Initial Reactions: Life with Baby J

The adoption story of Baby J is still in progress.  Please continue to pray for our family.

Until then, a few observations about what it's been like to bring home an adopted infant.

First, the negatives, only because I want to end with the overwhelming positives that have been the norm.

I've been surprised by a few reactions I have received from people on the periphery of our family's life.  About three-fourths of the way through our adoption journey, I learned for the first time that there are actually people who are opposed to domestic infant adoption as a concept. They believe that birth mothers should in all instances, using extreme measures of support if necessary, keep their babies. There are actually websites filled with rants hostile to adoption. While I have never met such people, I have been caught off guard a few times by people's comments when they encounter me with my child for the first time.

Unfortunate reaction number one:  "I can't even imagine..." 

When coupled with a congratulations or a comment on the baby’s general cuteness, it’s not as perplexing.  But twice it’s been the stand-alone reaction. It's the trailing silence, the unfinished nature of the sentence that bothers me.  So my mind can't help but wander into the possible endings:

• A seven year gap between children? Well, it wasn't intentional.  The road's been long and painful.  We started out five years ago, back when the spacing would have been two and a half years.  Lost two children in my womb and two almost-adopted children along the way. So, where you see a gap, we see a journey filled with both tears and blessings.

• Adoption as a way to expand our family?  To be blunt, adoption is widely misunderstood. It is a life-giving alternative to abortion; he's a soul who we are blessed to be charged with forming.  Love him just like my own, because he is my own.  Which leads me to:

Strange reaction number two:  "Is he yours?"

This one turned out to be a trick question.  I answered yes, only to be hit with the following:  "He didn't come from you."  My questioner’s smug tone informed me that I was busted, caught in a half-truth.  I politely excused myself from further conversation.

Unexpected reaction number three:  "You got your boy."

Actually, we were open to either gender.  One of our two miscarried children and both failed adoptions were girls.  We felt called to parent more children.  In the end, God sent a son.  His plan, His timing.  All glory and honor to Him.

Open mouth, insert foot reaction number four:  When talking about the sleep deprivation typically experienced by parents of infants, "I bet when he wakes you up at 2 am you just think 'I'm too old for this.'"

No, I don't.  I just think I'm tired and my son needs to be fed, again.

Enough of that.  On to the positives.

Our extended families, friends, and parish and school communities-at-large have been so amazingly loving, supportive, and generous that many times it has moved me to tears.

A common question: "How is it starting over again?"

The whole truth:  I'm drowning in a joy I've felt only a few times in my life.  It's an indescribable gift that I am not worthy of.

What I generally say:  "It's great."

A surprisingly common question:  "Was it love at first sight?"

Well...

First off, when we met he was not mine to love.  No decisions had been made, no paperwork had been signed, no records had been reviewed.  He was not ours in any way.  We'd been given permission to enter his hospital room.  Period.

Within an hour of meeting him, the nurses asked me to feed him for the first time.  About 35 hours later, I was feeding him for the fifth time when a nurse came in and told me I was doing it wrong.  "You can't hold him all lovey-like."  (Try to imagine the southern accent.)   With a NICU preemie, a feeding is apparently supposed to be like a business transaction--get the most food into him in the least possible amount of time. (But God bless those nurses--they loved him at first sight!  His care was excellent; those nurses are truly good people.)  This particular well-meaning nurse took him from me and held him in her customary NICU upright position that prevents any close contact between feeder and eater.  She then tried to put the bottle in his mouth.  He protested quite loudly and continued to wail for about 90 seconds before the nurse handed him back, saying "I guess he already knows who his Mama is."

Even when we left the hospital with him legally in our custody four days later, he was not a whole lot closer to being ours. We would have to remain in the state with him, far from home, until a series of interstate legal and administrative requirements were met. Birthparent consents would not be final until the revocation period lapsed.  Having felt the pain of miscarriages and near-miss adoptions before, it was hard not to fear that something might go wrong again. That's why I didn't call myself "Mama" when I talked to him.  I didn't kiss his soft cheek until day 7.  I didn't whisper "I love you" until day 10.

So, while from the moment I laid eyes on our beautiful baby I had a powerful drive to protect him, I didn't feel the butterflies-in-the-stomach giddy kind of love that I think my questioners mean when they ask.  I do know that love for our son was manifest through our actions when, leaving our two young daughters behind with Grandma, we got on a plane headed for a baby in a NICU 1,700 miles away, a baby who was without a family over the Thanksgiving weekend, a baby with both known and unknowable health risks, a baby who might never be ours.

I guess our love in those early stages was somewhat vague, more of a pro-life leaning than a rock-solid emotional tie to the tiny person who was to become our son.  I can't say when exactly love as my questioners mean it first swept over my heart.  I can only say for certain that it has.  When I am with him it rarely occurs to me that he did not come from my body because he has been irrevocably imprinted on my soul.   He is a baby, I am his Mama.  He knows it, I know it, anyone who's seen us together knows it, and I'm quite certain God wills it.  Many thanks to my questioners for making me reflect on that one.

The Extra Day

I had wanted to give up.  I had begun to question the truth of what I had previously considered to be a very clear call to parent more children.  Was I making the whole thing up?  In continuing to pursue adoption, were we in danger of “forcing God’s will,” as I was told by one ambivalent priest?  I prayed to St. Jude because, for the first time, the whole journey had begun to feel like a lost cause. 

Even as we decided to take Baby Justin into our lives, knowing the many risks and not being certain of the joy it would bring, I continued to waiver.  Are we doing the right thing?  Will we be bringing too much suffering into the life of our family?  Is it fair to our girls to adopt a child who would need extra care when we’re, well, over the average age of new parents?

As I held him during those first days, enjoying all of the beautiful, fun moments of having a newborn, my doubts did begin to fade.   And then came December 11^th.  

Those who believe in coincidences can stop reading here.  Even for those who do not, I could never do justice in writing to the Power of that day.

Our stay in Alabama had already been several days longer than we had anticipated.  First, our social worker came down with the flu and could not travel for three days to obtain the needed signatures.  Then, some new information came up unexpectedly.  Another signature was needed, this time in a different state altogether, which would require retaining another attorney and social worker who would agree to squeeze our needs into their already busy schedules.  Eventually we deduced that December 12^th would be the earliest date we could possibly travel home, so we made plane reservations for that date. 

On the morning of December 10^th, our guardianship was officially approved by both AL and AZ and we were given permission to go home.  We decided to celebrate the next, extra day before we could travel back to AZ by visiting the town of Baby Justin’s birth.

December 11^th Begins

Baby Justin was born in Cullman, Alabama, about an hour’s ride from Birmingham.  The first sign that this trip would be special was literally a road sign:

 

I had created this blog for my family with the name "In Joyful Hope" in February 2012.

As soon as we exited the freeway in Cullman, we were immediately struck by the most prominent feature of the landscape:

Since we love old churches, we decided to do a drive by. 

Sacred Heart Parish

The image of the Sacred Heart has been meaningful in my life for many years and has been increasingly present in my life for the past few years. I’ve continually acquired images of and devotions to the Sacred Heart because it is a visible reminder of Christ’s love for all humanity.  Who doesn’t want more of that?

 

  

The prayer most often on my lips during our five year journey to add to our family, and especially during our agonizing two-week period of waiting for all of our adoption’s legal issues to play out, was simply “Thy will be done”—not because of any particular spiritual maturity on my part but rather because a creative priest suggested that I plant myself in front of the Blessed Sacrament and pray those four words exclusively, over and over again. As I continued to pray those four words over the course of several months, I gradually came to truly mean them, which did eventually lead to a greatly improved level of trust in God’s plan for the life of my family.

So my second surprise of the day was the parish sign:

Note the quote at the bottom of the sign.

Really, this would have been enough to confirm for me that our adoption of Baby Justin had His fingerprints all over it.  But, as I learned from a wise Bible Study leader in our parish, when God has His hand in a situation, He will not be outdone in His generosity. Her words:  “He wants to bless your socks off.”  And so the day went on.

The Grotto

After visiting the hospital where Baby Justin was born, we decided to check out a sight that we had seen advertised on a freeway sign just inside Cullman. 

The Ave Maria Grotto consists of miniatures carved in stone by a monk over the course of many years. Most of the carvings are of sacred Catholic buildings.

Miniature of St. Peter’s Square in Rome

Hillside of various miniatures

San Fernando Mission in CA—only a few blocks away from the house where Steve grew up.  We visited it as a family for the first time a few months before Baby Justin's birth.

And then, standing off by itself on the west side of the property, was the only full size statue of a Saint in the grotto: 

St. Frances Xavier Cabrini feast day:  November 13^th 

Baby Justin’s birthday:  November 13^th

Ave Maria Grotto is housed at St. Bernard Abbey.

Saint Bernard’s feast day: August 20^th  

My birthday:  August 20^th

The grotto was dedicated in 1934.  I love it that God plans ahead!

 Proverbs 3: 5-6 

During the time period in which we tried to have a child the old-fashioned way, I resigned from my volunteer accounting post at Maggie’s Place.  I felt the need to slow my life’s pace down in an attempt to lower my stress level.  As the months passed without a successful pregnancy and two failed adoptions, leaving Maggie’s Place was a move that I constantly second-guessed.  Maybe I had thwarted God’s plan for my life beyond small children. 

As a gift recognizing my time of service, my friend selected Proverbs 3: 5-6 as a bible verse to include on a keepsake wall hanging. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight.  In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.”

The gift shop at the grotto was large and fascinating to us.  We saw some name cards on a display and decided to look for Justin’s name.  Finding it literally took my breath away.

 

Coming Home

The final and most awe-striking confirmation occurred in the timing of our trip home, December 12^th, the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe.  Coinciding with the loss of an adoption, I had begun to feel a strong devotion to Our Lady of Guadalupe.  It seemed odd to me only because that appearance of Mary is one that I had never felt called to study.  Just a sampling of the images and information I acquired between June and November:

 

A piece of the real Tilma on display at the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels in Los Angeles, California    

A votive candle I lit right next to the Tilma relic in July 2012 for the intention of a successful adoption  

Our Lady of Guadalupe feast day:  December 12^th

Our arrival home with Baby Justin:  December 12^th

The Broken Road

Despite the many difficulties on our long path to adoption, I am grateful for the many lessons about trust, grace, humility, and love that I learned along the way.  God blessed our journey with three children in Heaven, two living children missing from our lives but whom we will pray for always, and so many lessons I can’t yet begin to teach Baby Justin. I don’t know the plan for his life, but I do know that God intended him for our family from the beginning. I can only trust and give Him thanks every day.

 

Dear Justin,

I made this video for you to help you understand that you were adopted and to share with you our joy at your arrival into our family.  We love you so much!

Amelioration at the MIM

Note:  Start here to understand why amelioration was needed.

On a whim today, I returned to the Musical Instrument Museum in North Phoenix, mostly because I wanted to see if anything had changed with the Vatican City exhibit as I prepared for the re-posting of Mortification at the MIM on another Catholic website.

I set out for the exhibit, only to find that it no longer occupied its previous space just inside the front entry to the Europe exhibit hall.  A staff member directed me to its new location: the far back corner.

I was about to unleash some adrenalin when, lo and behold, I looked down at the exhibit and read:

                  The new placard for the Vatican City exhibit!

It’s still a diminutive, unremarkable exhibit, sandwiched between Italy and Sardinia.  So much more could be taught and learned.

Audio?  No.

Video?  Nope.

Reflective of the full contribution of the Church to the history of Western music?  Not even close.

Overt mocking?  Gone.

A small step for the MIM and, I suppose, a tiny leap in the right direction for the portrayal of our Church and her musical legacy.

Addendum 

But wait, there’s more!  I went back to the MIM yesterday to do a small fact check because their curator’s office won’t return my calls.  It turned out to be a blessing in disguise, because I found this!

The previously secular organ exhibit has been transformed into a brand new Cathedral Music section with four video screens containing sweeping views of several cathedrals and four corresponding audio soundtracks!   

Interestingly, while the cathedrals are named in the exhibit and there is a reference to the Annunciation in one of the videos, I was unable to locate the words "Catholic" or "Christian."  Seems to me like an elephant in the room.

But on the whole, I am markedly thankful for the modifications at the MIM.

 

Catholic Education: Their Future

High School Options:  The Choice We Face
Let me be clear from the start.  I am an advocate of Catholic education.  And yet, as of now, my children might not attend a Catholic high school.  Here’s why.

Reason #1:  There is another option in our community that we hope will assist us more fully in meeting our family’s goals.  A local public charter school has reclaimed the intellectual roots of the Catholic education of ages past. The school incorporates logic and philosophy into its course of studies.  Students read the early Church Fathers and ancient Greek thinkers because their writings are of primary relevance for all times and cultures. Catholics in particular should find them an important part of a well-rounded education because they provide a foundation for Catholic theology.  I was not blessed with this type of education, and I want my children to have it. 

Reason #2:  This charter school aims to weed out modern pop culture from the daily school environment.  I do not want my daughters constantly assailed by the latest fashion trends, consumer must-haves, and false heroes consisting of pop music singers, reality TV and movie stars, and professional athletes of questionable moral character. While the concrete attainment of this goal is difficult to measure and results will vary depending on each child’s particular social contacts, at a minimum I want a school that attempts to keep the baser elements of our culture at bay. 

The problem that I will face is that it will break my heart to take our daughters out of the Catholic surroundings they have known and loved during the early years of their education.  If we decide to enroll our children in this high school, I will struggle with the lack of all of the elements that make Catholic education Catholic.  There is no prayer and no Catholic art to remind students of the heroes of our Faith.  There is no religious instruction and no Mass.  There is nothing Catholic about it other than that the level of intellectual development its students eventually attain will readily lend to their understanding of Catholic doctrine should they later engage in more rigorous study of Catholic theology as adults.  Without question, the school teaches about truth, goodness, and beauty, but they can’t mention Truth, Goodness, and Beauty.  They cannot legally make the connection to the Giver of all Truth.

One mitigating factor that might ease my discomfort is that many members of the school’s administration and faculty are Catholic, and the school was founded by Catholics who saw the need in our community for this type of education and filled it, somewhat courageously.  They built a successful academic alternative from the ground up.  I believe that a lot of love and sacrifice went into its founding.  Many Catholic families whom I admire greatly send their children to this school.  These families are prayerful and exemplify virtue. I have to believe that they carefully considered the spiritual consequences of moving their children away from a Catholic environment for 35 hours each week.

The ideal high school for my children would be one in which an academically excellent classical curriculum is integrated into an authentically Catholic culture with a parent population that is guided by its own Catholic nature to seek first and foremost the formation of young Catholic men and women who are strong in conscience and striving toward holiness.  The school would seek to remove the barriers to sanctity thrown at our young people by the secular culture at large, and the curriculum in its entirety would reflect Christian virtue.  A tall order by any stretch, I am praying for such a high school option by the time it becomes relevant for our family.  I also pray that the exceedingly talented faculty and administration members who successfully built the charter school alternative for our community will share their enthusiasm and energy with others who may decide to work toward improving the curriculum and environment of our Catholic schools. 

Money and Mission
I know that one factor for both large middle class and lower income Catholic families is the cost of the diocesan high schools.  But there is a diocese in the United States in which Catholic schools are tuition-free.  Yes, tuition free—and high quality.  After establishing an aggressive diocesan-wide stewardship campaign in 1985, the Diocese of Wichita was able to offer tuition-free Catholic education to children of active parishioners in all of its elementary and high schools by 2002.  Note the key words: active parishioners.  In doing so, the diocese has not only ensured Catholic education across economic lines but has also created schools with an authentic Catholic identity that fosters more completely the primary goal of Catholic education:  to form Catholic children into faithful Catholic adults who will know, love, and serve God.

The following quote is from an in-depth look at Catholic education in the Diocese of Wichita, Chapter 1 of “Who Will Save America’s Urban Catholic Schools?”

 “The big ‘C’ Catholic comes before the little ‘s’ school,” [Diocese of Wichita Superintendent of Schools Bob Voboril] says. “We are schools that if you come here, you are going to be formed as disciples of Jesus Christ. It is going to be taught every day.  You are going to be surrounded by it in the environment.  Your teachers are going to be trained that way and you’re going to live it out in service. We are going to worship daily. We are going to pray daily.  And in the end you are going to be expected to turn into a young person who knows that the gifts they have are going to be put into the service of the entire community, not just to enrich themselves,” Voboril says. In many struggling dioceses, the opposite is more the norm. The schools’ Catholic identity has been slowly eroded, replaced with focuses on athletics, academics or whatever other educational avenue the tuition-paying families desire. “These schools become subject to market forces,” he says. “If you’re going to charge someone $8,000 or $12,000 in tuition, then you are going to have to listen very carefully to the people who pay that kind of money.” What frees Wichita of those pressures is the parish and stewardship model. With the parish providing the funding and no wealthy donors (or government program) calling the shots, the schools can retain a strong Catholic focus.

“We are not academically elite prep schools,” Voboril explains. “We are not schools that cater to athletes. But we are able to do what we can because parishioners are committed to the notion that Catholic schools should be available for every active Catholic, not just those who can pay for it and not just for those who are academically talented. That changes the nature of the school in a good way. It exists for the mission for which it was created instead of morphing into something because that’s all it can afford.”  (boldface mine)

And the mission for which the Catholic Schools in the Diocese of Wichita were created: 

“Together with the family, the parish, and each other, we will FORM EACH STUDENT INTO A DISCIPLE OF JESUS CHRIST who seeks the Truth, grows to love It, and learns to live It.”  (capitalization theirs)

That’s it.  Wow.  It’s a simply stated mission, really, but my husband and I cannot think of a more appropriate one to help us achieve our goals for our children.

Many in our community have perceived a three-way divide in our diocese on the issue of education and are greatly troubled by it.  Catholic education is more critical than ever right now as we and our children face the increasingly dangerous anti-Catholic disposition of the government and media in our country.  I believe that 54% of Catholics voted for President Obama in 2008 in part because our own schools for the past 40 years have failed to properly form the consciences of young Catholics.  Catholic education must, first and foremost, be Catholic, conceived and carried out by Catholics, for Catholic children.