Meltdown

The first week with our new baby girl Rachel was amazing. We sat and played with her; we cuddled her, fed her, bathed her, rocked her and sang to her. She was quiet that first week, taking us in and looking around at her new life. She met so many new family members, so many happy faces and open arms. I think how overwhelming it would be for me to meet dozens of new people while living in a new place and being looked after by strangers – crazy! And yet our girl took it all in her stride, quietly confident and slowly becoming more happy and affectionate.

As for me, the change from wife to Mom caught me off guard. I was prepared, as prepared as you can ever be, and yet I was thrown once she was here. You can never fully understand what the transition will be like until you are in it. And with the stress, life change and lack of sleep came some emotional moments. Moments when I became overwhelmed by the enormity of the situation and had to have a good cry.  And there is nothing that can make you feel better than a good cry. Expect maybe a cup of tea, chocolate and a cuddle! Don’t get me wrong, I loved having my baby girl with us, but some things just hit me hard.

Meltdown 1: A week after Rachel arrived I sat on the couch after putting her down for the night and burst into tears. I couldn’t explain it to my husband other than saying “she’s here forever, she’s not going away!” It hit me then that this was forever, she would be there tomorrow morning when I woke up, and the next day, and the next. This was life now, utterly and permanently changed. And so I had to mourn my old life, things like shopping for hours, sleeping in, and spontaneous dinners with friends. It is such an adjustment in such a short period of time that it threw me. Even though I was expecting it, it still hurt.

Meltdown 2: Happened about 10 days after Rachel was with us. She had slept through the night the first week and we were thanking our lucky stars, and then on the 10^th night she was up at 2am. Moaning and tired, but not sleeping. I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I rubbed her tummy, I picked her up and rocked her, cuddled her, swaddled her, I sang to her and hummed to her. Nothing worked. After an hour my husband walked in sleepily saying “is everything ok” and I asked him very nicely to take over (ok, in reality I said “I can’t do this anymore” and walked out). I sat on the bed and cried. I was SO tired! I was exhausted, mentally, emotionally and physically. I was crying because it dawned on me that I would not be getting uninterrupted sleep anymore, or sleep-ins, or mid-afternoon sleeps. And how I love my sleep! And so I had a break down and felt sorry for myself for a little bit, and then fell asleep. (And wouldn’t you know, it only took Mike 5 minutes to get her to sleep after all my work!)

Meltdown 3: One month in and I overheard my husband making arrangements with some friends to go on a hike one afternoon. I held it in until we got home, then ranted emotionally at him. I couldn’t understand how he could make a plan with friends when it would mean firstly I would not see him the whole afternoon, and secondly that I would have to look after Rachel alone. I realized that the reason I was upset was because my life had changed so completely, and his life could still look a little bit the same. He got to go to work and see his colleagues, he could go for a run, and make a plan to go on a hike; his life still had patterns of life before Rachel. Me, well there was nothing of my old life. I wasn’t at work anymore, I couldn’t go to gym or the shops without it being a mission, even seeing friends was different as I could not give my undivided attention. And when I knew Mike had time off it meant that I got a bit of a break because we could tag team with Rachel, so if suddenly he wasn’t around when I thought he would be, I freaked out. We talked about it (mostly because he didn’t even realise I felt that way), and made plans for how we would navigate making decisions to see friends in the future. But it helped to cry it out, to explain my feelings, and to get a cuddle and an “I understand” from someone who loves me.

And so this time of parenthood that I have been ushered into has brought on many exasperated tears and emotional outbursts. This is definitely the most difficult thing I have ever done, raising a child. And yet, it is the most amazing, marvellous, worthwhile and blessed miracle too. I have moments when it’s all too much, but mostly I’m smiling because my daughter gave me a hug without my prompting, or because she is giggling to herself while playing, or because she looks at me and smiles. What joy!

P.s. I have learnt that just because we adopted, doesn’t mean my hormones and emotions aren’t all over the place, and that it is normal and ok to feel happy and sad and overwhelmed and exhilarated all at once. I also have Mommy brain, in that I keep forgetting mundane and important things like house keys when I go out, or coffee dates I have made with friends. I am learning to have a humble heart and an apologetic spirit, but that it is ok to not have everything together right now… I just became a Mom!

Party Fever

We adopted Rachel at 10 months, and because we had a short period of time between finding out about her and getting her we did not have a baby shower with friends and family. We decided we would combine the baby shower with her first birthday and throw a big "welcome to our world!" party.

And with parties comes many tasks, ideas, thoughts and pressures. Most parents have a year to think of what they want their child's first birthday to be like. We had only two months, and that was in between the chaos of learning how to be Mom and Dad, changing nappies, feeding and getting used to being awake at 3am! So we felt a bit behind when planning what we wanted to include at her party. We decided that this party, although it was a celebration of her, was a great opportunity to bring together all the friends and family that had supported us in our adoption journey. That meant a guest list of over 50 (on the day we counted 70 people). I was overwhelmed by the themes and ideas for first birthday parties that can be found on the internet; anything you can imagine can be done, with the right amount of time, money and effort. The problem was we didn't have much of those!

We decided to not have a theme, and just to provide some yummy food for people and a place where everyone could be together and share in our joy for a few hours. Thinking about how much food you need for 50 people or more was rather intimidating; the largest party I had catered for was 20. We got on the phone and rallied around us some amazing friends who offered to help provide food for the day. My husband decided that he would love to make the birthday cake for this grand occasion and I wholeheartedly agreed as I knew he would probably do a better job than me! And so we made plans for how the day would go, what decorations to have and what food we would make.

As the day came nearer I started to feel rather overwhelmed by it all. Thoughts and doubts crowded my mind and my stress levels increased daily. How many people would actually be there? Would there be enough food? What if the cake flopped and we had no time to find another one? What if important family members suddenly couldn't make it? What if we missed out inviting special people? What would we provide to entertain the kids at the party? What if it wasn't a success? Looking back, I realize much of my time was spent worrying and planning trivial things that don't really make a difference to a party. Who remembers if there were balloons, or chalkboards with messages on them, or special chocolate dipped marshmallows? I let myself be swept away by the little things, and my nerves were at an all time high. Party fever really got to my brain.

I had a revelation during Rachel's party. We gathered everyone around to sing happy birthday and to blow out the candle on her beautiful (Dad-made) ladybird cake. As everyone sang my eyes welled up with tears. This girl, the girl who was the center of attention, the reason why everyone had come to the party and helped with preparations, was our daughter Rachel. A year ago she had been in a hospital; nameless, alone and without anyone to love and care for her. She had no one and no future. In 12 months God had changed her life so drastically. She now had friends and family to celebrate her existence, a Mom and Dad who love her extravagantly, and a future that is full of hope.

Now that is a reason to have a party.

The Call

It all happened so quickly. We had put ourselves at ease because we had asked our adoption agency to give us some time to prepare for a baby after our whirlwind screening was over. We expected a few months to get things ready. We were telling people, “There should be a little one by Christmas”. And then, out of the blue, in the middle of June (TWO WEEKS after finishing screening), we received a phone call. We were both in the car giving two strangers a lift home from a holiday school run by our Church. I answered the phone and heard our social worker on the other side. I blushed (why?!) and looked at my husband with a “oh-my-gosh-the-social-worker-is-on-the-phone” look.

She said, “I know you asked for some time to get ready, but we have a report we want to send you with a child we think is the perfect match for you. We are emailing the report to you, just read it and then give us a call and tell us what you think… It’s a girl”

I put down the phone and squeezed my husband’s hand, bursting to tell him our news but listening politely to the two people in the back of our car sharing their stories with us. That was a long ride back to church; sharing glances, wide smiles, leg taps, simply anything to communicate without blurting out the news to two strangers. We finally got to the parking lot and said goodbye to them, watching as they got out the car and walked away together. My husband looked at me. I started crying. We hugged in the cramped space of our car as I revealed, “It’s a girl; we have a daughter!”

Then it was report time. I was so nervous about seeing the first picture of our child (and yes, we decided that we would accept this child before we knew anything about her. We trusted our social worker and we trusted God). There is so much emphasis put on feeling a connection or bond through a picture, but how much can you tell from a picture? And so it was with great trepidation that we opened the attachment on my husband’s phone and read our child’s report.

When I saw her picture, I could see myself in her face. I couldn’t explain it, we don’t look the same, but I did feel a connection with her and a peace about our decision. What a treasure trove! For months we had been wondering about our child; boy/girl? What would they look like? How old? History? And suddenly, in front of us, was the information we wanted to know. And yet, when you see the first glimpse of your child, none of that really matters. Your heart stops, speeds up, and explodes within seconds, you want to laugh and cry at the same time, and you are bursting with feelings you have never experienced before.

The most amazing thing had happened: we had become parents to a beautiful 9 month old girl! 

Face to Face

The emotions swimming around you as you prepare to meet your child are numerous, and overwhelming. One minute you are so excited to see them, the next you are nervous they will react negatively to you, then you feel petrified at the thought that you are going to be starting on the journey of parenthood, and after that you feel drained by all thought, worry, excitement and general feelings that you have been living with!

We fetched our daughter from a home in Bloemfontein in a dry, cold July. We packed nappies, bottles, formula, clothes, and all the while we were thinking, “what if it’s not the right size? Or fit? Or shape?” We got information from the carers at the home, but we struggled to imagine our girl as a real live person. How big was 9.5kgs? What did ‘9 months old’ really mean? Words on a page were not enough anymore, we wanted to see her, hear her and feel her.

When we arrived at the home we went in to the room where all the babies lived. The carer had put our girl sitting on a blanket on the floor, and proceeded to talk to our social worker about one of the other babies. Mike and I both entered into a different world; their voices faded away as we looked at her, then each other, and then her again. Tears in our eyes, I kept thinking “she is so beautiful, she is SO beautiful”. We held hands and bent down in front of her, speaking softly and lovingly to her. The social worker left after 5 minutes and we were allowed to spend the next few hours at the home getting to know our daughter.

What an emotional journey. We sat watching her, half scared to touch her and just taking her all in. She looked at us, and then at the door, then back to us. One lone tear dropped down her cheek, but no crying. She was silent and wide eyed, checking us out. I cannot begin to understand what she must have thought on this day.  Confused, anxious, sad, everything was about to change in her life. And although I sympathized that this would be a big change, I knew what the future would look like for her…so much hope and life! And so we slowly held her hand, then picked her up, then hugged and kissed her. We fed her food, gave her a bottle, let her sleep in our arms. When it was time we said our thank yous to the carers and they said their tearful goodbyes to her. The plane ride was stressful as we contemplated all the things that could go wrong when travelling with a baby, but she slept through most of it. We got home and maternal instincts kicked in as I got her a bottle, held and cuddled her and put her to bed.

Asleep in her cot, Mike and I sat on the couch together. Our house was the same, and yet everything had changed.

Getting Ready

The whole screening process for our adoption went much quicker than we anticipated. Everyone advises you to be prepared for a long wait, and in our mind it would take 4-6 months to go through our screening before we would be approved to adopt. And so when we were done after one month we couldn’t quite believe it. Suddenly we were in the “waiting for our baby” phase, and we were caught off guard; we were about to become parents! This was a more sobering and scary thought than I expected it to be. And so we asked for two months to ‘get ready’ before we would be able to accept a baby.

Our reasoning was that we were going on a holiday in three weeks, my husband had a conference he was attending in a month, and we felt we needed time to get prepared. I didn’t want a new baby while my husband was away, and we wanted to get our baby room ready and settle into the ‘pregnant’ stage of our adoption. Of course, we didn’t know whether we would be matched with a child after two weeks, two months or two years. Who knows? But we still felt we needed some time.

But what does prepare mean? We were lent a cot which we set up in the baby room. We were given a pram and car seat, which we are still trying to figure out (why is it so difficult to put together and take apart? I can’t imagine doing it with a baby in tow!). We went shopping for a few baby things for the room; blankets, facecloths, towels, one or two outfits. We spoke to friends about how children have changed their lives. We went on an “expecting course” with pregnant couples to get advice on how to navigate a new addition to the family and still keep our marriage strong. We have slept in, eaten out, watched movies, watched series, dozed in bed, lay in the bath, read a good book, read any book, done nothing, and tried to do everything.

Let’s be honest, though. You are never ‘ready’, are you? We are trying to get everything ready for this baby, and we don’t even know it yet. We don’t know its likes and dislikes; we don’t know age, gender, race, or personality. We are preparing for the idea of a child, what we think it is going to be like to become a parent.

I don’t think you can ever know what it is like to be a parent until you are one. We can guess, think, assume, ask others; but we will never know fully until we receive our new addition to our family.

And so I sit in the ‘getting ready’ phase of our adoption, knowing that I will never really be ready for what is to come. Our lives are going to change in ways I cannot imagine. And yet, it is the most anticipated season of my life so far. The one thing I am more than ready for, is to love. 

Screening

To be able to adopt you need to go through a screening process. This is to make sure that you are ready to become parents. To make sure you are not making a rash decision based on feeling without thought. To ensure that if a child is placed in your home they will be loved, cared for, protected and looked after.

And so you start the process:

• Couple interviews.
• Individual interviews.
• Group sessions to discuss topics such as ‘how to tell your child they are adopted’.
• Home visits.
• Handing in a large amount of paperwork to show that you do not have a criminal record, you are financially able to care for a child, reasons why you want to adopt.
• You have to get three important people in your life to vouch for you and explain in their words why they think you would be fit as parents.

And only if you get through all of this are you put on the list to become adoptive parents.

I was happy to go through the process because a part of me is a meticulous planner who likes everything in order. It makes me feel good to sort out all our paperwork, fill it in, hand it in, and find out it was alright. Like handing in an essay and getting a good mark back. I like to tick the boxes. A part of it is the “faith by works” understanding. If you do enough good things, God will reward you; if you show them what a nice person you are, they will give you a baby.

I was also self-righteous when going through the process. I kept thinking, “how is it that I have to jump though all these hoops just to be able to adopt a child, and there are people falling pregnant all the time without anyone to watch up on them”. I felt enraged that teenagers with no money, no prospects, and no space for a child in their life could fall pregnant so ‘easily’ in a one night stand. I found it irresponsible that people with no money, proper job, or way of looking after their child could make the decision to fall pregnant, and the child would have to deal with the consequences. 
Why was there no “pregnancy readiness test” or “parents license” that you would have to get before being allowed to have a child?

Both those parts of me I have had to work through. Grace from God is UNDESERVED FAVOUR. It does not matter how much you do right, God gives because He loves you, not because you did something for Him. And if grace is extended to me, grace is extended to all. Who am I to say that a child will not have a life full of love and support, just because I don’t agree with their parents’ life decisions? God can redeem any situation for the good of those who love him. 

And so I lay aside my pride, and my works. I am so thankful to be able to receive the blessing of a child. I am thankful that God has given us such a quick and positive screening process. I thank Him for his patience with me and my sinful thoughts, and for the grace He throws into my life. The favour He gives me I do not deserve. The love He shows me I can scarcely believe. I am starting to feel the Father’s heart in the love that is stirring in me for a child I have not met. I child I have no connection to, no genetic tie, no relation, no bond. A child that is nameless, faceless, and parentless. All I know is that whichever baby God has handpicked for me – that is MY child.

Response

Imagine yourself in a stadium, surrounded by people. Sports match, Music concert; either way, there is a buzz in the air. You are waiting for something to happen, the goal to be scored, your song to be played. And then it happens. And the crowd goes wild. Everyone is on their feet, screaming, clapping, stamping, smiling. You can feel the excitement and joy in the crowd.

This is kind of the response I expected when we told people we were adopting. We had been through a process of trying and being disappointed, wanting a baby but not getting there. Then we made the decision to adopt and suddenly hope returned and our world became such an exciting place full of anticipation and exhilaration. And so I would go around telling all I could “We are adopting! We are going to be a family!”

And yet, the response we got was often not one of matched excitement and enthusiasm, but rather of slight shock, a bit of confusion, and a polite “Congrats”. Not what I was expecting! Don’t get me wrong, our close friends and family (especially those who had walked our journey with us) were supportive and happy. But others who we shared it with just could not seem to get it. One person stuck their hands in the air about to jump as they heard “we have some exciting news…”, but when we completed the sentence with “we are adopting” the hands went down and the shout of joy was choked on, with a mumbled “that’s so nice” afterwards.

A lot of people are not where we are in the journey. For us announcing our adoption is like announcing we are pregnant, for others it takes a while to sink in. Many have questions but they don’t know how to verbalize it. Why? Can’t you have biological kids? How did you get to this decision? And so instead of the celebratory hugs and high fives we sit and discuss our process and help people see where our heart is. There is nothing wrong with this. In fact, I love getting the opportunity to share with others the joy that our anticipated adopted child brings us and the journey God has walked with us. But a part of me selfishly wants people to fawn over me with kisses and hugs, squeals of delight and gushes of admiration; the kind of response I have seen friends get when they announce their pregnancy.

But I remember that we are not adopting for the response we will get. We do not need others to be excited for us for it to seem more real – it IS real, and awesome and good! I do not need to put so much importance on what others think of me and my family.

And, I know without a doubt, that my Heavenly Father is jumping up and down, hands in the air, shouting “My darling daughter is going to be a Mommy!”