Meeting Carington one year ago today

I cannot believe its been a whole year, and yet I feel like she has always been here. Its really hard to imagine that there was a time when she wasn't with us. I am feeling so sentimental and nostalgic lately. I'm remembering every detail that I possibly can. I miss Rwanda. I loved it there. The whole experience was just amazing! I am so grateful.

One Year Ago

I've said it before, but I just can't get over it. Last Thanksgiving I was discouraged telling family that it would be at least 4-5 more months before we heard anything. And 3 days later I was looking at this amazingly beautiful picture. It had been sitting in my inbox for almost 12 hours before I discovered it! Our agency must have told us a 100 times to "guard your hearts" during this emotional process. Perhaps I did that to much. I was in denial, afraid to believe that it could actually happen. Hence the reason 12 hours lapsed before I found it, while other families would check their email in the middle of the night! (And with good reason since it came at 1 AM!)

And this is our beautiful girl this Thanksgiving!

Praise God from whom all blessings flow!

Portraits!

You would never know from these pics the circus that went on to get them. Poor Noah wasn't feeling well. We almost canceled the session and probably should have because the poor guy was literally throwing up between pictures! But he'd get right back up, sit in his place and smile! He had been promised the day before to get to look at Christmas trees in the mall if he cooperated. And he was determined to see those trees!

Aiden was afraid that he would get thrown up on and dove out of the picture at one point when he heard Noah hiccup! He was being strangled in the picture above.

Carington was wild as usual and spent half the time kicking her brothers with her heels, and the other half of the time running away or hitting them in the head! I am so pleased that we actually got good shots.

A Precious Lady

One of these days life will settle down (ha!) and I'll write more. For now I wanted to share a little about a very dear lady.

She was the matriarch of our church. She has been there my whole life. In fact she has been there most of all of our lives. She taught my grandfather in elementary school! She loved me and my children, and we loved her. As an adoptive mother herself she "got it". After we brought Carington home she gave me a card and this is what she wrote.

"Not of my flesh, nor of my bone.
Yet by a miracle, still my own.
Never forget, not for minute.
You didn't grow under my heart but in it."

She often gave my children gifts and recently gave me money to buy Carington a winter coat. Each of us received a card from her on our birthdays and annaversaries. Every week at church she ensured that every child visited her in her pew by giving them each a hersey kiss. One week ago in church she passed out kisses, sang praises, and had a hug and smile for me and my kids.

Little did we know that this week in church she'd be gone. She was 91 and in relatively good health, but on Tuesday she was killed in a car accident and her daughter-in-law was seriously injured and has a long recovery ahead of her. Tomorrow we will lay her to rest. But her seat in church wasn't empty this week. I watched her grandson who is maybe 11 years old, has lost his grandma, and his mother is in the hospital. He was sitting in her seat, singing at the top of his lungs, hand over his heart, tears in his eyes. What a testament to what she taught him about how to handle life, and most importantly, who to turn to when your world falls apart.

I loved Aunt Gert.... I didn't realize how much until she was gone. Why is it that we don't adaquately tell people this while we have the chance?

I am so thankful that one day I will get the chance. I am so thankful that this life isn't it. That we will see her again. But we will not see her kyphotic spine or her walker. We will see her radiant smile. And she will probably still be force feeding my kids chocolate.

Who knew a dress could elicite such emotion?

Almost a year ago my parents took all of their kids and grandkids to St. Croix for a week. I looked forward to this trip with such anticipation for many reasons. For one, it had been several years since we had all been together. For another, I was desperately needing a brake and a distraction from the wait. We were exhausted from the emotion and stress of fostering and the adoption process. I couldn't wait to relax and not think about things as much. And seriously, who could feel discouraged with a view like this!


Apparently I could. Much to my dismay when we arrived in beautiful St. Croix I was more emotional than at home. We were all so excited about a time when we would all be together, yet to me, we weren't all together. I thought so much about Carington and one night even had an extremely vivid dream that I was holding her. I woke up in such a depressed state. We listened to a conference call while we were there that made it seem like things would take longer still. I was so emotional in fact that I think some in my family misunderstood my emotions. I didn't seem happy and some thought maybe I was fostering and adopting out of a sense of duty or filling a void.

Well, little did we know that while we were in St. Croix, not only had we been approved but we had already been matched with Carington. Her picture was being taken and her medical information was being compiled to send to us just one month later. And I did end up relaxing and having a wonderful time with my family.

While there I bought a doll for Carington and I'll admit that I was very attached to it. It was my little piece of her and I slept with it every night until I had her in my arms! In fact here we are on the plane ride home and you can see the doll is in my arms. (Weird I know!)

We spent that Thanksgiving in Tennessee with Greg's family like we always do. I was discouraged yet again, missing my baby. We went shopping Thanksgiving night from midnight to 3 AM. (Yes, you read that right!) At 1:30 in the morning I was in Old Navy and was struck by this adorable little sweater dress. It had bright colors and I knew that it would be adorable against her brown skin. I stood in an incredibly long line and when I got up to the counter changed my mind. I didn't know when she would join our family, what season it would be, how old she would be. I knew it was ridiculous to buy it, but the pain of putting it back on the rack was unreal.

Less than 48 hours later we received our approval, and less than 48 hours after that we gazed upon her beautiful face for the first time! So what did I do as soon as I had her measurements? I headed back to Old Navy and JOYFULLY bought that dress for this winter. Making a purchase had never brought me such joy!

Well, today was our first cold day. So I pulled out the dress (and tights and boots). I couldn't believe the emotion of seeing her in that dress. This afternoon when Carington was sleeping and the boys were watching a video, she woke up crying. At first I cringed. This was my time to get something done. But I went in and rocked her a long time. She fell back asleep against me, wearing that dress, in her room, in my arms. And I can't help but think about what my mother-in-law says, "The days may be long, but the years are short." And I take my babies for granted. Each of my kids have a painful story of our journey to them, infertility, miscarriages, orphaned. And I forget and take them for granted.

Like every family, we have those days. Ones like today where everyone is cranky, woke up to rain when we were supposed to go to the state fair, stuck in the house, disappointed kids, snotty noses (which apparently Carington thinks snot doubles as paint and the kitchen cabinets are in need of a full coat), Noah whining, Carington in the cat food for the 80th time, Aiden not wanting to do school work because he is supposed to be watching pigs race at the fair, cat pooping in the crib, Carington slinging food ALL OVER the kitchen for the 40th time, dog pooping in the garage because she won't go out in the rain, Similac has been recalled, Carington and Noah have dumped a box of wheat thins all over the kitchen floor and stomped on them because I'm trying to do something stupid like blog with 3 kids in the house kind of day.

And I get tired. And I get frustrated. And I take my kids for granted. I take everything for granted for that matter. And I don't want to. Lets face it, the fact that I have cabinets for Carington to paint her snot on means that I have more than most. I want to remember that. I want to remember the pain of infertility, of miscarriages, of the adoption journey. Then even though the days may be long, I'll still feel the overwhelming sense of how blessed I am to call these 3 amazing kids mine. And I hope that one day when I look back and realize just how short the years have been, I'll be able to say that I lived each day to the fullest. Well, lets keep it real. Maybe at least I'll be able to say I lived most to the fullest. Or some, yeah, definately I should be able to say I lived some to the fullest.

And BTW, she looked just as adorable in the dress as I dreamed she would at 1:30 AM on Thanksgiving night.

A change of plans

Well, there has been a change of plans. For those that don't know what the plan was in the first place, I will tell you. Our plan was to begin the process to adopt another daughter from Rwanda beginning mid September. Greg and I both feel very strongly that we still have another daughter out there somewhere. We've been praying a lot but not feeling like God was really telling us anything other than, yes, we do still have another daughter.

So a couple weeks ago I told God what our plan was. I learned very clearly from the experience of adopting Carington that God's plan is so so SO much better than my own. So I told Him that if this was not the right timing, if this was not according to His plan to please close the door quickly. To my utter shock 4 days later the door was slammed shut. Rwanda announced that they are putting a temporary hold on international adoptions!

My first reaction was to burst into tears. My second reaction was to cry harder. My third reaction was to erupt into wailing! And so it continued for a couple days. I cried and cried not just for my "spoiled" plan, but for the children and families who had thousands of dollars, not to mention emotions invested. Now I KNOW that this is ultimately a good thing. Rwanda is doing this to become a part of the Hague convention to prevent things like child trafficking. This is good. "This IS good", I keep telling myself. But my heart still brakes.

I am thankful that even though I didn't like the answer, God cared enough to answer my prayer. I am very thankful that we didn't start the process in early August like we had originally planned. As hard as it has been, it could have been much worse. I pray daily for the families who were so close to completing their paperwork and now are faced with very difficult decisions.

So, the new plan? Only God knows. My heart is so firmly planted in Rwanda that I can't imagine that our next child would come from anywhere else. The faces of the children left behind are a constant in my mind. Logically it just makes sense for Carington and our next child to have the same country and heritage in common. I think it would be so good for both of them. But then again, my ways are not His ways. He knows so much better than I do what is best.

So for now we wait. We wait for God's timing. We wait for Rwanda to reopen... unless God directs us otherwise, that is our plan.

And in the meantime life continues....

Aiden's first day homeschooling with sidekick Noah. He also goes to a local private school one day a week.

These 3 love riding this 4 wheeler

Noah "comforting" Carington during a thunderstorm.

Aiden's 6th birthday

A failed attempt at a decent shot of all 3 kids.

The boys "helping" Carington walk.

He lost his first 2 teeth! Where did the last 6 years go.

A goofy little girl.

And where did my last picture of Noah go? Who knows? I hate computers.

6 Months

Six months ago we were in Africa. Six months ago (on Saturday) we arrived home from Rwanda and introduced Carington to Aiden, Noah and her many grandparents. Six months ago our family finally became complete. In many ways it feels like she has always been here. Her presence in our home is so natural.... like she was meant to be here.... like this was God ordained and orchestrated. And it was!

Yet, as natural as it seems, we still have those moments. Those moments where we stand in awe and utter shock that she is actually here. Those moments where we remember the pain, the longing, the helplessness that throws you headlong into the arms of the only one that could truly be there for her, her maker.

How many times have we said as we have traveled to places we go every summer, "Last year when we came here she was 6 months old and weighed 8 pounds". How many times have we said, "remember how last summer we listened to those conference calls from our agency that always indicted a longer wait, remember how depressed we would be." How many times we have remembered the pain of her absence, the void.

Some do not understand this. They wonder how you can feel such pain over a child that is still faceless. Something amazing happens when you make the decision to adopt. You go from dreaming of the possibility to a sudden shocking realization... "I have a child on the other side of the world. I don't know who she is but God does. She is mine and I can't take care of her. Only God can." You feel very much pregnant, yet you can't have checkups to be sure your baby is OK. You can't hear her heartbeat or feel her kick, yet you love her no less. It is a huge lesson in trusting God and depending on Him to be your child's comforter.

Sometimes you feel angry that no one understands your grief, no one considers you to be expecting. You want others to understand your pain. But no one can truly understand unless they are adopting to. Just ask any family that is still waiting. The pain is very real and ever present, brimming just under the surface of smiles and common courtesies. The heart is always ready to burst and does often, just not always at times that it is seen by others.

Yet, I believe fully that this pain is a blessing. It is hard, REALLY hard, to see it at the time. But all of this pain is part of what endears you to a child that did not grow in your womb. All of this heartache is what makes you fiercely protective of a child that you have not even met. The longing seals the fact that this child, faceless though she may be, is your child. YOUR child. Truly 100% yours. She may not look like yours, but the motherly instincts and the love in your heart scream otherwise.

To those still waiting, I mourn with you. I may not have waited as long as some of you, but I grieve everyday for you. Why? Because I have seen the faces of many of your children. I know how precious they are. I know the depth of your sorrow. I know the longing in your soul to reach out and tell your child that she will never be alone again. I also know what your pain is worth. I know that joy truly does come in the morning. And best of all, we now have some small insight into what our heavenly Father is going through for us. Praise be to God for believing that I am worth the pain.