I had one more false alarm before getting a call that stuck. I was on vacation with my family in Branson, and we were on a boat on Table Rock Lake. So there I was, sunning myself and taking in the lovely view, when my phone rings and it’s the home finder. She told me that there was a 3 month old baby girl in the hospital and wanted to know if I’d take her. Let me remind you that I was adamantly against taking in an infant. You know what I said? “Absolutely! Be there in a couple hours!” Apparently, I have no back bone. J
When I met Princess Z, my whole life changed. Walking into the hospital, (where they make children on a regular basis) I was overwhelmed with emotion. I was scared, not knowing what to expect, but so at peace at the same time. When I saw her, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I’ve never seen a more beautiful person. She had a whole head full of dark hair, and red eyebrows. Her long fingers wrapped around mine perfectly. She was sleeping when I got her, but I swear she smiled at me. She has one blue eye and one that’s half blue and half brown. She was only 7 lbs at three months old. Her beautiful eyes sink deeply into her skull and her cheeks are so hallow that it makes me want to cry. But when she smiles at me, I melt.
As the nurses fill me in on the horrendous neglect that this angel has been through, rage fills every inch of my body. I remember being so torn between wanting to scream and wanting to curl up in a ball and cry. The thing is: when you have a child in your arms, you can’t do either. I got her scripts filled, signed our papers and took her out of the hospital. I felt like, at any point, someone would stop me and say “HEY! That’s not your kid!” Little did I know, she already was.
Her car seat swallowed her. It was supposed to be for babies weighing 5-45 lbs. My baby curled up in there and looked like a tiny little pea in a pod. Her little body was so uncomfortable because her skin literally laid on her bones with no muscle or fat to pad her. When I gave her a bath for the first time, she was so scared that I could tell that she’d probably never had one before. (BTW, she LOVES baths now.) The 3 month baby clothes that my parents got for her fell off of her tiny body, and her little cry was so weak and pitiful.
If you could see her now, you wouldn’t even recognize her. At 5 months old, weighing in at 14 lbs, 2 oz, Princess Z is quite the little porker. She loves to eat and nothing makes her happier that to have your undivided attention at all times. She loves to cuddle and sing, and her little personality is growing more and more every day.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
My first call
I got my first call about a 4 year old little girl who had made allegations of abuse. One of the main things they teach you in class is to know when to say no to a placement. But of course, I was so confident in my parenting skills that I just knew I could fix this poor, broken little girl. And how could I possibly turn her away? When I got to the hospital to meet little M, I was greeted with a smile by an adorable little girl with thick glasses that made her big brown eyes even bigger and long brown hair that fell in her face. She gave me a hug right away and smelled so strong of urine and filth that I almost gagged. I hugged her and held her for a minute. She seemed so sweet.
As I heard the allegations, I felt so physically ill that it was hard to stay smiling for little M. She was talking away, telling me about her bunny. All of a sudden, everything changed. It was like somebody flipped a switch in her little brain and she lost it. Little M wrapped her little fingers around my neck and started yelling for her mom. The fear and uncertainty in her eyes was heartbreaking, but the inhuman strength in this 4 year old was terrifying. As I pried her hands off of my throat, she started hitting, biting and kicking me. When she took off running down the hall, I sprinted after her, trying not to let her out of the ER. (The nurses, by the way, were no help at all.) When I finally got her back into the room, she screamed bloody murder and ran into the door so many times, she broke it off the hinges.
I tried everything to calm her down. I sang to her, I tried to hold her, I read to her, colored with her. This poor baby had been in a fight or flight situation one too many times. She couldn’t trust me or anybody else. With every step I thought we’d taken to calm her nerves, we’d take two GIANT steps back. I have never in my life been afraid of a child, but this little girl scared me. The scars and damage that had been done was far too great for me to handle by myself. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life than I did during those 2 hours alone with her.
In the end, I didn’t get to take little M home. She needed so much more than I could give her. I cried all night long, and any time I think of her, my heart hurts. I had never thought that there would be a child that I couldn’t connect with, and make a difference for them. But sometimes I’m just not enough. As humans, feeling inadequate is one of the worst feelings that we can have. In our jobs, with our spouses, at school, we want to be enough, if not more than enough. Imagine knowing that you aren’t enough for a broken little girl who’s done absolutely nothing wrong, except be born into the wrong family.
Children are killing and dying in the streets
They're trained to hate their mothers by the movies on the screen
They're used as pawns and trinkets for broken moms and daddys
Little girls are women and boys never become men
Daddys say they're sorry then they bring the pain again
Mommy hides the tears in a bottle full of whiskey
She'll lock the closet door until her wrists stop bleeding
She watches through the keyhole while her mama lay there dying
Little Jenna doesn't shed a tear, nothing comes from crying
She stands there on the sidewalk while they wrap mama up in white
But she doesn't see a thing, her eyes shut tight
How do we raise our children when we're still kids ourselves
If we hide our eyes behind our lies, we're damning them to hell
I'd tell you to go home and give your little girl a kiss
But I think that it's too late. We can't fix this.
I can only pray for little M now. Even if I’m not enough, there is One who is, and He will hold her every day of her life. I hope and pray that someday she knows the pure and unselfish love of a Father who will always protect her, and will never fail her. God’s grace is great, and I pray it over little M every day.
As I heard the allegations, I felt so physically ill that it was hard to stay smiling for little M. She was talking away, telling me about her bunny. All of a sudden, everything changed. It was like somebody flipped a switch in her little brain and she lost it. Little M wrapped her little fingers around my neck and started yelling for her mom. The fear and uncertainty in her eyes was heartbreaking, but the inhuman strength in this 4 year old was terrifying. As I pried her hands off of my throat, she started hitting, biting and kicking me. When she took off running down the hall, I sprinted after her, trying not to let her out of the ER. (The nurses, by the way, were no help at all.) When I finally got her back into the room, she screamed bloody murder and ran into the door so many times, she broke it off the hinges.
I tried everything to calm her down. I sang to her, I tried to hold her, I read to her, colored with her. This poor baby had been in a fight or flight situation one too many times. She couldn’t trust me or anybody else. With every step I thought we’d taken to calm her nerves, we’d take two GIANT steps back. I have never in my life been afraid of a child, but this little girl scared me. The scars and damage that had been done was far too great for me to handle by myself. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life than I did during those 2 hours alone with her.
In the end, I didn’t get to take little M home. She needed so much more than I could give her. I cried all night long, and any time I think of her, my heart hurts. I had never thought that there would be a child that I couldn’t connect with, and make a difference for them. But sometimes I’m just not enough. As humans, feeling inadequate is one of the worst feelings that we can have. In our jobs, with our spouses, at school, we want to be enough, if not more than enough. Imagine knowing that you aren’t enough for a broken little girl who’s done absolutely nothing wrong, except be born into the wrong family.
For Jenna
Ashley McClain
This isn't how it's supposed to beChildren are killing and dying in the streets
They're trained to hate their mothers by the movies on the screen
They're used as pawns and trinkets for broken moms and daddys
Little girls are women and boys never become men
Daddys say they're sorry then they bring the pain again
Mommy hides the tears in a bottle full of whiskey
She'll lock the closet door until her wrists stop bleeding
She watches through the keyhole while her mama lay there dying
Little Jenna doesn't shed a tear, nothing comes from crying
She stands there on the sidewalk while they wrap mama up in white
But she doesn't see a thing, her eyes shut tight
How do we raise our children when we're still kids ourselves
If we hide our eyes behind our lies, we're damning them to hell
I'd tell you to go home and give your little girl a kiss
But I think that it's too late. We can't fix this.
I can only pray for little M now. Even if I’m not enough, there is One who is, and He will hold her every day of her life. I hope and pray that someday she knows the pure and unselfish love of a Father who will always protect her, and will never fail her. God’s grace is great, and I pray it over little M every day.
Why foster care?
When I was about 8 or 9 years old, my family became friends with the M’Bogos. The M’Bogos were a family that had recently moved to the states from Kenya. They spoke very little English and were completely unaware of standard social etiquette, but I was fascinated with them. Their stories of the African culture completely opened my eyes to a world so different than mine. As I learned about the disease, poverty and depravity of their homeland, my heart broke for the people there. My childish mind decided that I would save them all! It was at this time that I began my journey toward adoption.
I’ve had a passion for Africa ever since my childhood experience with the M’Bogo family.
Later on, in high school, my youth pastor (one of the most influential people in my life at the time) announced that he and his family would be going to the mission field of Ethiopia. I immersed myself in learning every aspect of the Ethiopian culture. Again, I was amazed at the corruption, poverty and despair of the nation. My heart hurt every time I read about the orphans there. 1 in 5 children dies from hunger before they turn 15 years old. By then, they are usually parents themselves and carrying multiple diseases. I became more and more convinced that Ethiopia was where I wanted to adopt from. That is, until earlier this year.
Anyone who follows adoption news closely knows about the recent movement to cut foreign adoptions in Ethiopia. This year, the Ethiopian government cut international adoption down by 95%, leaving hundreds of American families childless, and thousands of African orphans on the streets. Talk of corruption and misfiled paperwork was the reason behind the sudden change.
As heartbroken as I was about Ethiopia, this news only sealed in my mind something that I’d already been contemplating. I was meant to start here at home. My church (James River Assembly) focused on foster care and adoption last year and started a non-profit called “Cherish Kids” to benefit local foster children and their families. When I learned of the 9,000 children in local care, and the incredible lack of decent foster homes, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God was showing me the need in my own community.
I started my classes and paperwork and, two years later, I got my state foster care license. The process was so long and very emotional, but so worth it. As much as you learn in class, nothing can prepare you for that first phone call. Mine was pretty intense. You see, I had my idea of the perfect placement for me. A little girl, maybe 3 or 4 years old, (ABSOLUTELY NO INFANTS) healthy and no behavioral problems. I also didn’t really want any severe abuse cases. I was very picky, because I was scared. Did I mention “no infants’?
I’ve had a passion for Africa ever since my childhood experience with the M’Bogo family.
Later on, in high school, my youth pastor (one of the most influential people in my life at the time) announced that he and his family would be going to the mission field of Ethiopia. I immersed myself in learning every aspect of the Ethiopian culture. Again, I was amazed at the corruption, poverty and despair of the nation. My heart hurt every time I read about the orphans there. 1 in 5 children dies from hunger before they turn 15 years old. By then, they are usually parents themselves and carrying multiple diseases. I became more and more convinced that Ethiopia was where I wanted to adopt from. That is, until earlier this year.
Anyone who follows adoption news closely knows about the recent movement to cut foreign adoptions in Ethiopia. This year, the Ethiopian government cut international adoption down by 95%, leaving hundreds of American families childless, and thousands of African orphans on the streets. Talk of corruption and misfiled paperwork was the reason behind the sudden change.
As heartbroken as I was about Ethiopia, this news only sealed in my mind something that I’d already been contemplating. I was meant to start here at home. My church (James River Assembly) focused on foster care and adoption last year and started a non-profit called “Cherish Kids” to benefit local foster children and their families. When I learned of the 9,000 children in local care, and the incredible lack of decent foster homes, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God was showing me the need in my own community.
I started my classes and paperwork and, two years later, I got my state foster care license. The process was so long and very emotional, but so worth it. As much as you learn in class, nothing can prepare you for that first phone call. Mine was pretty intense. You see, I had my idea of the perfect placement for me. A little girl, maybe 3 or 4 years old, (ABSOLUTELY NO INFANTS) healthy and no behavioral problems. I also didn’t really want any severe abuse cases. I was very picky, because I was scared. Did I mention “no infants’?
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Wisdom from a friend
| As I’ve struggle with letting go of the situation with Z and letting God take control, (which I know He has already) I’ve been blessed with good friends to offer their comfort, support and advice. My good friend sent me this devotional that she found online. It was so uplifting to me, and I hope it will be to you as well. Posted: 30 Aug 2011 05:25 AM PDT If someone is having a problem, particularly someone I love, I want to fix it. I want to look at the situation, figure out what's gone wrong and do what needs to be done to make it right. I hate seeing people I care about in pain. I want to take it away, take it away from them, take them away from the pain. I want to be of help, to be of service, to put an end to the hurt feelings, the impossible decisions and the string of bad news. Broken"Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge. Selah" Psalm 62:8 |
I have always struggled with an all-consuming need to control my surroundings. I am very guilty of holding on to the past. It is something I try very hard to overcome, but it's an uphill battle. The past can take everything from you if you let it. Regrets and fear will replace peace and faith. Bitterness and distrust will replace honesty and love. The past leaves you numb, unable to feel. Sometimes you have to face your past, and yourself along with it. When you've been stuck in a dream (or a nightmare) for so long, you forget how to feel love, hear truth, see beauty and believe in anything pure.
I worry that Z will struggle with these same issues, considering her fragile beginning in this world. The chaos in her little life breaks my heart. I pray constantly that she will be stronger because of all of this, and not allow it to control her life. I will never allow her to play the victim, as long as she is in my care, but rather, encourage her to rise above her situation. I hope that her strong will (which I already see displayed on a daily basis) and her strength will be used to build people up and set an example for those around her.
I wrote this song a while back about overcoming this problem of not being able to let go.
I pinched myself tonight to see if I still feel
Sometimes the dream I’m in can seem so real
I made a fist tonight to see if I still fight
It’s funny how what’s wrong can feel so right
I played some rock and roll tonight to see if I still hear the music
I opened my eyes to see if I still have my sight
Wake up, Wake up
This dream you’re in won’t last
Wake up, Wake up
The morning fades so fast
I cut myself today to see if I still bleed
How does pain and loss fill a need
I took a walk outside today to see if I still taste the rain
When you’re numb you can’t feel the sunshine on your face
I watched the news today to see if my heart still breaks
I prayed a prayer to see if I still have my faith
Wake up, Wake up
This dream you’re in won’t last
Wake up, Wake up
The morning fades so fast
When you’re looking in the mirror
What do you want to see
For so long I was too blind to see me
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)