I'm sure many of you can relate: my to-do list was just CRAZY the last few days! I've been cleaning the house, of course, in addition to a major furniture-moving project. In order to create baby's room on the main floor, we had to "shift" both our bedroom and Tim's office to different rooms. Moving a Pastor's office: NOT for the faint of heart. So in addition to working Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, I had to buy lots of groceries and get started on food, buy paint and supplies for the baby's room, get my glider rocker and crib, go to the bank, this and that from Target, Shopko, and Wal-Mart, a trip to Menards, another trip to Menards, more groceries, try to find room in the fridge for said groceries, and a beer run. DON'T forget the beer!
The hustle on moving furniture and obtaining baby items is due to the fact that our house will be FULL this Thanksgiving of happy helpers. We'll be painting, assembling, and admiring our handiwork. Some of them know what they are in for... the rest of them will know soon enough, he he he.
Getting ready for a houseful is never the most "relaxing" of tasks, especially when you throw a minor remodeling project into the mix. And this "houseful," when all is said and done, will include both my parents and Tim's, my two brothers and my sister-in-law, Tim's sister and brother-in-law, their 18-month-old, their boxer, my parents' HUGE yellow lab, both of OUR labs, and of course, Tim and me.
Incidentally, we have 1 1/2 bathrooms.
The menu for Thanksgiving is outrageous. Divided into five lists for me, Mom, Ashley, Marlene, and Kristal. Splitting things up DID help take some stress off. But wait, just wait until 10:00 tonight when all five of us are loaded into the kitchen, trying to take care of our "lists," making messes, laughter, and delicious smells. And drinking the aforementioned beer.
Incidentally, we do not have a dishwasher.
Yup, things are going to be a little crazy this weekend, and I LOVE IT!!! I can't help but think about how, in contrast, last year's Thanksgiving was so quiet, peaceful, and a little lonesome. Last year, Tim and I spent the weekend before Thanksgiving away in Wisconsin at my cousin's wedding. There was no way we could get away AGAIN for Thanksgiving, and neither of our families was able to visit. So this was my to-do list a year ago: 1) Rent some movies 2) Pick up Papa Murphy's pizza 3) Relax!
I'm not looking for pity here. We had an absolutely awesome time last year, just the two of us. We have church on Wednesday night, so we slept in really late on Thursday. The Packers didn't play last Thanksgiving, so we watched two movies in our pajamas, ate pizza, went for a short run in the afternoon, ate some more pizza, called our families, watched another movie, and went to bed. We. Loved. It. It was so calm, so peaceful, so controlled... much like our married life has been for the past five years PRE-CHILDREN.
I spend more than enough time thinking about all that I'm missing out on not being a mom, how I'm falling behind in the "race" (which is not an actual race so much as a self-imposed pity party in my head), and how I'm going to be 80 when my kids graduate from high school. So once in a while, I have to think about the amazing blessings of having five wonderful, calm, peaceful, controlled years all to ourselves. Don't you worry, my mommy friends. I KNOW how blessed I am to be able to go to the grocery store whenever I want. To just have 2 or 3 dog toys to pick up once or twice a week. To be able to make whatever I want for dinner, knowing that my family (Tim) will love it, and we will eat the leftovers for the next three days without complaint.
But as I prepare for this year's Thanksgiving craziness, which includes preparing the room for my precious child-to-be, I am itchy with anticipation for the craziness of bringing that child into our lives. I know it won't be easy, just like this weekend won't be. It will only be a matter of days after baby comes home before I long for the days when I had a "bedtime" of 10:00, and a regular workout schedule. But all the joy, all the laughter, all the love, all the excitement that this weekend and, soon enough, my child will bring... I just can't wait.
I hope you all have an amazing Thanksgiving holiday with your special people, whether it's just the two of you, or a houseful. Count your blessings past, present, and future! THANKS BE TO GOD!!! (and GO, PACK, GO!)
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Friday, November 11, 2011
Why Adoption?
The idea of adoption was always something that fascinated me as a child. I remember telling my mom once that I wanted her to adopt me a sister. I knew the process existed from books and movies, but I didn't personally know anyone who was adopted, or who had adopted. Or I didn't know that I knew anyone... does that make sense? Even 20 short years ago, domestic adoption was still generally a very "closed" process shrouded in mystery, secrecy, and fear. Maybe that's why I thought it was so "cool"... I did love a good mystery story! I kept the "Nancy Drew" and "Goosebumps" sections of the library pretty busy.
As I grew older and met a person or two who had personal experience with the process, it fascinated me more. I never considered that it would touch my own life, but I was still very intrigued. Everyone seemed to have such a different story, experience, outlook. I still thought the process was very "cool," because I had the luxury of looking at it as an outsider. I could look at all the positive aspects of living in an adoptive family, and ignore all the sadness and pain that can come along with it. Sure, I knew they were there... we all assume there's a lot of scariness and risk involved, we just don't have to think about how we would deal with it personally.
Once we had been trying to start a family for over a year, I started planning my big "adoption" talk with Tim. For me, I knew it was the logical next step. I was totally comfortable with it, just as "in love" with the idea as I had always been. I was worried, though, that Tim might not see it that way. Adoption isn't for everyone, and both parents must be fully on board before even considering it. So one night in late 2009, frustrated and emotional, I cracked him open a beer, snuck up behind him with a bear hug, and asked if we could talk.
At this point neither of us had seen a doctor to try to figure out what was going on. I had heard most doctors require you to "try" for a year, and we were at about 14 months. I hadn't been able to bring myself to see anyone, because I was worried about what I'd hear. I was worried I'd hardly introduce myself to a doctor before I broke into tears. I was worried about money. I was worried about who the doctor would be. (Turns out, I'm pretty sure he was Ben Stein. Uncanny resemblance, same voice, same mannerisms. And I survived.) I'm so frustrated NOW that I waited so long, wallowing in worry, rather than casting my anxiety upon the Lord, biting the bullet, and starting the process. If I had seen a doctor at that magical "one-year" mark, we'd probably have started the adoption process an entire year earlier. Grrrrrrr.
So the hug in the kitchen... I told Tim we needed to get started with doctors soon, maybe in January once our deductibles reset. I wanted to try medical for one full year (2010, presumably), and then begin the adoption process in 2011 if nothing had happened. I knew right away what his answer would be because I saw joy and relief wash over his face when I mentioned adoption. He was just like me. He wanted a child, and adoption would answer that prayer.
Blah, blah, blah, excuse, excuse, excuse, we didn't start "doctoring" until July of 2010. I started the process extremely hopeful, feeling better than I had in years. Surely the doctor would find SOMETHING. And if not, we had adoption in our back pocket as a "back-up plan." At that time, I would have called it that to anyone that asked. I considered it an option, but a second-best option. Like taking a gravel road compared to the interstate, both leading to the exact same destination.
My "doctoring" phase ended in March of 2011 when a 6-month run of the aforementioned crabby-tired-sweaty medication ended. At that point, a lot of tests had ruled out a lot of potential problems, but no specific solution had been found. We had climbed about a third of the way up the medical mountain. The next third of the mountain involved more complex, more expensive procedures. Not the ethically-questionable ones yet, those are reserved for the top third of the mountain. But the middle third would challenge us financially and emotionally, and we already felt pretty exhausted in both those departments. Would this "middle third," although not ethically-questionable, be stewardship-questionable? It was not guaranteed to work, in fact we had been told it would probably take several more attempts. For us, a couple who already loved the idea of adoption, wouldn't that be a much better use of our time and energy?
Again, I MUST make sure you know we do not think our path is for everyone, and the only acceptable solution after failing the first couple tests and medications. I have many dear friends who have struggled with the same things I have, and I would hate for them to think I believe they are WRONG for not having done what we did. I respect everyone's right to take this journey as they need to. It would be a horrible mistake to enter into the adoption process not excited about it or feeling ready for it. Because once you're in it, it can go so, so fast, and you could have a child in your home before you're truly "ready" or comfortable with the situation.
Even for us... I thought we were "ready" but quickly found out we weren't. We had a lot to learn, still a little more grieving to do, and then lots more to learn. As soon as we announced we were adopting, I heard from about a million people that they knew someone who had started the adoption process and then gotten pregnant. "Just wait, the same thing will happen for you." And I admit, that hope flickered with in for a couple weeks. I KNEW people that had happened to, and it seemed logical enough. Lift the stress, and whammo! Preggers!
After a couple weeks of our exhausting, overwhelming "research" phase, I realized I was more fascinated by this process than ever! I was more aware of the risks, the potential pain and heartache, I was more confused than ever by which path to follow BUT I was becoming so committed to it, so excited to see it through. It no longer felt like a "back-pocket" option... it felt like FIRST CHOICE, like reality, like an answer to our prayers, like awesomeness! Yes, it was scary and different and not at all what I expected it to be. There is no "expecting" anything in adoption... it's a roller-coaster no matter how much you try to prepare yourself. But now it felt more like interstate vs. beautiful scenic route - both amazing in their own right, both completely different, both completely valid.
I still had to learn, and it took a couple more months, that these two beautiful paths were NOT leading to the same destination. In the spring and early summer months, our focus was entirely sucked up by big decisions like which agency, which program, where is the money coming from, etc. We planned and plotted every single step leading up to bringing baby home... and it took a few months for things to slow down and my head to stop spinning before I realized that this "process" of adoption does not end when baby comes home. We don't just lay baby in a crib and dress him in the cute outfits his new family bought him for Christmas and forget about everything we've been through. Everything HE'S been through, and WILL GO through. Yes, there will be similarities between our life as adoptive parents, and the life we imagined for many years, as biological parents. Our child's life cannot be ALL about the fact that he's adopted. But that fact remains, and it will be acknowledged, celebrated, and honored throughout his life. We'll have to do a few things differently. It's going to take some extra thought, work and patience over and above what is required of parents of an infant, toddler, TEENAGER (yikes!) But it's going to offer so many unique joys and blessings, as well, that we never would have experienced had our life unfolded the way we "planned."
So that's WHY adoption. Because we believe it is God's answer to our prayer for children. Because we're aware of the challenges, and know that our loving Lord will strengthen us to rise and meet them. Because there is so much we've learned about it, and so much we still have to learn, and we're SO excited to continue on the journey.
As I grew older and met a person or two who had personal experience with the process, it fascinated me more. I never considered that it would touch my own life, but I was still very intrigued. Everyone seemed to have such a different story, experience, outlook. I still thought the process was very "cool," because I had the luxury of looking at it as an outsider. I could look at all the positive aspects of living in an adoptive family, and ignore all the sadness and pain that can come along with it. Sure, I knew they were there... we all assume there's a lot of scariness and risk involved, we just don't have to think about how we would deal with it personally.
Once we had been trying to start a family for over a year, I started planning my big "adoption" talk with Tim. For me, I knew it was the logical next step. I was totally comfortable with it, just as "in love" with the idea as I had always been. I was worried, though, that Tim might not see it that way. Adoption isn't for everyone, and both parents must be fully on board before even considering it. So one night in late 2009, frustrated and emotional, I cracked him open a beer, snuck up behind him with a bear hug, and asked if we could talk.
At this point neither of us had seen a doctor to try to figure out what was going on. I had heard most doctors require you to "try" for a year, and we were at about 14 months. I hadn't been able to bring myself to see anyone, because I was worried about what I'd hear. I was worried I'd hardly introduce myself to a doctor before I broke into tears. I was worried about money. I was worried about who the doctor would be. (Turns out, I'm pretty sure he was Ben Stein. Uncanny resemblance, same voice, same mannerisms. And I survived.) I'm so frustrated NOW that I waited so long, wallowing in worry, rather than casting my anxiety upon the Lord, biting the bullet, and starting the process. If I had seen a doctor at that magical "one-year" mark, we'd probably have started the adoption process an entire year earlier. Grrrrrrr.
So the hug in the kitchen... I told Tim we needed to get started with doctors soon, maybe in January once our deductibles reset. I wanted to try medical for one full year (2010, presumably), and then begin the adoption process in 2011 if nothing had happened. I knew right away what his answer would be because I saw joy and relief wash over his face when I mentioned adoption. He was just like me. He wanted a child, and adoption would answer that prayer.
Blah, blah, blah, excuse, excuse, excuse, we didn't start "doctoring" until July of 2010. I started the process extremely hopeful, feeling better than I had in years. Surely the doctor would find SOMETHING. And if not, we had adoption in our back pocket as a "back-up plan." At that time, I would have called it that to anyone that asked. I considered it an option, but a second-best option. Like taking a gravel road compared to the interstate, both leading to the exact same destination.
My "doctoring" phase ended in March of 2011 when a 6-month run of the aforementioned crabby-tired-sweaty medication ended. At that point, a lot of tests had ruled out a lot of potential problems, but no specific solution had been found. We had climbed about a third of the way up the medical mountain. The next third of the mountain involved more complex, more expensive procedures. Not the ethically-questionable ones yet, those are reserved for the top third of the mountain. But the middle third would challenge us financially and emotionally, and we already felt pretty exhausted in both those departments. Would this "middle third," although not ethically-questionable, be stewardship-questionable? It was not guaranteed to work, in fact we had been told it would probably take several more attempts. For us, a couple who already loved the idea of adoption, wouldn't that be a much better use of our time and energy?
Again, I MUST make sure you know we do not think our path is for everyone, and the only acceptable solution after failing the first couple tests and medications. I have many dear friends who have struggled with the same things I have, and I would hate for them to think I believe they are WRONG for not having done what we did. I respect everyone's right to take this journey as they need to. It would be a horrible mistake to enter into the adoption process not excited about it or feeling ready for it. Because once you're in it, it can go so, so fast, and you could have a child in your home before you're truly "ready" or comfortable with the situation.
Even for us... I thought we were "ready" but quickly found out we weren't. We had a lot to learn, still a little more grieving to do, and then lots more to learn. As soon as we announced we were adopting, I heard from about a million people that they knew someone who had started the adoption process and then gotten pregnant. "Just wait, the same thing will happen for you." And I admit, that hope flickered with in for a couple weeks. I KNEW people that had happened to, and it seemed logical enough. Lift the stress, and whammo! Preggers!
After a couple weeks of our exhausting, overwhelming "research" phase, I realized I was more fascinated by this process than ever! I was more aware of the risks, the potential pain and heartache, I was more confused than ever by which path to follow BUT I was becoming so committed to it, so excited to see it through. It no longer felt like a "back-pocket" option... it felt like FIRST CHOICE, like reality, like an answer to our prayers, like awesomeness! Yes, it was scary and different and not at all what I expected it to be. There is no "expecting" anything in adoption... it's a roller-coaster no matter how much you try to prepare yourself. But now it felt more like interstate vs. beautiful scenic route - both amazing in their own right, both completely different, both completely valid.
I still had to learn, and it took a couple more months, that these two beautiful paths were NOT leading to the same destination. In the spring and early summer months, our focus was entirely sucked up by big decisions like which agency, which program, where is the money coming from, etc. We planned and plotted every single step leading up to bringing baby home... and it took a few months for things to slow down and my head to stop spinning before I realized that this "process" of adoption does not end when baby comes home. We don't just lay baby in a crib and dress him in the cute outfits his new family bought him for Christmas and forget about everything we've been through. Everything HE'S been through, and WILL GO through. Yes, there will be similarities between our life as adoptive parents, and the life we imagined for many years, as biological parents. Our child's life cannot be ALL about the fact that he's adopted. But that fact remains, and it will be acknowledged, celebrated, and honored throughout his life. We'll have to do a few things differently. It's going to take some extra thought, work and patience over and above what is required of parents of an infant, toddler, TEENAGER (yikes!) But it's going to offer so many unique joys and blessings, as well, that we never would have experienced had our life unfolded the way we "planned."
So that's WHY adoption. Because we believe it is God's answer to our prayer for children. Because we're aware of the challenges, and know that our loving Lord will strengthen us to rise and meet them. Because there is so much we've learned about it, and so much we still have to learn, and we're SO excited to continue on the journey.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
His Greater Will
Dearest friends and encouragers, the time has come to begin sharing our adoption journey. Not "the time has come" like I finally feel "ready" or November 8 was the day I circled on my calendar long ago to start writing. Nope, I just have time this week. The home study is done. The profile book is done. The baby's room is... a work in progress, and I need a break from manual labor. And I have been aching to share the process with those who want to hear about it in greater detail than the occasional, vague Facebook status update that makes little to no sense to someone who hasn't gone through the process. So I hope (emphasis on "hope") to write regularly to talk about the joys, challenges, and craziness of our journey, what led us to adoption, and yes, the Green Bay Packers. Would you expect anything less?
But for tonight, I just want to talk about the phrase "Not my will, but yours be done." At a very early age, I was taught to close my prayers with this statement. And for most of my life, I hardly gave the words a second thought. My fickle, human will changed so much from day to day that I hardly recognized the hand of God, guiding me along the course He knew for me before eternity. But what a relief that His will won out... my will was all over the place.
For example, if "my will" of 1991 had been done, I'm pretty sure I would a children's author, a bakery owner, a wedding gown designer, and an architect, owning a labrador retriever in every color, a hotel chain, a house in the mountains, a house on the ocean, and a house in the woods. And no, not "write a couple books and then design gowns for a few years before settling into architecture as a second career." Nope. All of it at once... that was the dream. The 8-year-old dream.
My "will" of 2001 was quite different. The older I got, the more short-sighted I became. My dreams were day-to-day: ace a test, get picked for Project Timothy, find a great roommate for next year at college. The farthest ahead my 18-year-old will stretched was to "someday" open the first Lutheran convent. Looking back, I think it's fairly safe to say that was more of a defense mechanism (my high school experience was pretty dry in the dating department) than my actual "will."
It's easy to see with time and distance why God's plans are always far superior to our own. Even 1992 Megan could have told 1991 Megan that she was crazy. But there's always that delicate window - sometimes a couple weeks, a number of months, years on end - when our "will" seems so realistic, so attainable, so PERFECT... why, oh why, oh why can't God understand? This is absolutely what I need and I need it now and what does He know anyway!!!
My "will" of a year ago was confused, desperate, bitter. We had been married for four years and had been trying for about half that time to start a family. (Isn't that word "trying" funny? It is to me now. It implies that we have any kind of control, that the decision to have children is entirely a human one and has nothing to do with God. As if He couldn't bless someone not "trying" with a child.) 2008 Megan had been hopeful, joyful. 2009 Megan had been impatient, worried, but had a whole list of possible explanations to help guard herself against despair. 2010 Megan had checked off what she believed to be every possible explanation for why God hadn't blessed her with a child yet. Tim finished school, check. Health insurance, check. Move and "settle in" (whatever that means), check. The baby's room was picked out. I was getting in shape and taking control of my nutrition. WHAT MORE could possibly be the reason? I'd had acupuncture, chiropractic, labwork, x-rays, test after test, and was taking this AWFUL medication that made me crabby, tired, and sweaty. I don't even know if I had a "will" a year ago. I was just going through the motions.
"Be still, and know that I am God..."
God has shown me so many times in my life that it is in my best interest to be STILL and let Him work. He shows me my plans of 20 years ago, 10 years ago, and allows me to laugh at my younger self as I see clearly His greater will for my life. When He shows me my will of a year ago, it still stings. I think it always will. But the picture is fading, like late fall's brown grass being covered by the first beautiful, white, unsalted, un"yellowed" snow of winter. God has another plan, and he's just beginning to uncover it.
"...I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth."
God's plans are so much bigger than just us. My will was once "Megan, Tim, and baby." But if Tim and I are on the right track, and God's will for us is to become adoptive parents, then His plan is SO much bigger. It now includes Megan, Tim, baby, the unique blessing of an open birth family relationship, all the amazing adoption families we have met and stories we have heard, what felt like a 3-credit-course in Domestic Infant Adoption Paperwork, an unbelievable outpouring of support and love from friends and family, an opportunity to raise a child with an uncertain future in a Christian home as a baptized child of God, and so many more blessings we haven't even begun to imagine, in ADDITION to all the other incredible blessings of parenthood. God's plans don't exist to give us what WE want. God's plans exist to bring the people of this world to their loving Savior Jesus, and to glorify His name. He uses us for that plan. Our strengths and weaknesses, our triumphs and struggles, all are a part of His greater plan.
I just wanted a baby. That baby isn't here yet... but I have already been blessed beyond measure by the adoption process. Thank you, Lord, for your plan... for your will. It's still cloudy and uncertain, but I'm sure it's perfect.
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