The process

We began the adoption process in January 2005. The next few months were a whirlwind of paperwork, fingerprinting, background checks, interviews, house inspections, more paperwork and more interviews. By the time we were done, there was nothing about us that was secret anymore. Our case worker (and the government) knew everything about us. Not that the government didn't already know all about us, but ... I digress.

I could bore you with details about the extreme amount of paperwork and the (sometimes trivial and ridiculous) attention to detail we had to have, but if you've ever completed your own taxes or done anything at the DMV, you've experienced just a small amount of the "paperchase" of the adoption process.

In May, our completed dossier (the entire bundle of paperwork) was sent to our agency, and we waited on clearance from Immigration to adopt a foreign born child. That came a few weeks later, and we were placed on the waiting list for a baby girl. 

I wish I could say the waiting process was easy peasy, but oh! how I'd be lying. Impatient doesn't even begin to describe how I felt. I was obsessed with all things adoption. I spent many-an-hour on our agency's online forum talking with others in the process and watching the referrals roll out. I talked to everyone I saw about adoption and our soon-to-be daughter. 

(At this point I think I need to apologize to every grocery cashier, mailman, librarian, waiter, etc. for my urgent need to tell you all the details of the adoption process and daughter we didn't even know yet. I'm sure I scared you, and I'm sorry. You would be pleased to know that it all worked out, and I'm now a normal functioning adult again. Well, my husband would probably debate that last part, but we'll pretend it's true.)

So, just to reiterate, the waiting was hard. But, on July 6, we got THE call. The one telling us that our baby girl had arrived. Our lives had just changed forever.

The road to adoption

**Evidently, in my head, blogging for 31 days means everyday but Sunday. Sorry for the lack of post yesterday. We got home from a conference in Atlanta Saturday night, so I spent Sunday getting back into the routine of real life.** 

We are often asked how we came to the decision to adopt. I always answer that it wasn't a difficult decision for us. There was no lengthy debate about the pros and cons. We didn’t spend restless nights wondering if this was the right thing to do. It was just the natural next step for us. 

Kyle and I had talked about adopting before we were even married. We knew that adoption would probably be part of our family in some way, but weren't sure how or when this would happen.

Our first son, Lucas was born just 13 months after we got married. Then 15 months later, our little Noah made his early entrance into the world.  17 months after that, Jacob was born. Three c-sections in less than 3 years. Kyle and I both knew we were done having biological children.

Life was full, blessed, busy and exhausting! So, I did what any mother of three little boys under the age of three would do. Approximately 2.8 months after Jacob was born, I began researching adoption! Clearly I was suffering from a severe lack of sleep and mental exhaustion.

The choices were overwhelming, but we had two categories narrowed down. We knew we’d like to adopt a girl (Mama needed some pink in the house!), and we knew where we wanted to adopt from. Kyle and I both had traveled throughout Central America and God had planted a love for the people in our hearts.

Guatemala was the only country that made adoption a relatively easy process. I use the term "easy" loosely. We found out quickly that in the world of adoption, there is no such word.

Video link

I saw this video several months ago and it made such an impact. Thought I'd share it with you this morning. Love this family's heart for adoption!

You've got questions. I've got answers.

Yesterday I posted ten things not to say to an adopting family.  I had several comments and emails asking if we have honestly heard those questions/statements. The answer is YES! Every single one. Some of them multiple times. Plus a few that I just can't bring myself to add to the list. 

Today I'm answering these questions as we take an in depth, serious look at what not to say.

(or maybe not quite so in depth)

(or serious)

1) Is she yours? (or the ever popular - "Are they ALL yours?" suggesting that one of them isn't)

*Nope. I love picking up extra children I find on the streets and bringing them all to the grocery store with me. 

2) Do you keep her?

*Yes. 24 hours a day. 7 days a week.

3) What's she mixed with?

*I'm not sure. Jalepeno maybe. She's awfully spicy.

4) What a beautiful Mexican child!

*Please do not assume that because my child looks hispanic she is from Mexico. Although I'm sure Mexico is a fantastic country, there are indeed many more Spanish speaking, Latin American countries in the world.

5) Does she speak Spanish? (At 4 months old)

*Yes. And next week, we'll be working on her Russian.

6) Where's her Daddy?

*I have no clue. If you see him, let me know!

7) She doesn't look like you!

*Really? Because I totally think she has my eyes.

8) How much did she cost?

*I don't even bother with sarcasm on this question. Please never, ever, ever ask this to any adopting parent. Our babies were not bought. Did we pay legal fees associated with the adoption process? Yes, just as you paid hospital & doctor fees to have biological children. 

9) Will you send her back when she's grown?

*Nope. She didn't come with return postage.

10) Is it hard to love her as much as your own children?

*Not sure what your definition of "own" is - but in our definition, she's included.

So maybe some of these (ok, most of these) I never actually say when people ask these questions. Normally, I just smile and try to be polite. 

I also don't want to discredit those encouraging, loving comments and support we've gotten. Those far outweigh all the absurd questions. And it's those conversations that need to be happening. Those are the ones we love diving into. The conversations that focus on all that's right with adoption. Showing people that adoption, even across cultures, isn't a strange, foreign (excuse the pun) idea. Instead, it's a picture of our adoption into God's family - no matter our culture, skin color, or country of origin.

Top ten things not to say

I'm at the Catalyst conference today, so I'll be taking a break from storytelling to get a quick post in. 

We knew when we brought home a beautiful Hispanic child into our family of light skinned, blue eyed people, we would have some comments and questions. But I don't think we were ever prepared for some of the absurd things that have come out of often well meaning strangers' (and not-so-strangers') mouths! I know much of it is from lack of education about adoption, but let's all agree to use the amazing brain God gave us to filter what we say.

Here are the top 10 things never to say to an adoptive family.

We have honestly heard all these at some point.

1) Is she yours?

2) Do you keep her?

3) What's she mixed with?

4) What a beautiful Mexican child!

5) Does she speak Spanish? (At 4 months old)

6) Where's her Daddy?

7) She doesn't look like you!

8) How much did she cost?

9) Will you send her back when she's grown?

10) Is it hard to love her as much as your own children?

Snarky - and not-so-snarky answers coming tomorrow.

Day 2 - My Story (part 2)

My last year in college, I lived in a mostly freshman dorm. I didn’t mind, since I wanted a room by myself. That year, I spent a lot of time with freshman girls in my dorm. I was used to the rotating door of girls in and out of my room. There was one that I spent more time with than others, though. Her name was Rachel*. We were friends throughout my senior year, but when I graduated we lost contact.

After graduation I got a job teaching fourth grade about two hours away from home. I moved to a new town, began a new job, and became engaged within six months. Around the end of the school year, I came home to work on wedding plans. My mom sat me down on the living room sofa and handed me a letter. As I read it, my head spun. It was addressed to my parents and was from from my birth mother. Apparently, her daughter had attended the same college and during family weekend, she saw my name on an orchestra program. She wanted to meet me.

Could this be real? I was in shock. Amazed that this was actually happening. Afraid of the next step. As I read the end of the letter, my heart almost stopped. Her daughter? Well, her name was Rachel. My freshman friend who had lived just down the hall was my half sister. My mom cried. I honestly can’t remember what my reaction was. I do remember running to my room, pulling out my yearbook and finding Rachel’s picture. We definitely looked similar - how had I not noticed?

A lot of things happened in the years following, but I’ll spare you the details and skip to our lives today.  I have met my birth mother and half siblings (two sisters and a brother). Everything hasn’t been roses, and we are probably still learning how to navigate these sometimes awkward waters. But knowing my birth mother - well, sometimes I still am in awe of the story God has woven.  Rachel and I are now great friends. Our families are friends. We have vacationed together, celebrated holidays together, and run a 5K together. We didn’t grow up together, but our lives are permanently connected through a wild and twisted life story. Only God could bring us full circle. Today I celebrate. I celebrate the gift of life I was given. I celebrate God’s redemption, His sovereignty, and His promise that He is able to do “immeasurably more” than I can ask or imagine. 

*name changed

Rachel and I after our 5K Color Me Rad race.

Day 1 - My Story

Before I tell of the journey to our little girl, I need to share a bit of my story. It’s a journey all its own that God has intricately woven into a beautiful tapestry.

It was June 1975. A couple stood at their front door anxiously awaiting their new arrival. Their attempts to have children had been wrought with struggle, but this child, birthed by someone they never knew, was the answer to their prayers. This baby girl, born only a few days before, was about to make their dream of being parents come true. That baby girl was me.

I grew up in a Godly home with my parents and younger brother, who was also adopted. I can’t remember ever being told I was adopted - it was just something I always knew. As natural to me as breathing. 

As I got older, I began wondering who my birth family was. Being the introvert and people pleaser that I am, I never expressed these thoughts aloud. I would never have wanted to hurt my parents’ feelings or disappoint them. But the older I got, the more aware I was that there was a part of me that needed answers to questions only the woman who gave birth to me could answer. I didn’t realize that in just a few years, that would become a reality.