her story - part three

Click for PART ONE.

Click for PART TWO.

A sign, a sign, a sign.  "God please give us a sign, whether it be a green light or red one.  A wide open doorway, or a closed vault door with an impossible lock.  Most of all, give us eyes to see the sign.  Give us faith to believe that you're sending it.  Increase our faith in the process."

As if God had not already dealt with us GENEROUSLY where our faith lacked in the financial aspect of this process, now we were asking Him to step in and speak to us specifically about this precious little girl.

Our couples' small group prayed with us for a sign.  My sister prayed for a sign.  My brother prayed for a sign.  I honestly lacked faith that we would see the sign or accept it as coming from God.

Isn't it funny that the Bible tells us Gideon asked for a sign in Judges chapter six though eight and how, when God gave him one, he wasn't satisfied.  He asked for another.

We are no different.  We believe God is there, but it is so easy to question Him at every turn.

When the updated pictures of Mrs. Nesbit came to us, again my Beloved was out of state.  I texted him that the pictures were in his email inbox and he later told me that he was standing in the jetway waiting for his gate-checked suitcase, so he booted up his laptop so he could see her immediately.

When he called me later in the day, I asked him if he looked at the pictures and he responded that he did and he thought they were great.

"Did you notice the color of the motorcycle she was sitting on?" I asked with a grin.

"No....  Was it yellow?" he responded.

"Yup." I answered with a giggle.

'It's a sign! It's a sign!'  I wanted to scream and shout.  I wanted to hear my husband say, "Wow, that's clearly the sign.  God knows about our passion for the YELLOW CAR! game.  What may seem ordinary to others, stands out to our family.  We're good to go!"

But that was all in my head.  I knew that it was not my place to be the Holy Spirit in my husband's life and identify the sign for him.  So, I simply smiled and moved on in our conversation.

We waited for another few days to see if that x-ray would come through, but it never did.

One night Kenyon was sitting on the couch looking through the new pictures on his laptop when Sauce walked behind him and peeked over his shoulder.  Our nine year-old son had no idea he was possibly looking at his little sister.  He blurted out one thing.

"YELLOW CAR!"  (smile)  Then he walked away.  He never even asked who was in the picture.

The next Sunday night we were climbing into bed for the night.  It was late (well, 10:30 is late for me) and I was going to read a couple pages of my current book and then get some shut eye.  I had a very busy Monday coming up and I was exhausted.

My Beloved had other plans.  He put his pillow by my feet and told me he wanted to talk.  I said sure, and had a feeling this would be about Mrs. Nesbit.  I was right.

"How do you feel about all this?" he asked.

"How do you feel?" I said, purposely turning it around on him.

"I feel like you're shutting me out.  Why haven't you been talking to me about her?" he answered.

I then explained that I had been intentionally silent, letting him process the situation we were in and the decision we faced.  In a conversation that took another hour, we faced that decision together.

Kenyon said a couple of things that stand out in my memory.  He told me that he heard a quote by Colin Powell that said something like, "If you can't make a decision on 70% of the information, you'll never be able to make the decision."

He also explained that he had come to the realization that his struggle is with wanting control.  He accepted that this was a decision we would have to make with gaps in the information.

AND that he took note of the yellow motorcycle.  Smile.

"I'm in." is how he summed it up as he positioned his pillow back into the rightful place at the top of the bed.

"What?  Did we just make a decision?" I asked with a trembling voice.

"I don't know if you did, but I did." he answered with a smirk.

Oh my word.  The moment passed me by and I didn't even realize it was happening.  "AAAHHHH!  Can I call my sister?" was the first thing out of my mouth.  It was 11:30 in Utah and my sister works the night shift as a nurse in the Chicago suburbs.

Smiling, he said, "Sure, but don't you think we should name her first?"

We knew all along what her first name would be.  Joya was our favorite girl's name for several babies now.  No one knew that though because I never said it out loud to anyone but my husband in all those years.

We took all of two minutes to settle on Christine as her middle name.  Christine is my sister's middle name.  Amy is my only sister and my best friend.

Less than a minute after that, I had Amy on the phone wondering what in tarnation would have me calling so late.  We shared happy tears and giggles over what lay ahead on this journey.

I was thankful for the sign that God sent to us, however, little did we know that the most profound signs were to come AFTER we made the decisions to be Mrs. Nesbit's forever family.

Curious?  Check back soon.

her story - part two

If you haven't read part one, go HERE.

Although I was assured by our agency that an x-ray is not an unreasonable request and should be easily attained, we were never promised that it would happen.  Every few days, I checked in with my main contact there and quickly made myself "the squeaky wheel."

Inside of a week, we received an update about Mrs. Nesbit, consisting of thorough answers to our follow-up questions and six recent and PRECIOUS pictures of her.

Some of our major concerns were taken off the table simply by reading the updated information about her.  But before we announced to the world that we had a daughter, we decided to wait for the x-ray so that we could have a better assessment of her future surgical needs.

We then entered a time of delicate emotions.  My husband wanted as much information as possible so that he (the amazing provider and planner that he is) could prepare himself for what was ahead and make a confident decision that we were the right family for her and her medical needs.

Being less detailed and more a "step of faith" type of girl, this was a struggle for me.  I wanted to take a chance and believe that whatever need met us in the future, we would rise to the occasion with our best effort and God would take care of the rest.

Not being just a planner, but also a very wise man, my husband told me at one point, "Laurie, I can't be pressured into this by you.  I want to be 100% in this so that down the road when it gets hard, as it surely will, I won't blame you.  I will own it."

Enough said.  He made a great point and it reinforced the vow I made on the day we made the decision to pursue adoption.  I promised myself and God to never be in the driver's seat.  I did not want to pressure or force our family into a direction that my husband (and God) may not be on board for.

I immediately imagined my inner emotions toward this little girl as compressed air inside of me.  I kept them to myself.  I prayed for her, prayed for the process, our decision, for my husband, and for our marriage.

When we did finally get word on the x-ray, it wasn't what we hoped.  Her caretakers had taken her for an x-ray, but she wasn't cooperative (go figure for a 21 month old toddler).  Her caretakers had reservations about sedating her in order to get an x-ray, and Kenyon and I were grateful for that.  The last thing we wanted was to cause her any harm.  I dare say that we were feeling like protective parents already.

Although the information relayed was that they would try again, I think we both realized that it was unlikely that we would get this piece without sedation.

I continued on keeping my mouth shut and letting my husband process this life-altering decision in his own way.  Each time the subject came up, I would answer his question or give a short answer and then let the subject die.  I had full faith that he would make the right decision for our family. And whatever it was, I was dedicated to unity.

In the midst of all this, he also decided that we should ask God for a sign.

Hold the phone here..... my husband is not the "sign from God" type of guy.  In fact, although I consider his faith to be one of the most genuine I know, I often tease him that he can be such a cynic sometimes.  A sign from God can be a tricky thing for a cynic to process.  In fact, this was the first time in the 15+ years that I've known him that he was asking for a sign from God.

Next up, we ask and God delivers.

her story - part one

The call for Mrs. Nesbit's referral to us came quite unexpectedly.  I was at the very tail end of putting our dossier together and had left a message at our adoption agency with a question about a specific portion of the paperwork.  When my phone rang with the agency's number on the other end, I was assuming it was just the call back to answer my question.

When I heard the director of the China program greeting me, I had a teeny-tiny suspicion that she wasn't calling to answer my rookie dossier questions.

She calmly informed me that they had a little girl's file that they wanted us to look at and did I want to hear about her?

Um, yes please! (Imagine shaking hands, pounding heart, regretting that my Beloved was away on business, and scrambling for a piece of paper -all in the next few seconds.)

I then reminded myself to cherish this moment, because it would likely be a highlight when we tell Mrs. Nesbit her adoption story.  I grabbed the only paper I could find which happened to be too small for all the things I wanted to jot down.

She was described as 20 months old and living with foster parents.  She was found nestled in a paper box on a doorstep of a home on a cold day in January, 2010 when she was just 11 days old.  Her birth mother was loving and cared about her future as evidenced by the note she left with her.

I have not seen the note yet, but it said something to the effect of, "She was born on {gave her exact birth date}.  I would appreciate if some kind hearted people would adopt her."

Gulp.

People, if that is not evidence that there are trials in this world that we cannot even fathom, I don't know what is.  I think about her birth mother all the time and have so many thoughts about her possible situation and struggles, but that is for another post.

The kind woman on the phone from our agency then described her medical need to me as " a deformed right ear and an asymmetrical mouth."  Hmmm, what might that look like?  Did we want to see her file and photos?

Well, I couldn't make that decision without first talking to my man, who was working hard in Denver and had no idea that this call was coming.  Luckily, he answered his phone the first time and we quickly discussed it.  We had some fear over the vagueness of the description of her medical need, but in the end, we wanted to see her.

I nervously called the agency back and asked them to send her file over.  Then I hit "refresh" on my email box about 764 times, waiting for them to come through.

The bulk of her file was from her 18 month check up.  Her development and milestones exceeded some of my boys' timelines and the description of her personality made us giggle.  "Outgoing," "Likes other children and cats and dogs," "Lovely."

I have never even met her and she is lovely to me.

We had a short amount of time to review her file and have medical professionals advise us regarding her health.  I immediately called my "personal medical professional" - a.k.a. my brother's wife who is a brilliant neurologist at one of the most highly regarded medical facilities in the country.  She is always willing to help us and has been excited for our adoption journey.  Did I mention that she is one of the smartest people I know?

Mrs. Nesbit's health needs are not exactly in my sister in-law's area of specialty, but she was eager and anxious to get the ball rolling for us and dig a little deeper in order to get a thorough medical assessment.  If she wasn't an amazing doctor, I think she would make a great police detective - except her big heart wouldn't be able to handle the tragedy in detective work.

I also called my friend from church who had adopted a son from China with a cleft lip and palate.  She gave me the name and number of her son's craniofacial plastic surgeon AND the name of the office manager, Bonnie, who turned out to be wonderful.

I called the office before they opened and left a message for Bonnie explaining my situation and my time crunch.  Five minutes into business hours, she called me back and offered me an appointment for noon the next day (over the surgeon's lunch hour).  Bonnie was warm and friendly and had a calming effect on me.  After traveling all week, Kenyon just happened to be home the next day AND have a flexible schedule that allowed us to go to the appointment together.

We walked into the office the next day and gave our names at the front desk.  I informed them that Bonnie had booked our consultation and she immediately came out of her office and around the front desk to the waiting area where we were standing.  I extended my hand and started to introduce myself, but Bonnie would have none of that, she wrapped her arms around me so quickly that I wasn't sure what just happened.

What just happened was that just when I needed it most, God sent that warm, reassuring person that I needed to calm my fear and nervousness.

We talked with her a little bit about our family and our adoption journey as she walked us back to an exam room.  She hastily cleaned the room up, as the rest of the staff were all clearly on their lunch hour.

Shortly after she exited, the surgeon came in and shook our hands as we all introduced ourselves.  This man is Asian himself, and has a very calm, soft spoken nature to him.  He reviewed our daughter's file and confidently gave a name to the larger syndrome that he is certain that she has (which of course, was the exact syndrome my sister in-law came back with the night before).

He calmly explained it at a more basic medical level.  The most impressive part was the fact that he sat and let us ask as many questions as we could think of in that moment.  We even repeated and rephrased some of our questions.  He let large moments of silence pass comfortably, never rushing us to get going and let him be done.

Overall, we felt he gave us a generally positive prognosis with the little information we had at hand.  In order to solidify his diagnosis, we left with a plan to request a jaw x-ray and answers to some specific medical and developmental questions about Mrs. Nesbit.

We never asked in advance how much the consultation would cost us.  But, we had discussed it and knew that even if we had to pay $200 out of pocket, it would be money well spent in this process.  When we got back to the front counter, I took out my wallet and asked Bonnie how much we owed.

"Oh, there is no charge."

The wave of emotion immediately flooded me.  I choked back the tears and tried to force the words of gratefulness out of my mouth.  Seven months into this adoption journey, I had not yet met a major component of the process that didn't cost us money.

We walked out in a bit of a daze.  At our favorite sandwich shop, we visited some of the tougher scenarios and things to consider about her future needs.  Our goal was not to go in this blindly, but to face the situation head-on.

I called our agency that evening and expressed the need for a jaw x-ray and then compiled the email of remaining questions to be answered about her.

Then we faced some of the hardest times of waiting yet.

we're just a tad bit obsessed

Sometime within the last six months our family has grown to love a game we play whenever we're in the car, without fail.

A game most affectionately titled: "YELLOW CAR!"

I wasn't there, but I'm told that it started when my Beloved and Sauce were on a somewhat long drive together.  They, in their matching competitive natures, craved beating each other at something, so the game came to life.

The (unwritten rules) are these:
1.  The game starts over each time we start a new ride, i.e., each time our car is turned off and back on again the scores reset.  No one needs to officially start the game, it is always ON.

2.  The first person to actually see a yellow vehicle yells out "YELLOW CAR!" as loudly and obnoxiously as possible with absolutely no regard for anyone who might be speaking at the moment.

3  The first person to call the YELLOW CAR gets one point.

4. Construction equipment does not count.  It must be a vehicle that can actually drive on the road.

5. Due to his age, Squirt gets every point regardless if he is the first to call it out.  We all just respond with, "Good job Squirt!"

6. The game grows and morphs the longer we play it.  "Slug Bug Yellow!" now earns an extra point.

7.  If you call out "YELLOW CAR!" and the car you've called is so far in the distance that you only thought it was yellow (and took a chance because your kids were winning by an embarrassing number of points), and the car is not actually yellow in color, you then LOSE a point.

8.  If a sibling argument results from calling a YELLOW CAR, both arguers lose a point.

So, now that you know the game, you can understand why a sight like this might make us get into a fender bender of some sort.  :-)

And why watching movies of any kind will have us screaming, "YELLOW CAR!" from the couch at the slightest glimpse of one in the movie, hence distracting us from the actual dialogue and general plot of the movie.  Because c'mon, we can't willingly lose a game!!!

Enter our current problem:

I just thought you should know in case you catch a ride with us somewhere or come over for a movie night.

trick or treat

I have a really hard time spending money on costumes for the big kids when they no longer play dress up in their spare time.  So, my little thieves were delighted to wear plain black shirts wrapped in white duct tape, strips of black fabric as their masks, and cheap pillow cases with $ signs written all over them with a big sharpie.

Mike Wazowski won the candy weigh in due to pure cuteness.

matched!

We are very excited to announce that we have been matched with our daughter!

Joya Christine (A.K.A. Mrs. Nesbit) will be in our arms and home with our family where she belongs sometime in the next four to six months.  Even after doing all the paperwork to get here, we already feel that the wait to travel and get her is definitely the hardest part.

Her future medical needs will involve mouth and jaw surgery, but we consider her perfect in every way!

the tough decisions

I'm sitting here on our first snowy morning of the school year.  Yup, you read that right - snow.  Although I'm not really ready to give up flip flops and short sleeves, I know this is the price we pay to live in the mountains and enjoy all the benefits of a ski town.

So, I'm choosing to embrace it.  I have a hot cup of coffee sitting next to my computer and the fireplace is roaring to keep me toasty.

My problem this morning is that I'm also sitting here staring at Sauce's binder that contains his homework that he so diligently worked on yesterday afternoon, and every day for that matter.  He rarely gives me much trouble when requested to complete his homework before having more fun.  He is careful with his answers, has neat handwriting, and generally takes pride in a job well done.

My first instinct was to hop in the car and bring it to him at school.  But, after some internal-parental-decision-making-wrestling, I decided that the only way he won't depend on Mommy to make sure his homework gets to school one way or another is to NOT bring it to him.

Ouch.  You see, this is the first time I've had to do this with my #2. 

Our #1 has been giving us a run for our money for years with things like this.  Last month, when fifth grade grades started streaming in, The Hunter was trying to explain away three zeros on homework assignments and a D+ on a quiz.

My man and I had to make it undeniable that the buck stopped right then and there.  The Hunter is passionate about karate training and he had a quarterly testing event to advance to the next belt color coming up.  It was harder for us than it was for him to miss that testing and remain at his current belt level.

The boy was heartbroken, angry, and embarrassed in front of his karate friends.  It was really hard for us to endure and he tried every way he could think of to change our minds.

Lo and behold, two weeks later we are seeing nothing but A's and an occasional B streaming in.  Admittedly, it has taken much more effort on my part as well.  I'm having to pester him to remember to bring home his homework, review each assignment with a fine tooth comb, make him redo incorrect work, and remind him to actually TURN IN his completed homework.

But, I'm seeing more proactive behavior from him.  He's learning how to succeed and little by little he is developing independence in this area.  It has NOT been easy.  But it HAS been worth it.

So, after reflecting on that victory, I'm expecting Sauce to come home from school upset about forgetting his binder.  I might even get a call from him asking me to bring it in.  But I'm holding out hope that this tiny lesson will reap great profits of personal responsibility for him in the future.