Could you be that person? This little guy needs a family fast. He was in the same baby house as Phillip until about six months ago. He was likely one of Phillip's best friends. He's almost seven. Since moving to another place, he is regressing and has lost a lot of weight. He desperately needs out. Because of his special needs, caregivers assume he can't achieve much and so they don't expect much. It is highly unlikely he will ever be adopted in his country, which means unless a family steps forward, he will be in an institution for the rest of his life. No child should live like that. He needs a family who will give him every opportunity to reach his full potential. He is a cutie, has a lot of spunk and is very sweet and bright, but every day, he's slipping away more and more. He needs a mommy and daddy. Jeremy and I are proof you don't have to be perfect or rich to adopt and save a child.
Josiah
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
What I wish
When a child is born, all parents have things they wish for, for their child. Adoption is no different. I wish for many, many things for Phillip. I know better than to expect. There are just too many unknowns to "expect" anything at all. But I do have wishes. Hopes.
I hope he walks one day, even if that is with a walker. I hope that the therapy we can provide can give him some sense of independence and he can play and have fun and laugh like any child should. I would love to see him run across our backyard and kick a soccer ball with his brothers, but I will be elated if he can simply walk across our living room, assisted.
I hope he can talk, to communicate with us. The official word is he doesn't, but we've heard he does. Not much, which is completely normal for these children. We know he can understand, and that is a good sign. I hope that once he gets to a home where children can have a voice, that he will one day become a noisy little chatter box, just like the rest of our children. I hope to one day hear him whisper in my ear that he loves me too.
I hope he won't have to wear a diaper forever. Really. Ugh! We think it's because in between the times when all the children are placed on buckets, he can't get himself to the potty and no one can help him. It's easier for them to keep him in a diaper. Welcome to the world of institutionalization. We hope it's not that he has no control, but that he has no voice (yet) and no way to get himself there.
I wish for him to be cognitively healthy, cognitively "typical". We know he is massively delayed (again, typical). I hope that with some incredible amounts of tutoring, resources and patience, he will have the ability to catch up to his peers and be mainstreamed into a classroom. Right now, he's probably a typical three to four year old. There is not much about him that is six, aside from his chronological age. Again, welcome to the world of institutionalization.
I hope that when we take him from the orphanage, he will be able to trust us, that he won't be scared. Even if he does talk, it will be a different language. He won't be able to ask questions. He'll have to trust us. I pray that he will feel secure enough that he will be able to love us as much as we love him, that he won't be desensitized and unable to connect with us. I pray that when we walk in the door and he sees our crazy children, that he will know that this is a group of people who will move heaven and earth for him every day, for the rest of his life, that he will never again be abandoned.
We'll advocate and fight and deal with all of those issues, and probably many more, when we get him home. What I wish for him right now, this day, is much more simple and yet much more profound and needful. I pray the director will take a few minutes to hug and hold him. I hope someone will read him a book. I hope he goes to sleep tonight with a full tummy and a blanket and a knowledge, somehow, someway, that we are coming for him, that we're fighting like crazy for him, that he has a family halfway around the world who hasn't even met him but loves him beyond what he can comprehend, that in our world, despite the fact that he has special needs and can't walk, he is perfect enough, worthy of a family. Worthy of love. That's my wish for him, right now, today.
I hope he walks one day, even if that is with a walker. I hope that the therapy we can provide can give him some sense of independence and he can play and have fun and laugh like any child should. I would love to see him run across our backyard and kick a soccer ball with his brothers, but I will be elated if he can simply walk across our living room, assisted.
I hope he can talk, to communicate with us. The official word is he doesn't, but we've heard he does. Not much, which is completely normal for these children. We know he can understand, and that is a good sign. I hope that once he gets to a home where children can have a voice, that he will one day become a noisy little chatter box, just like the rest of our children. I hope to one day hear him whisper in my ear that he loves me too.
I hope he won't have to wear a diaper forever. Really. Ugh! We think it's because in between the times when all the children are placed on buckets, he can't get himself to the potty and no one can help him. It's easier for them to keep him in a diaper. Welcome to the world of institutionalization. We hope it's not that he has no control, but that he has no voice (yet) and no way to get himself there.
I wish for him to be cognitively healthy, cognitively "typical". We know he is massively delayed (again, typical). I hope that with some incredible amounts of tutoring, resources and patience, he will have the ability to catch up to his peers and be mainstreamed into a classroom. Right now, he's probably a typical three to four year old. There is not much about him that is six, aside from his chronological age. Again, welcome to the world of institutionalization.
I hope that when we take him from the orphanage, he will be able to trust us, that he won't be scared. Even if he does talk, it will be a different language. He won't be able to ask questions. He'll have to trust us. I pray that he will feel secure enough that he will be able to love us as much as we love him, that he won't be desensitized and unable to connect with us. I pray that when we walk in the door and he sees our crazy children, that he will know that this is a group of people who will move heaven and earth for him every day, for the rest of his life, that he will never again be abandoned.
We'll advocate and fight and deal with all of those issues, and probably many more, when we get him home. What I wish for him right now, this day, is much more simple and yet much more profound and needful. I pray the director will take a few minutes to hug and hold him. I hope someone will read him a book. I hope he goes to sleep tonight with a full tummy and a blanket and a knowledge, somehow, someway, that we are coming for him, that we're fighting like crazy for him, that he has a family halfway around the world who hasn't even met him but loves him beyond what he can comprehend, that in our world, despite the fact that he has special needs and can't walk, he is perfect enough, worthy of a family. Worthy of love. That's my wish for him, right now, today.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
My surprise
What has surprised me most about adoption so far? What has surprised me the very most is how this little guy has been able to worm his way into my heart so fast. I knew parents of adopted children loved their adopted children just as much as biological children. I've seen that. We have several friends who have adopted and I know we all have that capacity- to love someone elses child in that deep gut wrenching, all encompassing, all consuming way. I didn't know how fast and how profoundly I'd love him, especially when I don't really even "know" him yet. I didn't know he would soon dominate my thoughts, my worries. my prayers.
Maybe it's born out of need. He most definitely needs us, and he needs us fast. He needed us yesterday. He needs us like my biological children have never needed anything in their whole life. This little boy, who aside from possibly his caretakers in the orphanage who have cared for his physical needs, has really had no one to love him, and yet I am prepared to move heaven and hell to get to him. He has no idea. He doesn't even know I exist. He won't, until we get in country. He continues to wait. To wait for love, for a mama and a papa. He waits, while we pray and worry and fret and cry and fill out paperwork... Pray the next six months passes quickly. This little boy needs many things. Family is the greatest of all.
My new motto: "There is an instinct in a woman to love most her own child - and an instinct to make any child who needs her love, her own." ~Robert Brault
Maybe it's born out of need. He most definitely needs us, and he needs us fast. He needed us yesterday. He needs us like my biological children have never needed anything in their whole life. This little boy, who aside from possibly his caretakers in the orphanage who have cared for his physical needs, has really had no one to love him, and yet I am prepared to move heaven and hell to get to him. He has no idea. He doesn't even know I exist. He won't, until we get in country. He continues to wait. To wait for love, for a mama and a papa. He waits, while we pray and worry and fret and cry and fill out paperwork... Pray the next six months passes quickly. This little boy needs many things. Family is the greatest of all.
My new motto: "There is an instinct in a woman to love most her own child - and an instinct to make any child who needs her love, her own." ~Robert Brault
Monday, May 23, 2011
"Go do it", a response from our children
Several people have asked what our childrens responses were. To be honest, I was a little nervous. Not much, but a little. My kids have good hearts, but like every child, they have certain things they need. One of them is time with mom. Having a seventh child would be demanding enough, but our seventh happens to be a special needs six year old who will need considerable time and resources. I underestimated my children.
We decided to be completely honest with them. We started out by telling them a little about him- where he lives, what his conditions are like, what we do know about his special needs (not much). We gave them the best case scenario and the worst case scenario and told them he will likely fall somewhere in the middle. We gave them the option of voicing concerns out loud or to find us in private to share their thoughts and we assured them we would not think they were selfish. As we talked about it, I looked up to Taylor, my 15 year old, and saw her crying for him. My Taylor has the world's biggest heart.
All of the girls agreed this was something we needed to do. Amanda (17) said "Why wouldn't I want another cute little brother?". :) Sarah (13) is researching his country. She's created a file on the computer and is storing all kinds of information- customs of his country, foods they eat, language helps. She's started a video of him and our journey to go get him. Hannah (11) talks about him and asks questions all the time. Her wheels are turning. Her big concern is the month we'll be gone. Honestly, that's a big concern for me too, but it's the only way to get Phillip. Noah (4) wants to know if he'll want to play Mario brothers with him. Yes, Noah is still obsessed with Mario. Adam (3) doesn't really get much of what we're talking about. He knows there's a little boy far away who has no mommy or daddy to care for him. He knows we're going to get him so he can live with us and we can help take care of him.
When we got a report back that we wouldn't get any more information from the orphanage and needed to make a decision based on the sparse information we had, I re-told Taylor what we know: He may never walk. She said "That's even more reason we need to go get him". When I was lamenting my worry about the month we'd need to be in-country, she said "Mom, we've all had you our whole lives. He's never had anyone. He needs you for one month. Go do it". I swear I love that girls heart.
Phillip is now in every prayer we say. Each and every one. I saw pictures today of a little boy and girl who recently come home from the same country we're getting Phillip from. The family was told by their doctor to take them straight to the hospital. They are admitted and have been there every since. Both are malnourished and so, so little. It makes me worry about the little boy who is really under all the bulky clothes. Our contact at Reece's Rainbow says that I can expect him to be tiny and malnourished. They all are. My heart hurts for him. I can't get to him soon enough. We are moving through our home study and dossier as fast as we possibly can. We pray he is in Heavenly Fathers care until we get there. Please keep him and all these other sweet children in your prayers.
Please feel free to join our blog and comment below. We love to know who's reading and praying for us. :)
We decided to be completely honest with them. We started out by telling them a little about him- where he lives, what his conditions are like, what we do know about his special needs (not much). We gave them the best case scenario and the worst case scenario and told them he will likely fall somewhere in the middle. We gave them the option of voicing concerns out loud or to find us in private to share their thoughts and we assured them we would not think they were selfish. As we talked about it, I looked up to Taylor, my 15 year old, and saw her crying for him. My Taylor has the world's biggest heart.
All of the girls agreed this was something we needed to do. Amanda (17) said "Why wouldn't I want another cute little brother?". :) Sarah (13) is researching his country. She's created a file on the computer and is storing all kinds of information- customs of his country, foods they eat, language helps. She's started a video of him and our journey to go get him. Hannah (11) talks about him and asks questions all the time. Her wheels are turning. Her big concern is the month we'll be gone. Honestly, that's a big concern for me too, but it's the only way to get Phillip. Noah (4) wants to know if he'll want to play Mario brothers with him. Yes, Noah is still obsessed with Mario. Adam (3) doesn't really get much of what we're talking about. He knows there's a little boy far away who has no mommy or daddy to care for him. He knows we're going to get him so he can live with us and we can help take care of him.
When we got a report back that we wouldn't get any more information from the orphanage and needed to make a decision based on the sparse information we had, I re-told Taylor what we know: He may never walk. She said "That's even more reason we need to go get him". When I was lamenting my worry about the month we'd need to be in-country, she said "Mom, we've all had you our whole lives. He's never had anyone. He needs you for one month. Go do it". I swear I love that girls heart.
Phillip is now in every prayer we say. Each and every one. I saw pictures today of a little boy and girl who recently come home from the same country we're getting Phillip from. The family was told by their doctor to take them straight to the hospital. They are admitted and have been there every since. Both are malnourished and so, so little. It makes me worry about the little boy who is really under all the bulky clothes. Our contact at Reece's Rainbow says that I can expect him to be tiny and malnourished. They all are. My heart hurts for him. I can't get to him soon enough. We are moving through our home study and dossier as fast as we possibly can. We pray he is in Heavenly Fathers care until we get there. Please keep him and all these other sweet children in your prayers.
Please feel free to join our blog and comment below. We love to know who's reading and praying for us. :)
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Let's go get him...
Our journey began as any typical day does around here. Early morning, trying to get four kids off to three different schools, making lunches, cleaning up the breakfast mess, starting the washer, finding matching socks, then hustling my slightly reluctant four year old out the door to pre-school so that the three year old and I could go run some errands. Adoption of a special needs child in Eastern Europe was the last thing on my mind.
Before I left, I sat down to check email and see what was going on in my friends lives on facebook. I quickly scanned status updates, stopping at one friend who was sponsoring a little boy in China, trying to raise money for his adoption so that when a family stepped forward, they would have a grant to help offset the cost. It caught my attention. I clicked on it and soon found myself looking into the eyes of an orphan... Zachary, a child who truly has nothing. I felt my heart sink just a little as I continued to look through all the children. Then I came to Phillip. I don't know how to explain it. He was mine. I knew it as clearly as if I had brought him home from the hospital. I was looking into the eyes of one of ours. Problem was, he was in Eastern Europe, in an orphanage, on the other side of the world.
But this couldn't be. How could a busy mom with six kids take on a 6 year old orphan in Eastern Europe with cerebral palsy? It didn't make sense. If we were going to adopt, why not a child right here in Spokane? As I thought about him, I received my answer. Why not Spokane? Because that's not where Phillip is. He is ours. He had just been born across the world.
Think about what you did for your child before bed last night. Did you help him brush his teeth? Get his jammies on? Read him a story? Help him say his prayers? Did he get a snack? Did you kiss him goodnight? Phillip has never gotten any of that. It's time he did. Phillip has had what we suspect is a pretty sad life. We don't know how long he's been in the orphanage. By pictures, I can guess at least three years. Maybe he's been there his whole life. Can you imagine?
Phillip has never felt a mothers love. He needs to be hugged and kissed, to be surrounded by people who will cheer him on. He needs to have enough food to fill his tummy, to never worry about food again. He needs clothes and toys that are his very own and the healthcare that might allow him to walk. He needs to get out of the crib where he spends most of his day. Knowing that we have what he so desperately needs just to live, how could we deny him? How could we deny him the very basics of life because we were too busy, too comfortable, or unwilling to sacrifice to that degree for a child? Phillip has likely never had anyone willing to sacrifice for him. His mother abandoned him and dumped him in an orphanage where he has sat and waited for six years. Hearing a prompting, would I too choose to walk away and abandon him, finding him too inconvenient for my life?
Jeremy came home. I waited til kids were in bed. I approached him about it, showed him pictures, explained Phillip's conditions. I told him I have no idea why I felt drawn to this little boy in EE, but I felt like we needed him. Jeremy initially voiced the same concerns... Our boys are young. We have a lot of kids. Life is pretty good. Crazy but predictable. Consistent. This would bring a lot of sacrifice and unknowns into our chaotic life. There would be things we've always dreamed of doing that we might not be able to, because we could be caring for this child in our home, forever.
We decided to pray about it. By noon the next day, Jeremy had gone from "We can't possibly do this" to "Let's go get him", and he has never once wavered. I, on the other hand, have swung back and forth wildly, like on a penduleum. We don't know the full extent of his cerebral palsy and that scares me. He can't walk. We are unsure whether he talks. A year ago the orphanage reported that he didn't, but we've heard reports from people who've seen him and say he does. Updates in the EE are few and far between, and a year changes a lot. We don't know how his cerebral palsey affects his mental capabilities. We know he's delayed. Is that environment or the CP? Can that be overcome?
All of these children are coming out of the orphanages small and physically and mentally delayed. He may just need some love and therapy to overcome... or he may never overcome. He certainly won't be "cured", as CP is not curable. We don't know, and likely won't know, til we get him home. Maybe even for months after that. But even if he never mentally or physically progresses from where he is right now, which is unlikely, he will undoubtedly have a better life. And isn't that what we're called to do? To lift anothers burdens? Succor the weak? Care for the orphans and the widows? To love and care for Heavenly Fathers children, to strengthen the defenseless? It's a major leap of faith, but we know, come what may, he is ours, and we are prepared to love him and help him be the very best he can be.
This is an account of our journey to go get Phillip. We expect to travel sometime in November or early December. If all goes well, we will have Phillip home well before Christmas. I don't know how he will react. The orphanage is probably the only "home" he's ever known. We will make his life substantially better, but he won't know that. He will have to trust us as we take his small hand in ours and walk away from the orphanage with literally nothing to his name, not even a pair of clothes to wear home. We'll put him on an enormous plane, to fly many many hours to our home in Spokane Washington, to greet our six exuberant, noisy, energetic kids. We don't speak his language. He doesn't speak ours. I can only communicate as a mother does- with the language of love. It's incomprehensible. It breaks my heart.
We found Phillip through Reece's Rainbow. Reece's Rainbow is not an adoption agency. They are a non-profit advocacy group for special needs, hard to place children in orphanages throughout the world who need homes. As part of their services, they offer a venue for fundraising to help offset the costs of the adoption, which is expensive. In addition, Phillip will have many doctors and therapy appointments when he gets home. His needs have been neglected for far too long. If you'd like to help us offset these costs and help us bring him home, we would certainly be grateful, but don't feel like you have to. We want you to follow our blog and journey either way. We have been told that the next six months will be a wild ride, so hang on with us as we take the journey together!
Before I left, I sat down to check email and see what was going on in my friends lives on facebook. I quickly scanned status updates, stopping at one friend who was sponsoring a little boy in China, trying to raise money for his adoption so that when a family stepped forward, they would have a grant to help offset the cost. It caught my attention. I clicked on it and soon found myself looking into the eyes of an orphan... Zachary, a child who truly has nothing. I felt my heart sink just a little as I continued to look through all the children. Then I came to Phillip. I don't know how to explain it. He was mine. I knew it as clearly as if I had brought him home from the hospital. I was looking into the eyes of one of ours. Problem was, he was in Eastern Europe, in an orphanage, on the other side of the world.
But this couldn't be. How could a busy mom with six kids take on a 6 year old orphan in Eastern Europe with cerebral palsy? It didn't make sense. If we were going to adopt, why not a child right here in Spokane? As I thought about him, I received my answer. Why not Spokane? Because that's not where Phillip is. He is ours. He had just been born across the world.
Think about what you did for your child before bed last night. Did you help him brush his teeth? Get his jammies on? Read him a story? Help him say his prayers? Did he get a snack? Did you kiss him goodnight? Phillip has never gotten any of that. It's time he did. Phillip has had what we suspect is a pretty sad life. We don't know how long he's been in the orphanage. By pictures, I can guess at least three years. Maybe he's been there his whole life. Can you imagine?
Phillip has never felt a mothers love. He needs to be hugged and kissed, to be surrounded by people who will cheer him on. He needs to have enough food to fill his tummy, to never worry about food again. He needs clothes and toys that are his very own and the healthcare that might allow him to walk. He needs to get out of the crib where he spends most of his day. Knowing that we have what he so desperately needs just to live, how could we deny him? How could we deny him the very basics of life because we were too busy, too comfortable, or unwilling to sacrifice to that degree for a child? Phillip has likely never had anyone willing to sacrifice for him. His mother abandoned him and dumped him in an orphanage where he has sat and waited for six years. Hearing a prompting, would I too choose to walk away and abandon him, finding him too inconvenient for my life?
Jeremy came home. I waited til kids were in bed. I approached him about it, showed him pictures, explained Phillip's conditions. I told him I have no idea why I felt drawn to this little boy in EE, but I felt like we needed him. Jeremy initially voiced the same concerns... Our boys are young. We have a lot of kids. Life is pretty good. Crazy but predictable. Consistent. This would bring a lot of sacrifice and unknowns into our chaotic life. There would be things we've always dreamed of doing that we might not be able to, because we could be caring for this child in our home, forever.
We decided to pray about it. By noon the next day, Jeremy had gone from "We can't possibly do this" to "Let's go get him", and he has never once wavered. I, on the other hand, have swung back and forth wildly, like on a penduleum. We don't know the full extent of his cerebral palsy and that scares me. He can't walk. We are unsure whether he talks. A year ago the orphanage reported that he didn't, but we've heard reports from people who've seen him and say he does. Updates in the EE are few and far between, and a year changes a lot. We don't know how his cerebral palsey affects his mental capabilities. We know he's delayed. Is that environment or the CP? Can that be overcome?
All of these children are coming out of the orphanages small and physically and mentally delayed. He may just need some love and therapy to overcome... or he may never overcome. He certainly won't be "cured", as CP is not curable. We don't know, and likely won't know, til we get him home. Maybe even for months after that. But even if he never mentally or physically progresses from where he is right now, which is unlikely, he will undoubtedly have a better life. And isn't that what we're called to do? To lift anothers burdens? Succor the weak? Care for the orphans and the widows? To love and care for Heavenly Fathers children, to strengthen the defenseless? It's a major leap of faith, but we know, come what may, he is ours, and we are prepared to love him and help him be the very best he can be.
This is an account of our journey to go get Phillip. We expect to travel sometime in November or early December. If all goes well, we will have Phillip home well before Christmas. I don't know how he will react. The orphanage is probably the only "home" he's ever known. We will make his life substantially better, but he won't know that. He will have to trust us as we take his small hand in ours and walk away from the orphanage with literally nothing to his name, not even a pair of clothes to wear home. We'll put him on an enormous plane, to fly many many hours to our home in Spokane Washington, to greet our six exuberant, noisy, energetic kids. We don't speak his language. He doesn't speak ours. I can only communicate as a mother does- with the language of love. It's incomprehensible. It breaks my heart.
We found Phillip through Reece's Rainbow. Reece's Rainbow is not an adoption agency. They are a non-profit advocacy group for special needs, hard to place children in orphanages throughout the world who need homes. As part of their services, they offer a venue for fundraising to help offset the costs of the adoption, which is expensive. In addition, Phillip will have many doctors and therapy appointments when he gets home. His needs have been neglected for far too long. If you'd like to help us offset these costs and help us bring him home, we would certainly be grateful, but don't feel like you have to. We want you to follow our blog and journey either way. We have been told that the next six months will be a wild ride, so hang on with us as we take the journey together!
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