Family and progress

We've been home three weeks now.

And I cannot even begin to tell you the amazing trasnformation that we have witnessed in our sweet TG.

(Pictured above, with me, in a rather comfy chair in Frankfurt, Germany.  But don't be deceived--in spite of the chair comfiness, I am not a fan of that airport.  At all.)

But back to the transformation.

When we picked Tigist up from the orphanage, she couldn't put any weight on her legs.  Within a week, she could stand holding onto my hands, or onto a table.

As of a week ago, she could not successfully drink water from a sippy cup, bottle, or regular drinking glass!  40-50% of the water would come back out of her mouth and result in her mom clothes or bib being positively drenched.  Nor could she hold the cup herself.  At all.  But now?  She's drinking successfully, out of the sippy, and can do so independently.

Until recently she really didn't have much of an attention span for playing with toys.  Last night, she sat for a good ten minutes at a toy, playing and chattering and enjoying herself.

It was clear from the day we took custody of Tigist that she had had very little exposure to different food textures.  So that, coupled with the characteristic low muscle tone of her tongue, made for extremely messy and stressful meal times.  Because everything got pushed out of her mouth and she was frustrated.  But now she's eating pizza (cut up in little pieces, of course), PB&J sandwiches (also cut), and oatmeal at breakfast (I spoon feed her.)  And most all of it is staying in her mouth.

I realize these may sound like the smallest of things.  Like stuff that isn't a big deal for, you know, a two-and-a-half-year-old to do.  But for sweet Tigist?  It's huge.  Without any therapy or professional help, she is making gains.  Huge gains.  Yes we are still having physical and occupational therapists do evaluations (I'm waiting on their call),  but I am just so thrilled for my daughter that with a bit of constancy, stability and love, along with opportunity, she is accomplishing all sorts of things!

What an honor it is to cheer Tigist on, rejoice in her successes, and watch her begin to flourish...right before our very eyes.  It's like God is giving us this amazingly precious glimpse into our daughter's potential and strength.  Which, in all honestly, is positively limitless.

And for your viewing pleasure, here's a little video of her eating lunch, from a week ago or so.  She rocks.

Oh how I love my dear, beautiful TG!

Can you love Down syndrome?

In case you didn't know, we now have two children--yes, two!--with Trisomy 21.

Otherwise known as Down syndrome.

Which obviously falls under the "special needs" umbrella, but the funny thing is, I don't really think of my daughters as having special needs.

At all.

Is that weird?

Am I stepping on some sort of landmine here when I say that?  (Gosh, I hope not.)

I mean I know they have some medical issues that are a result of Down syndrome.  Both girls need heart surgery, and Mekdes also has a thyroid hormone disorder that will require lifelong treatment.  I get that.  All out-of-the-ordinary stuff, to be sure.  Stuff that I desperately wish were not the case.

And I know they have some cognitive delays.  It may take them a little longer to learn to read and write.

And one of them has some physical delays for which we're seeking early intervention.  (If they'll ever either answer their phones, or call me back.)

But kids WITHOUT Down syndrome are born with heart defects...thyroid problems...learning delays.

So I'm thinking through all this and processing what "being a mom to children with Down syndrome" means for me.  And so far? 

So far it means I have two sweet little girls who are pretty much all-around awesome!

Mekdes isn't a "special needs kid"--she's Mekdes!

Tigist isn't a "Down syndrome person"--she's Tigist!

And let's face it: each and every one of my children, biological or adopted, chromosomal abnormality or not, has unique and special needs.  Things that they need help or encouragement with, or ways that they need me, or ways in which they are, simply, special. 

Please hear me when I say that I don't mean to trivialize any of the challenges that people with Trisomy 21 face throughout their lives.  (My children included.  And, there will be challenges.)  I don't attempt to speak for any other mama, especially the mamas blessed with biological children with Down syndrome.  I have not endured the trauma of mourning the loss of what I believed was a healthy baby, nor have I spent time with my newborn in the NICU.  Each family will have their own dynamic and own way of understanding and processing the way Down syndrome plays out in their child's life.  And that's perfectly fine.  

As for me, I have to be totally honest and say that, well, I love me some Down syndrome.  I DON'T love the holes in my girls' hearts, but I DO admit that I've fallen head-over-heels in love with that precious extra chromosome.  Which is a vital and integral part of who my daughters are.  They're not defined by Down syndrome or "special needs", but they wouldn't be who they are were it not for those extra copies.

I honestly never really think about how my daughters could (and will) be labeled by most people as "delayed", "disabled", "special needs", or "the r word".  They're just my kids.  Who need surgery, who need some early intervention, and who need some thyroid meds.  Yes, they do have Down syndrome, but around here?  We think that's pretty rad.  (Yes, I just said rad.  I was also jammin' to 1980s Janet Jackson in the thrift store yesterday.  Because I'm an awesome product of the '80s like that.)

The fact is that all seven (yes, seven) of my children have needs.  Every last one of 'em.  And, they always will.  I figure being a mother is a lifelong pursuit, filled with joys and sorrows and lots and lots of love-put-into-action.  I can't know the future, or say for certain how much Mekdes and Tigist will "do".  I can't know what tomorrow holds.

I just know that I'm their mama, and I'm gonna do my very best to help them reach their beautiful, God-given potential, whatever that may be. 

Mostly I know I love my dear, sweet daughters.  Down syndrome and all.

Worth it (another unfortunate update)

A dear friend's prayer list, hanging in her beautiful home.

In case you didn't know, my husband and I are in the process of adopting two precious little girls from Ethiopia.  Both of them were born with Down syndrome.  You can learn more about all of that here.

After months (and months) of delays and setbacks, we finally passed court in July. 

Our case was then submitted to the US Embassy a couple of weeks ago.  And, not surpisingly (because anything that can go wrong with this process does), it is stuck and delayed again due to the embassy wanting more paperwork at the eleventh hour.

Truth be told, I'm discouraged.  Tired of waiting, tired of the unending bureaucracy, and tired of wondering if these girls will ever come home. 

And I'm quite aware of the embassy's motives in all of this.  And I'm just as disgusted as the next person about the unethical side of international adoption.  Really.  So please don't feel the need to enlighten me or explain why this is a good thing.  Because I get it. 

I was actually at a picnic on Sunday where I ran into the judge who processes all of the Ethiopian adoption cases.  The same woman we appeared before in Ethiopia, who approved our adoption of Tigist and Mekdes.  The courts are currently closed and it turns out that she's in the United States for a few weeks.  I would have given anything to pick her brain about the current climate of Ethiopian adoption, but instead I was polite and simply asked for a picture with her. 

I'm honestly not sure why she was at a picnic in Denver that was hosted by a local adoption agency (which we used for our homestudy), but I thought it was...odd.  Like many things when it comes to international adoption.  And while I've been mulling these things over for years now, one thing keeps coming to mind:

There are many, many children who legitimately need a family.  Today.

They are in the US foster care system, they are in Eastern Europe, they are in China, they are in Ethiopia. 

They are typically older, with medical needs, or developmentally delayed.

And while it is so completely maddening to be in the midst of an adoption process that is essentially going nowhere, I want people to know that there are so very many children who need someone to fight for them. 

As for us, we will continue to wait on our daughters' visas, and hope and pray that it won't be too long.  While I'm a huge advocate of adoption, I have to be honest and confess that I probably wouldn't personally begin an Ethiopian adoption right now.  Things are so up-in-the-air and, well, messy. 

But, I also confess that I'm glad I didn't know this was going to happen back when we started the process.

Because Tigist and Mekdes really, really needed a family.

And, now they have one.

So we'll wait as long as we need to.  Because they're my daughters, and because they're worth it.

Parenting children with special needs (and what miscarriage taught me)

My dear friend Jeannett at Life Rearranged asked today about how we mamas have been touched by raising children with special needs.

And I immediately knew I wanted to write about this.  Both about special needs and about motherhood in general, because the two are deeply connected for so many of us.

As many of you know, my husband and I are working to bring home our two daughters, Tigist and Mekdes, from Ethiopia.  Both girls were born with Down syndrome.

But let me back up a bit, because my journey to parenting children with special needs did not begin with Tigist and Mekdes, but when I miscarried a baby in 2004.  Which was completely devastating.  Then I had another miscarriage in 2008.  Equally painful and tragic, and it's hard to tell your four other children--through your own tears--that their baby sibling has died and gone to be with Jesus. 

Yet through these sad experiences, I did learn to rejoice in every baby, and that a soul knit together in the womb is a soul to love and be grateful for.  I became painfully aware that God is the ultimate author of life, and that each and every life is immeasurably valuable and beautiful no matter how short.  No matter the child's inability to live beyond six weeks in utero.  I was glad for both of my babies I'd lost, grateful I had them for the time I did.  Even if it was too short. 

And looking back, I can see that this perspective has really shaped my view of children with special needs, in general.  Because it touches on the value of life in general.  It touches on the meaning of motherhood, because it changes the definition or focus a little bit.  The truth is, whether the child meets my criteria for "healthy" (or typical or ________), he or she is my child.  My child.  A precious, beautiful soul to delight in and nourish and love.  A part of our family who will contribute in complex and astounding ways. 

So that includes my three biological daughters--the one who taught herself to read, the one who fought horrible infections her entire first year of life, and the one who is inexplicably small for her age and delayed in speech.  And it includes my two adopted sons with learning delays and ADHD tendencies.  It includes my two miscarried babies.  And of course now includes my two daughters in Ethiopia, both with Down syndrome.  All of them.  Priceless treasures not just the way they are, but because of who they are.

The truth is that Tigist and Mekdes are first and foremost our daughters.  Yes, they were born with an extra chromosome.  Yes, they may take longer to meet some of their developmental milestones.  Yes, they may continue to live with us as adults and yes, we may outlive them.  Yes, they could be classified as having "special needs."  But, my goodness, they are children.  Souls created by a perfect God to love and be loved and to experience life.  We receive them as gifts.  Like we have received each and every one of our children.  All of whom have special needs, in a sense--each child is unique in their approach to life and in their abilities and challenges.

Now I'm under no misapprehensions that life is going to be all neat and tidy and easy as pie for our family.  (As if it is now.)  My heart is surely going to break into a million pieces when my daughters are inevitably teased for being different.  (Is it wrong to punch someone else's kid on the playground?  :)  )  When we go to Costco or Target we'll get even more stares and questions, no doubt.  Probably some derision too.  And adopting children with special needs will affect our current children just as much as it affects us.

But when did conformity and anonymity and being the same as the world around us ever become the goal?  The truth is, I want my children to be different.  I want our family to be those people who are open to life in whatever form it comes.  I want my kids to care about one another and not to fear the very act of living.  I want them to be virtuous.  And to see that life is not about hiding safely behind a white picket fence.

And so when I dream about my two beautiful Ethiopian daughters, I know I wouldn't change a thing about them.  I love them just as they are.  Down syndrome and special needs and all.  Their lives are a gift, and I give thanks to God for opening my eyes to the beauty of each and every life perfectly created by Him.  I believe He used my two little babies, both with Jesus now, to show me this.  How blessed and humbled I am.

If you are considering adoption or foster care, won't you take a moment to think about the many children born with special needs?  Had we not been open to adopting children born with Down syndrome, we would not be the proud parents of Tigist and Mekdes.  It's worth thinking about, no?

Nordstrom and Target have style!

{source}

I was so excited and touched to see that the anniversary edition of the Nordstrom catalogue includes a child who has Down syndrome.  He's the precious boy on the far left.  (Look how hip he is--check out that jacket!)

{source}

And the Target ad also currently includes an adorable little girl who has Down syndrome.  I don't know her, but I want to hug her--I love her sweet hair-do!

I have to tell you that seeing these children acknowledged and affirmed makes me really, really happy.  It's as it should be.  All of us, and all of our unique giftings and challenges, together.  Wearing cool clothes and playing with Dora.  Perfect as-is.  Just typical kids.

And because they're just too cute not to share on here, I'm also posting photos of my own two sweeties.  They each have an extra chromosome too! 

Mekdes

Tigist

I know that "Down syndrome style" may have initially been intended as some sort of passive-agressive insult--but looking at all of these precious, beautiful children, I'm thinking it's actually a pretty big compliment!

So, way to go Nordstrom and Target!  Thank you for recognizing that children with Down syndrome are, simply, children.  As a soon-to-be-mama to two little girls born with Trisomy 21, I love seeing these sweet smiles in your catalogues!  (And, if you're looking for two additional models, I'll let you know when my girls come home.  'Cause I doubt anyone could resist buying whatever either of them would be selling!) 

Oops, GQ did it again

I'm afraid that it's time to beat a dead horse. 

Yes, we're gonna have us another little talk about GQ.  Sorry.

Remember when I shared those offensive statements they made regarding parents and adoptive families?

Well, now they've gone and insulted people with Down syndrome.

I know, right?

In an article arguing that Boston is America's worst-dressed city, GQ included this little gem:

"Due to so much local in-breeding, Boston suffers from a kind of Style Down Syndrome."

Now, I know GQ is a random magazine that probably none of us reads.  And I don't expect anyone to ascribe to my personal ideas or beliefs.  Especially the writers at GQ.

But people, this is just not okay.  Not.o.kay.

I'll start by pointing out that it belies some major ignorance on the part of the author: does he really think Down syndrome is the result of in-breeding?  Really?

Yet more importantly...why on EARTH is he using Down syndrome as an insult?!  Comparing bad fashion to people born with an extra chromosome??!!

Let me tell you, in case you didn't know, that people do not "suffer from" Down syndrome.  Down syndrome is not a disease, and it is not an illness.  It is a term used to classify a group of people born with some extra genetic material on their 21st chromosome.  This group of people tends to share certain characertistics, but they do not "suffer" from Down syndrome.  They will face some challenges unique to them, but then don't we all face challenges?  Good grief.  People born with Down syndrome are PEOPLE.

Stuff like this makes me fighting mad.  (If you couldn't tell.)

GQ or not, dumb men's magazine or not, you don't say things like that.  It's ugly.  It's ignorant.  It's mean.

As if those with Down syndrome in the US aren't fighting enough of a battle as it is.

92% won't even be born, because they will have been eliminated by their own mothers and fathers, thanks to a medical establishment that does not value life as it should.

Then the 8% or so fortunate enough to make it to birth have to put up with stupid comments and mean people.

So, I'm speaking up again, because I think this is a dialogue worth having.  Sure we can write off these statements because they come from a less-than-honorable publication, because we don't expect a worldly magazine to have the corner on morality or, you know, basic human decency.

Or we can address the unfortunate fact that these attitudes aren't limited to the pages of a sketchy periodical.  They are alive and well in our communities, our schools, our churches, and yes even our homes.

That 92% statistic?  Yep, that says it all. 

I now need to share some time-sensitive information with you.  (And yes, it relates to what we've been talking about).  This beautiful little girl, born with Down syndrome in Eastern Europe, is living on majorly borrowed time.  She needs a family.  In order to live.  Please spread the word.

When I read her story the other day, my heart broke into a million and one pieces.

Then, reading GQ's article today, it broke again.

Because people who trivialize the very existence of God's precious, most-vulnerable, made-in-His-image children are participating in a grave evil.  Maybe this journalist working for GQ thinks he has nothing to do with an orphan living on another continent, or with a pre-born baby in the womb, but the truth is, our world is a hostile place for children with Down syndrome.  And attitudes are shaped by what we see and hear in the media. 

So every time someone diminishes the life of a person with Trisomy 21, it is a nail in a child's coffin.

And that's no exaggeration.  It's the truth.

In addition to the horrific abortion rate for these children in our country, there is also the reality that orphaned children with Down syndrome world-wide have a horribly difficult time finding a family.  Most adoptive families want healthy young infants.  So these precious, especially vulnerable children sit and wait and, in Eastern Europe, are transferred to mental asylums where they eventually die.

So, yes, it's all related.

And, yep, I have a vested interest in this.  Oh yes I do.  Because I now have two daughters who were born with Down syndrome.  And they may be only 4 years old and 2 years old respectively, but they've got awesome style, and we have seven people here in our home who can't wait to get these girls here and start living life together under one roof.

GQ, I think it's time your magazine put more effort into whatever it is that you are supposed to do, and leave parents, adoptive families, and now people with Down syndrome(!) alone. Comments like the one above make you sound ignorant, but far worse, they're hurtful and cruel. Words matter--and for goodness' sakes, people who write for a living should know that!

(And if for no other reason--PLEASE stop saying such ridiculous things--I've got other stuff to blog about, yo!)

Introductions

{You can read the background on our adoption journey here.}



Friends, I'm so incredibly beyond excited to tell you that...

finally...

after so very many delays, hang-ups, and mishaps...

after a trip to the other side of the world...

after coming back to even more roadblocks and delays...

we.have.passed.court.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And see this cute baby girl?

She's our daughter!

Tigist.

Her name means "patience".

She's social as all-get-out and a total kick in the pants.

And do you see this beautiful young lady?

She's our daughter!

Mekdes.

She's sweet and self-assured and sharp.as.a .tack.  And she loves to blow kisses.

It's more than a little surreal, after a long year-plus of paperchasing, praying, and wondering if we'd ever bring these sweet girls home, to be able to announce that Mekdes and Tigist are our DAUGHTERS!  My other kids' siblings.  Mekdes and Tigist Heldt. 

We do still have a potentially long road ahead.  It can take eight to twelve weeks to get an appointment at the US Embassy to obtain the girls' visas...and that's if there aren't any more bumps in the road.

Still, we're another step closer.  These dear, precious little girls, who have waited so-very-long for a family, have a mommy and a daddy now!  And five siblings (not counting each other.)  And grandmas and grandpas and aunts and an uncle and cousins too. 

As I've mentioned before, both Mekdes and Tigist were born with an extra chromosome.  They have Down syndrome.  And yet when we met them in April, I looked at Kevin and told him that nothing is keeping these girlies back in life.  They are determined, sweet, and  happy.  I have a feeling they are going to succeed at whatever they do.  Best of all though, they're awesome.  Really, really awesome.


Need some proof?

Tigist LOVES to laugh.  And not just giggle, but really LAUGH.  Love this girl!!!

Mekdes gets SO EXCITED about things.  This is the face she makes, and this is what she does with her hands, when she gets excited.  So, so precious!


My mind is SWIMMING with all of the things I need to do before Tigist and Mekdes come home.  Rearranging bedrooms, getting closets stocked and beds set up, doing some additional organizing.  But first I'm trying to really drink up the moment and rest in knowing that Mekdes and Tigist are our little girls now, that there really is a light at the end of this crazy-tunnel.


And, how awesome is it that I can use ther names and share their photos on my blog now??!!


Anyway, these are our girls.  I'll be sharing more about our trip to meet them back in April in the coming days, now that I can show you photos.  Thank you, sweet readers, for your prayers and your support during this process.  I'll keep you updated!

And in the meantime, I'm simply happy to say that Tigist and Mekdes have a mom and a dad, and we are them, and we are blessed.

Countdown to 30: Living as a family, or running a group home?

{I'm doing a series of answering peoples' questions about me and my life as I count down to my 30th birthday. If you have something you'd like to ask me--anything!--please leave a comment or send me an email. It's not everyday I open myself up to answering any and all random questions, so ask away!}


Today's question comes from a blog reader who emailed me. I think it's a great question, and I know it's something a lot of people wonder about (but usually are too afraid to ask!) So, buckle up and away we go...





Large families are awesome. I don't have one but always liked the idea of lots of kids and the joys that would come with it. When though does a large family border on group home? It can't purely be a number thing so would it relate to the time or relationships children have or don't have with the parental figures or maybe something else? Also what are your thoughts on the good or bad that would come with crossing that border?

I'll start by saying that yes, I think large families are awesome too!  And the idea of a large family mimicking a group home is somewhat indicative of our modern times.  Historically speaking, "family planning"-- to the degree that it is practiced today, because people have always used some form of contraception--is a relatively recent phenomenon.  Directly related to the advent of hormonal birth control.  SO, fifty years ago, people wouldn't necessarily be thinking that way about large families, because they were more common and accepted.  But, society has changed. 

As for me personally, I subscribe to the historic Christian belief that children are part of a loving God's design to enrich our marriages and push us toward selflessness and thus further towards holiness (aka, teaching us what life and love are all about)!  I believe that the Catholic openness to life is, in general, part of being man and wife and part of God's purpose in instituting marriage.  Therefore, I think that children are a good thing.  A healthy thing.  A designed-by-God thing.  Having a large family, for many of us, is thus not an arbitrary decision, but a core part of living out our vocation as a married man or woman.  The goal is not to have a slew of kids so our quiver can be full or because we simply can; instead, we accept that God has bound procreation to our sexuality and that children are gifts to our marriage and signs of our love.

I would say that our own family is pretty darn close. We do lots of laughing, working, and playing together. Everyone pitches in, because we're a family, and we each have a role to play and some ownership in being a Heldt. There is a bit of discipline and structure too, because that is also part of living together (and growing as a person!) We learn side by side to be peaceable and loving and gracious and kind. We have to learn to share and sacrifice and look to the common good.  Some days are harder than others...for all of us.

The thing is, large families are not just full of children, they are also full of relationships.  My children, all five of 'em, have such unique bonds with us and with one another.  Sometimes there is friction, just like in any relationship.  Mostly it is beautiful.  Such a sweet slice of life.  Something we wouldn't see on this scale had we birthed our 1.2 children and called it quits.

And, want to know a little large-family-mom secret?  I have found that with each additional child, I savor the moments, the milestones, the cuteness, the itty-bitty toes and chubby fingers and years days spent nursing so.much.more.  No, I have no clue how that works out, but it just does.  Maybe it's because while you cuddle your sweet newborn, you're simultaneously watching your five year old daughter reading Roald Dahl's James and the Giant Peach.  It's her second time through.  That day.  And it hits you in a very deep place that life is forever moving forward, always marching on towards the future.  So, yes, you clutch your swaddled newborn a little tighter and relish her every coo and tell yourself that the sleepless nights are totally worth it.  Because they really, really are.  And all too soon, they'll be gone.

Adoption of course brings an interesting dynamic to this discussion, because it has the potential to defy natural child spacing and no natural law arguments are at play.  And, we're talking about children who've come from trauma.  The hard places.  In February of 2006, for example, we brought Yosef and Biniam home--twin boys just eight months younger than our biological daughter, Anna, who had just turned two.  Yes, that is three children ages two and under.  :) 

But a group home?  Not so much.

Then Kaitlyn was born.  Four kids ages three and under.  Group home, or family?

Then came Mary Lu.

Again, I'm thinking not so much of a group home.  :)

And we are of course currently in the process to adopt two little girls from Ethiopia.  Bringing us to seven children. 

So how does one know how many adoptions is "too many"?

How long before your home ceases to be a home, and begins to more closely resemble the orphanage your children originally came from?

Honestly, I don't know.  I know we're not there.  Because I know we operate like a family--a sometimes crazy, semi-chaotic family, but a family just the same.  Lots of cuddling, good conversation, and laughter.  My kids care about each other.  They're best friends.  And they all feel a connection to us.  If any one of our children were gone, there would be a HUGE, gaping hole in our family.  Felt by every single one of us.

I once assumed that we'd be "serial adopters".  I truly thought we'd be that family that continued adopting, again and again.  But, it has not worked out that way.  Instead, since that time, God has blessed us with two additional, dear biological children.  And more recently, united us with two precious little girls in need of a family, each of whom has an extra chromosome and who is going to maybe need a little extra help.  All of that to say that the adoption of these girls is most likely going to be our final international adoption.  And I feel complete and utter peace about that.  (I do hope that one day, when our children are grown, God might open the door for us to become foster parents.)

Because while I once felt compelled to fix the orphan crisis myself, I now simply ask God to use our family how He sees fit, to meet the greatest needs that we can realistically meet.  And I recognize that we can't meet each and every need.  Nor should we try. 

Ultimately there is freedom in how people choose to run their families.  Some families, whether large or small, may just seem less intimate (or more group home-ish) than others.  And I think that's okay.  It is also surely God's will for some families to, for example, adopt many high-needs children who may require therapeutic parenting, lots of structure, and lots of energy.  Life will not be easy, but I bet that family will be growing in virtue and driven to a very real, very right dependence on God. 

And I'm sure there are some small families that more closely resemble a bootcamp or an institution, while some large families are as close as can be.  (How do you even define "close", anyway?  Pretty subjective.  Not to mention, a high-structure, therapeutic home is anything but cold or devoid of love.  These parents in the trenches are some of the best you'll find, anywhere.  Period.)  It seems to be more about family culture and family dynamics than the actual size of the family.  And families can and will have different dynamics.  Yes I do know adults who resent that their parents adopted, relocated to a developing country, or gave birth to a child with medical needs.  But I also know that most people find something to resent about their dear, poor parents who were doing the best that they could.  And life, as much as we'd like to pretend it is, is not all neat and orderly and designed to revolve around us.  (I also know many adults who admire the unconventional path their parents chose, some of whom even caught the vision themselves.  I hope this for my own children, but who can know?)

Something I think about a lot, especially when I'm tempted to romanticize the days when I had just one baby napping in the other room (bwahahahaha!), is that our house-of-five-children is filled with life.  You cannot spend more than about one minute here without, um, discovering that.  I hereby apologize to anyone who has come over for an evening, only to be accosted at the front door by children eager to host them, or who have been begged to read a story aloud, or who have had to listen to endless descriptions of t-ball practice, Aztec sacrifices, or Pixar movie plots.  (Doubly sorry about the Aztecs, but let's face it, we homeschool).

Lots of  life within our walls.  I propose that life is a good thing and, afterall, Jesus came to give us life to the full.  That life definitely doesn't have to look like life in an institution.  It can be robust and dynamic and really, really beautiful.

If nothing else, please do understand that large families are really just...families.  Whether they are high-structure, high-nurture, or a mixture of both.  And we desperately need grace because we are constantly being judged and scrutinized based on the number of children we have.

Is my almost-two-year-old screaming and crying in Target?  That mom has way too many kids to handle.

Is the same almost-two-year-old one of our children screeching like a pterodactyl being too loud in the library or in a restaurant?  Look at all those kids just running wild.

Is there a skill that one of our children hasn't mastered yet?  Well, when you have so many, you just can't give individualized attention to any of them.

Nevermind the mom-to-two in Target whose four year old is throwing a huge fit.  Or the parents of one screaming-and-throwing-food toddler at Chili's.  Or the couple with two children, spaced five perfect years apart, whose youngest is a late walker/talker/reader/underwater-basket-weaver.  Could it be that life with kids, whether it's one or twelve, is just plain unpredictable?  Could it be that that is part of why God gives us children in the first place?  To teach us the virtues of patience and long-suffering and charity, not just toward our children but also toward others?

Quite frankly, it can be exhausting being judged primarily on the basis of how many kids we have.  I have met people who cannot get past this fact (no matter how much I try to downplay it), and who it is, as a result, impossible to build a relationship with.  "I don't know HOW you do it, I'm so maxed out with two!"  And despite my very-best-clever-conversational-attempts to steer the conversation elsewhere, it just keeps coming back to that.  "But wow, five kids, oh man, you must be supermom/crazy/an alien."  Finally I just smile and repeat that it doesn't matter how many children you have, motherhood is hard...and eventually the conversation dies a sad, especially-awkward-for-an-introvert-like-me death.

So. 

While I don't have an easy (or short!  ack!  sorry!) answer as to when things move from loving, tight-knit family to institutionalized group home, I've hopefully clarified a little bit about how I see families in general.  And ours is probably a lot like yours.  Happiness and sadness, laughter and tears, lots of messes and the occasional mommy-meltdown.  That's just life, and it's a crazy ride, and choosing to embrace it is a daily, moment-by-moment, only-by-God's-grace choice for me.  May I learn to rejoice more and more in my vocation as a wife, and mother-to-many!

Thank you for asking!

Driving a status symbol

I alluded earlier to the fact that we had made an exciting purchase.  Which we picked up on Saturday.

What is the purchase, you ask?  And why is Mary Lu so very happy about it?

Well, it's a van.

A huge van.

A huge, 15-seat passenger van.

Eek!

Never thought I'd own me one of these.  Well, until Anna was born and we figured out the whole openness to life/adoption/we're-going-to-end-up-with-a-slew-of-kids thing.  Then I knew that, most likely, we'd eventually need some sort of behemoth car.

And "eventually" has become "now", because our swagger wagon only seats 8 people.  Meaning that once we bring our girls home from Ethiopia, our family of nine won't fit, period.  Boo.

Thus the need for a larger vehicle.

And it doesn't get much larger than a passenger van, now, does it?

Check me out, turning to look behind me before I put that puppy in reverse.  I am so awesome.


I have to tell you that I was so, SO intimidated to own one of these.  How on EARTH was I going to drive it?  But, you know what?  It actually is turning out to be somewhat less intimidating than our minivan was when we first bought it.  For some reason, the leap from a sedan to a minivan felt more foreign than when I was driving this guy on Saturday.  The visibility out the windows is actually superior to that of our Toyota Sienna, and the mirrors are better too. 

The main issue will be, ahem, parking.  BUT, I'm HORRIBLY nervous about parking our other van anyway so I am well accustomed to parking with lots of empty spots around me, and in the back of the lot.  :)

I also have to tell you that I am so opposed to cars being seen as status symbols (gross!)...BUT, I've decided that this is one status symbol I am proud to own, and proud to drive.  Dang proud.  Proud enough to even make me cry a little as we brought it home.

Because OH MY GOODNESS, how rich are we?!  We have five, soon to be SEVEN, beautiful children.  We had to splurge and buy an insanely huge car because our current one isn't insanely huge enough to hold all of the love and relationships in our family!  We have had to further put off our landscaping plans (our yard, front and back, is a bit of a disaster) and other house updates (A/C, anyone?)  in lieu of receiving two extra-special daughters with their extra-special chromsomes and extra-special hearts.  Because not only are we paying for this adoption, but we have had to buy a car, too.

So, yes.  People may see me screech chug lurch drive up in my massive, commercial-ish van with all manner of children spilling out and think, ohmygosh how embarrassing to have one of those for your car.  But the reality?  Our riches far exceed anything this earth has to offer.  God is so incredibly good to us.

And, it will mean that our daughters are home.

Because right now the new passenger van is just sitting parked, empty, next to our house.  We don't need it yet.  Until our daughters are here, we all still fit into the swagger wagon we bought in 2007.

So come home soon, girls.  We are getting more anxious by the day to kiss your sweet faces and have you here, with us, where you belong.  We have a status-symbol car big enough to fit all of us now, and we can't wait to begin our life together.  We love and miss you terribly.  Hurry home.