A Poem for My Daughter

Into this world newly born
Seperated mother and child by belief, culture and circumstance
The end of something monumnetal just as you begin this life
A loss no one should endure
One with many mothers
I know this, God never lifted his gaze from you
You were never alone though I am sure the loneliness you felt was so deep
You were brought into the fold of what would be a temporary space
Meeting many brothers and sisters in your same place
Small survivors with hope in your eyes
brave not by choice
you have endured so much in your short life

We waited for you across the ocean divide
You again were about to face goodbyes
Farewells to your little brothers and sisters
The women who cared for you each and every day
Knowing there would be tears for everythig big, small again was lost
and nothing was the same, all new
Your story has so many parts and pieces broken, mended and redeemed.
Strong and brave and beautiful you
I prayed for her, for me, for you for the forming of our family
I see you. My heart sees all that came before I held you.
I acknowledge and honor your life before me. I respect your story, more lived than in just one lifetime
No one has fought harder than the orphan
You became my daughter and I your mother. He has entrusted to me you, tender vivacious beautiful girl
I love you with every piece of me.

"Mama, Don't be Mad at Me!"

Last night at midnight this post started to form in my head. I need some type of dictation app so I don't loose my prose mojo.
So let us see what I can remember that slipped of my tounges mind so easily last night.

"Mama don't be mad at me" is just one of the statements of proclamation that come from my daughters lips lately. And at Target last night I got ambushed by all the many with of course, an audience. I will get to that in just a moment. But first, it seems that anytime my husband and I attempt address, hold accountable, teach or correct a behavior with our daughter we are greeted with "Don't me mad at me" along with crossed arms and a pouty lip so big that you could set the kitchen sink on it. I tend to get this response more often than my hubby. I am guessing this is typical? I am hoping for a resounding YES in the heads of my mother readers.

But recently these declarations have been increasing...exponentially. The other day while multi-tasking and saying no to a request for candy I heard from her "You will never be my friend." WHAT? She did not say it with a mean tone it was almost a casual sing-song. Yep my feelings were hurt. I paused for a moment and in my head thought..."That was not nice" and "Well I am her parent and not really her friend." I paused again for another moment. I asked her to repeat to me what she had just said and (my daughter does go to speech therapy and I wanted to ensure I heard it right) my request was done calmly without defensiveness....well maybe. She looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. I said to her, "Well I am not sure if that was the nicest thing to say but yes I am your mama first and I hope someday we will be friend." Some of you might be thinking uh, she is three Carrie. I know, I know. I tackled it in the moment the best way I thought I could.

Now this bring me to our Target outing. There are other proclamations but I can't list them all without going on and on but this is what happened.
We had just gone to the restroom and it was getting close to dinner so I gave in to a treat from Starbucks located inside the store. She b-lined it to the counter and as I truly think about it, she was unaware she had cut in line. I got down to her level and said "Honey, we do not cut in line. We need to wait our turn."
The unraveling began. In a string of stings she began "No, mama you hurt my feelings, Don't be made at me, You not listen" along with stomping over to a table and sitting down. And it did not end there. As I approcahed her and tried to hold her accountable yet state, "Yes I AM listening, tell Mama but you need to calm down and behave like the big girl I know you are." Faster than the speed of light out came her pointer finger and the words..."Don't you ever make me sad again".

WHAT? You can imagine what ensued. I was telling her to talk to mama kindly, more pouting on her part and so on. All of this going on while of course to older ladies staring in disapproval and one of the presumed husbands just laughing outloud. After I said "We will sit here until you are ready to try again and ask with kindess and listen to Mama." The standoff began an about 10 minutes went by and she caved. During this time I said I loved her and I need her to listen. She finally asked in her chipmunk voice..."Mama please may I have my treat?" She asked for the money, gave it to the cashier and thank her for the treat.

She is definately three going on thirteen. While some of her behaviors I'd like to work with I am also so proud of her speaking her voice and defending her personhood and feelings. But as a mom, how do I navigate this? I want to do what it is right.

I think to myself...

I am not your friend, I am your mom. I hope someday when you are an adult we will be friends.
I always want you to tell me when your feelings are hurt and when you don't feel understood.
I want you to respect your family, other people and yourself with your words and actions.

But you are just three. I pray I will learn how to teach you, guide you and support to the best of my ability as you become who you are meant to be, and not be completely grey for it.

A Little Girl in Beijing

I texted this post in the middle of the night when I could not sleep. I have debated if I should post this. But here I go.

Brand new to the world. A helpless miracle. Given a death sentence. Today I read about a little baby girl. Newly born left face down in a floor toilet pipe in Beijing China. I cried when I saw her picture. And I cried harder when I saw the floor toilet. I had forgotten what they looked liked. I tried to sit at my desk and not crawl right out of my skin. My heart horrified yet grateful she was rescued. I try not to judge the woman who put her there. Women who live there face what I would never have to. Maybe someone else forced her or it was another person. Perhaps she was unmarried. I know this is a culture that puts women in situations they should never have to even comprehend. I wish she could have been placed outside a hospital or even a restaurant...somewhere she could be found? I wish this women never felt she had to do this.
I turn my thoughts back to this baby girl. To be disposed of in such a way based on gender...on how that society devalues girls. My heart again hurts. I don't know what to do with this. God as your child, tell me what to do...help me act. Bring forth a path, perhaps a calling. I don't want this to be a moment of discomfort that passes. Let it lead to something. I crawl into my daughters bed. Born in China. Born with cleft lip and palate. I think of that little newborn girl again. I know she exists in a society with the odds stacked against her. But I pray, I hope. Let her live, thrive and find a family. Let her dance. Let her laugh. Let her smile. Let her hold hear head high. Let her LIVE. Let her fully embrace she is fearfully and wonderfully made. Let her live.

Where I Once Was...

Where I Once Was...


It has been AGES since I have published a post. I must confess that I have written and begun to write many posts but either did not finish my thoughts or was afraid to vulnerable. But what is what life without sharing your thoughts and being vulnerable to an extent?

Not to long ago I had two separate encounters just hours apart. Below, I will finish what I began and share my thoughts of these two interactions that in my heart I cannot accept as simply coincidental...


Today I ran into two women. Women like me. We have a shared experience one in past and for them the present;existing in the same space, the long season where I was only three years ago. I have promised myself I will not forget that long, long season. It is part of my story. I have not yet made complete peace with all of it but I know I will in time. But I WILL remember. It was painful but I am who I am because of it. I hope with a little more perceptive, a more openess and awareness in my perceptions, more kinder more tender.

These kind wonderful women, living life, giving of themselves, working hard but having a part of themselves lost. A part of themselves in pain, lonely in their sadness of what had not come to be as they had hoped for... and desperately trying not to be. Trying to live out their lives and find joy though deep within an ache in their hearts waiting for something they desired...a child. I remember that both womean were staring at several forks in the road. Do I go down the road of adoption, infertility treatments, or beginning picturing their life as a family of two: Husband and wife? And yes, you are a family if is just husband and wife (and maybe a puppy too).Please don't let any ones rhetoric or logical and limiting definitions tell you different.

As I wrote these words several songs come to mind. Not surprising. Ever heard lyrics to a song that just matched your heart?

There were so many things I wanted to say. But I tried mostly to listen. People often gave me advice with good intention and full of suggestion but I remember that mostly I just wanted them to listen not simplify, normalize or pass over.
I wanted in those moments to acknowledge them and their story. And to say, if the moment was right, that they are not alone as a woman who holds on to hope and sometimes can't, that their purpose will be fully realized not beholden to any circumstance.

I used to cringe when people said it will be alright. How did they know? I find myself saying it to my daughter a lot. But I beginning to realize what it really means, what it should mean. It is going to be alright doesn't mean I can fix it but my maker will make things All Right. Right the wrong. Bring beauty from the ashes. Work all things for our good and not let the brokenness be US. Redemption. Restoration. New beginnings.

ALL RIGHT

Sara Groves
I can tell by your eyes that you're not getting any sleep
And you try to rise above it but feel you're sinking in too deep
Ohh, ohh, I believe, I believe that...

It's going to be alright, it's going to be alright
I believe, you'll outlive this pain in your heart
And you'll gain such a strength from what is tearing you apart
Ohh ohh, I believe, I believe that...

It's going to be alright, it's going to be alright
When some time has past us and the story can be told
It will mirror the strength and the courage of your soul
Ohh, ohh, I believe, I believe

I believe
I believe

And I did not come here to offer you clichés
And I will not pretend to know of all your pain
Just when you cannot then I will hold out faith for you

It's going to be alright
It's going to be alright

[Incomprehensible] All Right
It's going to be alright

I believe, I believe
I believe, I believe, I believe

I believe, I believe
I believe, I believe, I believe

I believe, you're gonna be alright
I believe that I'm gonna be alright
I believe that we're gonna be alright
I believe

I can tell by your eyes that you're not getting any sleep
And I know how you've tried but you're sinking in too deep
I believe, I believe, I believe
I believe

A Repost: "The Past is Not in the Past" from No Hands But Ours/A reflection of adoption

I have been trying to find the words this woman so eloquently and raw wrote to explain the story of children adopted and how they previous life is still a part of the present life. ALWAYS. If you have firends, family or aquantices touched by the beauty and messy of adoption PLEASE READ. This is so insightful.

An excerpt:

I think people see the happy, well-adjusted, beautiful child we have and assume she has left that painful part of her life behind her. I think people assume our hard days are behind us. Friends say things to me all the time like, “She’s not even the same child she was in China”, and “It’s like she doesn’t even remember her old life”, and “she’s just like any other kid now”. And in many ways, they are right. She has changed so much, and she is mostly happy and moving forward with her life and she is, in so many ways, like a typical 3 year old.

But in other ways, the they are wrong. She is the same child that she was in China. And she’s not just like any other kid. And she certainly remembers.

We see the scars of her past show up in our lives in subtle and not so subtle ways.

Another excerpt:

There are times when I can tell people think I am coddling her too much. And maybe I am. But I just don’t think it would be fair to try and parent her exactly the same as my other kids. She just didn’t have the same start in life as them. My sister had three premature babies. I remember she fed them different formula, adjusted their age for certain things, and cared for them differently than I cared for my full-term babies. They had a different start to their life and so they needed different things. So do kids from hard places. They sometimes need different things, different strategies. You just can’t expect them to fall in line with your family and do things the same way your other kids did. You can’t expect them to leave their past in the past. It is in their hearts. You have to make adjustments for them, for all they missed.



You have to allow them room to grieve.

And make no mistake, they all grieve. How could they not?




To read the full blog post both eloquent and raw please go to: http://www.nohandsbutours.com/2014/11/04/day-4-past-past/

One is Wonderful

Just one? A common response I get to the question I get asked when people want to know how may kiddos I have.
Most of the time it is simply a matter of numbers and nothing more.
What is tough is when I get the tone...something is wrong with that.


Some responses I have run into...

Don't you like children? That one I find rude and presumptious. Even if I didn't, why do you feel comfortable asking that? And I also If was someone who did not want to have kids does not mean I don't like them. Geez. Or actually maybe I am someone who doesn't. It is all okay.
Don't you worry about her being lonely? (Of course I do. Thanks for pointing out the obvious)
Why did you wait so long? It wasn't my choice. And for some people (a lot of peopple) you don't meet your significant other till after 30 or 35 or 40. Some people can't grasp that. I met my husband fairly young. But that sometimes has nothing to do with it. I could share my story that we tried to adopt for almost 7 years...oh wait do I need to share my personal life with you?

We all get awkward questions that whether intentional or not, thoughtless or not, they wound us. Deeply. Why aren't you married? Why don't you have a job? Why do you only have one child? Why do you have so many? Insert raspberry sound here...

Those who are not in your shoes are always ready to offer the old advice "Don't worry about, they did not mean anything." And sometimes BUT not always, they didn't or didn't think about what they were saying. However, it doesn't mean the knife wasn't sharp anyway. I still got cut. It is important not to care about the thoughts of others is some instances, but we are human. And protecting ourselves, intrepeting it correctly and framing it right is not always easy.

But before this blog gets to heavy or downtrodden I want to to frame the number "one." Because one is be wonderful.

For instance...

1. (Ha Ha, what a pun)
2. When you finally meet the one you have been hoping for (if in fact that is your path)and you ask/get asked that one wonderful question
3. That one moment when something becomes crystal clear
4. Having even just that one friend you can share the darkest parts of your heart and know they will still love you tomorrow.
5. Finding that one perfect word to describe a feeling or descriptor for a a sentence or idea you trying to convey in the blog post you are writing.
6. When you figure out one thing that could make someones day a little brighter
7. When you find that one correct answer to a math problem. Although that is why I hate math. Only one answer. Ooops.
7. When the doctor says you only have one more chemo or radiation treatment and you are responding well.
8. When you take the first step that one step that moves you forward when you have been standing still so long.
9. That winter is only one season of the four seasons in MN (Sorry Skiiers).
10.That after moving to a new program we got matched with our daughter in about one year (YEAH) after waiting six years.
11. One hug can heal
12. When you have the chance to focus on one thing at a time. (Wait, when does that happen)?
13. When you find the one shade of grey that will be perfect on your bedroom walls!
14. When you find that one moment when time stands still.
15. That there is only one you. That is pretty amazing (Okay random person out there give up your clone dream).
16. That there is one sun. Two, way too hot! Whew!

Now of couse all numbers have their pros and cons. I respect all numeric symbols and the roles the play. Like, Carrie here is six free latte's. Or no, you only get one more latte ever! That one, might be the one time I actually physically hurt someone.

And when I speak of having one kid know that I love big families too. I always dreamed about big families when I was a kid. Way cool. So are small families. So are all families. Whether your family is a group of friends. You and your partner in crime. You and your entire school bus. You rock.

But this one door is the one God opened for me at this time. This is the one X marks the spot, the place I am to stand chin up.

This is one beautiful little person He has entrusted to our care. Myla was the one for us and we were the ones (I know two) for her.

This one gift is glorious, is precious and is just what we needed.

Myla's Mama Bear

Sometimes I forget what my family looks like. Okay maybe that sounded dumb. I hope you can see what I mean. Or maybe that is just I am used to my family. A short brunette, a tall blond, a sweet and saucy little girl all of us with heritage that includes that of Bohemian, French, German, Swedish and Chinese.

But there have been times as I am living daily life that I run into people that see us and stop. And sometimes stare.

Like the little Hmong girl at the farmers market. She stared at me, then Myla, then me, then Myla. You're white. She is Asian. You're white. She is Asian. I get that she is trying to figure it out and I smile at her.

When I am at a busy playground and meet someone new and they look for which kid is mine. Suprise!

I completely get curiosity. I understand someone trying to figure it out. I am a person who likes to figure things out myself.

But when you get that "could this be negative/is this hurtful/uncomfortable to my daughter" feeling. Mama bear is at a stance.

Here is a time when that was the case...

We were up at a playground up north (That is what we Minnesotans say when we go even further up north in this state, maybe we should say north, north or heading to bear country)staying at a lake resort and my little one is playing with a gaggle of little girls ranging ages 5-9 (Myla is 2 and a half). They are all giggling, having a great time which is fun to see, and happen to be all blond. Now, anytime Myla sees girls a bit older, as gets comfortable she moves into a state of being enamored. Thrilled to watch and be near them. My little girl is so curious and open.



Myla had been coming to the playground with us for days now. And I had noticed this one little girl over these few days would stare at Myla. A lot. A lot. She was also definitely the leader of the pack. They interacted a little Myla. Age was a factor of course.

But one day this young girl walked up to me and said "What is wrong with her nose?" At first I thought “Oh, no she has massive boogers crusted on or did she scrap or hurt it?”
Then I answer outloud, "Oh she must have something on it." The little girl says "No, I mean why it is so flat?" Her face had a slightly disapproving scrunch to it. I thought of a million ways to answer in about 3 seconds to choose. Internally my responses varying depending on which emotional thoughts welled up and I let take over... “Oh she is just curious.” to “There isn't anything wrong with her nose what's wrong with yours?” The first sounding calm the latter a bit upset. Okay very upset.

I carefully chose... "Well actually that is just the shape of her nose. Nothing wrong."
I thought leaving it simple was best. Now about 5 seconds after, I thought about "She is Chinese...God made her that way..."
Maybe I could have been more complete. But I don't know.

Now, the question that was posed to me could have come from many places. Hopefully, a place of curiosity. And the thing is I could handle it. Although I did get a little upset inside. No one wants their child to be judged. At this age Myla I am not sure fully understands or the many ways to interpret it. Thank goodness.
But this good practice. How will I handle it when Myla does understand possible implied meanings? How will I help her respond in a way she honors herself, and her own comfort level? There will be many questions about many things I am sure to expect this.


Sometimes I forget that people do not work, live or operate in places with people who look different then themselves. Being in education and particular institutions I have worked at, I have been blessed to be around diversity.

It is a balance. Respecting curiosity, educating, hoping for good intentions, being prepared for intentions that are not. And how do I best prepare myself, my family, my daughter? A lot to ponder, pray and learn.


Please don't simply think wow, that mom she is too sensitive. Or, I am sure she mean nothing and stop at that. You could be right. But please understand I am just being a mom. I want my daughter to feel good about who she is. She shouldn't feel any other way. She is wonderful. Perfectly imperfect just like everyone else. I am just sharing the waters I am just beginning to tread as a mom that has a daughter who does not look like herself. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Our Family looks like exactly how it is supposed to. God designed it.

Oh, Sweet Summer...Goodbye Wicked Winter

Grass is green? Check. Temperature has reached above 60? Check. Humidity? Oh yeah and yuk. Crab Apples bloomed? Check.
Ahhhh. Thank you summer for finally arriving.

This declaration of gratitude comes for many reasons. A long winter. Lots of snow shoveling. And mostly because of the germ friends we made and wish we hadn't. Let me see if I can get this out in one breath or typing frenzy:
Sinus infections, Pnuemonia, Pnuemonia (Yep, that was twice on purpose) mutant respitory infections (A few were scary), sore throats, mutiple fevers, vomiting and drum roll please MONO! And we are only a family of three. You could say we perservered, built up our immunity learned the beautiful art of sharing. But really glass half full? Not applicable. Just glad we survived.

Who had mono? Ah,that would be me. My nickname became miss mono mama. Getting mono as an adult is no joke. There are no words... tonsils the size of golf balls. Searing throat pain,no sleep (nope I just was tired...pain did not let me sleep) and completely becoming a waste of space. Oh and the jokes. Those were awesome. Isn't that the kissing disease...snicker, snicker. Hee hee, ehemm. I think I would pay someone a hundred bucks to not hear that one e-v-e-r a-g-a-i-n. Just to be clear and defend my honor most people exposed to the EB virus don't get mono or are asymptamatic. It is just us run down, step throat individuals who can catch it; even by sipping on the same can of diet coke. I was told less than 3% of adults have a chance of getting it. Boy did I feel special to fall into those odds like a large heavy boulder. So s-p-e-c-i-a-l. That's me. Those of you who know me... it is safe to be around me now. :)

After all this whinning and sarcasm I hope you are not completely annoyed. I certainly learned a few things or had them come fuller to light.
Though our bodies are amazing things, we need to be kind to them. I needed to be kinder to mine. Yes, go to bed at 8:30 once and awhile. Lame but so effective. Drink a heck of lot of water all the time. While sick, I read about how this one thing prevents so much and helps your body heal. I read about re-wiring my diet. My husband has always been a healthy eater. I make sure Myla consumes healthy nutritonally dense foods. I need to do so too. Having just coffee and waiting till 2:00 in the afternoon to eat is just plain dumb. I have been a dumby.

Being healthy is a beautiful thing. After a season of so much sickness and watching my daughter struggle because of her anatomy (she was born with cleft lip/palate and has serious sinus issues) I am more detemined to feed her what she needs to fight off germs and have a strong immune system.
I need to become a good example of healthy eating for her, for me. And having the good health to enjoy the moments and minutes and years to come with my husband and beautiful daughter. And if recreating how I eat and take of myself gives me that? How can I not try? It would be a shame if I didn't. Wish me luck. Cause I have bad habits. And I am stubborn. :)

Wishing you warm summer days and healthy ones at that.

Two Firsts and A Second....Part One

Again, I have let too much time pass between blogs! I promise to be better...really.
Oh and Happy Chinese New Year!

Perhaps the title should be three firsts and a second.
So what do I mean by this silly cryptic title?

We celebrated our first Christmas as a family, our first birthday with Myla which she turned two!
I cannot believe how fast she is growing and changing as a person.

It was tricky trying to find a way to have her expereince Christmas and the true meaning inspite of the present palooza and celebrating her birth as well.

We spent Christmas eve at my in-laws with cousins and she had a blast. She got the hang of opening those shiny packages but got bored with it eventually yet enjoyed mostly watching everyone else and playing with her cousins.
Christmas Day began with her birthday celebration with just the three of us. We taped streamers outside her door and I made a pennant hung outside her room. She seemed excited but did not know what for (the streamers stayed for weeks)

We had a birthday breakfast complete with waffles and straweberries. We then moved onto gift opening. We pruchased for her a toy kitchen from IKEA and then placed other presents on top to disguise it a bit. She promptly moved the presents out her way without opening any so she could get to that kitchen! We are hoping to have a little chef on our hands being the foodies we are. Perhaps it is too soon to dream of crepes and french toast? Eh?

Later that day we headed to my side of the family and Myla enjoyed her new shopping cart courtesy of Grandma and Grandpa P. My mom thoughtfully bought a doll remsembling what she called mini Myla but everytime we tried to put her in the shopping cart she promptly removed her and put her stuffed animal puppy in instead. Got to love that girl. Puppies are awesome.

A special first Chritmas.

The more I think maybe the title should be two firsts and second celebrating two times. No, too confusing.
We celebrated with family (her birthday) once at Cheeky Monkey... a tasty breakfast place (bistro by night...their words)for eggs, pancakes and later another celebration with the cousins. Jared and I got a bit carried away making fruit spring rolls and potstickers from scratch but the tastiness expereince was well worth it. We made smoothies for dessert (Myla's fav)and Grandma Mickie delievered on another favorite: Egg Foo Young!

Much to celebrate and thankful for those we have in our lives to celebrate with.

But I am also glad before the craziness ensued I had time for reflection. But it is not as if I made time, it came over me like a tidal wave off and on for days.

I thought about our first Christmas without our sweet puppy Spunkers and all the Christmas celebrations we had with her. Bittersweet.
I thought a lot about Myla's birth mother and the women who cared for her the first thirteen months of her life.
The tears were plenty. How I wished for even a moment I could speak to them and say thank you. Thank you for giving her life, thank for caring for her. That she is a gift to us and is doing well...thriving with her curious and tenacious sprirt.

So much has hapened this last year. How can I put it all into words? Well that is part two of this post. But don't be suprised if there is a post of another color in between. I have alot on my mind these days. Ever seen Best Exotic Marigold Hotel? Foreshadowing of next post or post to come perhaps...

Until then, Take Care. Hug someone you think needs it. Live big. Eat chocolate.

Carrie

Snow, Snow, Snow...

Snow, Snow, Snow...

Snow...It won't be long before we'll all be there with snow
Snow...I want to wash my hands, my face and hair with snow

I would like to replace those three words with Bugger, bugger, bugger. I have been watching to much of BBC shows. Can you tell?
Hopefully in my arrogrance I have not typed extrememly profane words on my blog forever archived by the library of congress.

But I thought it appropriate in this moment to quote that lovely song from White Christmas.
Can you beleive I made it through most of my life without seeing it? Well until my husband changed that. He was horrfied when I told him this once upon a time.
It is not that I despise winter, well by February I kind of do. It is more about getting around and shoveling. But I suppose I should be thankful for the car I have in which to get around and the health to shovel. It is pretty to see the streets after a new snowfall with that sparkle. I love visitng my friends home this time of year... I call it the Chritmas house (That is a nod to your decorating prowess S and G) And yes I do love Christmas lights and decorations; oh and snuggling in with a warm blanket. Let's not forget I do love wearing mittens. I don't know exactly why but I do....

Okay. Eh hm. And that five minutes have now passed.

Is it too early to dream of spring: peonies, thunderstorms, and birds chirping?

One Year Ago This Month

I recently realized with alarm that it had been several months since my last post. I made a promise to myself that if I were to start this thing called blogging I would be consistent. But alas I come to terms with the fact I almost never doing anything consistently besides of course drink coffee. Did I mention I drink lots of coffee?

There have been several times in which I wanted to let my thoughts tumble down into the clicks of the keyboard but when I would return to my blog, I would see the last post. A difficult time when we had to say goodbye to our puppy and I then would get lost in missing her and reminiscing.

But this time I decided especially because it is November, I will put my thoughts together and type an entry of significant importance to me.

One year ago this month we call November, my life changed.

I saw the first pictures of my daughter.

Her sweet face, smile and those mischievous clever eyes.
One year ago this month my husband and I became parents. Now, it was actually several months later that we brought her home but in our hearts, we committed to becoming her parents.

And it was a whirlwind month. I remember my husband having to travel to Chicago for work and wishing he was physically beside me as he and I began to get our heads wrapped around what was unfolding before us. Because of course, I went into typical Carrie mode attempting to figure out, plan and do everything that I thought needed to be done...all at once. And of course accomplishing nothing. Which led to my panic attack in the middle of Barnes and Noble. I remember that moment thinking...Gee my head is spinning, that loud rapid breathing is mine, oh crap I need to sit down before I fall over and pass out, take out a bookshelf or that person next to me just trying to pick out a pick unbeknowest that the chick next to them was about to unravel.

But you see, even though we waited almost seven years for this moment (seven years of up and down, hopeful and feeling hopeless) I still felt and asked myself, am I ready?

Will I be a good mom? Jared I had no doubt we be a great dad.
But what if I couldn't be the mom she needed? What if I did not have the answers or tools needed to be good parent?

Here is the thing I came to realize...are any of us really prepared for motherhood? Do any of us have it all figured out before we hold our child for the first time? I am guessing no. And I had so many questions regarding the loss she was about to experience. The loss of saying good bye to the women who had cared for her during her first year of life.
How would I help her grieve, then get used to us, to feel safe again, to feel loved when everything, I mean everything in her life was about to change. The faces of her caregivers she saw every day. Her friends in the orphanage she slept, smiled at cried with and played alongside of. The food she ate. The scenery she saw day in and out. The voices she became accustomed to and the language they spoke. And the surgeries she would be facing. How would I be able to do all this?

I couldn't really. All I could really do was love her. But I know realize that was the best thing I could do. Through each stage of getting to know us, eventually trusting us, feeling safe with us and now loving us. She has no choice but to take it a day at a time. Why should I not approach this the same way? And trust God would be there too in the thick of it with us?


I do not need to be Super-woman or Super-Mom. I need to be reminded of this daily. Because we put this burden on ourselves. Why? I am not exactly sure. These are the kinds of lessons I am learning. I will make mistakes as a mom.
All the time. I need to humble enough to ask for help. Ask God for his guidance for he will not leave me. It is okay to cry when I do fail. But try again.

Myla most of all needs us to LOVE her. And what a privilege that is. Everyday little by little I am learning what that means.

November, you will always have a place in heart.

Missing You, Sweet Spunky

We said goodbye to our sweet, sweet girl Spunky dog yesterday. I knew it would be hard. I knew it would be painful. But nothing can prepare you for the moment when you decide it is time. A heavy responsibility and so surreal the moment when they are gone.
Our hearts just in this moment want one more kiss, one more time to rub her ears her belly and one more time to snuggle, to throw her ball and watch her run. In her younger years boy, that dog could run and fast. But we are beginning to realize it will never be enough. To say I/we miss her is an understatement. A part of me is missing. A part of Jared is missing. We put so much of ourselves into her. The abscence of her presence is overwhelming.

But I look forward to the time when thinking of all the sweet moments, minutues and memories of her will bring comfort to us even joy for the 11 truly wonderful years we had with such a special being.

Some may scoff at this but I believe she is in heaven where tennis balls, swimming pools and lakes out number the stars. The attributes and traits of dogs are pure and good and unconditional. Through them we experience what is true and good.

Wise, sweet, curious, feisty, loyal, sensitive, joyful, playful and of course Spunky.

Jared and I will miss her and it will be hard. But we are so grateful for the gift of her.

Behind Our Eyes: Part one

When I began writing this blog my main motivation was to document our adoption journey; before we brought our daughter home and all the days, months and years after. It is also because I am in love with words, I am love with the magic of writing. Of language. Ink or should I say text on a page is enlightening, fascinating and when writing... a type of catharsis. I feel more connected to humanity and the human experience. Hoping that doesn't sound arrogant or full or fluff.
More than just words, I love stories. Words allow us stories. I enjoy learning about people and listening to their stories. I like to learn what is behind their eyes. And we all have stories, don’t we? This is not to say I have an innate right or a license to be nosey and know these stories. Unless, it is through the trust of friendship or someone else who needs to speak their heart, connect or simply to speak on a blog such as mine. It is important that we wait for permission to know their stories. It is important that we own our stories and share them when the time is right with the right people.
And I am thankful for the many in my life who do. Friends and those who are open to speaking thier stories on a blog.

Now, as a mother I find myself craving stories (amongst so many others) that give me a gleam into an adoptees heart. Like with many things in life we lose something to gain something.
Some of my questions include: Do they feel lost? What did/do they most struggle with? What can a parent do to help?
Many adoptees do share stories of identity loss and confusion. Many adoptees firmly state that they know who they are. Which one will Myla be?

And that is why I read. Soak in the words. Truly and sincerely try to empathize as much as I can so that I can understand (as much as anyone can who has not themselves experienced it).

So below are the words weighing on my heart if and when (when is more likely) my daughter might doubt herself.

I love you. Your dad loves you.
You have our love always, no matter what.
If we fail to love you well, know that doesn’t change that we love you with our whole being.
We are the lucky ones.
You are fearfully and wonderfully made.
Please don’t be afraid to ask questions even if they hurt to ask.
If you find yourself in a dark place do not sit in silence. Do not stay in the dark. Let me sit there with you. Ask for help to turn on the light and help you speak the words.

You are beautiful.
You are brave.
Seek the truth.
God is with you.
Within in you are limitless possibilities.

And if anyone tells you different send them my way.

You are our beloved daughter.
And a million other thoughts I can't think of at this moment.

And while this next statment may sound contradictory, the words above don't quite cut it however they are pretty darn close to reavealing the condition of my heart so I will take it and speak and write the words anyway.

Oh Spunky, Our Time Is Too Short...

When I took two weeks off to care for my little girl Myla post surgery I did not realize I would begin spending the last days with my other girl, my sweet gorilla girl, my four legged sweetheart Miss Spunkers.

Let me start out by saying, I love her with my whole heart. Four legs, black silky fur, smart as a whip and the most amazing being. She is Jareds gal Friday and they have always been two peas in a pod. There is not a thing he would not do for her.

Now I know, they cannot live forever on this earth, no on can. But how do you prepare yourself to say goodbye to a piece of yourself?

Spunky started to show signs of aging for quite some time now. Her body has grown weaker but her spirit bright.
We started to notice something was really wrong right before our daughters palate repair surgery. We went to the vet and so began the first round of meds and the detective work to find out what was wrong. At first we though a parasite and thought okay, we can get her healthy again. But it was not to be. She started to lose her zest for eating all things tasty and needs coaxing just to eat. She wants to but she doesn't like her tummy to hurt. Every time the fridge opens click, click, click here comes Spunkers. Rotisserie chicken is her main stay (yes, our doggie has a refined palate and I will gladly give her what she wants).

At one point Jared would be feeding our daughter Myla by spoon, praising her after each bite for she did not appreciate the liquids only (doctors orders as her mouth heals) and I would simultaneously be hand feeding Spunky chicken praising her after each bite for simply eating.

There has been a lot of tears at our house.

It was during our last visit to the vet I started to let it sink in. And spoke the words, please help us during her last days so we know what to do. He nodded in understanding and I sobbed into Spunky's neck of thick black silky fur.
He gave us pain meds and something for her tummy to ease the discomfort. He did not believe she is in great pain but as we muddle through this, we want to be prepared.

Of course I asked him how will he know and he tenderly offered advice. At this point just prayers that we will know. We do not wish her to suffer (she is getting weak and losing weight).

But what a great weight it is to carry knowing that you have to be the one to decide.
But it is our job. She needs us to make it for her.

And so hear we are. Taking one day at a time. Soaking her in.
Spunky seems to save her energy for a few hours a day so we try and make sure she can do her favorite things...to play ball or swim; oh does she love to swim but then becomes so weak. We massage her body. Cover her in kisses. Tell her we are doing our best for her, thanking her for all the years, moments and minutes she was there for us. Myla loves Spunky too. Follows her. Always trying to give her a tennis ball, a treat, a pet or sit by her. This is so bittersweet.

For some who have never had a dog or pet...this may sound odd. But she took care of us.
Through our journey to have a family, job loss, sickness, struggles and triumphs.

How many people do you know that can comfort without saying a single word?
I believe dogs are gifts. They are mirrors of what love should look like. God created them and they are living breathing examples of patience (well unless a tennis ball is involved) loyalty, kindness, unconditional love.
They celebrate when we simply walk in the door.
They kiss our tears and try to lick them away.
They snuggle as if to say I am here, you are never alone.
They try to get us to enjoy the simple things.
They are grateful for their food and water (well unless table scraps are involved then they may raise the bar).
They forgive us when we are busy and are thankful and exzubratly so when we give them 10 minutes of our time.
They never hold grudges. Hmmm, sounds like someone I know who lives in the great upstairs...

And so who would have thought...my dog taught me how to be a better person.

Oh Spunky girl. These days will be tough but I am thankful to have them with you.

Thank You Ladies

I would like to take a moment to share a few things. I want to take a moment in which I can give words to the immense gratitude for the women in my life. I am not going to list names for I will inevitabley miss someone and I would not want anyone to think I have forgotten them or how they changed me.
This post will be about the gifts they have given me, how they have changed me for the better, every single one.

For making me laugh when I forgotten what it was like to really laugh. Tears streaming down your face, stomach hurts laugh.
I thank you.

For forgiving me when I did not deserve it
I thank you.

For extending grace when I made mistakes and say things out of fear or anger
I thank you.

For coming along side me in suffering and NOT pointing out the silver lining
I thank you.

For simply yet perfectly saying the right words to me during an unending winter...I am sorry to see you suffering, I am here for you
I thank you.

For listening to me even when I become extremely verbose
I thank you.

For listening to my worries over and over again and not growing tired of me or least pretending not to
I thank you.

For joining in on my sometimes ridicoulsy, sarcastic and inappropriate sense of humor
I thank you.

For not judging me when I share the ugliest parts of my heart
I thank you.

For encouraging me to pray and when I fail to, praying for me
I thank you.

For reminding me how my Father sees me and when I forget reminding me again
I thank you.

For encouraging me to join in and actively pursue this beautiful and maddening thing called life
I thank you.

For reminding me spring is coming when I have been chilled to bone
I thank you.

For reminding me to look beyond my own pain and comfort others
I thank you.

For helping me take some of my biggest life altering leaps
I thank you.

For being my friend
For just being marvelous you
No one has come before you or will after you who is just like you
God did that on purpose
And I am thankful for you.

The Last 48: Recap Style

My little girl is a brave cookie. I am sure that most parents believe this of our children. But again and again Myla amazes me. I also believe that if Myla had a super power it would be stubbornness. After morphine, benadryll, Tylenol with codeine she would not sleep for more than 10-30 minutes at a time..wait we did have an hour and a half where she surrendered and let her tired and wounded body rest. The poor nurse was baffled and in effort to add humor to the situation she told us " Good luck with her as a teenager. " The following day they eventually gave something to calm her anxiety and nerves and expected she would be mellow and sleepy in no time. Well...Miss Myla become more happy and energetic. She was walking up a storm.

Earlier that morning Myla wanted out of her hospital crib. It was 5:00 a.m. A few nurses offered to play with her while I laid down. I guiltily said okay and slept for about 30 minutes. Apparently during that time she made several friends. Greeting people at the desk. Playing and eventually falling asleep in a nurses arms. Of course they tried bringing her back into the room and her crib but after 10 minutes she wanted up again.

When dad came in (Jared had to care for our dog Spunky who has been ill, sigh) she was so excited. The combination of super dad and the medicine helped her back to more of her old self. We continued to take her on walks and rides in the wagon all the while greeting people as we went.

Eventually we were discharged and headed home. Myla feel asleep almost immediately in the car seat. We quickly zipped on over to grab some tasty Bahn Mi sandwiches to eat on the way home.

Once again I am humbled by the blessing of healthcare, the amazing staff at Gilettes and the prayers of family and friends. We are so thankful. Now the road to recovery, let's hope it starts with a good nights sleep.

Myla's Palate Surgery: part two

This is definitely the harder of her last two surgeries. But first of all, everything went well. Her hearing is good!
The surgeon was pleased with how her palate repair went as well.

Now we have been in her room for four hours. Effects of anesthesia and pain have made it hard for her to relax and sleep. She gets a couple minutes of sleep/whimpering then will cry and flail for awhile. This is the cycle we are in right now. The nurses have shared with us that most kids are groggy and sleep....no Myla. It is hard to help her through this but I know it is even harder on her.

She did drink a few ounces of her bottle which is good news. However is refusing more. She may need a new IV. Her old one got a clot in it so they wanted us to see if the bottle route would work well enough.

Myla's Palate Surgery: part one

Myla just was taken back to the OR to begin her palate surgery. She will also be undergoing a hearing test today.
She had a good time in the play area and was having a blast in pre-surgery, especially when one of the family care staff was blowing bubbles at her. Myla was chasing them and smiling her sweet smile. And then came...the tears. In her exuberant delight while trying to get out a toy car she took a spill. Bloody lip/nose and lots of tears. We felt horrible. Of all the times for this to happen. We were able to calm her down all the while three nurses and the anesthesiologist came in to examine it. We felt like we had quite the audience for a bad parenting moment. Sigh.
Poor Miss Myla. It did not help that I shouted Jared's name as it happened in alarm for everyone to hear. Sorry honey.

Below is a quick summary of how a palate repair works. The information is taken from a blog of another mom who has two kids go through this surgery before...
"In non-technical terms, to fix a cleft palate the surgeon takes/detaches the muscle and tissue from around the cleft and attaches it over the cleft.  There are arteries running in this area, allowing the newly placed tissue to thrive and grow.  Once the materials are moved, there looks almost like channels in the area the tissue was taken from.  Amazingly, this tissue grows back."

Stay tuned for more updates...hopefully I will be able to post again this afternoon.




I'm not sure how I feel about this

Making Peace and Giving Grace

This is a deep thought moment that has been stirring in my brain for so long and it applies to so many moments in my life. I am almost afraid of writing these words for the what will follow are realizations of loss and regrets and of my short comings and my need to grow as a human being. Also, a nervousness of things that may be realized once pen has met paper or keystrokes and a keyboard bring it to a black on white certainty.

Gulp, Here goes nothing!

When we grieve and struggle often our ugliest stuff comes to light. Who we think we were has been tested and revealed. We hopefully land somewhere between a path to a better version of ourselves but also the hard work of needing to deal with the messes within. And to take it all the way and make peace with each and every part (which I know will take a lifetime).

My road to motherhood was not an easy one. I am not alone in this. When I write these words I am not asking for pity but perhaps a bit of grace and understanding for the words I am wiritng.
Many, many people have climbed more mountains than they ever thought they would have to. There were times I thought... this is my mountain and I will climb it with perseverance and determination. Then I would make it to the top only to discover there were many more taller, rocker mountains waiting. And at times I would just weep at the bottom looking up and feeling defeated. My feelings would range from anger to frustration to emptiness. And many times I would dust off and begin again but not with Him alongside me. And the growth would not happen. I would be stuck. But then I would open the window and the growing pains could begin.

Please don't mistake these next words...
Being a spouse, a daughter, a mother, a sister, a friend, does not define who we are. The culmination of these things shape us but none alone give us worth or purpose. I do not believe I need a spouse, a white picket fence, 2.2 children and a dog to be whole. But we are told this from society early on. Now with saying this I am not DE validating the desire for any of these things or denying how much I love being married to my best friend or that little Miss Myla came in our lives. But what is dangerous is when to do believe our worth is being this or that. But let me tell you, I have been that person and it levels you and shakes you.

A wise pastor once said " I think God is most concerned with not necessarily what job we hold, or where we live, or if single or married...he cares what we do with where we are and how we live if only to be an example of Him. While we will never be perfect we can still try to love BIG. It is scary but worth it.

Sounds simple doesn't it? But SO incredibly difficult in reality.
There are times when I have thought I am pretty decent human being and other when I thought myself to be a pretty rotten one as well.

Why so difficult? We are just that, human.
I am learning it takes a lifetime to learn and grow. I know I will make many of the same mistakes.
In life we cannot get straight A's. But sometimes we try. We will fail, almost certainly. But we will grow if only we give ourselves grace and try to make peace with the fact we will experience failure.

And although I have failed at the philosophy stated below…
"Try and be better in spite of it verses bitter because of it."
I will try to be more open to it and the grace I know my Father gives me and in turn maybe... give myself a little grace as well.

I hope it is okay that I make one request...
Today try and give yourself grace for feelings you are not proud of. Make peace with one part of yourself you have been way over critical of. You are growing, you are learning and never forget even though there are days it is hard to believe..."You are fearfully and wonderfully made." The big dude upstairs says so.

And Myla, if you read this one day. I am sorry for the times I have failed to love you well. But know I always...love you. Mom is learning.

Feeling Like Smoooooshed Mac and Cheese

The other day after pulling myself out of a co-nap sleep coma stupor with Myla...I thought to myself, I feel a bit like smooshed macaroni and cheese. I had probably gotten 6 hours total of sleep during a period of 2 days. Sleep did not come the night before Mylas surgery nor in the hospital until after 3 am. Exhaustion had taken over and a nurse who told me to lie down and stay put. But that is hard when your pea nutter is in a hospital bed.

And as I was emerged in my smooshed macaroniness I had a revelation. I am not 25. My body does not bounce back like a 25 year old. I am not even 32. Dang it, when did that happen? Okay maybe not revelation just an unraveling of my denial. No, it is not that I am not grateful for being able to grow older...too many of us never get the chance. I am thankful for all my thirty some (muffle muffle) years I have had in this crazy and beautiful thing called my life. But I need to take better care of myself. Red twizzlers and coffee does not a healthy vibrant person make.

Sorry I digress. Let me get to the point of this blog post. When I think about the last eight weeks it makes sense I feel a bit like smoooshed Mac and cheese. Let's recap:

I traveled across the world to an amazing place with my best friend, to receive the greatest gift.

To be more detailed...

Traveled 12000 miles. Experienced a twelve hour time change twice. Met our daughter for the first time. Played house in a hotel room for two weeks. Experienced 70 degree weather and came home to an unending winter. Watched our pea nutter get ill for almost two weeks with an intestinal bug, slept on the floor to be next my little girl, drove to eight doctors appointments with half in bad weather, Weeks of worry leading up her surgery. Her cleft lip surgery (which is supposed to be easier of the two or three), constantly wondering how many mistakes I have made in terms of attachment.... And exhale.

I can imagine Myla's response:
Really? Your kidding, think about what I'VE been through.
I must concur. She is one tough cookie and I? Smoooshed macaroni and cheese.