New Adoption Fundraiser

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http://www.promofundraising.com/g/group.php?a=promo843

Bye-Bye Binks!

I can't sleep. It's after 1:00 in the morning and I can't sleep. Why you ask? Well, tonight is the first night Emmalee has gone without a binks, (pacifier.) I think, okay I know, I am having a more difficult time with this than she is. I am sad to admit that my baby is getting big. She just turned two. I always said that when she was two the binks would have to go. I am shocked that I followed through. It is one of the last pieces of her "babyhood" and I didn't realize how emotionally attached I was. :) I remember going through this same thing several months ago when she and Tyler went off the bottle. It is hard. This is not one of those things that you are prepared for. You read about how to help the child transition from the loss of the bottle or pacifier or whatever. No one bothers to tell you that you may have a hard time with it as well. They forget to mention that you will be overcome with guilt for robbing your child of their comfort item. That you will suffer an emotional breakdown because you have had to realize that your child is no longer a baby. That once it's all said and done, you may actually need a binks to cope. (Okay, it isn't that bad!) In truth, I didn't realize that I would have such a difficult time letting go of all that the binks represents. It is just one more reminder that my little girl has moved from the baby stage to the toddler stage. The next step is moving her out of her crib. I'm crying just thinking about that. At least I have a few years to prepare before she starts asking for the car keys!

Two Years Ago Today

Two years ago today our world turned upside down, in the best possible way. For most people, when they are adopting they wait for "the call." For us, it was a bit different. On April 8, 2005 we got "the email." We had recently moved and Michele from our adoption agency was having a hard time finding our new phone number. (Actually, with Tyler we got "the email" also. That's another story you'll have to wait until August to hear.) At any rate, that day the email came and rocked our world. We weren't expecting it. In fact, Brent and I were just beginning the process of adopting a two year old boy with Down syndrome from Colombia. Tyler was just over ten months old and we knew that Miguel's adoption would take several months at best. We were in control. We knew where we were headed and what our plans were. We had our reservations about adopting from Colombia but we felt like we needed to head down that road unless and until Heavenly Father told us otherwise. Well, He told us alright. In a big way.

I clearly remember going upstairs and sitting down at the computer. There was an email from Michele. I wasn't particularly surprised to hear from her. The subject line wasn't anything suspicious. When I opened the email, that's when everything went topsy-turvy. It was a short note. Something along these lines -- Jodie, give me a call. We have a situation we think you might be interested in. It is a baby girl, born April 6. Possible special needs due to pre-natal drug and alcohol use. Baby is tiny, no pre-natal care but she seems to be about six weeks early. Call me ASAP. Michele

I think I read the email about a dozen times and then called Brent at work. We couldn't believe it. What did this mean? Were we supposed to adopt this baby girl? Weren't we supposed to adopt Miguel? What was Heavenly Father trying to tell us? We figured we had better take it one step at a time and we called Michele.

Michele gave us as much information as she had. It was indeed a baby girl. She was tiny, just over four pounds. She was very sick. She was born at a smaller hospital and had to be rushed to the children's hospital in Buffalo. She was on a ventilator and wasn't eating on her own. They didn't know if she would have Fetal Alcohol syndrome but it was a strong possibility. They were discussing placing a feeding tube. The birth parents had both signed to terminate their parental rights and wanted a closed adoption. There were many unknowns about her future medically. Did we think we might be interested?

I honestly can't remember much else about that initial conversation. I remember being so caught off guard. I know that I hit my knees and said a prayer asking for help and guidance. Then Brent and I talked for a long time. Turns out, we both had our doubts and concerns about Miguel's adoption but hadn't really voiced them. We wanted so badly for his adoption to be right for our family. We already loved that little boy and it was so difficult to admit that he wasn't meant to be our child. We prayed together to know if this little girl was meant to be ours. The answer came quickly. We called Michele.

We, of course, weren't the only family they had called. We knew that would be the case. They needed to keep all their options open. We understood and told Michele that we absolutely wanted to be considered. We were scared. Although Brent and I were open to most special needs, Fetal Alcohol syndrome was one of those things that we didn't know much about and felt ill prepared to handle. We researched and tried to put our minds at ease. We knew that this was out of our hands. If she was meant to be our child, it would work out.

The next twelve days are a bit of a blur. A few days after "the email" we finally got "the call." Michele called us to tell us that yes, they did want us to be the parents to this baby girl. We were in heaven. We already knew, somewhere deep inside, that this was our child. We couldn't be happier. We chose her name, Emmalee Ann. We spelled it this way for a reason, Lee is my middle name and we wanted to include it. We chose Ann for her middle name because it is my sister's as well as my oldest niece's middle name. We had to have our home study updated. At that time we still lived in Utah so we had to make flight plans and hotel reservations and pack and get everything ready to bring home a new little one. We bombarded Michele and Sara with emails and phone calls. We had the wonderful task of sharing the news with friends and family. We were ecstatic.

Emmalee Ann was placed in our arms on April 20, 2005. She was two weeks old to the day and smaller than any baby I had ever held before. As you can guess, we were thrilled. I will post more about that day on my blog on April 20. :)

For now, I sit here reflecting back on that day, two years ago, when everything changed. Being an adoptive mom has taught me a great deal about patience. I have learned that despite my desire to control everything, I really have little control over such things. My purpose is to plan, prepare and be ready for the miracles when Heavenly Father is ready to send them. I am thankful we were ready for the miracle of Emmalee. She has changed our lives. She has made me a better person. I only hope I can be the best mom possible to her and Tyler and any other miracle children we are blessed with.

*Side note, Emmalee obviously does not have Fetal Alcohol syndrome. In fact, she is a perfectly healthy, happy two year old. Miracles never cease!

Happy 2nd Birthday, Emmalee!

It seems impossible but our baby girl turned two yesterday. I have so many things I want to write but the words just don't seem to come. I just can't believe that the tiny 4.5 pound peanut they placed in my arms has turned into this lively little person. She is certainly not a baby anymore. Where did the time go??? Happy Birthday, Emmalee Ann!

One Year Ago Today

One year ago today we finalized both Tyler and Emmalee's adoptions. It was wonderful. I can't help but reflect on all the feelings we had. When the judge announced to us that these were now legally our children, it was a bit overwhelming. Of course, they were already our children in every way that mattered. But, knowing that they were legally ours, that no one could ever take them from us, there just aren't words to describe it. Adoption is a miracle!

Double Standard

I will fully admit it, I live by a double standard when it comes to my children. I try hard not to but it is, at times, impossible. Case in point....Tyler back talked to me today. I was trying to get him to let me change his diaper and he was bugged. He wanted to play. I made him lay down again and he looked right at me and signed NO, NO! I cried...I picked him up and hugged him...I wanted to shout for joy! I was so proud of him. I love that he, at times, acts like a typical two year old. He can throw fits, get upset, etc. But, he has never used words to communicate his feelings like this. It was awesome. Naturally the double standard comes from the fact that if Emmalee talks back, she gets into trouble. But, for Tyler, I consider today a huge mile-stone. Does that make me a hypocrite? Probably and I am totally fine with that!

Tear-Jerker

I truly love this story. Please take a moment to read it.

http://www.beliefnet.com/nllp/ChickenSoupSoul.aspx?date=3-28-2007&WT.mc_id=NL49

I Love Spring!

I sense a bit of Spring in the air today. I love it! The sky is clear and blue. I have seen several people out jogging and even a boy on his bike. I have some windows open and the air is crisp. I think the cold days of Winter may be done. I took a walk around my house today and saw the first signs of tulips. Hooray for Spring!! I am ready!

Beautiful Article

Yesterday was World Down Syndrome Day! Here is an absolutely beautiful article called Disability Must Be Valued. Enjoy!

Snack Time

Tyler and Emmalee got quite a bit of money for Christmas. Despite my overwhelming desire to run out and empty the shelves at Toys R Us, I decided to wait a bit and buy them something they could both use and enjoy. We finally settled on getting them a little picnic table. They love it! They love sitting there and watching TV, eating a snack or reading books. It's also great because Tyler can get onto the benches without any trouble. See, it does pay to save. *smile*

*Did you notice Emma's outfit? She insisted on wearing Tyler's shirt and backwards at that!!

Our Newest Family Member

Emmalee has been asking for a kitty for quite awhile. I was hesitant to get a kitten, mostly because of the claws. Also, although baby kitties are adorable they tend to be very fiesty. I found an ad on craigslist for a free cat. The lady had to give up her cats because her baby was allergic to them. We were thrilled. Oliver, (or Olly-Bur as Emma calls him,) is five years old, very well mannered and wonderful with our kids. He is a purrr-fect fit for our family. He even stays calm when Tyler pulls his hair and that is a small miracle!

Busy, Busy Girl

Emmalee certainly knows how to keep me busy. A few days ago I could hear quite a lot of noise coming from her room. Figuring she was up to something I yelled from the living room, "Emma, are you okay?" Her response was "NO!" That was a sure sign that something was up. As soon as I turned the corner and looked down the hall I knew. There were clothes everywhere. I went to her room and there she was, dressed to the nines in a pair of pajamas, several shirts and a skirt that was on the wrong way. To top it off, her dresser was completely empty of its contents and the clothing was all over the floor. Did I yell? Did I get upset? Heck no, I got the camera. What a funny kid!

Wordless Wednesday

One Of Those Days

It seems I've been having 'one of those days' quite often lately. I'm sad to admit that I'm done with Winter. I long for warmer days, the nice weather and the sunshine. I have cabin fever. I am finished with cold and flu season, (too bad it isn't finished with me!). Quite frankly, I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.

My blue mood reminds me of an email I sent back in September. Brent was out of town and I was stressed. Reading the email again helped me remember that I need to relax and enjoy this time, even if it isn't always picture perfect. I thought I'd share that email here for anyone else who may be having a blue day.

My Middle-of-the-Night Realization

I'm not Super-Mom! Wow, what a hard thing to admit. I do well at pretending to be her sometimes. Some days I may even come close. Today is not one of those days. Okay, this week is not one of those weeks. I must tell you all, I have new respect for single parents. My sweet husband is out of town this week. He won't be home until Thursday. Nine "sleeps" total. :) I hate it! My cousin's husband was gone to Iraq for more than a year. I don't know how she did it. She is stronger than I am.

But I digress.....poor Miss Emmalee had a really rough night last night. She's cutting her eye teeth...ouch! I came to the conclusion at some point in the middle of the night, in between the bouts of crying, (hers and mine,) that I am not Super-Mom. I am not one of those women who can raise their children and have a sparkling house and be up all night with a crying baby and still get pancakes on the table for breakfast and look fabulous the whole time. I am lucky to even get a shower most days, (poor Brent!). My house is seldom spotless. I hate to admit how much laundry I have. :) I will never be June Cleaver or Donna Reed or that lady we all know from church who seems so perfect, (my sister-in-law Jane!). That just isn't me. Maybe I run a little closer to Rosanne Barr. (Okay, maybe not that close!) Yes I wish I could be a bit more like Super-Mom or June, Donna or Jane. Even just one or two days a week would be great. But, for now, I am going to enjoy the peanut butter kisses and the sticky fingerprints that I refuse to clean off the window in our living room. I am going to hope I get a shower and not stress if I don't. I am going to pray that both these angel babies nap at the same time so I can lay down. I also realized last night that in about ten seconds these kids are going to be grown up and not need me as much anymore, at least not in the same ways. They are going to turn into these independent little people who seldom wake up at night. They won't want to sit on my lap all day long and "love." They will have their own friends and their own activities and they'll be embarrassed when I try to kiss them good-bye as I drop them off at school. Maybe then I'll be Super-Mom, take a shower every day and cook fabulous meals. Today, I'm just going to try to stay awake and hold my babies as close as possible.

Courage

I have seen this posted on several other blogs this week and, after reading it again, I decided I too wanted to share it. This is a speech given by a high school student, Soeren Palumbo. He has a sister with special needs. I am so impressed by this young man and his courage. It is a bit long but worth the read.

"I want to tell you a quick story before I start. I was walking through hallways, not minding my own business, listening to the conversations around me. As I passed the front door on my way to my English classroom, I heard the dialogue between two friends nearby. For reasons of privacy, I would rather not give away their race or gender. So the one girl leans to the other, pointing to the back of a young man washing the glass panes of the front door, and says, "Oh my gaw! I think it is so cute that our school brings in the black kids from around the district to wash our windows!" The other girl looked up, widened her slanted Asian eyes and called to the window washer, easily loud enough for him to hear, "Hey, Negro! You missed a spot!" The young man did not turn around. The first girl smiled a bland smile that all white girls - hell, all white people - have and walked on. A group of Mexicans stood by and laughed that high pitch laugh that all of them have. So now it's your turn. What do you think the black window washer did?What would you do in that situation? Do you think he turned and calmly explained the fallacies of racism and showed the girls the error of their way? That's the one thing that makes racism, or any discrimination, less powerful in my mind. No matter how biased or bigoted a comment or action may be, the guy can turn around and explain why racism is wrong and, if worst comes to worst, punch 'em in the face. Discrimination against those who can defend themselves, obviously, cannot survive.

What would be far worse is if we discriminated against those who cannot defend themselves.What then, could be worse than racism? Look around you and thank God that we don't live in a world that discriminates and despises those who cannot defend themselves. Thank God that everyone of us in this room, in this school hates racism and sexism and by that logic discrimination in general. Thank God that every one in this institution is dedicated to the ideal of mutual respect and love for our fellow human beings.

Then pinch yourself for living in a dream. Then pinch the hypocrites sitting next to you. Then pinch the hypocrite that is you. Pinch yourself once for each time you have looked at one of your fellow human beings with a mental handicap and laughed. Pinch yourself for each and every time you denounced discrimination only to turn and hate those around you without the ability to defend themselves, the only ones around you without the ability to defend themselves. Pinch yourself for each time you have called someone else a "retard".

If you have been wondering about my opening story, I'll tell you that it didn't happen, not as I described it. Can you guess what I changed? No, it wasn't the focused hate on one person, and no it wasn't the slanted Asian eyes or cookie cutter features white people have or that shrill Hispanic hyena laugh (yeah, it hurts when people make assumptions about your person and use them against you doesn't it?).

The girl didn't say "hey Negro." There was no black person. It was a mentally handicapped boy washing the windows. It was "Hey retard." I removed the word retard. I removed the word that destroys the dignity of our most innocent. I removed the single most hateful word in the entire English language.I don't understand why we use the word; I don't think I ever will.

In such an era of political correctness, why is it that retard is still ok? Why do we allow it? Why don't we stop using the word? Maybe students can't handle stopping- I hope that offends you students, it was meant to - but I don't think the adults, here can either.

Students, look at your teacher, look at every member of this faculty. I am willing to bet that every one of them would throw a fit if they heard the word faggot or nigger - hell the word Negro -used in their classroom. But how many of them would raise a finger against the word retard? How many of them have? Teachers, feel free to raise your hand or call attention to yourself through some other means if you have. That's what I thought. Clearly, this obviously isn't a problem contained within our age group.

So why am I doing this? Why do I risk being misunderstood and resented by this school's student body and staff? Because I know how much you can learn from people, all people, even - no, not even, especially - the mentally handicapped.

I know this because every morning I wake up and I come downstairs and I sit across from my sister, quietly eating her cheerio's. And as I sit down she sets her spoon down on the table and she looks at me, her strawberry blonde hair hanging over her freckled face almost completely hides the question mark shaped scar above her ear from her brain surgery two Christmases ago. She looks at me and she smiles. She has a beautiful smile; it lights up her face. Her two front teeth are faintly stained from the years of intense epilepsy medication but I don't notice that any more. I lean over to her and say, "Good morning, Olivia." She stares at me for a moment and says quickly, "Good morning, Soeren," and goes back to her cheerio's. I sit there for a minute, thinking about what to say. "What are you going to do at school today, Olivia?" She looks up again. "Gonnasee Mista Bee!" she replies loudly, hugging herself slightly and looking up. Mr. B. is her gym teacher and perhaps her favorite man outside of our family on the entire planet and Olivia is thoroughly convinced that she will be having gym class every day of the week. I like to view it as wishful thinking. She finishes her cheerio's and grabs her favorite blue backpack and waits for her bus driver, Miss Debbie, who, like clockwork, arrives at our house at exactly 7'o'clock each morning. She gives me a quick hug goodbye and runs excitedly to the bus, ecstatic for another day of school.

And I watch the bus disappear around the turn and I can't help but remember the jokes. The short bus. The retard rocket. No matter what she does, no matter how much she loves those around her, she will always be the butt of some immature kid's joke. She will always be the butt of some mature kid's joke. She will always be the butt of some "adult"'s joke. By no fault of her own, she will spend her entire life being stared at and judged. Despite the fact that she will never hate, never judge, never make fun of, never hurt, she will never be accepted.

That's why I'm doing this. I'm doing this because I don't think you understand how much you hurt others when you hate. And maybe you don't realize that you hate. But that's what is; your pre-emptive dismissal of them, your dehumanization of them, your mockery of them, it's nothing but another form of hate.

It's more hateful than racism, more hateful than sexism, more hateful than anything. I'm doing this so that each and every one of you, student or teacher, thinks before the next time you use the word "retard", before the next time you shrug off someone else's use of the word "retard". Think of the people you hurt, both the mentally handicapped and those who love them. If you have to, think of my sister.

Think about how she can find more happiness in the blowing of a bubble and watching it float away than most of will in our entire lives. Think about how she will always love everyone unconditionally. Think about how she will never hate. Then think about which one of you is "retarded".

Maybe this has become more of an issue today because society is changing, slowly, to be sure, but changing nonetheless. The mentally handicapped aren't being locked in their family's basement anymore.The mentally handicapped aren't rotting like criminals in institutions. Our fellow human beings are walking among us, attending school with us, entering the work force with us, asking for nothing but acceptance, giving nothing but love.

As we become more accepting and less hateful, more and more handicapped individuals will finally be able to participate in the society that has shunned them for so long. You will see more of them working in places you go, at Dominicks, at Jewel, at Wal-Mart. Someday, I hope more than anything, one of these people that you see will be my sister.

I want to leave you with one last thought. I didn't ask to have a mentally handicapped sister. She didn't choose to be mentally handicapped. But I wouldn't trade it for anything. I have learned infinitely more from her simple words and love than I have from any classroom of "higher education". I only hope that, one-day, each of you will open your hearts enough to experience true unconditional love, because that is all any of them want to give. I hope that, someday, someone will love you as much as Olivia loves me. I hope that, someday, you will love somebody as much as I love her. I love you, Olivia."