an ultimatum and not a choice. Do I chose the life of this child or do I chose the values of this society? I think there needs to be a serious re-evaluation of our definition of "choice". I am for true choice, which at this moment doesn't exist except in small pockets where people like my coach make a true choice possible. I think that pro-lifers need to put down their posters and live their value. It is the responsibility of Pro-Lifer's to take the ultimatum out of the equation so that women CAN chose life. Let's start supporting women, and respecting motherhood FOR REAL.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Home-school laws for Virginia; textbooks and curriculum
So, I know I announced a while ago that I was officially home-schooling Cooper. Well, I sorta did a 180* when an English Teaching job opened at his prospective school. I thought I could "be there" for him in that way. Then I found out about the discipline policy of the administrators, which is NOT appropriate for discussion in this forum. If you are local and have questions feel free to email me. Ask for my email in the comments section. This new information explained A LOT of what I had experienced there as a substitute teacher, and I deemed it a hostile work environment, as well as a hostile learning environment and I withdrew my interest in the job and mailed in my "Intent to Home-school" form to the Superintendent. So it's a done deal.
Virginia's Home-schooling laws are VERY restrictive. Each state has their own laws, and most states offer a "religious" opt-out loop-hole. Virginia requires that parents that intend to home-school their children provide the district Superintendent with their "qualifications", and curriculum. Then the Superintendent looks over the information and makes the final decision. There is no Unschooling here. If you only have a GED, forget it, unless you have one heck of a curriculum, or have proof of enrolling your child in an online school. At the end of each year a portfolio or test results must be submitted to prove the child has achieved objectives that are grade/age appropriate (those are two entirely different things, but go with it). Luckily for us, we have www.soarathome.com because we are military. If you don't have that, you can request that your child be tested with the public school kids on the state test (I am not sure of the cost of this, but I think it's free), or you can look into the CAT. I think they run between 30-50 dollars.
Online schools you can access would be the Kahn Academy, which is free, or K12.com which may cost (depends on where you live), and I'm not sure how much it costs. I know these two are VERY reputable. I know there are others, but I'm not comfortable recommending them because I have little knowledge of them. Feel free to add to this list in the comments section if you can vouch for your online school. I know that both of these schools provide licensed teachers and are well respected. On to curriculum.
I suggest using a curriculum if you are comfortable TEACHING your child. I am in love with the texts I have chosen. They will allow my son to self-guide his learning, which is important since he is almost 12 and not to into me hovering over him (insert angsty, 'maahh-oooohm' here). I chose the grammar series by Michael Clay Thompson.. With my background as both an English teacher, and Special Education Teacher specializing in Dyslexia I must say that this process is the ONLY way to teach language to all kids. He really breaks down language, and exposes the purpose of learning each segment and the relationship between the "ladder of Language" as I call it, or the micro to macro fro phoneme to essay! The kids learn that words have functions (parts of speech), and the function determines a words place in sentence, and sentence punctuation relays a message and so on. It teaches them the functionality of language instead of having them memorize the definition of a clause, comma, etc. This is especially important for dyslexic kids. The purpose of comma's, the function of suffixes, and their relationship to parts of speech, things that are often over-looked when grammar is taught in most classrooms.
I am getting my literature text from Kendall-Hunt. I'm not using them for anything else, because Cooper has done their math curriculum before and not liked it. I love their literature text because it provides kids with RELEVANT, age appropriate literature and analytic rhetoric. It is by all means a Classical approach to literature. I want him to think critically about what he reads. This year I want him to learn to see the relationship between the author's life experience and the material they wrote about, as that will help him endure the boring biographical informational power point that will precede all literature he will read in public school. I want him to be able to understand why the authors biography matters, before I send him back to public school. Other wise he will be a very bored student. There is often a disconnect, for students, when it comes to the purpose of the information they are receiving from their teacher. They often think they are learning information so they can answer questions on a multiple choice test. The Kendall-Hunt Language Arts texts, because they follow a Classical model, ensure the purpose of imparted information is clear.
I am using Challenge Math for Cooper. It takes the student through each grade level math objective in baby steps. This will allow Cooper, for whom math is quite the challenge, to self-guide his math instruction. I also like Math-U-See. Again, Cooper doesn't like this curriculum.
Science and Social studies are not as closely monitored by Superintendents, at least not for students in the Lower grades. I will be providing him with lists of possible "units" for each subject and letting him research and teach me about the topics he's decided to learn about. Each unit will be "tested" with his choice of project and demonstration, research paper (simple notation), or writing and grading a test he gives to me. He will also be participating the Ft. Eustis Home-Schooler's Association T/Th PE class/get together. No 12 year-old boy wants to hang with his mom 24/7/365!
I hope this information helps those of you who are thinking about home-schooling in your journey to a decision. If you are a home-schooler with valuable information to share, feel free to do so in the Comment section below! Thanks!
Virginia's Home-schooling laws are VERY restrictive. Each state has their own laws, and most states offer a "religious" opt-out loop-hole. Virginia requires that parents that intend to home-school their children provide the district Superintendent with their "qualifications", and curriculum. Then the Superintendent looks over the information and makes the final decision. There is no Unschooling here. If you only have a GED, forget it, unless you have one heck of a curriculum, or have proof of enrolling your child in an online school. At the end of each year a portfolio or test results must be submitted to prove the child has achieved objectives that are grade/age appropriate (those are two entirely different things, but go with it). Luckily for us, we have www.soarathome.com because we are military. If you don't have that, you can request that your child be tested with the public school kids on the state test (I am not sure of the cost of this, but I think it's free), or you can look into the CAT. I think they run between 30-50 dollars.
Online schools you can access would be the Kahn Academy, which is free, or K12.com which may cost (depends on where you live), and I'm not sure how much it costs. I know these two are VERY reputable. I know there are others, but I'm not comfortable recommending them because I have little knowledge of them. Feel free to add to this list in the comments section if you can vouch for your online school. I know that both of these schools provide licensed teachers and are well respected. On to curriculum.
I suggest using a curriculum if you are comfortable TEACHING your child. I am in love with the texts I have chosen. They will allow my son to self-guide his learning, which is important since he is almost 12 and not to into me hovering over him (insert angsty, 'maahh-oooohm' here). I chose the grammar series by Michael Clay Thompson.. With my background as both an English teacher, and Special Education Teacher specializing in Dyslexia I must say that this process is the ONLY way to teach language to all kids. He really breaks down language, and exposes the purpose of learning each segment and the relationship between the "ladder of Language" as I call it, or the micro to macro fro phoneme to essay! The kids learn that words have functions (parts of speech), and the function determines a words place in sentence, and sentence punctuation relays a message and so on. It teaches them the functionality of language instead of having them memorize the definition of a clause, comma, etc. This is especially important for dyslexic kids. The purpose of comma's, the function of suffixes, and their relationship to parts of speech, things that are often over-looked when grammar is taught in most classrooms.
I am getting my literature text from Kendall-Hunt. I'm not using them for anything else, because Cooper has done their math curriculum before and not liked it. I love their literature text because it provides kids with RELEVANT, age appropriate literature and analytic rhetoric. It is by all means a Classical approach to literature. I want him to think critically about what he reads. This year I want him to learn to see the relationship between the author's life experience and the material they wrote about, as that will help him endure the boring biographical informational power point that will precede all literature he will read in public school. I want him to be able to understand why the authors biography matters, before I send him back to public school. Other wise he will be a very bored student. There is often a disconnect, for students, when it comes to the purpose of the information they are receiving from their teacher. They often think they are learning information so they can answer questions on a multiple choice test. The Kendall-Hunt Language Arts texts, because they follow a Classical model, ensure the purpose of imparted information is clear.
I am using Challenge Math for Cooper. It takes the student through each grade level math objective in baby steps. This will allow Cooper, for whom math is quite the challenge, to self-guide his math instruction. I also like Math-U-See. Again, Cooper doesn't like this curriculum.
Science and Social studies are not as closely monitored by Superintendents, at least not for students in the Lower grades. I will be providing him with lists of possible "units" for each subject and letting him research and teach me about the topics he's decided to learn about. Each unit will be "tested" with his choice of project and demonstration, research paper (simple notation), or writing and grading a test he gives to me. He will also be participating the Ft. Eustis Home-Schooler's Association T/Th PE class/get together. No 12 year-old boy wants to hang with his mom 24/7/365!
I hope this information helps those of you who are thinking about home-schooling in your journey to a decision. If you are a home-schooler with valuable information to share, feel free to do so in the Comment section below! Thanks!
Monday, July 23, 2012
God's Currency Part 2
I had a dream a few months ago. I was in a hard wood forest. For as far as I could see there were fat, sturdy trunks that shot straight to the sky, except where I stood. I stood in a small open meadow. The sun beamed into it, while the rest of the forest was darkly shadowed. In this meadow stood, well I can hardly say "stood" it was so degenerate looking, a twisted, gnarly, crooked tree. It was almost as if the other trees created this meadow in an attempt to steer clear of this crippled tree, all of the trees except one small sapling. This sapling was bent as if looking up at the branches of the degenerate tree with admiration. Then I began to communicate with the trees (yes, I have very interesting dreams).
"Why do you want to be like that tree? Don't you want to be like those trees, straight and tall?"
"No."
"Why not? If you grow like that you be thought of as ugly and crippled compared to the other trees."
"But the light favors it. I want the light to favor me too."
Then I heard a voice say, "Those who suffer the greatest pain receive the most light."
At this point I was woke immediately and continued to "hear" internally, "I see this great pain in the world today. A pain that comes from a wanting to be beautiful. God doesn't make mistakes. Everything he makes is beautiful." There was much more, but I am not comfortable sharing it as of yet. Since I was wide awake, I wrote it all down. Needless to say, I wasn't sure what exactly had happened or why. Then a yesterday a friend shared that she had a "tree dream", not knowing of my dream. In her dream. She saw a tree. It's sturdy trunk was large and strong and its full branches stretched out overhead, lush and green. She was then told that it was rooted in Truth.
"Truth comes from the ground?" She wondered.
"It was planted there by God," came the reply.
"Why do you want to be like that tree? Don't you want to be like those trees, straight and tall?"
"No."
"Why not? If you grow like that you be thought of as ugly and crippled compared to the other trees."
"But the light favors it. I want the light to favor me too."
Then I heard a voice say, "Those who suffer the greatest pain receive the most light."
At this point I was woke immediately and continued to "hear" internally, "I see this great pain in the world today. A pain that comes from a wanting to be beautiful. God doesn't make mistakes. Everything he makes is beautiful." There was much more, but I am not comfortable sharing it as of yet. Since I was wide awake, I wrote it all down. Needless to say, I wasn't sure what exactly had happened or why. Then a yesterday a friend shared that she had a "tree dream", not knowing of my dream. In her dream. She saw a tree. It's sturdy trunk was large and strong and its full branches stretched out overhead, lush and green. She was then told that it was rooted in Truth.
"Truth comes from the ground?" She wondered.
"It was planted there by God," came the reply.
I thought this was VERY peculiar. I didn't immediately draw any conclusion, but then after stumbling upon Isaiah 53 this morning it all made so much sense. "He grew up like a sapling before him, like a shoot from the parched earth; There was in him no stately bearing to make us look at him, nor appearance that would attract us to him.He was spurned and avoided by men, a man of suffering, accustomed to infirmity, one of those from whom men hide their faces, spurned, and we held him in no esteem." and on and on, the entire chapter is applicable.
I came to understand, that in my dream the gnarly tree is Christ as the world sees him. Since Jesus said, "I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do. Amen, amen I say to you no slave is greater than his master nor any messenger greater than the one who sent him. If you understand this, blessed are you if you do it." This means that if we live for him the world will also see this way. We must die to the world. We must cease to care about the worlds opinion of us and how we live our lives, because the world will see us as twisted and crippled.
My friends dream then the soil is the "truth" of the word, and tree is Christ, as God sees him. It is how we look to God when we plant our roots in the truth of Christ. What the eyes of the world see is a lie because the heart of the world is deceived into believing that money and material goods are the currency that determines our true value. This is not true. Our true value is determined by our honest intentions to live as God calls us to live.
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