Yummy Thursday - Chimichangas

I really enjoyed posting my last entry about open adoption.  I’ve been meaning to write on the topic for over a year, but never got around to it.  SO GLAD the mood didn’t strike me earlier; it just wouldn’t have been complete without the story of meeting birth family two weeks ago.

 

That one took a lot out of me, though, and so did all the emotional feedback I got - which I LOVE - don’t stop! But I was reminded of an idea I had about a month ago… it really would be nice to use this blog for more than just once-a-month tearjerker adoption stories.  It might be nice to show other sides of myself than over-the-top emotional mama! So I’m going to try (emphasis on TRY) once or twice a week to post about other things.  Fun things! And much shorter posts :)

Around here, since it’s just the two of us full-size-eaters (and little three-bite Libby), I usually only cook 2-3 times a week, and then we munch on leftovers until they’re gone.  The nights that I cook vary, but Thursday is usually a good bet.  Since I work on Friday, I like to be sure there is something ready for Tim to start reheating so it is ready the moment I get home from work.  Sitting at a desk all day works up an appetite somehow :)

So I’m going to start by adding Yummy Thursday to the blog.  Recipes and pictures of food… who doesn’t like that? Well, for starters, those people you always hear complaining about pictures of food on Facebook.  Well, now you know, if you’re one of those: don’t read the blog on Yummy Thursday.

So tonight we had chimichangas… super yummy.  I started making these about five years ago, inspired by my dear friend Sara who gave me many of my favorite recipes.  I have no idea if I make them like her Original Recipe anymore… I’m not much of a recipe follower.  A handful of this, a few spoons of that… yeah, if you’re driven crazy by “approximate” recipes, then you also might want to tune out on Yummy Thursdays.

Chimis came on my radar yesterday when I got a box of delicious mangoes from Sam’s Club.  (PS I got away BY MYSELF yesterday for FOUR HOURS to THREE STORES. It was glorious.) I love to serve fresh pineapple when I make Mexican at home, and I saw the mangoes and couldn’t resist the combination.

 

 So I usually end up making about 6 cups of filling when all is said and done.  If I make too much, or if I don’t use it all, I freeze it up, or use it in omelets or a quesadilla.  Today my filling contained:

·         black beans (maybe 2 cups?)

·         brown rice (also 2 cups-ish)

·         salsa (about ½ cup)

·         3 green onions, sliced thin

·         a pile of cilantro, chopped coarsely (about ½ bunch)

·         1 pound ground beef (that measurement I’m sure about ;)

Mix together well.  No need for salt or other seasonings; there’s plenty of flavor without.  When I have it on hand, I like to add frozen corn.  They’re also really good with shredded chicken instead of beef.

Tonight I just made six chimis for tonight’s supper and tomorrow’s lunch.  The rest of the filling I put in the fridge for tomorrow night.  For the six I made tonight, I grated about a cup of sharp cheddar.  Then I warmed six large flour tortillas in the microwave between damp paper towels for about 30 seconds.  I’ve tried doing these without warming them, and the tortillas tend to crack, no matter how soft they are.

To assemble, spinkle some cheese over a tortilla and then top with filling.  You’ll get a feel once you start wrapping them how full to fill them so they wrap tight – I’m thinking about a half cup each? Wrap three sides around the filling and then roll tight so the cheese doesn’t ooze out while baking... like that top left one... oops!

Now the best part… do not skip this step! This is what makes them CHIMICHANGAS and not just a nice, baked burrito.  Pour some oil in a dish and season with a little something for extra flavor… tonight I used Pampered Chef Southwest Seasoning, other times I have just used garlic and onion powder.  Use a basting brush to oil the top and sides generously with the seasoned oil.  Then they will bake up crispy and golden and YUMMY!  Bake at 375 for about 20 minutes, or until they look golden enough for you.  And make sure your eat with a heap of sour cream!

Open Arms

I know I’m not the only one out there carrying on a love-hate relationship with Facebook.  Sometimes it drives me completely insane and I’m *this close* to pushing the “delete account” button.  Well… maybe not *this close*.  Not close enough to know if there is such a button, or what it is actually called.  But close.  Quite close.

Other times I really don’t know what I would do without it.  It is an instant lifeline to my immediate family, all over 300 miles away, and my best friends who are scattered across the country and the world.  Yup, it’s true, I have a bestie in Siberia.

Never did I think I would be able to honestly say that Facebook has shaped my future and the course of my daughter’s life.  First, I’d have had to get over the “daughter” part.  A year ago today, I still hadn’t even heard her name.  But once she entered my life, BECAME my life, it wasn’t long before Facebook took on a much bigger role in my life than a place to share vacation photos, solicit dinner ideas, and run public opinion polls.

When we chose to enter a domestic infant adoption program, we learned that 95% of domestic adoptions in the US today are “open” to some degree.  “Open adoption” runs the gamut from letter and picture exchange every couple years, facilitated by the adoption agency, to live-in arrangements in rare cases! The relationships are all so unique, and more than once I laid awake at night wondering, stressing, and dreaming about my future relationship with my future baby’s birth family.

Two things I want to put out there before I get to the joy and peace I have been blessed with through the open relationship we share today with members of Libby’s birth family.  First, “open adoption” is not a concept Tim and I were able to come to terms with overnight.  It took time, research, and lots of prayer.  It used to terrify me.  Even today it’s still a little scary from time to time.  But it’s been such a great experience in my life to dive headfirst into something that scares me, and then watch it blossom.

Second, I’m going to write about what is working for US.  Not that I think every adoptive family should push the buttons we’re pushing.  Not that I think it’s possible, or practical, or even safe for all adoptive families to pursue a close, personal relationship.  But what we are doing works for us.  It is beautiful and powerful.  People are baffled and curious and deeply inspired by it.  I am SO proud of it, and I want to share about it.

And so, at long last, our open adoption story…

When we first filled out our Openness Preferences for our adoption agency during the Home Study process, we had come to a point where we felt able to say “yes,” with very few reservations, to phone calls, e-mails, Skype, and occasional visits.  But Facebook? Facebook got a “maybe.” I wanted to post pictures and updates of my sweet future baby.  I didn’t want to have to analyze every post to decide if it was birth-family-appropriate.  Like I said, I depend upon Facebook maybe a little more than most people for communication and honest self-expression, because of how far removed I am from my family and closest friends.  So I was not sure how ready I felt to begin censoring my thoughts and feelings for a birthmom I’d never met.

Well, wouldn’t you know it, our first contact came in a Facebook message.  It happened while we were in California the first time, at Gene and Dede’s house, meeting Elizabeth and getting ready to bring her home.  We had posted just a few pictures of our precious girl, and the response had been overwhelming.  Messages of love and encouragement piled up on my wall and in my inbox faster than I could possibly respond.  Friend  requests poured in from friends of friends who wanted to see her and follow our journey.  In the midst of all the crazy, in came two requests from people I didn’t know.  They looked nice enough, and the last names were common enough that I figured they must have a connection to someone I know.  I clicked on their pages to dig a little more.  I saw where they were from.  It took a little longer than I’d like to admit for me to figure it out… they were the birth family.

I called out to Dede and showed her the name and pictures. “Yup, that’s them!” It was birthmom’s mom (“L”) and grandma (“J”). My stomach flip-flopped.  I wasn’t ready for this! What did they want? And why FACEBOOK?!?!? The ONE means of communication I had reservations about.

We didn’t do anything right away.  We went for a hike and cleared our heads.  We decided we weren’t ready.  We would message them and share e-mail addresses and phone numbers.  And we would quickly check our privacy settings! So we returned to the house and, without accepting the friend request, I clicked “message” on “L’s” page.  And there it was:

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Hi Megan :)

Wanted to thank you and your husband – you truly seem like a gift from God, as are Dede and Gene.  Anything you need, please ask! God bless,

“L”

P.S. “A’s” mom :)) xoxo

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Wow.  Seriously? My STUPID phone had been so overwhelmed with Facebook notifications, it forgot to tell me I had this beautiful, VERY important message.  Well, THAT might have saved me a lot of stress.  THEY are thanking ME? Seriously? Do they know how gorgeous Libby is and how overwhelmingly grateful I feel toward THEM?

After I responded back to both “L” and “J” (who had sent a similarly perfect message) with our e-mail addresses and phone numbers, this is what I got back from “L”:

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… “A” has also seen both of your pages and is so happy that Elizabeth is with you.  She is proud of herself for doing the right things in this difficult teenage world.  We would love and appreciate any pictures or updates from you without interrupting your new family…

 

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Click.  “Accept Request.”  I knew I loved them all already.  Something told me I could trust this family, despite how little I knew about them.  Something told me we would all be okay - BETTER than okay.  Something told me that this was the start of something really special for Libby’s future, and rather than focus on fear and doubt, I should embrace this crazy opportunity to build a relationship that could, in turn, build my daughter’s character, self-worth, and her future.

The first month was nothing too crazy.  “L” and “J” were always good for a “like” on pictures of Libby, and an occasional comment… “so sweet”… “what a cutie”… “gift from God.”

Later in June, “A” (Libby’s birthmom) felt ready to join in.  She stood back a bit, in comparison with her mom and grandma, but she was there, supporting our journey.  Her friendship and her approval meant so much to me.  It meant she was still happy with the choice she had made for Libby.  Not only that, she was happy for ME as a mother.  The first private message I got from her dissolved me into a sobbing mess as I read it again and again:

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I love her a lot, but honestly… I look at it like I had her so you could have her… It’s so nice not to question whether or not I did the right thing when I see in pictures how happy you guys are and especially how happy she is…

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Sigh.  She really is wonderful.  Jump ahead to April 2013 and – spoiler alert – I can truly say now, after having met her in person and watched her interact with the little girl that bonds us together, that “A” is truly one in a million.  I would do just about anything to protect her, and I will love her and defend her until the day I die.

As summer marched on, we took a BIG step and exchanged physical addresses so that I could mail them one of Libby’s adorable adoption announcements.  We also began to accept more Facebook relationships with people who were not immediate birth family members: co-workers, best friends, family, and other major players in Libby’s journey from hospital to Gene and Dede, and finally into my waiting arms.

In September we were pleased (and more than a little shocked) when birthdad, “S”, Facebook-friended us.  We had known very little about him until that point, and so I set into Facebook-creeper-mode and soaked up all I could. Sorry, “S” :)  After only knowing him through hearsay and the small amount of information he provided to the adoption agency, it was refreshing to see pictures and updates from him, and to see him join in the Libby Lovefest that was alive and well on Facebook.  I could see that he cared about her, which made me care about him and think a lot more about where he had been coming from through all of this.

Also in September, we got to see Gene and Dede again.  Although they’re not birth family, they were her FIRST family, and will always be beloved grandparents to Libby, her Nanny and Pops.  I’ve written a lot about them before, and although today I’m mainly focused on the birth family, I’d be remiss to leave Gene and Dede out of Libby’s “Open Adoption” story.  They gave her the best and brightest start in life, and their continued presence in our family’s story only makes it more unique and more beautiful.

In November we celebrated Libby’s first birthday.  The cards and gifts and Facebook greetings did. not. stop for days.  In the week leading up to November 3, as I cooked and cleaned for a big celebration, my mind was constantly on “A,” and all she had been going through a year earlier.  Tim and I picked out a piece of November birthstone jewelry to send her, to show her how important we consider her to be as a part of Libby’s past AND future.  On the big day itself, my brain was mush as I dealt with my own emotions, threw Tim a surprise 30^th birthday party, and kept thinking all day about Gene, Dede, and the birth family… just one short year ago.  How all our lives had changed so much!

As autumn wore on, and the NFL season with it, our relationships grew stronger through friendly competition.  We Redfields are easy enough – we’re a Packer family through and through.  But “L” is a Bears fan, “J” loves the Steelers, “L’s” husband “R” pulls for the Rams, and extended friends covered the Broncos, Niners, and I MUST be leaving someone out.  Tensions ran high as, week after week, the Packers faced a favorite team of SOMEONE we now knew through Libby.  But our greatest triumph came when we saw a family picture of all of them decked out in their own team colors, and “A” – who had never chosen a side – was looking gorgeous in GREEN AND GOLD, BABY!!! While she may be more Team Libby than Team Lombardi… we’ll take it!

As winter settled in, Tim and I began to hyper-analyze how soon would be “too soon” to extend the invitation to meet in person, during the trip to California we were planning for April.  We didn’t want to come across as complete psychopaths, but we had already bought our plane tickets in early November, and were just dying to know if they would like to be a part of our life… our REAL life, not just our Facebook life.

When we finally felt it was reasonable to ask in January, three months ahead, we were greeted with warmth and enthusiasm.  It all seemed so easy.  Sure, let’s meet, let’s have dinner, what’s your favorite food? It left me wondering why it was all so easy, and when it would all fall to pieces.  Come on, now, I’ve read the books, I’ve heard the stories, I’ve prepared for this day.  Open adoption is NOT supposed to come this easy or feel so natural.  We must be doing something wrong.

And on Wednesday, April 3, I finally learned where Facebook had let me down.  A nervous wreck, I navigated Tim the 15 short miles from the home of family friends we were visiting, to the home of “A,” “L,” and “R.” I drew a deep breath to pull myself together before walking to the front door.  The breath was cut short as “L” came running into the driveway with open arms, followed closely by “A.” I heard their voices, saw their smiles grow, and squeezed them tight for the first time.  Emotions surged through all of us in our own ways.  This was real.  This was happening.  THIS is what had been missing, what Facebook could never have given me.

The night was perfectly imperfect.  I awkwardly wondered how soon to pass Libby to “A” without forcing her.  Then “S” (birthdad) dropped by for half an hour and waited less than a minute to ask to hold her.  She cried.  He tried again.  She cried again.  I just thought it was incredibly sweet.  He asked questions about her vision and her hair color and what she eats.  “A” just sat to the side quietly, taking it all in.  I can’t imagine what was going through her head.  The only thing I could clearly read was LOVE.  Incredible love and admiration for the beautiful child and the happy family she had helped to create.

Later, “A” ate her dinner in the living room close to Libby, separated by a fireplace from the rest of us in the dining room.  Libby played with a few toys on the floor, happily bobbing her head from side to side, oblivious to the enormity of what was happening around her.  Twenty feet away, I drank wine and ate the world’s yummiest risotto and joked with “L” like I had known her all my life.  I watched from the corner of my eye as “A” slid closer and closer down the couch toward Libby, then moved onto the floor, played with her, took pictures of her, and wiped her runny nose.  That nose-wipe made me cry a little.  That nose-wipe said, “I may not be your mommy, but I love you to pieces.”

“A” seemed to get more comfortable as the night wore on, but I knew the night had been an emotional one for her.  It had been easy enough on Facebook to believe that we were all living some sort of “happily ever after.” But seeing “A” work through some serious emotions that night, the good with the bad, finally gave me the closure and the connection with her that I had been searching for.  She was just like me! At times this whole journey has been Facebook-perfect, but other times it’s been really, really hard.  Through it all, God has used all of us together to shape His perfect will.  And we have begun to love each other for that.

 

 

After a few (far too short) days visiting Gene and Dede on the coast, we returned to the Sacramento area to have dinner with “A’s” grandma “J” and grandpa “R.” More tears.  More joy.  More love.  I instantly felt at home in the single most beautiful house I have ever stepped foot in.  Again, Facebook had brought us pretty far.  I felt like I already knew them.  But the tight hugs, the wonder in their eyes as Libby sat and played, and an absolutely perfect steak :) made it all so much more real.  I caught Tim’s eye several times that night.  Once it was, “Can you believe how awesome this wine is?” Once it was, “Someday we WILL watch a Packer game from this pool.” But many more times it was, “WOW. We are so blessed.”

Sometimes I forget just how unique and special these relationships really are, because they fell into our lives so naturally.  Then I watch the jaws drop as I tell people I just spent a week in California meeting my daughter’s birth family, and I remember how crazy all of us must actually seem.  We are quite a bunch.  In a short amount of time we have begun to create a new little family centered around a very special little girl.  A little adopted girl who will have easy access when she needs to ask questions and needs validation.  A little girl who will always be able to clearly see that her birth story was never one of rejection, but of pure, unselfish love.

Tuesday the 9^th was our last day in California.  We had been going nonstop for a solid week, we had met everyone we hoped to meet, and we were exhausted.  But Tim and I agreed that we just HAD to see “A” one last time.  In the bright morning sun, we loaded in the van again: Libby in pajamas, me in running clothes, Tim showered and ready for the day.  Natural.  That’s how you’d find the three of us pretty much any day at home at 9 a.m.

We chatted over coffee about our time with Gene and Dede.  “A” talked more than the first night, after a week to process everything and draw closure from our first night together.  We decided to take a walk down by the lake and enjoy the beautiful day.  I’m so glad we did.  that morning will be a very special memory to me for a long time.  When we got back to the van, “L” and “A” gave Libby sweet goodbye hugs and kisses.  “A” held on long and tight.  Then we took a few last pictures, and then she hugged her some more. 

 

Goodbye for now, but not forever.  “A” and her family will be in our hearts and our lives for a long, long time.  I believe God has big, big plans for my little Libby Joy.  I think she’ll be a concert pianist.  Her daddy wants to run marathons with her.  And I feel so blessed that not only has God given me the gift of this perfect little girl, but also the amazing opportunity to know the young woman who loved her first and gave her life.  Not just to chit-chat on Facebook – to hear her voice.  Not just to know her in pictures – to know her embrace. 

So that’s our open adoption story… for now :) It’s ever-evolving.  To any of you who made it through the whole thing in one sitting, I salute you, and I hope you have been touched in some small way by these wonderful people that I think the world of.

The Hard Truth

Friday is the only day that I work outside the home now, and Tim takes the day off from Pastor work until I get home.  We call it “Daddy Day.” He feeds Libby all her favorite foods, dresses her in the same Avengers t-shirt every week, and if the weather is nice enough, he takes her out to town to run errands.  A few Fridays ago, they surprised me at work.  I love when they come in and I can show her off to the patients who ask about her so much.  Since this was a quick, surprise drop-in and they weren’t staying for a whole appointment, I had to soak up every second I could get with her.  So I lodged her on my hip as I answered a phone call, helped a patient check in, and led another patient back to a treatment room to wait for the doctor.

Daddy's favorite shirt

“How old is she now?” she sweetly asked.  She’s a grandma and I could see the wheels turning as she tried to guess, no doubt comparing her height and hair length with that of her own granddaughters.

“She’s sixteen months already.  It’s going so fast!”

“So I suppose she’s running, not walking, right?” she knowingly asked, winking at me.

Ugh.  That question again.  It’s sweet and curious and well-intentioned every time it’s asked of me. It’s a routine, small-talk question that people ask simply to establish common ground and let you know they understand, they feel for you.  They know you’re physically and mentally exhausted from chasing around a curious toddler all. day. long. Panicking when they’re out of your sight line and you suddenly realize all is eerily quiet.  Every mom they’ve ever known with a child of this age has nodded and smiled and laughed.  And maybe yawned.  They expect me to do the same.

But I’m different.  I pause every time.  If she’s with me, like she was that day, I look at her sweet face and give her a little kiss as I quickly decide how I’m going to handle it this time.  I don’t have a canned answer because every situation is different.  Some days the question brings me to tears; not often, but some days.  Sometimes I know the person asking really doesn’t care, and I’ll never see them again to face awkward questions if, for today, I choose not to go into detail. And sometimes, with some people, I just get a feeling.  I want to share.  Or I really want to run away.

“Actually, she’s not quite crawling yet,” I answered that day. I looked at Libby again instead of the grandma as I answered her.  I didn’t want to see the look in her eyes.  The Look is always a mix of shock, judgment, and curiosity.  The eyes always seem to say, “Go on, tell me more, why on EARTH is your 16-month-old with twelve teeth not CRAWLING?!?!?”

“She’s having a little trouble picking it up,” I continued, “but we’re working hard at it and she’ll be running all over the place before we know it.  For now we’re just saving up our energy until that day!” I shot the grandma a quick smile, gave her the same knowing wink she had given me.  “Dr. Bob will be right in for you,” I told her. “Libby, say bye-bye!”  Libby waved and I helped her blow an adorable kiss and the grandma said “awwwwww” and all was well. 

Whew.  We survived another one.

There were times, not long ago, when I didn’t put so much thought into answering a simple question.  I gave a simple question a simple answer.  That was especially easy when we first brought Libby home in June.  Up until about six, seven months, she was hitting her developmental milestones beautifully.  When people asked me questions with sweet, knowing smiles, I could give sweet, honest, developmentally-appropriate answers.  Exactly the answers they were expecting.

But it didn’t take long for things to get tougher.  Right about the time we brought her home is right about the time most babies get seriously interested in movement.  But for Libby, mobility was, and still is, the farthest thing from her mind.  She just really doesn’t care.  She is so strong and she moves around a LOT but is completely lacking that visual motivation to get somewhere or stick a finger into something or find someone.  She doesn’t feed herself.  She’s learning to guide a spoon to her mouth but is really weirded out by touching food.  She’s SUPER sensitive in noisy environments.  And not “noisy” like you and I perceive noisy.  Noisy for her can simply mean two distinct sounds competing for her attention, a strange voice that confuses her, or a sudden, startling noise.  She clams up and buries her face in my shoulder and I feel I have to pry her off and force a smile out of her just to reassure people that she truly is a happy, well-adjusted baby.  When we’re home.  And it’s quiet and comfortable for her.

So answering simple questions is no longer simple for us.  We can choose 1) to keep things simple and give the expected answer and end the conversation, but that answer is usually a lie.  We can 2) give just enough information to be honest but still try to keep the conversation light and appropriate, but it bothers me to leave people with lingering questions.  It’s like that vague, annoying facebook status that you see posted, just begging for someone to ask details.  We can 3) answer completely honestly with the Hard Truth, which usually results in inappropriate oversharing, and I leave feeling I haven’t protected my daughter’s privacy enough.

So far this has felt more like a rant than a post.  Like I’m telling all of you that I’m sick of questions and just stop asking and caring! But the point that I’m finally reaching is just the opposite.  You, trusted friends and loved ones, are different.  When you ask the questions, it’s not small talk.  You know you’re getting a complicated answer, and you care enough to ask anyway.  You know you’re not just opening the “Parenting” can of worms.  You’re asking about adoption issues and serious medical issues, too.  You truly want to know how she’s doing, and how we’re doing, and even how our dogs are doing.  I know that your prayers are with us and your concern is more than mere curiosity.  And so I LOVE to answer your questions and share much more than I would share with a grandma at my office or the grocery store.

I’m learning, slowly but surely, how much about Libby and her story is appropriate to share.  Perhaps I may have been guilty in the past of oversharing, but there’s no magic formula, and just like every other aspect of parenting, you learn as you go.  Believe me when I say that I am grateful for questions and opportunities to share.  It’s a tremendous release for me to tell Libby’s story and vent my own emotions and know that people care.  It’s a blessing that other people who are suffering in some way can benefit from the lessons we have learned, and still are learning.  We were completely overwhelmed and humbled throughout our adoption process (now officially OVER!!!) as we continued to be supported, as our support even GREW, with each milestone that we reached.

So thank you, a million times over, for caring.  We live in a world that is losing the ability to communicate, empathize, and show compassion.  Small talk is no longer genuine kindness between strangers; it’s often skepticism and guarded answers and “turn the cart the other way, that lady looks like she wants to talk to me.”  What a joy to know I can go home and write 1300 words and tell the Hard Truth about my precious girl… and hundreds of people will read every word and love us and support us and pray for us.

Official

Tomorrow it becomes official.  I stand before a judge, side by side with Daddy, and promise to love and care for you for the rest of my life.  You get a new birth certificate that says I’m your mommy, and a social security number that will make my life so much easier when filing next year’s taxes.  It will be the first “Redfield Family Day” of many more to come.   I don’t know how we’ll celebrate February 28 in future years, but for tomorrow it will probably include lots of singing and dancing and picture-taking and tears of joy.  And a celebratory latte.  Or glass of wine.  Or both.  Yes, tomorrow is a big, beautiful deal.  Tomorrow, your adoption is finalized.  Legal, permanent, indisputable.  It’s the day that every adoptive family dreams about during the all the darker days of the process. 

But for today, I need you to know that I love you so, so much without any of that.  I don’t need a birth certificate with my name on it for my love for you to be official.  I don’t need to promise a judge that I will give you all you need… my heart made that promise the moment I first laid eyes on you.   You have been officially mine for months now, and I have loved every minute of it.

That’s not to say it happened overnight.  Our love has grown over these months together.  And with it, although a little more slowly, the feeling of “officiality.”

I loved you the moment I first heard of you last April.  I loved you as the sweet, helpless baby with a beautiful name and a beautiful story, waiting for your forever family.  But everyone loves a baby.  Everyone loves a beautiful adoption story.  My love for you wasn’t anything special, and it didn’t mean you were mine yet.

Two weeks later things got a little more serious.  We were chosen to be your parents!  My love for you grew and grew as I let my guard down a little and began to imagine an actual life with you.  I went shopping for dresses and headbands and, for the first time in my life, I said “no” to a gift receipt.  The saleslady thought I was crazy as I grinned from ear to ear and my eyes started to well up.  But that little moment was a gift from the Lord and a gift from you that I will never forget.  And I loved you for it.  I paid for the poufy pink dress: it was mine.  But you weren’t mine yet. 
 

The dress that made me cry in Target :)

I met you on Memorial Day.  I was shaking the first moment I held you.  We took “The Picture” of the greatest of moment of my life.  I am trying so hard not to cry, it looks like I am mad.  You’re frowning, too, but you’ve just woken up from a nap and been handed to a stranger.  You probably ARE mad.  I took notes about your schedule and your favorites and every little detail I could possibly soak up.  I signed a piece of paper that made me a guardian, free to take you home and begin my life with you, free to use my last name when visiting doctors, adding you to our insurance, and sending out Christmas cards.  I held you close to me and smelled that sweet baby smell and loved more than I ever knew my heart could love.  But you still didn’t know me at all, and I didn’t know you.  You really weren’t mine.

The first time I held you

Our first three months at home were an endless parade of family visits and doctor appointments.  Sometimes it was all just a little too much for you, and you learned to snuggle in close to me and bury your face in my neck, a little deeper with each passing day.  Your life had been turned upside down, but you were slowly learning that this Mommy would always be there for you.  Meanwhile, this Mommy learned how to function on half the hours of sleep, showers, and workouts that my previous life had so easily accommodated.  It was all a lot for me to take, too, but I learned that watching you sleep could take my breath away and make it all better.  I whispered to you how much I loved you and how I would take care of you for as long as “they” would let me.  You still weren’t “mine” to make promises of forever.  I still feared that somehow it was all too perfect, and someday you would be taken away from me.

In September, little moments began to “feel” official.  You had been home with us for three months.  We had seen highs and lows, triumphs and firsts and utter, mind-numbing frustration.  It felt official when “poop” shot to the top my list of Frequent Conversation Topics.  It felt official when doctors that didn’t know my name called me “Mom.” “How are you doing, Mom?” “Take a seat here, Mom.”  It felt official when I stopped blow-drying my hair EVER.  1) because the extra time it took to get you in a coat, mittens, hat, boots, and then mittens again did not allow me time to dry my hair.  2) because you needed my blow-dryer for the full-body “spa treatment” you love after every bath, and I was sick of always carrying it up and down the stairs, so I started leaving it upstairs in your bathroom. 
 

Happy girl because you're about to get your "spa treatment"!

At some point in the late fall or early winter, I dropped you off at daycare and realized, walking back to my car, that I no longer felt like I was “borrowing” someone else’s life, lucky enough to live in it for a short time.  This was actually my life.  You WOULD BE a permanent part of it.  This was forever.  It felt official - all of it, not just passing moments.  And the most beautiful thing happened along with that: a guard went down that I hadn’t even realized was still up.  You were NOT going to be taken away from me, and I was free to love you with all my heart.  You WERE mine.

Life made you mine.  Time made you mine.  Love made you mine.

God made you mine.

All this time that you were not “officially” mine, a beautiful thing was happening.  God was making you to FEEL like mine more and more each day.  So now when I think about making it “official” tomorrow, it’s not a doubtful, scary, “no-turning-back-now” kind of day.  Instead it’s a celebrating, totally perfect, “of-course-this-is-the-next-step” kind of day.  It’s a lot like the day I married your Daddy.  I walked down the aisle confident and full of love, just like I will walk into the courtroom tomorrow.  I signed the marriage certificate as a mere formality, so I could change my name, and tomorrow I will do the same for you.  You don’t marry someone or finalize an adoption to “make” yourself love them.  You do it because you already love them so much, your heart is about to burst.
 

Sleep tight tonight, precious girl.  Tomorrow you will become mine.  You’ll hear strange voices and cameras clicking and you’ll feel tears on Mommy’s cheeks.  People will call you “Elizabeth” a whole bunch of times instead of “Libby.” A lot will be different and strange tomorrow.  But don’t worry, Pumpkin.   I will love you just as much as I do today.  You will feel my face with your hands and pull my hair and we’ll keep practicing “Mommy kisses, Libby kisses” over and over again. 

It will just be “official.”

More of the Same

The other day I was sitting on the couch with Libby after her morning milk.  Lately she’s been pretty cuddly in the morning, so after milk she kneels in my lap facing me, snuggling her little face deep into my shoulder.  We rock side to side, we sing a little, we whisper about all the tasks of the day ahead… it’s such a little treat for me.  Coffee in the right hand, Libby on the left shoulder, and inevitably something I recorded HGTV is on in the background. 

 

I’m quite obsessed.  I never knew we had HGTV.  We did a major DirecTV downgrade after our first year and lost all the “good” channels.  We don’t even have ESPN.  But as it turns out, we’ve had HGTV all along.  I didn’t make this amazing discovery until I was boooooooored on New Year’s Day 2013, the DVR was empty and for once in my life I was actually channel surfing.  VERY Happy Moment.

 

Aaaaanyway, back to our morning.  She was just kneeling there, cuddled into me, making all her funny tongue-clicking and bubble-blowing noises.  The house was quiet; Tim was not home from his morning run yet and both dogs were passed out at my feet, warm in front of the fire.  The fresh snow we got overnight was beginning to sparkle in the pink glow of an early winter morning.  The Property Brothers (recorded sometime in the wee hours of the night) were about to do a big reveal.  And I was giddy in the knowledge that my “Monday Chore” (laundry washed, dried, folded, and put away all in one day) was well underway, as I had finally been smart enough to sort and even start washing the night before.  Everything felt so cozy and wonderful.  Does it get any better than this?

 

Yup, it does.  Suddenly she was ready to start her day.  She stretches her little arms out to the side, then presses them against my chest, pops up with a HUGE grin on her face, and starts bobbing that little head from side to side.  “Let’s go, Mom! Cuddle time is done!”

 

I’m a happy, happy Mama today.  I’m a happy Mama most days, actually.  In the past, when my blog dropped off completely for the better part of two months, it was not a good sign.  It meant there was no news to share, or I was in a rough state of mind – back then, “more of the same” was not a good thing.  But since Libby came on the scene, "more of the same" is definitely a good thing.

 

I’ve not written since mid-December, because life has been pretty simple, but simply wonderful.  A week before Christmas, our daycare arrangement fell through, which accelerated my already-almost-there decision to stay at home full-time with Libby.  After a couple weeks of generous help from church members, I finished out my three-day-a-week schedule and began my new routine the first week of January.  I work only on Fridays, which Tim and Libby enjoy as “Daddy Day.” The rest of the week, I “attempt” to keep the house clean, catch up on the endless list of paperwork and projects that were so easily shoved off when I went back to work in July, and, most importantly, give Libby the extra work she needs at home to support all the work we’re doing in therapy on motor skills and general development.

 

While it is nice to have the laundry back on a regular schedule and to be crossing things off The List, my favorite part of being home is enjoying those little, “more of the same” moments.  Singing “Wheels on the Bus” over and over and over to get a laugh when the babies on the bus go “wah, wah, wah.” Wide-eyed, hungry hubby asking, “Are those biscuits from scratch?” (Yes, they were, and quite delicious, but can you really use the term “from scratch” when they’re only three ingredients?) And best of all, those morning cuddles on the couch.  Keep that "more of the same" coming, yes please, if those cuddles are a part of it.

 

So that’s my long overdue-update; my news is that there’s no news.  And I love it that way.

 

*************

Well, I suppose I can’t say “NO” news, we have had some exciting things happen around there. If you haven’t caught up with us through facebook lately, here are some fun updates from December and January.

 

 

First of all, Libby's first Christmas with us! It was so precious.  Grandma and Grandpa Redfield came to join in the fun.  Of course, Tim and I have so much going on during the Christmas services so it was really nice to have them to help with her.  She was such a doll all dressed up!

 

 

 

Shortly after Christmas, I took advantage of my new work schedule and took Libby up north to my parents' house for a few days.  It was tough to leave Daddy and our puppies at home alone, especially because we would be gone for my birthday, BUT I got to go to the Packer-Viking playoff game with my dad and cousin, AND I was in the right place at the right time for the arrival of our new niece, Reagan Elise.  She was born January 7th, on my 30th birthday, and Libby and I got to visit her just a few hours "new" (and every day thereafter until we had to go home :)

 

 

Back up north for Reagan's baptism on January 26, and this time Tim got to come with us and use some vacation time.  We enjoyed baby snuggles, lots of snow to play in, and a relaxing five days catching up with family.  Libby really loves napping with Grandpa :)

 

I got outside for some beautiful winter photos, both at home and on vacation.  I love winter so much!

Libby dearest has been cutting FOUR molars all at once for the past few weeks.  Poor thing.  She's been really cuddly (which I guess I don't mind) and just kind of mellow and blah! In the evening the teeth really seem to bother her and we just feel so, so sad for her.  She's sleeping lots and lots and is extra-sensitive to loud noise and strange environments. Can't wait until these stinking teeth finish coming through and we can enjoy this smile more often!

 

 

 

 

 

Peace at Christmas

The gifts are bought or made, wrapped, tagged, and ribboned with love.  The tree is up and sparkling and beautiful.  I can’t wait until it gets dark to turn it on each night; I usually cave in about 4:00.  The beautiful cards and letters from family and friends all over the country are on display, bursting with news and greetings and love.  And most of them contain an extra handwritten note, just for us: “Enjoy your first Christmas with that sweet little girl.”

And I am, so, so, so much.  The lights twinkle a little brighter, the daily to-do list is more of a joy, less overwhelming.  The endless stream of Christmas music is slightly less annoying… coming from me, that’s BIG! The Christmas cards were SO MUCH FUN to make and send… the cards I’ve dreamed of sending for years.  Cards from the THREE of us.  Sigh.  Christmas 2012 is dreamy.

So why is that? I’ve been asking myself what it is about Elizabeth that makes this Christmas blow all the others out of the water.  She’s not old enough to enjoy destroying the kitchen making cutout cookies with me.  She can’t experience the twinkling lights.  She loves Christmas music, but then again, she loves all music.  She’s not too sure about opening her gifts; she’s a little uncertain about new, unfamiliar textures, and she can’t see that the paper she’s pulling off is revealing something new and exciting underneath.  The crinkly paper has a strange sound and feel to it.  Everybody’s cheering her on and she doesn’t understand why!

Most people understand that a child who can’t see with her eyes will “see” the world more clearly through her other senses than the rest of us will. Libby experiences much of her world through hearing and through touch.  It’s incredible the way she turns her EAR toward a new person entering the room, much like other children turn their head and stare.  I can’t begin to count the number of different ways I have seen her explore toys and textures through touch.  Those little hands tell a story.  A gentle, hesitant brush of the fingers when given a new object to play with.  Quickly the hands are drawn back into her lap while she processes what she just felt.  What must be running through her head? A quick swat at the toy again.  Is it still there? What can I make it do? A little smirk.  It’s still in the same spot.  It started singing to me.  Then, out of nowhere, BANG! Arms waving, little fists banging… how much noise can I make?

The natural tendency is to plop something new in her lap, grab her hands, and “help” her get used to it.  But we learned quickly that the only thing “force-feeding” does is scare her off.  She needs to experience new things on her own terms.  It would be like if someone grabbed your head and held your eyes open and forced you to stare at something new until they felt you’d spent enough time staring that you should be comfortable with it now.   She needs us to give her the freedom to “look away,” think about what she’s holding, and decide IF, and HOW she wants to play with it.  Much like any other kid :)

We’ve learned to take her by the hand, introduce new toys slowly, ask her permission to try something new “together,” and allow her to pull back if she needs to.  Then we try again slowly, again and again, until the new object is safe and familiar and comfortable, and she’s ready to learn on her own.

What a perfect picture that is of the past few years that Tim and I have experienced, and how God has patiently, graciously, SLOWLY fulfilled our dreams within the timeframe He knew was best for us.  What if He had just plopped His entire plan in our laps on June 10, 2006, the day we were married, and said “You will have a beautiful daughter… six years from now”?

What if He’d laid it all out there and told us the whole story in 2008, when we started to plan for and long for a child? “Guys, don’t get your hopes up, it’s still gonna be four long years.  Oh, and by the way, it’s not going to happen even remotely close to the way you’re thinking… start saving your pennies.  Adoption is your future."

 

What if He’d grabbed us by the hands and shown us the end of the story when our adoption journey began in March 2011? We were excited and relieved and joyful, but also overwhelmed and scared.  Could we have handled the whole truth even then? “Oh, by the way, all those questions about how open you want your adoption to be? Check yes, yes, and yes.  It doesn’t matter how scared you are, that’s the way it’s happening.  And don’t think for a second about any of those special needs on that four-page form that you have to assess what you can handle.  Again, just check yes.  Your daughter has needs that aren’t even on that form!”

Pretty sure that if, at any one of those big moments in my life, God had grabbed me by the hand and shown my all my future holds, I would have started screaming, just like Libby does when I force a new toy or food on her too quickly.  So why, why, why do I forget this lesson over and over again, and find myself demanding that God show me His plan NOW because I just can’t take it anymore? Sigh.  I never learn.

I’m so thankful to my gracious God for knowing and providing what I need WHEN I need it, just enough, never more than I can handle. He revealed his plan for children slowly in our lives, but piece by piece, we grew stronger and stronger, and He was merciful enough to hold pieces of the puzzle back until we were ready.  And now, I can stand back, at least for now, and look at the beautiful masterpiece He has created, and know that my heart is full and blessed and I am exactly where I need to be, because He has carried me there.  The little girl that was always meant to be mine… is mine! The “openness” of domestic adoption that once scared me out of my wits, has blossomed into a beautiful, supportive relationship with not one, but two new families.  The special needs we were once so concerned about as we checked off boxes of what we thought we could handle… we now know it doesn’t matter what we can handle.  All that matters is what God can handle, and He has given us strength and beautiful blessings through this little girl who “sees” with her hands and her ears.

THAT is what makes this Christmas so special.  All of you who keep telling me to “enjoy my first Christmas with Libby…” you’re right! She makes my heart full in ways it has never been.  She brings me peace.  The Redfield Family Journey has reached a little plateau for now… God has guided us to a “scenic overlook” in our lives.  We have the joy this Christmas to look back on the pain of Christmases past, and understand why they had to be that way.  Our hearts are peaceful and quiet, in a way they haven’t been for a while.  I’m sure the journey ahead won’t always be so flat and restful, but at this moment I’m thanking God for fulfilling my greatest NEED in sending His Son to be my Savior, my greatest DESIRE in sending Libby to be our daughter, and a beautiful, calm sense of peace… just in time for Christmas.

I pray and pray and pray for this peace for all my friends and family and all those around me.  Right now in this country, it’s really easy to pray for peace, because we all see the need so clearly, and at the same time it’s really, REALLY hard to pray for peace, but it seems impossible that it will ever come to soothe the broken hearts of the families of the Sandy Hook victims, and our nation as a whole.  I’m not going there tonight.  This little half a paragraph has me in tears already; I’m not ready.  I have so many thoughts on the situation I could write a book, yet it would never say enough.  But we CAN pray, and it WILL help.  I know the first night, the common thread on social media was “saying prayers” and “hugging your kids.” The next day, it seemed the common thread was mocking all the people who, the previous night, had talked about saying prayers and hugging their kids, because it “won’t do any good.” Well, anyone who’s made it this far along my journey, even to the end of this one post, knows my stance.  It WILL do good.  Pray continually – there’s nothing wrong with growing closer to your Savior through tragedy, and imploring His blessings upon those families and our broken nation.  Hug your babies – there’s nothing wrong with loving them a little stronger, bonding a little tighter when you are reminded how fragile life really is.  And enjoy the peace you have this Christmas.  It is absolutely okay to give thanks and appreciate what you have while you have it. 

Birthday Girl: 1

To my precious one-year-old,

Yup.  I’m already welling up.  That’s all it takes - “to my precious one-year-old” – and I’m done for. 

“One-year-old.” It can’t be true! It can’t have been more than I week since I first heard of you, can it? You were five months old at the time.  It was April and you were all smiles for your Nanny and Pops, growing and dancing and giggling and entertaining everyone you met.  And I fell head over heels for you the moment I first heard your name.  Elizabeth.  Oddly enough, the very, very first “girl name” your Daddy ever mentioned to me when we were dating and we would talk about getting married and having children. “I kind of like Elizabeth for a girl name, what do you think? It’s traditional but you can make lots of nicknames from it.  It’s a name you can grow with.”

April seems like just last week.  And May, the beautiful, blessed day I met you and held you close for the first time… that was just yesterday.  You were so small and so perfect.  I was amazed at how you warmed right up to me – or so I thought.  Turns out, you’re the most good-natured baby of all time, and you “warm up” to anyone.  As time has gone by and you’ve learned to need me and love me, you have TRULY warmed up to me: deep belly laughs and endless chatter and the silliest, sloppiest bubble-blowing noises. Ear-to-ear grins when you hear my voice; my heart just melts.

So if May was just yesterday… how can it be that you’re ONE already? You know who really can’t believe it? Your Nanny and Pops.  They SO wish they could be here to celebrate with us.  “Elizabeth,” they wrote in your birthday card, “From the first moment we held you, when you were only hours old, to our last breath on this world, we will love you and cherish you.  You are a special light in this world and anyone that has known you or will know you will be touched by you!” They took you home and turned their lives upside down for you, they named you and made you their own, they love you with all their hearts.  I bet this year has just flown by for them.

You know who else can’t believe it? Your beautiful birthmom and her family.  WOW, I bet they have a whole lot of memories from this day a year ago.  They, too, loved you the moment they saw you.  They say you were perfect, precious, a miracle of God.  It broke their hearts to kiss you goodbye and send you with Nanny and Pops, but they trusted in God’s plan for you… and for them… and look where that faith and trust has put us all today.  Daddy and I can’t imagine our lives without you, after five short little months having you home.  Your grandmas and grandpas and aunts and uncles love you so, so much, for all that you are, and all the joy and healing that you have brought to us.  We exchange pictures with Nanny and Pops almost every day, and your birth family are the founding members of your Facebook Fan Club.  All of this made possible by God’s grace in giving one brave girl the strength to choose life for you, and His mercy in using you to bring us all together as a big, beautiful, amazing SUPER-FAMILY.

“Precious.” Well, that part of it doesn’t need much explaining.  A picture is worth a thousand words, and since we’ve taken about a thousand precious pictures... you get the point.  But far more precious than a picture is to dance with you, to giggle with you, to sing with you, to rock you to sleep.  These are the moments I have dreamed of for years, some pretty big expectations, and you surpassed every one of them the first day I spent with you.  You are the very definition of precious: invaluable, irreplaceable, breathtaking.

“My.” Really it’s this, the second word, that had me welling up.  How amazing it is that I can call you mine! God is so, so, so good.  When I say I’d dreamed of you for years, that’s not entirely true.  I dreamed of a child to love and to hold and to care for.  But even my wildest dreams, I could never have imagined what it would be like to be your Mommy.  You are more than I ever knew was possible, more than I deserve, and more perfect for me and Daddy than any other baby out there… because you were made for us.  Designed by God to be the answer to our prayers and then some.  You challenge us in ways we never expected, you have shown us strength within ourselves we never knew we had, and you have taught us to love more deeply than we ever knew how before you came along. 

Most mamas have shared 21 months of love with their babies by the first birthday.  I’ve only had six and a half months since you entered my life.  And yet, my precious, one-year-old Libby, I love you with all my heart and soul.  All this after a few short months… how will I feel by your NEXT birthday, when I’ve truly had a full year with you? I think my heart might burst.  Most mamas have beautiful, priceless memories of the day their babies came into the world.  For the life of me, I can’t recall a thing about what I was doing on November 3, 2011.  We were going on a road trip the next day, so I assume I got gas and snacks and packed and called the hotel.  I didn’t make a bank deposit or use the debit card.  I didn’t post a single thing on facebook.  Sometimes I wish I could remember, but most of the time I’m so happy I can’t.  The fact that the day is not memorable to me is a symbol of a lot of my days before you… they were a big, blurred-together, wishing-for-you mess until the day you came into my life.  And what’s truly important is not what happened to me that day you drew your first breath, but what happened to the world and to all the people your life would touch.  You happened.

Thank you for being perfectly, beautifully, wonderfully you.  I love you, Pumpkin Pie.

Mommy