Happy One Year Anniversary

It hit me today as I sat in the parked car having a sweet, honest conversation with Alex (as he used words like "incident" in perfect context.  That English!). Here's this beautiful, intelligent, charming seventeen year old boy with a heavy Russian accent and a horrifically painful past, entrusting me with his thoughts, feelings, and hopes.  He's been calling me Mom since we hosted him a year and a half ago, but I suspect that label carries a lot more weight now than it did before.  I truly felt like his mom today, and it felt great.

November 21

My friend Cissa prompted me to look back at my blog and see what we were doing a year ago today. Turns out that November 21 was a very emotional day for our crew, not just a year ago, but also two years ago.

November 21, 2012, Curt and I were in Donetsk. We got word that our big court hearing for Eli and Isaac's adoption, which was supposed to be the following day, was yet again postponed. We were devastated and frustrated beyond belief.  Lots of tears.

November 21, 2013, Curt and I traveled from Kiev to Amvrosivka, where an ever-smiling Alex greeted us.  It was the day Alex officially and decisively said Yes to adoption. We were over the moon with excitement.   Lots of tears.

November 21, 2014, the seven of us are together in Tulsa, Oklahoma, having a typical low-key day. No big emotional highs or lows. All five kids went to school.  Frozen pizzas are in the oven. No tears. What a beautiful day.

Eight Months as a Family of Seven

Firstly, I am heartbroken for the people of Eastern Ukraine. The situation there is ugly, and it will only get worse as winter settles in. Food and water are in short supply, and there is no work.  Yes, this is a common scenario around the world, but it's intensely personal when it's a place you know well and have permanent ties to, as we do with Donetsk.

On a brighter note, everyone in our house is doing their best to look ahead. All five of our kids are optimistic about their futures, and long-term goals are starting to take shape.  I'm more clued in to the countless complex issues my Ukrainian boys are dealing with and what they need from me.   Communicating is a lot easier.  All of the kids are in school full-time and feeling successful.  We are in a solid, albeit busy, routine.  My mom now lives nearby and helps with logistical and emotional support. Don't get me wrong; this is still really hard, but I think I'm starting to phase out of triage mode. I'd been in triage mode for two years, and this more relaxed, stable lifestyle feels AMAZING.  Sleep is not so elusive. I'm starting to take care of myself again. It's a new normal now, instead of just day-to-day survival.  A new normal with five kids to love, teach, hurt with, get frustrated with, and pray over.

Greetings from Montana

I'm writing this while disconnected from the modern world. We are on vacation, in a remote cabin in the beautiful mountains of Montana. Of course my perspective may change by the time I have the opportunity to post this, but here's where my thoughts are at the moment.

When you're in the weeds, like I feel I have been for a really long time, it's hard to see. It's hard to see what?  Anything, I think.  It's been especially hard for me to see progress. I tell myself frequently that Isaac, Eli, and Alex are making tremendous progress, because I know logically that they are, but it's been hard to *feel* it. Probably because in order for wounds to heal properly, they first must be exposed. Wounds hurt when they are exposed, and they can be ugly.  As we spend more time together as a family, we all feel these wounds along with the boys. It hurts. So, progress?  Technically yes, but these steps forward are often painful, for all of us.

Then there are days like today, with my five kids joyfully playing card games together for hours, that help me feel the progress.  And the progress is real. Not honeymoon-period, trying-hard-to-please type of superficial progress, but hard-fought, hard-earned, after some old bandages have been ripped off, peace.  Not that we've reached a finish line by any stretch, but today sure feels good.

The Effects of War

It's been difficult to process all that has been happening in Ukraine, especially the last few days. What would typically be "something bad happening in a far off foreign land" is extremely personal, with people I know and love caught in the middle.  Today's plane crash was, by my calculations, about 20 miles from Eli and Isaac's orphanage.  So many questions. Are the other kids still there?  Did they make it to a camp in Ukraine safely?  Were they "escorted" to Russia?  If the kids are still at the orphanage, did they see or hear what happened today?  What other new horrors are they witnessing?

Of course I'm thankful that my three Ukrainian boys are here and that they are safe. I'm thankful that we don't have imminent plans to return to Ukraine. But...so many buts.  Connections to my boys' homeland are strong, not just for them, but for me as their mother.  I'm really feeling the effects of this war today.

Catching Up

Well hello there!  A lot has happened since my last update.  We survived the end of school rush.  We took a Caribbean cruise.  My mom moved to Tulsa.  We started a new summer routine. Remember when summer was all about sleeping in and working on your tan?  Yeah. With two-a-day swim practices, tutoring sessions, trips to the gym, renovating a house for Mom, and endless grocery store runs, it's hard to know which end is up sometimes.  Things invariably fall through the cracks. But we are surviving. Maybe even thriving; it depends on the day.

Isaac has moved up to the elite swim team. Starting July 1, he'll be swimming with his brother Clay, who has been swimming since age 4. What a huge accomplishment!  Isaac is also studying hard with Grandma so he can be prepared for fourth grade come fall.

Eli is working diligently with a tutor. He is such a hard worker. He is also working hard to be cool like his big brother Alex.

Alex is in a good place. The roller coaster was pretty dramatic for awhile, but things seem to have leveled off, at least for now. We are working together to build trust, communicate effectively, and figure out his future.  I knew that this transition would be difficult for Alex--much more so that Eli or Isaac--but I wasn't fully aware of all the issues he would have to deal with. Just imagine, taking on a completely new identity!  A new language, new family, new lifestyle, new rules, new expectations, new culture, new food.  New everything. The younger kids can adapt more easily, but an almost-adult is more aware. Sometimes the stress is just too much to take.

The family dynamic is complicated, no doubt. It would be with five biological children. When you mix wildly different previous experiences, languages, and viewpoints, it can get really muddy.

Sometimes, when I'm exhausted and at the end of my rope, I wonder, would I do it again, knowing what I know now?  The answer is always Yes. Sure, my life would be way easier had we not chosen to answer God's call to adopt. Cassie and Clay would be sailing along in their privileged lives.  But look at what we'd be missing!  These wondrous opportunities to love and be loved. To teach and be taught. To be challenged and pray like we've never prayed before. To feel closer to God and more dependent on Him as we take on this seemingly impossible task. All of the stress, all of the worry, all of the heartache. Is it worth it?  Yes.

Three Months Home: Trust

Yesterday, the day before our three month anniversary of having Alex home, I finally started organizing the pile of documents I had brought home from Ukraine.  Each piece of paper I reviewed brought back vivid memories of my time in Ukraine and the accompanying emotions: anxiety, pain, frustration, anger, excitement, panic, fear, exhilaration.   It was a rough day yesterday, as I processed everything all over again.

Aside: As I go about Life, every now and then I'll hit a trigger--a smell usually, that will take me back to Ukraine for a split second. It's quite jarring, and it takes me awhile to pull myself together.  I can only imagine how traumatic these triggers are for my boys.

So anyway, yesterday's harsh reminder of where Alex started prompted me to pull back and think about what he really needs right now. The word that keeps floating around in my head is Trust. Trust means everything in adoption.  It is a delicate, precious commodity that is hard to gain and easy to lose.  The English will come; what matters now is building trust. Everything else will grow from that foundation. It is easy to get impatient  and just want everything to be "normal" but we are only three months in.