These days are just slipping away

As my two year old sat in her chair with an apple in hand and Jake and the Neverland Pirates on the tv, I crept quietly into my little boy's nursery.
I crawled into the room, and stayed next to side of his crib for several minutes.  And I stared at this beauty as he slept.  Breathing in and out with rosy cheeks and a bit of sweat dampened hair flattened to his head.

And then I started crying.

Because this boy, our fourth child, is IT.

He is the last baby I will watch sleep peacefully in a crib.

His ga-ga-ga's and dada-das are the last that will be babbled in this home.

Today, he began pulling himself up onto the couch (reaching for the xbox controller, of course).  That will be the last time I witness my child pull himself up for the first time.

And soon my husband and I will experience our last first steps, and our last first birthday.

Many days, when the day is in full speed ahead mode, I forget about how sweet these days are.  And that is the real tragedy of our current culture.  We have so many plans, are part of so many activities, own so many things that need cleaned, have long to do lists, and we never SLOW down.

It still feels like last month that my beautiful first princess came silently into the world, but she is nearing the end of her 1st grade year, her hair is longer than mine EVER has been, she is signed up for tumbling and soccer for the summer, she stomps down halls and slams doors like the best of them, she is sweet and caring and brutal and sassy all wrapped into one.

And it seriously seems like last week that we got three frantic calls (we missed the first two) at 4 am on a Sunday, and quickly woke, dressed and loaded 3 small kiddos in the minivan for a two hour ride to meet their baby brother.

Their baby brother.  The BABY of our family.

And though I cry today, and will cry probably 77 times 7 more times throughout this parenting journey at our children's "firsts"...and their "lasts," I am sure that this is right.  We were meant for these babies, and we are not intended to be parents to another newborn again.  So sure, that 24 hours after P was born, I had my tubes tied.  THAT sure, folks.

When I am knees deep in laundry, diapers and bottles, I silently wish that the kids were grown, potty trained, and able to raid the food cupboard on their own.

But not today.  Today was the last time I witnessed one of my children pulling themselves up.
And I am wishing time would slow down and that my baby would stay a baby forever.

THE JOY IN THE MY FAMILY' S JOURNEY

This post is an explanation for why my family chooses to celebrate days that are important and joyous to our family.  (As if I should really need to write a blog about the topic.)

I had several people bring to my attention a local blog written this week: a blog many could identify was written indirectly referencing my family, and stating a belief that “Gotcha Days” or the anniversary date of an adoption finalization should not be celebrated.

Since my family just celebrated the first year “Gotcha Day” for Gia and just two days later, finalized the adoption of Phoenix, we have gotten some attention around the subject.  As an adoption advocate, or hell, even an adoptive parent, a person should be happy when he/she sees a local family finalizing an adoption- a child becoming part of a family.  Adoption advocates, especially, should take pleasure in children finding a loving forever family.

(Wolves in sheepskins, folks.  The Bible warns about them.)

The blogger states that celebrating "Gotcha Day” (as in the anniversary of the day a child was officially adopted into a family) is insensitive to the birth families.  

{Shaking my head here...  And unintentionally adding an eye roll}

As a foster mother, I cared for my beautiful G since she was 4 days old.  I sat through many court proceedings and foster care meetings.  I was present at every family team meeting and even supervised visits with birth mom.  I built a relationship with my children's birth mom.  I know her favorite color, her birthday, what her hopes are for her biological children, what she likes to do on her free time, where she was born and intimate details and medical history of her family.  I can’t honestly say that I dont resent some of the things she did to my daughter, but I still legitimately care for this woman.  

At the courthouse on the date in which her parental rights were terminated, I sat in the back row, holding our daughter, and fought the lump in my throat.  My heart broke for her as I witnessed her lose the right to watch this beauty grow to a toddler, a school aged child and then into a woman.  My heart just broke.  And when I look back on that day, I still feel those emotions as strong as I did that day.  

And we dont and will never celebrate that day.  That day was a day of loss.

But months later, as I professed my love to a judge, and vowed to care for this little girl for all of her life, I felt JOY.

And JOY is to be celebrated.  

Every adoption, just like every family, is different.  What works for some, doesn’t always work for others.  Our family includes biological children and to call the anniversary of a child's adoption "Family Day" or a "Family Birthday" is absurd.  We already had a family and to call it something similar to that would be so inconsiderate and demeaning to our biological children.  (BTW, I believe my family started when I got married.  Children are not the only determining factor of "family.")
And as for birth families and their feelings: Our children’s birth mother lost her parental rights long before we became our children’s legal parents.   Her loss was experienced prior to our daughter becoming an “official" member of our family.  
I have heard that birthdays are often the most difficult for birth parents… Does that mean we should not celebrate the child’s birthday?  I hope that sounds ridiculous to you.  

Because in the end, I signed up to care for and do everything in my power to better the lives of these CHILDREN.  That is my job, and I will rejoice in doing it.   I will not dial down my joy because someone far away may have a gut check as I celebrate.  
I would hope a birth parent can, in even a small sense, find satisfaction that I love the child whom once was theirs, so, so, SO much that I celebrate when she/ he became mine.  

There is brokenness with adoption.  And if you search for it, you can find a way to twist anything into a negative light.  I refuse to do so.  
I seek JOY and LOVE and that is what I hope to pass down to my children.  

I dont want to teach them to seek offense by reflecting my actions.  I dont want to point out the “wrong” with any and every situation.  Because I do not want them to grow up to see the world that way. 

In my home, the phrase, "Be the Light" is often spoken, repeated, prayed for.  Im raising my kids to be a positive reflection of the kindness of Jesus Christ...I am trying extremely hard to make this an important virtue that my children learn.

As a Christian, the day I became a part of Gods family, a day I was adopted into the Kingdom, I believe God rejoiced.  There was celebration up in there. God was smiling as He said, "Gotcha!"  And as our adoptions are an earthly reflection of what that looks like, I am gonna party it up, celebrate, have cake and sing a song on April 1 and April 3 for forevermore.

So what Im saying is: Celebrate what is good.  Celebrate when there is JOY. 

And if you can’t do that, and if you see the world only as offensive or if you waste time on getting caught up on what we should call “Gotcha Day,” “Family Day,” or “Adoption Day” then just keep your thoughts to yourself and dont try to steal my family’s/children’s joy.  

Oh.  One last thing.  

To this blogger and anyone else who worries about not celebrating "Gotcha Days" or worries about what to call these days: I will be praying for you.  Because true importance is not held within the title of the day, but of the love and joy that is shared.

Your children deserve to live the joys.   

Especially when there is so much joy in the journey.

AN OPEN LETTER TO MY NEW SON

Dear Phoenix,

My beautiful brown eyed baby boy.

Let me tell you how I heard about you coming to our family, how I knew you were coming to this world.

Let me tell you how God spoke to me, almost continuously for months, telling me to prepare for a son...


I can remember just knowing that we would be having another son.  I dont know how to describe this in the most "correct" way.  Forgive me.  I didnt audibly hear God say those words.  Instead, I feel like those words were placed in my heart.  After I believe I understood, I started telling my good friend, Shelly and your daddy.  I told them I just KNEW that we were going to adopt again, and this next child would be a boy.  I also had a good idea, that you would be G's biological brother.
I started telling them this in November of 2013.  They both listened, believed that I believed it, but none of us thought that you were actually already on your way. 

{But it is amazing that while you were barely a seed in the womb of your birth mom, you were also a seed planted in my heart by God.}

After this, I started getting signs of a Phoenix.  I saw the word Phoenix everywhere I went, every time I turned on the tv, each time I opened a book or turned on the radio.  Again, I didnt audibly hear God say, "You shall name this son, Phoenix."  But I understood that all these signs were telling me just that.  So, by December, in my heart, I knew that I would be having a son and I was to name him Phoenix.  Again, I saw these signs so continuously that they overwhelmed me and I told my friend and Daddy about them almost everyday.

I literally couldn't go a day without several things reminding me about this son that was to be named Phoenix.  One morning, Daddy was in the shower,  and this thought of you was so heavy on my heart and mind as I walked into the bathroom, that I got down on my knees on the bathroom rug and just prayed to God, "Lord, I hear you.  I understand what you are telling me.  I need you to start speaking to Dan, so he understands too. "  This was a silent plea. Daddy didnt hear me speak this prayer.  But God surely did.
Almost a minute later, Daddy asked me to turn on his Pandora app on his phone so he could listen to music while he showered.  When I turned it on, immediately came on with an ad for the University of Phoenix. 
I laughed a little and told your dad that God was speaking to him too. 

In January of 2014, we had a court hearing for your sister, where we saw your birth mother, and also heard that her parental rights were terminated, making G eligible to be adopted by us.  We loved her so, and were happy to know that she would now be able to be a part of our family forever. 
When we got into the van from the court hearing, I buckled up, looked at Daddy and asked, "Are you ready for another one?  Another one is coming.  A boy."  He looked at me like I was crazy and said, "We dont need to talk about this right now."
Your birth mother hadn't appeared pregnant that day.  And to be honest, I wasn't looking at her in order to see if she was pregnant.  But you being so close in proximity to me that afternoon, I must have felt your presence.  Because I once again, started thinking of this son that God had promised me.

Two months later your birth mother contacted us, and let us know you were about five and half months along and that you were a boy.  I cried.  THIS WAS WHO GOD WAS TELLING ME ABOUT!  YOU!!

I talked to our pastor about this.  And I struggled with the significance of this Phoenix bird.  I knew the ancient greek mythology about the bird who burst into flames, and with its death another bird is born.    But my pastor confirmed that it was also an ancient Christian symbol of the resurrection. 

When you were born early on a Sunday morning, June 29th, you were dubbed Phoenix Aguilera.  I would have felt as though I was truly disobeying God if you had been named anything other than Phoenix.

{And boy, have we loved you so much ever since!} 

Technically, legally, we should have been able to adopt you after you lived with us for 6 months.  We should have been able to adopt you near the end of December or early January.  But there was a big problem, unexplainably, by the State releasing your birth certificate to us.  And so finally after over a month struggling to retrieve that document, we have it and were given an adoption date. 
April 3.
At first, I was disappointed.  Why so far out?  I thought we could get a date within a few weeks.  We did with G.  Before I went back to the attorney to ask if there was something sooner, I pulled out my daily planner. 
April 3 2015.  Good Friday.  The day this year, we celebrate Christ's death for us and His resurrection.
I knew then that this day was perfect for you.  

Also...
Dear little Phoenix, your daddy and I have made the decision to change your middle name.  The name we once believed was honoring to your birth mother, we now feel, may not have such a positive effect for you.  Since my talk with our Pastor Ben, before your birth, I have felt that your middle name should be James.  I thought at the time it was because of the Book of James in the Bible.
Now that we are nearing your adoption date, and making that final decision to what your name will forever be, I have looked more into the name of James.
Its meaning: the supplanter.  SUPPLANTER??  What does that mean?  So I went to the dictionary.  
Supplant: to replace one thing with another. 
Well, Mr. Phoenix.  Isn't that a theme in your world, even just at 9 months old.  This symbol of renewal.

Honey, I dont know what all this means for you. 
But I think God is going to do big things with you.  He typically does, when He foretells a son's birth to his mother.  :)

Love,
Your (forever) Mommy