Long Absence....

Yes, I realize it has been five months since I posted last. The reason for my posting absence I guess is best explained by simply this...the waiting has been very difficult. It has become like the movie Groundhog Day. Every day just like the last, every step another stumbling block.  However, today it is my birthday.  It is time for reflection. Truth be told I have been reflecting for some time now and feel I have finally gotten a handle on things.

I was talking to a friend several weeks ago and described my function in life like that guy that spins the plates on a stick. Each family member has their own stick in my metaphor and I am spinning those plates:  making dental appointments, doctor appointments, homework help, meetings with teachers, discussing relationships and solving teenage angst. Then there is the housework, bills, pet care and the cooking. Spin, spin, spin....that's me. For the most part I love it. Master plate spinner. Oh yeah I got it all handled. That leaves the things I do not have handled...Grace and Alex.

We finally went for adoption business and a visit in July. All went well and it was great to be with  them. We left Haiti optimistic that things would roll along from there and we would be bringing them home for the holidays. Then, the first hurricane hit. Grace's mom was late for her birth parent interview as a result and they rescheduled her. For two months later. Then, hurricane Sandy hit and she missed her court appearance as they closed court. Then, the phone system is having problems and they cannot find her now to appear in court. We are on terminal hold until they can get word to her to come. Then, in the midst of all this, Alex's mom although she has made all her appointments, had another baby. Wow! Really?  So, to be honest it has been a daunting few months on the adoption train.

That leads me back to the spinning plates. In my mind, I stand before God with two empty sticks waiting on God to start the plates spinning. I actually had this image in my mind until Sunday. My pastor described a difficult circumstance in his life when he was able to realize his circumstances belonged to God and it was our job to trust Him. At that moment, I realized these pretty babies are not mine. They are His.  I needed to trust Him. I realized it was time to surrender their sticks, take a seat in the audience and wait for Him to reveal the real show. Somehow I think it may bit just the slightest bit more amazing than spinning plates.

Steep mountains..

Finally, something regarding the adoption worth posting! On Friday, I received a very simple email. It was three sentences: I have better news for you. Your file is out of IBESR. Praise the Lord. It was signed with just the initial "R". Rachel. Our coordinator. I always thought about what it would be like after 11 long months, one referral, a second referral, losing the first referral, a third referral, and the endless hours of waiting. How would it be to finally be out. To be honest, I had been working late nights last week. I worked 4p-4a. I slept at odd hours and took some cat naps here and there. I wondered as I read it if I was actually awake, or was I dreaming? I did everything I would have normally done under the circumstances, I called Tim, texted other relatives, and oh yeah, kept seeing patients. I was at work. In the last few days I have been afraid to blog about this. I was afraid it wasn't really true and somehow I am still waiting. Yet, every day when I look for the email to read it again, those same three sentences pop up in my inbox just like before. So, yes, it is true, we are out of social services. So, now what? I get to go see the babies so we can see the judge! As all of this reality hit me I found myself just in tears. It was the culmination of exhausting painful waiting and true joy as I begin to see our dreams become reality. This brings me to my latest Christian song analogy. Steven Curtis Chapman recently came out with "Long Way Home." I listen to the line,"the valleys are deeper and the mountains are steeper than we ever would have known" and it rings so true in this adoption. However, in true Steven Curtis Chapman style, he does not leave this listener in the deep valleys and steep mountains instead he says,"I know we're gonna make it. I know we're ginna get there soon, He's gonna lead me home." hearing the ibesr news, reminded me that God's gonna lead my babies home. This mama cannot wait to hold tho babies tight at the top of that steep Haitian mountain.

Why are these Arms So Empty?

For a while now, this wait has been excruciating. Yes, it has always been hard. There are those quiet moments I can almost see Grace and Alex at my side, it is as if I can just about touch them or hear their laughter. It used to be those moments made me smile. Then, all at once, they did not. They made me angry. Angry the children were not here, angry I could not see them, just angry. I have spent some time trying to figure out why the change. Why all the sudden, did these arms seem SO empty. In the last few days, I have figured it out. It is not just Grace and Alex's absence or lack of adoption information. It is my children here. On Friday, my daughter will graduate from high school. It has been a very long road with her with many valleys and steep mountains to climb as we fought long and hard against her emotional issues stemming from her first few years that were not with us. Soon, she will leave this home. She has signed with the Air Force. Although she is the right age to go, she has fought so many demons I just maybe am not quite ready to let loose of her. Somehow the mama bear in me wants to shield her from a world that was so unkind to her in the beginning, but how? How is this mama bear any stronger than a young lady in a starched blue uniform standing tall? I no sooner wrestle with this, that I realize Jack, my 16 year old is within days of getting his driver's license. His increasing absence has already started. He is flying on his own, out with friends and talking about college. Our oldest still does not drive and was more of a home body, so this is new for me too. Somehow he must have sensed this, although I try so hard to hide it, as he texted me to pick him up last night to spend some time with me. Nonetheless, I see the end for him too. As I thought through all of this, I realized this Mama's arms don't just ache for my little Grace and Alex but for my Katya and Jack. The good news is, through my time spent in prayer and working through all of this I was reminded of lots of things. I remember bringing Katya and Jack home for the first time. She was three and he was 7 months. She worked so hard to learn English and I remember her trying so desperately to talk to me. "Bert and Ernie?" she would say so I would put on Sesame Street. Then there was her trying to teach me Russian. My favorite story was her teaching me her name. We thought it would be easier to call her Katie. We tried when she first came home, then one day it was,"No, mama, KATYA (pronounced Katcha).". She then indicated I was to repeat after her. Lol! There was my first mother's day when Tim taught her to say happy mother's day in her thick Russian accent. Somehow, through all of that our steep mountain climbs didn't seem so bad. Then, I also began to see, it is almost time to do all this again. Two new babies, a new language, first "I love you's", first tantrums, first fears, first joys. Now, all the sudden, I can enjoy my quiet moments again. Although the last few weeks have been hard, God has blessed me with my special little Zachary. He seems to be that happy constant. He is happy in my arms and has soothed that achy arms syndrome that hit so hard. Somehow, I think that is his gift. He is preparing for his new siblings' arrival by talking about all the things he will teach them. Most importantly yesterday he told me that he would teach them about Jesus. Somehow, I think he just might.

Mother's Day

Wow. Mother's Day. Where do I even begin? The flurry of emotions surrounding this day is just amazing. I guess I could start at the oldest kid and work my way down. My oldest is now 18. She has been a challenge. We have had many steep mountains and many deep valleys to quote Steven Curtis Chapman. The reality is she is graduating in a couple weeks and has signed with the Air Force, so chances are this is her last mothers day here for a while. Then, there is Jack. It is his birthday today. He is 16. It seems like he was just 6. Today, he was driving my car. I was really touched by him this weekend. On Friday, I was shocked to find out he had no plans. No movie, no friend's house to go to. We went to frappuccino happy hour at Starbucks and I asked him what was up? No plans? It was then he shared over a cookie crumble mocha frappuccino, he did have plans, but he just wanted to be home a night...with me. We watched tv and popped some corn and I felt quite blessed to have him. I must admit, it was a bit bitter sweet as I realized college was racing toward us like a freight train and he too would soon leave. Then there is Zachary. Six year old Zachary. He presented me with a framed work of art where he carefully drew me a palm tree and a dolphin and further sea scape, "Love Zachary". It said. He sat on my lap at the restaurant and told me "today is a perfect day.". He started making summer plans with me like the pool. He excitedly told me he could not wait to be in the deep end this year. Ah yes, he will be here a while, and for that I am grateful. Through my happiness over this six year old who sees the sun rising and setting over his mama, I couldn't help but miss my Grace and Alex. I wondered if they even knew what their life will be or if they know how much this mama misses them. That thought was also, a bit rough to wrestle with. However, god, being God, sent me the one person who could bring me the message I needed. It was Tim. Our church generally plays contemporary Christian music for worship. Tim plays keyboards, and through communion he plays something a bit more subdued for that important time of reflection. Today he played a hymn I knew so well. "Ask and it shall be granted unto you....Allelulia". My first thought with this was how much I missed my mother-in-law. When she was alive we all went to church together. During this song Tim, his mom, his brother, and his aunt would sing harmony. Even though my mother -in-law and his aunt are now gone, I could hear their singing and it somehow felt comforting. As I heard the singing in my mind, it dawned on me the words...ask, it shall be granted. It reminded me through the difficult waiting, I just needed to be faithful and it will come. I still miss my babies, but am grateful for a husband who gave me what I needed today. Oh yeah...he got me amazing flowers too! Here we go, off to another week of waiting, hoping for good news.

Thoughts...

I realize I have been a little lax in my blogging lately. I guess I just like to blog when I have some inspiring thought or something amazing in this journey happens. The reality is the journey is not always that amazing. In fact it is downright frustrating and heartbreaking at times. So, I guess at times I just don't want to say,"yep it's Monday. No I don't have any news, and yes it is making crazy." Ah, but alas, God steps in at what always seems to be the very last minute. Just when I am done with the frustration, just when I want to give in, and think how is it I can put one foot in front of the other? Yesterday was one of those rough mornings. I had dreamt Grace and I were in a drug store. She was wandering down the aisles in the make up section oohing and ahhing at the colors. We carefully picked out the right shade of nail polish and I remember thinking to myself how fun it would be sitting at her toddler table giving my girl a manicure. Then...I woke up. In my bed, my girl many miles away with my baby boy. Wow, awful reality check. I drove to work, praise music blasting, hoping to put my mind in a different place. When I arrived at work, I checked my email and there it was. The message from the mama who brought her baby home yesterday. She emailed to say that she had kissed all the babies in the orphanage from their Mama's. I can see her doling out kisses, intentionally, one by one, baby by baby. She said Alex smiled the biggest with his mama kiss. Somehow he knew the kiss was from me. Then, there was the Facebook comment on my newest picture of Grace. The look on Grace's face I must admit was that of a diva. She had a new hairdo and seemed a little annoyed with the camera. The other mama laughed at how our girls there, who are buddies, are both such diva's. I thought of my dream then and the nail polish. Suddenly, it was no longer the disappointment it started out to be. My disappointment turned to excitement as I thought about Alex's reaction to his mama kiss, and how my dream was right on with this beautiful little girl. I was able to put one foot in front of the other by thinking about manicures, pedicures, hairdo's and Grace's future in the world of shopping and high fashion. I flat out smiled as I pictured my 5 ft 10 husband wit his 50 inch chest crammed into a toddler table playing tea party with her and calling himself Mrs. Nesbit. As I began to see the light it dawned on me...we need a toddler table. I better get busy.

My Mama!

We are now back from our annual vacation to Florida. We always rent the same house for spring break in the Fort Myers area. We have been renting this house for seven years now and have found all the things that we love to do. There is the day bike ride through Sanibel Island, Vanderbilt Beach in Naples, a day shelling cruise and several other things. There are our favorite restaurants, and reliving the memories from years past. This year we did all of that, but I found myself more contemplative. It is reminiscent of the vacation year before Zachary came home. I spent a lot of time trying to envision what it would look like next year. First, our oldest will not be with us. She has joined the air force and has committed for four years. She will leave for boot camp probably this summer. Second, there will be the addition of Alex and Grace. I looked around at what we would need to worry about safetywise, the pool, potted plants, sliding doors etc... I paid attention at the beaches to see where strollers would work, and where they wouldn't. I looked at the menus at our favorite restaurants to see what they would eat, on and on...

One thing though that made me smile all of vacation was the resurrection of the game,"My Mama". This game began when Zachary was about 3. He is very bonded to me. He loves my lap, and to snuggle in bed and always wants to be close to me. Jack was the same way, and when Zachary was younger, Jack would run across the room throw his arms around me and say,"My mama!". Zachary would then come running and the two of them would try to see who could be closer. Zachary, although now he is 6 was more clingy this vacation. One of his friends was recently hit by a car an killed. It has been hard on him and he just feels better being close. Nonetheless, it sparked off the my mama game. Jack is nearly 16 now, but still loves to tease his little brother with it. Anyway, one night Zachary told me he had developed a strategy for when the babies come home. Zachary would lay across my chest so Alex and Grace could lay on either side of me. He said they were little and needed mommy too. He went on to explain Jack could lay on the floor as he was now big. The whole thing was just funny.

Then, we came home. My fabulous friend Whitney, living in Haiti sent me a picture of Alex and Grace. She apologized as it was maybe not the best picture of them. It turns out they were both wanting to sit on her lap and the picture was the result. Alex's face was quite close, and Grace behind him looking a bit unhappy. I disn't care that the picture was not the best. It got sent immediately to Tim with the simple caption,"Ummm...I think we have two more players for 'My Mama!' nothing would make me happier.

A while ago I talked about "only in Haiti". In that entry I was able to uncover some equally strange "only in America" folk remedies I had seen recently. In keeping with that, in the last few months I have bore witness to something that is fairly commonplace in America. Four months ago, I switched hospitals. The company I work for staffs five local ER's. I was asked to help in a new place and I jumped at the change of scenery. It was in this place that I became acquainted with a patient I will call Phil. Phil lives in the lobby of the emergency room. Most folks probably would not give him a second look as he looks fairly ordinary. He sits day after day in the corner, not usually bothering anyone. He spends his time watching TV and will leave at times to pick up his social security check or go get some beer. He apparently drinks fairly regularly outside of the hospital. To be honest, it took me a couple of shifts to realize it was the same guy in that corner. I finally asked someone who it was. Was he a patient who just kept coming in to be seen every day? Was he a visitor? No, he was simply home. Phil is schizophrenic and homeless. He has lived in the lobby for 15 years. Yes, there are days he is a patient, which was where I spoke to him for the first time. Phil needed someone to cut his socks off and care for his feet. One of my coworkers who knew him better went with me to do this. We kindly explained to him that because he was always in shoes, his feet were constantly wet. This was why his skin was breaking down on his feet and his socks had to be cut off. She reminded him he needed fresh socks each day. He seemed to understand. In fact, he proudly explained his shoes, which were in good shape. He had bought them himself at Walmart. They were real leather.

During the conversation I found myself trying to take in the enormity of it all. To never have the ability to remove your shoes because you simply have nowhere to go. Things got rougher for Phil though. A few weeks ago he was being seen as a patient and had a big outburst and broke some computers. He was asked to leave for a while. This too, was a pattern in the past I came to learn. Well, it was cold out and in an attempt to keep warm, Phil went to an underpass and lit a fire. He lost his balance and fell into the fire and ended up in the burn unit across town. He was there a couple weeks. One day, I went in for my shift and there he was in his usual corner, in blue scrubs, as his clothes had burned in the fire. This would not last long though, as Phil disappeared last week. No one seemed to know where he was. Through the last few days I was amazed at the number of folks who knew him. There were police officers out looking, the bank had said he didn't pick up his check, the Rite Aid staff said he hadn't picked up his medicine, and a few of the nurses, who as it turned out had visited him in the burn unit, had not seen him either. Yesterday, we got our answer. Phil passed away. He was found a block from the hospital in an outbuilding.

Although Phil did not have a traditional home, or proper long term mental health placement (only in America), I can't help but to be amazed at how many people he affected. The funny thing is, I really don't think Phil had any idea that he affected anyone, but he did. I have worked in many hospitals in 20 years of medicine, but I have never seen a hospital ever allow a homeless person live in the lobby, or send the hospital shuttle to take a person to the pharmacy. So,achieving that is major in and of itself. He made people want to serve and help him, and his imprint will be in our emergency room for a long time to come.