Plus One

Plus One Day: the day when your child has been home with you one day longer than they weren't. 

Typically, it's used as a marker for adjustment and attachment. When you reach it, it's a good measurement for where your family is in your attachment journey. For many, it's indicative of how well-adjusted your child is. To fully erase the damage of being alone, institutionalized, without a family, some experts say this particular day can be when your child will finally begin to feel wholly and completely a part of your family. A Plus One Day is a good thing. Some families even choose to celebrate this day, especially since it only comes once. 

Well, we didn't. 

In fact, while I've thought about Jet's time with us off and on over the past eighteen months or so, I never actually marked the date, and it was only yesterday that I saw a post on Facebook by someone else who mentioned it and I realized I should count back since surely it was coming up. Well, it actually came and went over two months ago, with no acknowledgement and absolutely zero pomp and circumstance in this house. 

I brought it up to Derek even, marveling at the fact that Jet has been with us for more than half his life. Part of that is due to the fact that he was just barely sixteen months old on our Family Day, which is atypically young, and the other part is because time truly does fly. Ten pounds and nine inches worth of time, actually. 

So while we (belatedly) acknowledge this day, it's also bittersweet. It's one more day removed from his country of birth. It's one more day removed from his birth parents, who may never know that their son is still alive. One more day removed from his Nainai. It's realizing that he no longer responds to Jian Guo. It's realizing that his little "xiexie" has morphed into "thank you". 

Please, don't misunderstand. These are all good things. I'm thankful that Jet's adjustment and attachment went smoothly. Of course there were bumps in the road, as expected, but overall we're grateful that we have a pretty confident, well-adjusted little boy who we can call our son. Yet we can't help but grieve, to realize this isn't the way it's supposed to be. 

In a perfect world, Jet's birth family wouldn't have had to worry about their son needing costly, open heart surgery. They wouldn't have had to make what I can only imagine was a devastating decision. Their son would grow up happy and healthy, with his family who loved him. 

But, that's not how things worked out. His birth family was forced to make the hardest choice parents can face. For reasons we'll never know but will always be thankful for, God orchestrated Jet to be able to receive his lifesaving surgery while still in China. Then, while recovering and up to the time of his adoption, Jet was able to learn to live in a family, a part of a family with a woman who loved him as a son, teaching him important things like how to love and how to be loved in return...thus making his transition into our family as our son smoother than most. We're forever grateful to her for her sacrificial love. 

We don't live in a perfect world. We have lots of questions, and never enough answers. But we do know that God doesn't make mistakes. His plan is perfect. He's in control. 

So we forgot Jet's Plus One Day. I haven't even done the math to figure out when it was exactly, because right now, it doesn't matter. What matters is our son, growing up happy and healthy, with his family who loves him. Jet is where he's supposed to be. 

A Tale of Two Names

I have to admit, Derek and I struggled quite a bit finding a name for Judah. Nothing on "The List" we've carried around and added and subtracted to and from seemed to fit, and we wanted to make sure his name would mean something to him and to us, just as Jordan's does. Having two names that start with a "J" was not planned, simply a coincidence, and we apologize to all of their future teachers. 

Jordan's name was instantaneously easy to decide. For Judah though, we were completely unprepared and had nothing picked out...and nothing we both agreed on. We were even fearful to pick a name while we waited for our pre-approval to come through (which took most of the month of August), just in case we ended up being denied.

What we did know was we wanted a name he wouldn't be ashamed to carry.

That's a weird statement to make, maybe here in the States, but in the country where our boys are from names carry meaning. Some names, given to abandoned children, even point toward the child's difference or special need; and that name given to them as children stays with them for life, branding them, adding to the social stigma of their special need in addition to being an orphan.

For the record, neither of our boys' names given by their orphanages points toward their physical differences. Should they want to be called by those names someday or if they return to their country of birth for work, school, or whatever reason, that's their decision. We'll always make sure they know their full names. Still though, we struggled. Should we keep some of Judah's name and incorporate it into his new one? But we didn't do that for Jordan, so would that matter to Jordan someday? Probably not. What if it did? And so, we were stuck.

Two sons: one with internal differences not seen to the naked eye, and one with more obvious external differences.

Two sons: both with emotional needs and differences that coincide with their physical ones.

Jordan: to honor the choice Derek's birthmother made. Because of her brave decision, Derek's life, my life, Jordan's and Judah's, were forever changed.
Ezekiel: to honor the ones who cared for him as "Zeke", a name meaning God will strengthen.

Judah: praised, to be praised (Hebrew). Praise, because Judah will be an orphan no more, and instead a beloved son in our family. 
Lev: lion (Russian), heart (Hebrew). It might seem odd that our non-heart boy has a name meaning heart, but that was not a mistake. It will hopefully serve as a reminder to him that he's got a lion-sized heart full of brave that will help him in the next few months, and years, as he adjusts to his new life here and learns he can do hard things. We can do hard things. 

Two sons, adopted into our family, as if they were born to us. There is no difference between a biological child and our adopted children. They are just children. Adoption is a physical act, an action, a verb. It is not a definition, a qualifier, an adjective.

It's a part of their history, but it will not be something that forever defines their place in our family.

For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him--Romans 8:15-17

Adoption could not be a clearer picture of God's grace. There is nothing, nothing we've done to deserve it, no reason at all why He chose us, but He did. And because of that, we are forever grafted into the family of God as His children and heirs. And we'll continue to shout it until we are blue in the face.

Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name, you are mine.--Isaiah 43:1b

Jordan Ezekiel, Judah Lev. You are ours. You are God's.

Glorious Unfolding

I remember dates of the strangest things. I can tell you the day I graduated high school, the day I graduated eighth grade, the day I went to Pokagon State Park with Derek's family for the first time, the day we left for our Disney cruise five (almost six) years ago. It's a weird tic that I have and for better or worse, I'm stuck with it.

If you would have told me one year ago today that I would be healthy, both body and mind, I would not have believed you. If you would have told me one year ago today that we would be adopting again another little boy, and soon, from China, I would have laughed in your face.

Exactly a year ago from today Jordan had just been discharged from the hospital, again. He was sick, again. We didn't know what to do, again. It was a downward spiral, for me, that started in August and bottomed out somewhere around this time last year, a little after that particular ED visit. I've briefly alluded to or mentioned this time period, but I'm only now feeling comfortable sharing. There were days, even a week, where getting out of bed was the hardest part of my day. Leaving the house? Forget about it. 

Anxiety has always been a part of my life. I can't remember a time where it hasn't. However, there have been times where instead of being a part of my life, it turned into my life. And last year I hit the breaking point. I had dealt with it on my own and believed the stigma associated with it that I was somehow deficient, that it was an unchangeable, flawed part of me. A pastor once said (and I don't believe he knew the full extent of it or he wouldn't have said this) "You'll always be a nervous person and that's okay. Some people are wired that way." 

Was I so weak that I couldn't even handle a few ED visits and a perpetually sick kid? After all, many parents have gone through or are going through much, much more devastating events. Was I such a failure at life that I couldn't keep it together for even a small amount of time? 

No. 

"So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak. then I am strong." --2 Corinthians 12:7-10 

It has been a year, and it has been a long year. For me, the "before and after" that people talk about once they have children didn't happen to me when they placed Jet in my arms. It happened months later, when I was rocking my gasping-for-breath son waiting for Derek to come home with new prescriptions and wondering "what have we done". A side of me wants to say there were more downs than ups. But deep down, I know that's untrue. 

I don't want to get into a theological discussion that maybe my faith is weak or I need to read my Bible more. I've considered the lilies. I've looked at the ravens. And yes, worry is a sin. But sometimes, you need to recognize (with some nudges from close friends and family) that yeah, you are wired differently. That it's okay to seek outside help. Because believe me, I've pleaded and begged and bargained that this "thorn" would be removed. 

And as of today, it's not removed. It's there, but it's managed. There are still days that I wake up and it's hard to function, hard to do life..but I look at Jet with all of his Brave, and I think of Jude and the different kind of Brave that he'll be needing, and I know that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.--Phil 4:13. 

The biggest hurdle that I needed to overcome was I am me, and this is me. Obsessive anxiety me. All things considered, adopting a son with medical needs, plus having the medical needs present more often and sooner than anticipated, plus having to become a stay at home mom, plus keeping track of the various appointments and therapies, plus being housebound off and on (but mostly on) for the better part of ten months, the counselor/therapist I see told me just a few weeks ago that it's 100% understandable for someone who doesn't already struggle with mental health issues to have feelings of anxiety and depression if faced with those changes. That it's okay to need to learn coping methods, to stop and think before letting feelings take over, to learn when my body and mind have had enough. I'm learning to not let it control me and get the best of me. I can think of at least five other adoptive moms I wish I could be like, but I'm not them. And I'm learning to be okay with that.

It's not just Jordan who's come a long way since May 30, 2016. If I made a list, I bet I could name a hundred low points for our family since then. But if I could make a list of our high points? There are too many to count. Sometimes, you just have to look for them a little harder. 

If you would have told me a year ago that I'd be writing--and publishing--this, I would have hid in the closet in shame. But this past year has been an amazing time of growth for our family--for Jordan, for Derek, and for me. I never want to experience last October again. Ever. (I don't think Derek or any of our friends and family do either.) But I wouldn't trade it for anything. I have nothing to be ashamed about. And because of all of these things, because of where we are now, when we received Judah's file we knew it was the right time to move forward. 

Jordan and Judah, Seaside 2018

I believe I'll never know what it's like to live an anxiety free life, this side of heaven. I also believe that even in the ups and downs, the best is yet to come.

Judah Lev, we are ready for you.