Category Archives: healing

Perseverance

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You may have noticed I’ve been posting on Sunday & Wednesday lately. This week I’m a day late. I’ve been busy getting ready for a mom 2 mom sale this weekend. I have a little coffee & tea business (www.believebistro.com) but that’s a whole other story.

Today I’m back to talking about Raine – who used to go by Sloane in this space. Since the pretense with Athena’s name has ended (Saying Her Name), I thought I might reveal my other daughter’s true name as well.

About a month after the adoption, we started seeing the girls’ birth grandparents. I knew them from visits when Raine & Athena were still foster children. If you want all the details on our situation you can review Open Adoption Part 1 & Part 2.

In the greater scheme of things, I know our connection is immensely valuable. In practicality it’s been challenging. Raine is generally very wild during the visit. And afterwards we endure several days of tantrums lasting hours on end. She screams about how much she hates me and wishes she could be with her birth mother again. The encounters bring to the surface intense emotions generally bubbling under the surface.

At times I’ve considered putting the visits on pause – offering Raine more time to come to terms with her situation. But she is immensely eager to see them. So instead my mom and I have collaborated on things to pray. And I’ve added my own parents to our get togethers. The two couples get along famously. My goal was to show Raine that she has one family who love her. So the past few times we’ve been one big happy family – all of us except Raine that is. She remained agitated during and distraught afterwards.

In an unrelated moment of frustration, I asked Raine, “What can I do to help you?”

“You need to pray a lot more,” she quickly answered.

For the most part she’s resistant to me praying with her. But after that statement we began praying before she went to bed. And I started having her list three things she’s happy about at the end of each day.

This past Saturday we celebrated Raine’s birthday with her birth grandparents (a little late, but their schedules are quite busy). My parents weren’t able to make it but I trust my mom was praying for us.

During the visit Raine was relatively calm. Even her grandmother noticed a big difference. Afterwards I was ready for the onslaught of anger. Instead we sat together looking at the gifts she’d gotten. When bedtime came around we made the list of what she was grateful for. “That you love me every day,” Raine exclaimed. The distance that normally crept between us after visits with birth family wasn’t there.

There haven’t been any outbursts or meltdowns. Raine’s continued to be content and emotionally stable.

So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.

Hebrews 10:35-36

Raising my girls can be challenging. There are times my confidence fails me. But in this area I’m glad to have persevered so that Raine, Athena, and I can receive the benefits of their grandparents love for us.

 

Saying Her Name

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As mentioned before, I began blogging when my girls were still foster children. As such, their identities had to be protected. I used alternate names in my blog and have continued to do so. But it gets a little confusing since lots of friends read the blog. In fact when dedicating the girls at church our pastor used the blog name. He quickly corrected himself. I found it funny, but can see how this is getting old. So, tonight’s the big night. I’m going to reveal Elise*’s real name! But you’ll have to read the story to find out.
Once upon a time, in reality, on June 2011 a 21mth old little girl came to me. Her 3yr old sister had arrived 3mths earlier. I had lots of experience

birth picture (courtesy of birth grandmother)

birth picture (courtesy of birth grandmother)

with older special needs children but none with babies. And that’s what she was. The little girl didn’t trust me or anyone else. I’d never seen a child so sad all the time.
For some reason I decided to put mirrors all around her room. Nearly every spot she looked at from the crib showed her reflection. Much later I read somewhere that looking in mirrors helps increase children’s self-esteem. At first she’d cower and turn away whenever she spotted herself. Slowly, over time, she began intentionally looking.

One of the biggest issues was her delayed speech. She could say, “No!” very well but not much else. The previous foster parents had been taking her to speech therapy. I continued with this. During our first appointment, two months after she came to me, I said something very stupid to the therapist.

“I hope she’ll just catch up,” I commented.
“At this point that can’t happen. It will take prolonged, intentional intervention. Even then she may not catch up,” was the gentle answer I received.
My little girl snuggled in my lap, her face hidden from the therapist. Our appointments became monthly. Nothing the therapist did lured her from my arms. I tried really hard to get her to sit at the table and interact with the woman. She wouldn’t. She only wanted my arms around her. I was frustrated, but the therapist rejoiced.
“She used to run around and couldn’t sit for more than 10 seconds,” the woman exclaimed. “There didn’t seem to be much of a connection with the other foster mom.”
I’d worked hard to connect. For the first couple of months she pushed me away continually. I’d just smile and talk. I talked constantly to her, fully expecting her to one day answer.

It became apparent, she understood. When I’d say, “Go get your shoes,” she’d do just that.

In October she began daycare. After a few weeks, the teacher moved her up to the older group where her sister was.

“It’s clear she understands,” the teacher explained. “And she can keep up with the other kids.”

I worried, but it did give her more time with more people talking to her and expecting her to answer. The three year olds wanted much more interaction than the 1 ½-2yrs old she should have been with.

The words came in complete sentences. There was no baby talk. She simply began talking. 9mths after her arrival, she could speak wonderfully. The only thing she wouldn’t say was her name. The speech therapist considered this to be very unusual.

When I spoke her name, it seemed to pain the child. So I called her by nick names that came unintentionally as I made up songs at bedtime. The boo-ka boo baby and beaubeana is what I called her. Her sister didn’t like it, but the other kids joined in.

By the spring of 2012 she was nothing like the baby who arrived in June. Her laughter echoed through the house. She smiled at me and the other kids. Her speech was excellent. Still she wouldn’t say her name.

July 2012 - confident & happy

July 2012 – confident & happy

I prayed off any trauma associated with it. I declared over her the meaning of her name and the verses I’d found connected to that meaning. Still she wouldn’t say it.

Easter Sunday, as we walked into church, a lady I knew stopped to say hello. She knelt down to my little girls and introduced herself then asked their names.

“I’m Athena,” my shy little one blurted out. Immediately her hand shot up to cover her mouth. In absolute shock, Athena looked at me. That was the first time she’d ever said her name. It was completely by accident and made me laugh. In so many ways the Lord had caught this little girl off guard – nudging her into health and wholeness.

In June, a year after Athena came to me, the speech therapist was finally able to complete a formal assessment. In every area Athena tested above average. The therapist was thrilled and completely amazed. “The credit goes to you,” she told me. “You brought this about.”

Jan 2014 - vintage thrift store find

Jan 2014 – modeling her vintage thrift store find

The words she spoke at our first meeting had stayed with me. The prognosis was so dismal – especially since Athena wouldn’t work with the therapist. The prolonged, intentional intervention was me talking to her as though she were an adult. I’ve never been much for baby talk. I do try to speak in age appropriate terms. Since I wasn’t sure at first if Athena understood, I talked to her like an adult. We’d have long conversations at the thrift store. Bear with me for one more story. This was when I caught a glimpse of Athena’s consciousness.

When she’d been with me for two months, I came across these amazing vintage shoes (which I had pictures of but lost when my computer crashed a while ago). I was so excited when I tried them and they fit Athena. Up until that point she’d refused to keep any shoes on. When I attempted to take these off, Athena let out a horrible scream. “Mine,” she shouted. For days she’d only remove the shoes to bath. She even slept with them on. Seems I’d finally found her style – vintage. Just like me!

*name changed

 

Sept 2012 - out for lunch (Athena's favourite activity) shortly after adoption

Sept 2012 – out for lunch (Athena’s favourite activity) shortly after adoption

These Days

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Please don’t confront me with my failures,

I had not forgotten them.

These Days by Nico

I’m part of a prayer ministry at my church. Most Mondays I listen to people pour out their hearts. My job is to facilitate dialogue between them and God. It’s incredibly exciting. I love partnering with Holy Spirit. In conjunction with a conference at church ministry appointments were being offered this past Friday. We had a trusted team visiting to help cover all the requests. Two people who’d booked appointments didn’t show up. That led to myself and another team member receiving ministry from one of the visitors.

Sloane - November 2011

Sloane – November 2011

The struggles with Sloane* were my focus. Sometimes it seems like we’re making progress then it all comes apart again. Our prayer model took a back seat. “The fact is you’ve purchased damaged goods,” said the woman ministering. Strange as it sounds, relief washed over me. I’ve been falling into the trap of comparing my child to other 5yr olds. Children who weren’t exposed to high doses of prescription drugs in the womb, didn’t spend the first 6wks of life in hospital being weaned off drugs, weren’t neglected, mistreated, abandoned, or any of the other things Sloane’s experienced are much more well adjusted. Sloane is struggling. She is damaged.

Though not biologically connected, Sloane and I are immensely similar. In school work, she won’t even attempt writing a word or letter unless sure she can master it. Anything she might fail at is avoided. It’s been disheartening having my perceived failure on display every time Sloane tantrums, speaks harshly, or acts inappropriately. I read other adoption blogs and hear about how well kids are doing.

Stores used to have a damaged rack (not sure if any still do, I don’t get out much these days). Being crafty and a bargain shopper, I used to peruse these spots. The range of damage went from a small water spot easily removed in the wash to massive unraveled holes in sweaters. Seems Sloane’s on the far end of the continuum.

“Because of all that’s happened, her heart is hard,” the woman went on. “All the love you pour on her isn’t going to get through.” We discussed the necessity of healing for Sloane’s heart. I’ve tried applying some of the strategies I know. “You’re not the one to do it,” was the insight given. “It’s not going to work when you try.”

We prayed through a few things. That night, with the other kids asleep, I prayed with Sloane.

The next, a rainy Saturday, had all the kids out of sorts. After some early morning shopping, we were home. I was trying to dish out cheesies (a terrible impulse buy while out). Sloane had been stirring up trouble over the treat. After several warnings I gave her rice crackers instead.

“You idiot!” she screamed her new favourite word. “I’m not having this!” Slamming down the bowl some crackers tumbled to the floor. Sloane jumped up, ran from the table to the counter and deposited the bowl with the remaining crackers. On her run back to the table, amidst ongoing screaming – things like, “You better get me what I want right now!” – her foot landed on a shard of cracker. It lodged in the bottom of her foot. In slow motion I watched as blood began shooting out. Mildly distracted from her rant, as though a fly had landed on her, Sloane looked down at the floor speckled with blood. I rushed over, trying to pick her up. Her body went stiff. Remembering her rage, she resisted. Pushing and kicking she vehemently told me to, “Get away!”

Not my shining moment as mother, I said, “Fine. Handle this on your own. I really want to help you, but if you don’t want me to I won’t.” Looking away, I got the first aid kit. She sat on a kitchen chair trying to scoop up the falling blood with her hands. Wailing, eventually she admitted her inadequacy. I pulled the cracker out and will spare you the gory details. As I worked, we remained at an impasse. Sloane’s body was rigid and her tone harsh. I must admit, she wears me down. Too often there’s an edge in my voice. As her mom, I want to pull her close. She’ll have none of it, so I point out the fact that she wouldn’t have cut her foot on a cracker if she hadn’t been freaking out.

The other children ate their bowls of cheesies, watching the show. I let them have more and more to keep them quiet and settled. They ate Sloane’s rejected crackers. They begged for more food. Snack was shut down when the blood was cleaned off the floor (they weren’t really hungry but trying to cope in their own way).

Her foot is fine, though she brings it up when I ask her to do something she’d rather not. This is not the result I was expecting after my ministry time and the prayers I prayed with Sloane. As always, I’m confronted by my own failures. After such ordeals I spend senseless energy thinking of how I should have done better. Still I keep failing to be the demure, compassionate mother I want to be.

"All mommy's necklaces!" July 2011

“All mommy’s necklaces!” July 2011

All the children in bed, I’m lamenting with the song, These Days. I’d like these days to end. I bring my inadequacies to the Lord. He’s the only one who can break through and repair the damage.

Though currently true, damaged is not Sloane’s permanent state. My daughter is one who overcomes. There’s a new name for her. No longer damaged or out of control. These days will give way to the glory God has planned for her.

 “He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes I will give some of the hidden manna to eat. And I will give him a white stone, and on the stone a new name written which no one knows except him who receives it.”’

Revelation 2:17 (NKJV)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

determination - July 2011

June 2011 – Determination! Sloane believed the only place to be was on top of her play house. Despite my discouragement, she scaled the plastic walls.

My Baby is 4!

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Today Elise* turns 4. She arrived three months before turning 2, so this is the 3rd time we’ve celebrated her birthday together. I had about 1wk to prepare for her arrival, which is unusual in fostering. I carefully decorated the nursery in birds, praying Psalm 124:7-8.

We have escaped like a bird
from the fowler’s snare;
the snare has been broken,
and we have escaped.
Our help is in the name of the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.

Her older sister, Sloane*, had been with me three months when the social worker decided to move Elise to my home – against doctor and supervisor’s recommendations. I do believe everyone has been pleasantly surprised by the success of that decision – me most of all. I’ve seen my little one transform from frightened and fragile (for more info see Only Prayer) into a confident ray of sunshine.

I must admit she still sleeps in a crib – by her own choice. Up until a few months ago she still needed a bottle to fall asleep. Going without she struggles to lull herself to sleep. And she still needs a diaper for bed. Those are the biggest challenges. The fact that she continually wants to be picked up and carried is something I’m willing to indulge. As I put her to bed on the eve of her birthday, despite being nearly 4 and attending school, Elise still insisted I call her a baby. “I’ll always be a baby!” she’s decided. Not so. But I’m happy to pretend – holding her close and kissing her a million times.

As a single mom, I’ve told my girls Jesus is their dad. He’s the one who birthed them in my heart long ago. He also moved heaven and earth so I could keep them (see Adoption). He’s the one who provides for us in so many unexpected ways. When Sloane started wondering about a dad (she remembers her birth father), I casually informed her she had Jesus. It wasn’t something I went out of my way to tell Elise because she didn’t ask. But she’s got it. Recently when Sloane commented, “I don’t have a dad.” Elise piped up in sincere conviction, “Yes! We have Jesus!!!” Praying she always knows His love and protection as she grows.

*name changed

Elise at 2

Elise at 2

Elise at 3

Elise at 3

Elise at 4

Elise at 4

Living with Limits

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I work for a private fostering agency providing care for special/high needs children. Usually by the time kids enter our agency they’re older and quite damaged. My greatest frustration is that most of their “special needs” are preventable conditions. A great number have diminished mental capacity from being exposed to alcohol while in the womb. This is usually coupled with extreme neglect, trauma, abuse in their early years. Add to that moving around in and out of a broken Children’s Aid system and the end result is anything but pretty.

In five years, I’ve gotten used to a lot of things but the term “acquired brain injury” still makes me cringe. (Meaning someone did something serious enough to cause a permanent brain injury.) Often the kids themselves are cognitive enough to resent the state they’re in. Mostly they try to hold it together, navigating a world beyond their understanding. As a caregiver there are times the limitations trip me up and I fall short. Like the other day when Sabrina* was putting the canopy on our gazebo. She had it all turned around – the long end of the canopy going along the short end of the frame. My clear, simple explanation of the problem when she asked for help left her completely confused. At a loss, I walked away. Twenty minutes later Sabrina joyously informed me that she figured out the problem – the canopy was on the wrong way. “I told you that,” was my response after congratulating her. “Well, I didn’t know what you were talking about.” This is the daily grind we’re accustomed to.

Last weekend my friend’s 13yr old foster child was with me. Since the last time Natalie* visited – about three weeks ago – she’s fallen in love with India. A streetwise little spitfire her passions have been dominated, thus far, by pop stars. In the three years I’ve known her, Natalie has never expressed such sincere affection for anything or anyone. Eating dinner in a Greek restaurant, she wishes to hear some Indian music. At home I put on an animated film from India that comes up in my search of Netflix. Watching her watch it my heart breaks. I’m mourning who she could have been. Without the limitations inflicted upon her by alcohol and abuse who could she have been? If things were different, would India have played a key role in Natalie’s life?

I know God is able to bring redemption to any situation. I’m still believing for these kids to be healed mentally, physically, and emotionally. In the meantime I’m grieving the loss of what God really planned for them. This pain and frustration certainly wasn’t His intention. Most of the time my thoughts fail to extend beyond, “How can I get through this day without anyone breaking down?” I don’t think about what God really wanted when He created these kids. Today I’m painfully aware of the deposit of divine design. How do I help my kids bypass their limitations in order to unearth what God’s deposited? How can I connect Natalie to India so she can catch even a portion of God’s plan for her?

*name changed