June in Rewind.

Seriously!  Where did June go?  I can't believe we've already turned the calendar over and moseyed our way through the first few days of July.  June was a great month over here!  The sun came out, the rain slowed down and we've spent many lazy days enjoying the slowness summertime brings.

Gabe started baseball, we celebrated birthdays, enjoyed friends and family and learned we are one single signature away from traveling to meet our sweet sons. So what did we fill our days with?

 

Finally meeting a soul sister face to face.

 

Enjoying the splash pad in the bright sunshine.

 

Bubble fun on the front porch.

 

 Trips to the zoo to pet goats, ride trains, see animals... and ride a camel!

 

Played many games of Snakes and Ladders... even by candle light.

 

 Celebrating Gabe's awesome Daddy on Father's Day

Front yard baseball.  Representing our friends in El Salvador

 

More time at the splash pad... and sometimes it leads to ice cream! 

 

 Trips to the $1 Regal Summer Shows.  Gabe sat through his first of many feature films to watch Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs Two.



 

Afternoon Indians game with Nonny.  10 innings.  Indians won.  Gabe sat through the whole game with rapt attention.  He is obviously loving baseball this summer!

 Gabe loved clapping along to the drummer at the Indians game. 

He was so much fun to watch.

 

 Welcoming home our friend K from Ethiopia was a HUGE highlight for us. There really is nothing better than seeing an orphan become a son, a family welcome their brother home. K and our sweet Thomas are best buddies!  We can't wait to get them back together here in Ohio once our boys are home.

 

Celebrating Samsel's birthday with ice cream sundae's.  And hot dogs because

Gabe doesn't like ice cream!

Enjoying visits from friends

 

 

 The arduous process of stripping and painting Samsel's crib began.  It is certainly a labor of love but it is turning out beautiful.  I can't wait to tuck him in it and watch him fall asleep.

 

 A little dancing in the rain.  Gabe gets his love of storms from his Daddy.

And there was always time for watching the clouds, airplanes and birds fly above us.  Gabe has certainly taught us to take it all in and appreciate what's around us; like sunshine, cool green grass and planes over head.

The official June wrap-up.  It was a good month.  I can't wait to see what's to come in July.

A letter to my son

Sweet boy,

Four years ago today, I found out I was going to be your mama.  It was one of the best days of my life. 22 days later I held you in my arms and the rest was history.   We were head over heels in love.

From those first moments spent with you, I knew my life would never be the same.  My heart was fuller, the sky seemed brighter and life just brimmed with joy. 

The day you came home, I was a nervous wreck.  How could the hospital just let us leave with this sweet boy?  What if we don't know what we're doing? Amidst my joy in you coming home those thoughts kept coming to mind.  But somehow we did know what we were doing and being your mother was the most natural thing to me.  Before being your mama, I never knew where I fit into this big world.  I loved your daddy with everything that I had, but besides being a wife, I was just a feather in the wind. 

Until you. 

Our first photo!

You changed everything. 

My heart seemed to double in size and then still burst at the seams with love for you.  We love everything about you: your smile, your laugh, the way you pucker your lips when you're disobedient, how you won't get out of bed without permission, the way you ask Daddy to be an elephant and how the first thing you want to do in the morning is snuggle on the couch watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.

There was endless joy with watching you grow from a little baby to a toddler to the sweet little boy you are now.  Joy in seeing you light up each night your daddy comes home from work, joy in watching you use your first mode of movement: rolling over and over to get where you want to go, joy in hearing you giggle when we pull into Nonny and Papo's driveway, joy in getting to enjoy childhood a second time - through the beautiful eyes of you, sweet boy.

Pride.   Watching you accomplish things doctors weren't sure you would ever be able to do.  Rolling over, sitting up, using lefty, taking your first steps in a gait trainer, taking your first steps in a walker and then taking your first steps independently.  Pride at the way you work so hard to learn how to communicate and even more pride at the sweet, kind, spunky little boy that you've become. 

First time your daddy held you!

There's just something about you Gabriel that makes people just want to be around you.  You have the best smile that people can't seem to refuse.  You truly delight in life and make the best of any situation.  I've said it so many times in the past months, but you Gabe are a miracle.  A miracle that truly enjoys life and no matter what's going on, you just like to be part of the fun.  You live life with a reckless abandon and that's how we love you.  Recklessly.  Without abandon.  To infinity and beyond.

You, sweet boy, are kind and gentle, daring and shy, everything a little boy should be and so much more. 

Because of you, Daddy and I love deeper, bigger and know that miracles happen every day as long as you look for them.

Four years ago, I knew my dreams were coming true.  I just had no idea how awesome that dream would turn out to be. 

We love you sweet boy, more than you will ever know and more than we could ever imagine.

XOXO, Mommy

Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart. 

 Psalm 37:4

For Moms of Adopted Children

Two friends sent me this in an email last week. 

One is a fellow adoptive mama who just gets my heart because we're in a been there, done that relationship.  The other friend just wants to show me her support because she knows my heart.  I'm deeply grateful for them both.

I've included a link at the end to where it was posted.

Dear Mom of an Adopted Child,

I met you in adoption education class. I met you at the agency. I met you at my son’s school. I met you online. I met you on purpose. I met you by accident.

It doesn’t matter. The thing is, I knew you right away. I recognize the fierce determination. The grit. The fight. Because everything about what you have was a decision, and nothing about what you have was easy. You are the kind of woman who Makes.Things.Happen. After all, you made this happen, this family you have.

Maybe you prayed for it. Maybe you had to convince a partner it was the right thing. Maybe you did it alone. Maybe people told you to just be happy with what you had before. Maybe someone told you it simply wasn’t in God’s plans for you to have a child, this child whose hair you now brush lightly from his face. Maybe someone warned you about what happened to their cousin’s neighbor’s friend. Maybe you ignored them.

Maybe you planned for it for years. Maybe an opportunity dropped into your lap. Maybe you depleted your life-savings for it. Maybe it was not your first choice. But maybe it was.

Regardless, I know you. And I see how you hold on so tight. Sometimes too tight. Because that’s what we do, isn’t it?

I know about all those books you read back then. The ones everyone reads about sleep patterns and cloth versus disposable, yes, but the extra ones, too. About dealing with attachment disorders, breast milk banks, babies born addicted to alcohol, cocaine, meth. About cognitive delays, language deficiencies. About counseling support services, tax and insurance issues, open adoption pros and cons, legal rights.

I know about the fingerprinting, the background checks, the credit reports, the interviews, the references. I know about the classes, so many classes. I know the frustration of the never-ending paperwork. The hours of going over finances, of having garage sales and bake sales and whatever-it-takes sales to raise money to afford it all.

I know how you never lost sight of what you wanted.
I know about the match call, the soaring of everything inside you to cloud-height, even higher. And then the tucking of that away because, well, these things fall through, you know.

Maybe you told your mother, a few close friends. Maybe you shouted it to the world. Maybe you allowed yourself to decorate a baby’s room, buy a car seat. Maybe you bought a soft blanket, just that one blanket, and held it to your cheek every night.

I know about your home visits. I know about your knuckles, cracked and bleeding, from cleaning every square inch of your home the night before. I know about you burning the coffee cake and trying to fix your mascara before the social worker rang the doorbell.

And I know about the followup visits, when you hadn’t slept in three weeks because the baby had colic. I know how you wanted so badly to show that you had it all together, even though you were back to working more-than-full-time, maybe without maternity leave, without the family and casseroles and welcome-home balloons and plants.

And I’ve seen you in foreign countries, strange lands, staying in dirty hotels, taking weeks away from work, struggling to understand what’s being promised and what’s not. Struggling to offer your love to a little one who is unsettled and afraid. Waiting, wishing, greeting, loving, flying, nesting, coming home.

I’ve seen you down the street at the hospital when a baby was born, trying to figure out where you belong in the scene that’s emerging. I’ve seen your face as you hear a nurse whisper to the birthmother that she doesn’t have to go through with this. I’ve seen you trying so hard to give this birthmother all of your respect and patience and compassion in those moments—while you bite your lip and close your eyes, not knowing if she will change her mind, if this has all been a dream coming to an abrupt end in a sterile environment. Not knowing if this is your time. Not knowing so much.

I’ve seen you look down into a newborn infant’s eyes, wondering if he’s really yours, wondering if you can quiet your mind and good sense long enough to give yourself over completely.

And then, to have the child in your arms, at home, that first night. His little fingers curled around yours. His warm heart beating against yours.

I know that bliss. The perfect, guarded, hopeful bliss.

I also know about you on adoption day. The nerves that morning, the judge, the formality, the relief, the joy. The letting out of a breath maybe you didn’t even know you were holding for months. Months.

I’ve seen you meet your child’s birthparents and grandparents weeks or years down the road. I’ve seen you share your child with strangers who have his nose, his smile … people who love him because he’s one of them. I’ve seen you hold him in the evenings after those visits, when he’s shaken and confused and really just wants a stuffed animal and to rest his head on your shoulder.

I’ve seen you worry when your child brings home a family tree project from school. Or a request to bring in photos of him and his dad, so that the class can compare traits that are passed down, like blue eyes or square chins. I know you worry, because you can protect your child from a lot of things — but you can’t protect him from being different in a world so intent on celebrating sameness.

I’ve seen you at the doctor’s office, filling out medical histories, leaving blanks, question marks, hoping the little blanks don’t turn into big problems later on.

I’ve seen you answer all of the tough questions, the questions that have to do with why, and love, and how much, and where, and who, and how come, mama? How come?

I’ve seen you wonder how you’ll react the first time you hear the dreaded, “You’re not my real mom.” And I’ve seen you smile softly in the face of that question, remaining calm and loving, until you lock yourself in the bathroom and muffle your soft cries with the sound of the shower.

I’ve seen you cringe just a little when someone says your child is lucky to have you. Because you know with all your being it is the other way around.

But most of all, I want you to know that I’ve seen you look into your child’s eyes. And while you will never see a reflection of your own eyes there, you see something that’s just as powerful: A reflection of your complete and unstoppable love for this person who grew in the midst of your tears and laughter, and who, if torn from you, would be like losing yourself.

Kathy Lynn Harris' Blog

Love.

To the woman who taught me everything I know about being a mother.....

and to the little boy who made me a mommy...

I love you both, madly.

Thoughts for Mother's Day

Growing up I loved celebrating Mother's Day.  I have the most wonderful mom so it was exciting to spend the day pampering her (read: making her not-so-tasty breakfast in bed and leaving the dishes for her to clean up) and giving her homemade cards and presents. 

Mother's Day was all about sunshine and rainbows and happiness.

Then I became an adult.  I did adult things.  I graduated college.  Matt and I were married.  And then we wanted children.  Logical right?  Yes!  Easy?  Not so much.

That first mother's day, when I should have been a mother stung.  My arms were empty, my heart was hurting.  All around me women were having babies, becoming mothers.  It seemed like I couldn't go anywhere without seeing a pregnant woman, a baby in a stroller or a happy family walking together.  It wasn't that there were more happy families around me, it was just that I was much more acutely aware of what we were missing.  Matt and I were happy together but just missing something we didn't even fully understand yet. 

The following Mother's Days were just as hard.  I cried the days leading up to Mother's Day.  I cried at church when the pastor would acknowledge all of the mother's present.  Didn't they know I wanted to be a mom?  Didn't they realize, that on so many levels, I already was a mom?  On Mother's Day 2009, I apologized to my mom before hand but told her that I just couldn't handle celebrating mother's day.  Thankfully, she understood.  And we skipped church.

Gabriel entered our life a little over three months later and then I was a finally a mother.  Surely Mother's Day would be a happy day for me from now on.  Love, marriage, baby... my life was complete.

But then the calendar turned to May and Mother's Day was looming ahead.  Expectedly, I was excited to celebrate my first Mother's Day with Gabe but there was another feeling, a feeling I didn't expect but couldn't get past. 

That feeling was grief. 

Grief that there was now another mother out there not celebrating Mother's Day.  A mother who's child I rock to sleep, watch grow and love deeply - Gabe's birth mother.  There was grief for Gabe that he wouldn't be able to celebrate with her the amazing gift of life that she gave him or that I couldn't thank her for the amazingly selfless gift of love she gave us. 

And that's the impossible chasm I try to reconcile each and every Mother's Day.  Celebrating the wonderful gift of being a mother while grieving the fact that my children will always, in some way, be missing the love of their birth mother. 

The older I get the more aware I become of the painful side of Mother's Day.  My dearest friends and I understand the pain, loss and waiting that comes with motherhood.  I have friends that have waited many, many years to bring their first little one home and friends that may never become a mothers.
I grew up hearing how hard ( and joyful) motherhood is but no one ever shared that it would actually be hard becoming a mother. 

This Mother's Day as I celebrate my wonderful mom, I'm going to give thanks for Miss B and the sacrificial gift she gave me.  I'm going to pray for her and all of the birth mothers of the children that will eventually join our family.  I'm going to be praying for all of my friends that are waiting; those that have seen the face of their little one and are waiting for them to get home, those that are longing for a plus sign on that stupid stick, those that are struggling through a loss that words, scripture and faith can never truly make sense of. 

Mother's Day is a day of celebration.  It is also a very difficult day for many people.  Until you've been on that difficult side, you probably never knew it existed.  Now you do, and just maybe when  you see the woman hurry out of service with tears on her cheeks, you'll understand why.

2 Minutes

Ever need a few minutes to gather your thoughts?  With Matt at the Heat vs Rockets game this evening, I needed an inventive way to get a few minutes to myself and put Gabe's clean sheets on his bed. 

 

The Solution?

 

Dinosaur Train in his tent!

 

Gabe thought this was the best thing ever.  And I made his bed, loaded the dishwasher and made hot chocolate in peace all by myself!  It only lasted about 7 minutes but I'm adding it to my list of activities-when-mommy-needs-two-minutes-alone!

Song for a child

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth, Empty the dustpan, poison the moth, Hang out the washing and butter the bread, Sew on a button and make up a bed. Where is the mother whose house is so shocking? She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue (Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo). Dishes are waiting and bills are past due (Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo). The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo. Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue? (Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow, For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow. So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep. I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

~Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

This little boy...

... is getting bigger everyday. So even though the housework calls, I prefer to play basketball, build with blocks, fingerpaint and color, read books in tents and make Thomas and Toby race through an obstacle course. The cleaning and laundry will be here tomorrow, but Gabe he changes each and every day. Gabe and I are going to make the most of the time we have together!

Tear Drops on the Splash Pad

If that doesn't sound like a bad country song I'm not sure what would.  However, that was a brief part of reality today.  
Most days I don't think of Gabe as being any different than any other child out there.  Sure, he goes to therapy 4 days a week, doesn't walk yet and has to work harder at things than other children do.    Gabe's differences don't stick out to those that love him but they sure stick out to others.  And while our sweet boy doesn't notice this now, one day he will. 

This morning Gabe and I were at the pool minutes after it opened.  No one else was there and it was so peaceful,  just me and Gabe swimming in circles, his sweet laugh filling the air.  Not 5 minutes later though, the splash pad next door turned on and Gabe was drawn to the children playing there.  I couldn't refuse his request of "go play please" and we headed on over. 

I walked Gabe onto the splash pad close to a fountain and left him to play.  Gabe splashed in the water, squealed when the bucket tipped over and laughed along with the other children playing.  A few minutes after we arrived a little girl stopped in front of me and asked why Gabe was winking, why he wasn't walking.  I responded with my usual "his eye just doesn't work like yours... he's still learning to walk.... that's how God made him..." and she ran off.  Next a little boy followed with similar questions, receiving similar answers.  A few minutes later another girl came over, a few years older than the other children and asked "what's wrong with him" using the nastiest tone imaginable from a child around the age of 8.  I used the same responses again, she repeated her question emphasizing the word wrong when her mom called her over.

I was so relieved when her mom called her name assuming she would correct her behavior.  She (the mother) told her to go play with him (meaning Gabriel) and the little girl responded "no, he looks weird." 

And my heart broke a little (okay, a lot) bit.  Little girl ran away, mom said nothing, and I couldn't  help but cry.  Good thing my sunglasses are so big or else it may have become awkward.

I was so angry.  Absolutely horrified that that little girl would say Gabe looks weird.  I was even more angry that the mother was okay with her child calling another a name.  Children live what they learn...  growing up it was not okay for me to call other people names.  My parents wouldn't stand for it so I learned not to do it.  Again... children live what they learn. Besides the fact that the old mantra "if you don't have anything nice to say don't say anything at all" still applies in the 21st century. 

But more than anger, my heart was overcome with sadness.  Sadness that a little girl could so easily call someone they didn't know a name, sadness that her mom didn't step up and set it right and of course my heart just ached for Gabriel.  Right now, Gabriel doesn't even know he is any different than the other children he sees at the park, splash pad and church.  But one day he will and he will also hear the words of other children and adults.  Words that can hurt, discourage and make him question his self worth. 

We will do our best to teach Gabe that there is nothing "wrong" with being different; that God made him in His image and he is perfect just the way that he is.  We will do our best to teach Gabe that it is okay to be different and that everyone is different in one way or another.

But we can't do this alone.  We need other people to advocate for the well-being of Gabe and all other children that are differently-abled. We need to teach all children (and parents) that calling someone else an unkind name is not acceptable; we need to show love and kindness rather than judgement and condemnation.  Our children will only learn to be kind, if we act kindly to others.  Wouldn't that be a wonderful legacy to leave our children?  A legacy of kindness that could just go on and on. 

Me & My Boy

I could not love him more.

And on Mother's Day as in every day, we are waiting for him... or her... or them...

This mama loves the little boy in her arms so much... but longs for the little one across the ocean more than ever imaginable. 

Hebrews 13:3

“Remember those who are mistreated, since you also are in the body.” - Hebrews 13:3

Jen Hatmaker's letter to Trayvon's Mom nailed it.  Completely nailed it. She says everything I was thinking when I read about Trayvon Martin and so much more. Take a moment to read her article. 

And then read this article by John Piper. 

Soon, hopefully sooner than later, I will be a mother to a brown skinned child and my heart just aches at the thought that he will encounter racism.  I know he will and I know we will have to have tough conversations about race, skin color, God and other people's hearts.  Until recently I didn't give it much thought.  I knew that we will encounter racism and that our children will face injustice because of their skin color.  But I tried to stay unaffected by it.  But it should be affecting us.  And it will be affecting us in the years to come. 

C'mon people.  What can we do to train up our children to stop the racisim that is burdening our society.  And what can we do about it now. 

January Numbers

Our long awaited January numbers came yesterday, February 1st.  Ack!  Do you have any idea how neurotic I become as the end of the month nears.  Generally I check my email in the morning and evening however once the date is passed the 28th I check my email when I get up, when Gabe eats breakfast, before we leave the house, when we get home, when Gabe eats lunch... you get the point!
So waiting until February was agony!  But they're here!

Boys:  88 (down 1)
Girls: 110 (down 3)
Siblings: 39 (up 1)

I have an email into our case worker about the increase in the sibling number.  I'm assuming another family changed their parameters but I can hope that it was a small mistake and the number is lower or at least the same as last month.

And when I wonder why God has placed us on this long, winding path towards my 'friend' Lara posts a video about the journey her family took to their new son.  Then I remember.  God wants us to love others like he has loved us.  God demands we take care of the fatherless.  And God is fullfilling the deepest desires of my heart.... motherhood. 


An Orphan Becomes a Son from Jennifer Penner on Vimeo.

Emotions

Some days I am just overwhelmed with emotions for my children. 

Yes, technically, my only child is Gabe, but in my heart, there already is a child (or two) on the other side of the world whom I call my own; who I love deeply, passionately and fiercely.  Just like I love Gabriel. 

These emotions I feel... love that feels like it can suffocate me because it's so strong, agony for their pain and challenges, joy for their triumphs and hope for their futures.  These feelings are usually the followed by feelings of gratitude to their birth families and inadequacy and unbelievability that God has trusted us to raise these children; to love them and to teach them to love Him. 

Then I read a poem like this and in a simple cadence, it describes my feelings beautifully:

...
  I tiptoed into your room one night.
I watched you sleeping there.
Your tiny body looked so snug
Wrapped in peaceful slumber's care.

I thought of how you came to be
The child we'd longed to know.
I wondered at the sight of you:
"How could she let you go?"

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I
Felt the pain she must have known.
For I will have to let you go
Some day when you are grown.

A mother I might never meet
Had given me her son.
Yet, surely as you've filled my heart,
A piece of hers you'd won.

"How could she let you go?"
The question kept returning.
And in the depths of my own heart.
A question kept on burning.

"How can I ever let you go
When years have come and gone?"
I stood there by your crib until
The nighttime turned to dawn.

And as the sun peeked through the shades,
The voice of God broke through.
"I trusted her to give him life
And now I'm trusting to you.

"To show him what is right and wrong,
to love him and to be
The one who teaches him the way
To come back home to me.

"He wasn't hers to give, you know.
And he's not yours to own.
I've placed him in your life to love

-Valerie Kay Gwin, from Chicken Soup for the Adopted Soul

Misadventures

This week definately started off on the wrong foot with Gabe and I being locked out of the house.  For 4 hours.  And Matt was out of town.  And we didn't have a spare key.  Yikes! 

Thankfully the weather was nice and Gabe spent a lot of time climbing in and out of the flower bed and playing with his car.  Gabe now prefers to push his car and watch his mama chase after it then ride in the car like it is intended. 

We weren't imagining it being 4 hours, but with a key snafu with our landlord husband then traffic problems it couldn't be helped.  Well, it could have been helped by calling a locksmith right away, but that's neither here nor there. 

In the meantime, I found out that I had locked our car by setting the alarm off (it is a very loud and long alarm) and the only thing I could get out of the car was Gabe's sweatshirt.  That was definitely a good thing because while it was 65 and sunny at 2:45 when we went outside by 6:00 when the sun had set, the air had a good chill to it.  We took refuge in the garage where I twirled brooms, wore buckets on my head and sang Wheels on the Bus at least 40 times to keep Gabe happy.  And his happiness allowed me to keep my sanity.

Around 7:30 our landlord showed up, let us into our house and we cleaned up, ate dinner and went to bed.  Truly, Gabe was asleep by 8:30 - complete madness!

Now we have a spare key and I am just a tad bit paranoid about being locked.  By tad paranoid I mean I checked and rechecked about 5 times before we left the house yesterday and today.  I will not be locked out of my house again.  For 4 hours.  With a 2 year old.  I will not!

For entertainment value, when we left to go to physical therapy Tuesday morning my SUV alerted me that there was a theft attempt on our vehicle.  Good to know, except for the fact that I was the one trying to break in.

Mommy Wars

“So encourage each other and build each other up,

 just as you are already doing.”

1 Thessalonians 5:11

This has been on my mind a lot lately.  Mother's trying to one-up one another.  Mother's trying to prove that they should be the winner of the World's Best Mother award.  Rather than encouraging one another, we prove to tear each other down and it needs to stop. 

A few weeks ago I was with Gabe in his Sunday School classroom.  The teachers that day were also parents of children in the room and Gabe was enjoying playing with them.  If I'm being honest, Gabe has completely missed playing with other children since we moved to Houston and I enjoyed seeing him share and laugh at other kids.  As we (the mothers) were talking I asked if anybody got together for play groups during the week.  The answer was no, that most of the mom's there worked.  And it wasn't the answer that through me, it was the looks and the tone.  I was immediately put in my place as being the stay-at-home-mom.
Yesterday, I saw the reverse happen.  Two mother's were talking in the waiting room of Gabe's therapy office (I was, ahem, just overhearing).  I see them sitting together every Wednesday so I assumed they were friends.  But today I saw otherwise.  Mother 1 asked if Mother 2 and her daughter would want to go out to lunch after therapy next week.  Mother 2 responded that she couldn't on Wednesday's but would be able to on weekends because she has to go to work after her daughters therapy appointment.  Mother 1 then proceeded to look aghast and exclaim "you work."  I'll admit at that my head did turn in the direction of their conversation.  Because her tone... it was so condescending.  I wanted to get up and give Mother 2 a hug and tell her that she shouldn't be made to feel bad because she works. 

I didn't.  Eavesdropping and then an awkward hug would have definitely labeled me a weirdo.  But oh, it just grated on my nerves how one mom would judge another.  You know judging the mom who leaves work to take her child to therapy and then goes back to work afterwards... that's a mom that's putting the theraputic needs of her child above her own.  My goodness!  It's crazy.

“Don’t use foul or abusive language.

Let everything you say be good and helpful,

so that your words will be an encouragement

to those who hear them.”

-Ephesians 4:29

I'll be completely honest with you, I love being a SAHM (stay-at-home-mom).  I don't know how I would be able to leave Gabe in the care of anyone else for 40 hours a week and thankfully me staying at home with our children was the plan for us.   And while it hasn't always been easy to make it work, it has been worth it.  For us. 

In my circle of friends, I have friends that are SAHMs like me, friends that work outside of the home full-time and part-time, friends that go to school full-time and part-timeand even friends that work at home (WAHMs).  For each of us, it is what works for us.  For some of us, it's not what we'd prefer to be doing, but it's what works for us presently.  And while I can't imagine working outside the home, I have friends that can't imagine not working.  While I may not always understand the reasons people choose to work (again, I'm being honest), I respect their decision to do what's best for their family.

This is my plea, my call for action... rather than judging one another for a decision that isn't the same as yours... instead of tearing each other down for doing something differently than the someone else... let's build one another up.  Encourage each other.  Be there for each other.  Motherhood is hard.  It is the loveliest thing in the world but it is hard. And tiring.  And sometimes lonely.  And sometimes discouraging. 

So mothers let's stand together and unite against these so called "mommy wars" and be of encouragement and joy to one another. As Paul wrote in Roman's "Let us therefore make every effort to do what leads to peace and to mutual edification" (Romans 14:19)

And now I will step off my soap box.

2 Days Left

I have lots of thoughts in my head these days; thoughts like how can we as a church and then just was as compassionate people can make a difference in the lives of orphans. Thoughts about being almost two months in on our wait time; I think I'm going to write a book like What to Expect When Your Expecting.. except in the adoption point of view. I think the world needs a book like that. Other thoughts have more to do with life as we know it right now; like missing Ohio during the holidays, struggling to find secondary insurance for Gabe before his PT/OT visits run out, how to convince Gabe to drink from a cup, where did all this laundry come from... you know, just every day thoughts of being a mom!

On a different note, there are two days left in our adoption auction! Take a minute, check out the different things to bid on and bid! Lots of items have multiple bids with different people trying to win them. Use the links on the side bar or scroll down really far to find what you're looking for! Don't forget to leave your name and email address with your bid.

The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' - Matthew 25:40

Everyday is Better...

...with party hats and drum solos!

I couldn't ask for a better 'job' then being a mom to this little man.

Appointment Rewind

Last week was filled with appointments!

Monday: Gabe had his first occupational therapy appointment at Texas Children's Hospital (TCH). It went great. This appointment (and probably the next few) were to build a rapport with Gabe so Ms. M didn't work him too hard. But he didn't scream or sob at all and only cried a few tears towards the end.

On a side note, can I tell you how great no screaming and crying is? It's fabulous! Gabe cried for the first 10 months of therapy in Cleveland. And it wasn't because of the therapists; they were great and if I could fly them out here weekly to do Gabe's therapy, I would in a heart beat! By the time we moved to Houston Gabe was doing great at therapy; working hard, loving his therapists and hardly ever crying. He bonded with them and loved therapy! Moving to Houston and starting over with therapists - my expectations were very low. I am so glad they were met and beat.

Tuesday: Gabe had his first physical therapy appointment. Matt went with us since that was the morning I pulled a muscle in my back and could hardly move - ack! Again, Gabe did great. His physical therapist most reminds me of the therapists we left; kind, gentle, fun but hard working! Gabe loved swinging (of course) and did well being stretched in the ball pit. Funny story: Gabe has learned to say 'thank you' and says it at the appropriate times. Ms. L (his therapist) was making him climb out of the ball pit in a safe-not-head-first way and Gabe kept thanking her for his help. Except he really wanted to do it his way so he was whining the whole time he kept thanking her.

Wednesday: Gabe had his speech therapy evaluation. The good news is that he is doing stellar in the speech/language area. The bad news is he needs a little help in the oral motor area and will begin speech therapy (feeding therapy) soon. This was expected with the diagnosis of schizencephaly just a little bit of a bummer. Once we add speech therapy to our weekly regime, we will be at TCH four days a week! Gabe also had his 2nd physical therapy appointment. He was a little tired from having done the speech evaluation and only lasted about 35 minutes before he was whiny and letting tears fall. Ms. L kept with it though, helping him cruise the furniture and then rewarded him with a few minutes on the swing! Gabe made me proud when he said "thank you" when he was done swinging. I'm loving this boys manners!

Thursday: Gabe and I ventured downtown in the afternoon to go get glasses! We picked out a pair (you will not believe his adorableness factor in them), Gabe was measured for them, the optometrist priced everything out and then I remembered to ask if they took our vision insurance. They didn't. We've actually had a very hard time finding a eye glass place that takes our insurance so tomorrow I'm going to check with insurance to see if they'll reimburse us for the glasses if we go out of network. We shall see. But people, he looked cute. Seriously cute!

So that was 5 appointments in 4 days and Gabe kept on truckin' right through them all! Add to that the 2 hours a day of eye patching and all of the block building, ball tossing, crawling and cruising practicing, story reading, veggie tale singing we did, Gabe had a busy week!

And nothing is cuter than some diaper fluff on our boy!

Settling In

Now that we're all settled in here:

and everything is unpacked and put away. I realized one of the things I missed the most were

cloth diapers! Gabe is back to having a fluffy bottom and I don't feel like I'm throwing money out the window every time I change his diaper.

As much as I missed Gabe's diapers, I missed my bookcases more. Chalk full of books, pictures and other memento's (like Hermione's wand); I feel like life is in better order when I can see all my books where they belong and spend time looking at pictures of my loves.

Besides missing our dinner table, I really missed Gabe's high chair! I can't tell you how difficult (and messy) it was to have Gabe eat sitting on the couch or floor of our hotel room. We tried to remember his stroller so he could eat in it but if we forgot, alas - a big mess! So the high chair was welcomed back eagerly!

It's not quite home sweet home just yet, but it is definitely nice to have a place to call our own.