He is here.

He is here.

 

I couldn't believe the text I just read. I just let Kat know that I was two minutes away from the hospital and she responded with "He is here." What? (followed by a couple f-bombs. Luckily the kids weren't in the car with me.) How could I have missed it? We thought we have one or two more hours until the pushing so I left the room to drive to the rental house and bring the kids and Uncle Kevin to the hospital. Halfway into the 10 minute drive Kat texted to let me know the pushing had begun, so I knew I had to turn around. Surely I'd make it in time, I thought. I missed the birth by about 5 minutes.

 

As frustrating as the miscalculation seemed at the time, upon further reflection we were glad it was just Kat and Connie in there together. They had bonded all morning since the 4:30 am pick up time and red eye drive to the hospital. And even though Connie said she was ok with me being in the room, I sensed it was better for all of us that I missed a few minutes of details.

 

My absence also ensured Kat would cut the cord- an experience she has never had, having been slightly preoccupied during the birth of our first three children.

I ran into the room just after they placed the baby in the giant combined basinette, warmer, and scale contraption. It looked as if this device could make a mean expresso for all I knew.

But there he was! Our baby boy! And the most important thing is that this baby was safe and healthy, and crying. Crying! Good, healthy crying. Connie looked relieved and Kat was smiling. Joy. Relief. Wonder. Amazement. Was he ok? Was everyone ok? I think so.

My reaction was similar to when I met our first three children. Tears of joy. Hugging Kat- except we were both standing up this time. That was a new feeling.

I was able to hold him almost immediately. I forgot how light babies are. And the whole neck support thing- better get used to that again, I thought. We took pictures. So did Connie. The flow of text messages, emails, and social media posts began.

 

 

His scores were good and he appeared healthy. What's the catch? I thought. It will be 72 hours until the withdrawl symptoms manifest. Still a long road to go.

It only took one look to confirm we had the right name picked out. Elijah Luke Kanary. It fit him. I just couldn't bring myself to write it, or say it, until I actually met him. I have developed a reputation amongst our friends for my superstitious nature here- refusing to talk about baby names "until I meet the baby." Well I finally I met him. And he is definitely, most fittingly, Elijah.

My sister pointed out that his initials spell out the name ELK, a "majestic" animal in its own right.

Elijah Luke Kanary, born 1:37 pm Eastern time on April 22, 2014. Weighing 7 pounds, 6 ounces. 19 and a half inches in length. A majestic little boy, indeed!

Connie couldn't wait to get out of there- and since her 5 am arrival had been ensuring every staff member- including housekeeping- knew of her desire to leave early. She had been down the adoption road before and wanted to get out of the hospital as quickly as possible. We couldn't be certain if it was to seek comfort of familiar surroundings, people (and possibly substances), or to avoid the painful feelings and emotions she would (once again) feel after offering a child to another family for adoption. Maybe it was all of the above. Or none of the above. It didn't matter. We understood.

Later on while the baby was in the nursery for his bath I went to check on Connie. She spoke briefly about the birth father- who had refused his parental rights long ago. He specifically requested that she not send him pictures. He didn't want to see them. Or him. "I want to send him a picture, just so he'll see," she said. Then she broke down. "What kind of person....doesn't want to see their baby? He doesn't even care. He doesn't care. Doesn't care about anyone, but himself" she sobbed.

I tried to comfort her. Reminding her that she cares. And that mattered. That means something. She loves and cares for this baby. And she's a good person. I didn't know what else to say.

We convinced our adoption attorney Mark to get to the hospital as quickly as possible to get the signings and witnessings done so the parental rights paperwork can be finalized. Once that's done we can have "custody" of the child in the hospital- especially with Connie wanting the early departure. There's a risk we won't or can't all get back into the same location again tomorrow.

Strutting into the delivery room in a dark window pane-patterned suit, Mark brought a stack of papers, a ball point pen, and a full-fledged live court reporter with a rollerbag suitcase full of gear. In less than one hour the initial round of paperwork was done. Connie wanted to be certain her four months of post-partum living expenses (in cash) would come along with Mark. It did.

The epidural had worn off just enough that Connie could begin to feel her legs and walk. So "AMA" (Against Medical Advice) she decided she was ready to leave. Less than 5 hours after giving birth. A record time for any birth mother, according to Mark.

In a whirlwind of hugs and kisses, Connie, her mother who came to drive her home, and Jojo (who had just met her biological little brother) were gone. We'll see them again at least once before we leave for Kansas- as we had agreed upon.

Kat couldn't wait to get her hands, or rather, two other specific body parts, on this baby. We planned and hoped to have the opportunity to breastfeed this child- as we have been blessed to do successfully with our first three. Kat had been studying, pumping and preparing for this day for weeks. We held on loosely to the hope that nurturing our child in this way would be possible. While my request to publish pictures was denied by my "editor," I am happy to report that Elijah is latching on and feeding well thus far in his first few hours with us. In fact just tonight one of the nurses complimented him on his "excellent latch." Well done, son. Well done.

Mark shared some slightly discouraging yet not surprising news- the ICPC (acronym for Interstate Beauracracy for adoptions) for the state of Florida is backed up- and the approvals are taking longer than usual for other adoptive familes. In some cases paperwork that was sent in over a week ago hasn't even been opened yet. We should expect the worse, which could put us in Florida for another two weeks. Maybe more.

The hospital staff graciously offered us our own recovery room so that we could care for Elijah until his discharge- which could be as soon as tomorrow, maybe the next day. The room was ready, and now that our kids were there, Mark suggested we roll Elijah into the new room so they could meet their new baby brother for the first time. After greetings of wonder, amazement and cooing, a round of supervised baby holding, and plenty of sheilding our new son from the sneezes and coughs of our youngest daughter, we settled into our new room. Mark said goodnight, knowing he'll see us tomorrow or the next day for more paperwork. Later on I would take the kids back to the rental house so that Kat could spend the night with Elijah.

But for the moment, the first moment ever, it's just us in the room. The new us. Kanarys: Party of 6.

Posted with Blogsy

Return to Florida

More waiting. This time it's at 4 am in a rented house a quarter mile from the Atlantic Ocean. I can hear the waves even with the doors and windows shut. It seems like we have had a lot of practice at waiting these past several months. Following the thrill of our first trip to Florida to meet up (and officially match up) with Connie- birth mother to our future son- it's been all waiting. Waiting to hear from our adoption attorney Mark regarding Connie's status. Waiting to hear if she peed clean this time. Waiting to know the results of the ultrasounds. Waiting to hear if she's out of rehab. Waiting for a revised due date. 

Now, this morning's waiting was different. I just sent my bride off in the dark, humid Florida air to pick up Connie. I'm waiting on my brother in law to arrive to help watch our three current children- all peacefully sleeping- so that I can join them at the hospital later this morning when the Potossin takes effect and labor is progressing. 

Today is induction day: Modern medicine's way of saying enough is enough to the waiting. 

The doctor felt it would be good for Connie to have the baby sooner than the April 24 due date due to the projected size and weight of the child.  In fact we thought we'd go in last Thursday evening for induction but that was rescheduled. Soon the waiting will be over. At least this phase of waiting, anyway. New flavors will emerge: Is he healthy? Is he addicted? Will he want to nurse from another mother's breast? Can't spend time thinking about that now. I know I should try to sleep for the long day and nights ahead.

This trip to Florida has been much different than our last one. We departed our safe, sterile suburban cul-du-sac as a family of five. Knowing we'll come back as a family of 6. Back to an even number. "For roller coasters and restaurants," my executive mentor tells me.  

Family of six. Wow. Technically enough for our own hockey team- including a goalie. That's the number I told Kat I wanted someday, joking about how many kids I wanted. While we don't have 6 actual children (this will be our 4th), it dawned on me that what was once a joke has somehow blended into vision, and now is turning slowly into reality. Kanary, party of 6. Keeping mini-vans and CostCo in business. 

We are gaining a deeper appreciation for the unique characteristics of a domestic, semi-open adoption, versus closed and/or international adoptions, for example. When we had our "God-moment" or what we now refer to as the "adoption ambush service" at church, when a totally predictable message on serving the poor, the widowed and the orphaned took a major left turn, and families came up on stage with their kids to share their stories of adoption. I began sobbing uncontrollably and Kat soon joined me. We knew then that adoption was the next step we were going to take to grow our family. Not the recommended next step. Not the next step we should think about. No. God is clearly calling us to do this. We were going to do it. Now almost two and a half years later, here we are. Okay, we're a little slow in our obedience. But the journey has been amazing and I suspect we needed that much time in our hearts to prepare for this. 

We chose domestic adoption because we knew our ability to travel together as a family internationally was limited. Seemed like there were a lot of kids who needed a family here in the US. And there are. 

No matter which route a family chooses, it's a roller coaster. This road we chose is not a clean, neat one. In fact it's downright messy. No easy entry or exit point. And there's no tidy bow to tie on or around it when it's done. 

As we sat on the beach yesterday watching our kids play with Connie's daugher JoJo, it hit me how we have become redemptively entangled with Connie and her family. Nothing like this would ever occur in a closed adoption. Connie asked us to pick up and watch JoJo for the day, so there we were. And we wouldn't have it any other way. Except I would have liked to remember to put sunscreen on the tops of my feet. 

Last month we decided to have Kat and Katherine (our oldest daughter) fly to Florida just to spend time with Connie. The trip was all about loving on Connie. No agenda other than spending time with her, going to doctor visit with her, getting nails done. Just girl time. We wanted to show her- and also remind ourselves- that this adoption is not just about a baby. It's about all of us. 

Our hope is that many lives will be changed through this process. The baby's life, our lives as parents, spouses, siblings, and Connie's life. 

We did not want to show up this month with Hi, we're here to adopt the baby now. Thanks and good luck.  It felt transactional. Of course it would be cleaner (for us) just to adopt and be done with it. Yet where is the opportunity for life change in that? Where is the chance to press into the reason we're doing this? Messy is good. Messy is hard. 

Messy brings the full gambit of emotions. Frustration. Why can't she change? How many more pregnancies will it take? Anger. How can she do that to her body with a child inside? Doubt. Is she gaming the system? Playing us? Fear. Will the child have permanent health problems? We'll be getting another phone call a year from now and she'll be pregnant again. Guilt. We're taking her son from her. Sadness. She wants us to buy a disposable camera so she can take a picture of her son (or is it our son?)  And that's just the front page of the menu. Welcome to Cafe Messy. 

Speaking of cafes, I've had two cups of coffee now. No going back to bed. In a few more hours I'll be able to join Kat and Connie, and hopefully meet our son today. This afternoon perhaps?  And as if I didn't have enough reasons to stay awake, the tops of my feet are killing me. 

Adoption- The Match Up

Chapter 1: The Journey

On Monday Nov 3, 2013 we submitted our application for Situation "CeeCee" (an alias for a birthmother in Florida)  not knowing the gender of the baby, to be born in late April 2014. The bad news: CeeCee had a history of drug use. The good news: she also had a history of previously successful adoption (a previous daugher). We decided we need to step into this. We trust you, Lord. 

On Thursday Nov 7, 2:18 pm, Kat's text to me read: "Just got the call- need to look at flights next Thursday/Friday."

I read it while on a conference call in our basement office.  I froze mid sentence talking about something related to healthcare. I couldn't believe CeeCee had chosen us. The crazy Kanary family from Kansas. Turns out we were the only family to apply. 

I ran upstairs right after my call ended and hugged Kat (in her chair) crying and laughing as she shared some additional news.  "it's a boy." Pure joy and celebration. Couldn't tell if I was laughing or crying. I think both. Ok God, now you're showing off! We had spoken about wanting another boy to balance out the testosterone. 

What's the catch? I kept asking myself and Kat. But it didn't matter. There is a baby boy that is going to be born in April. And he needs a loving family. Maybe that loving family is supposed to be us. 

Planning begins. Looking at everything now through a different lens. How will we do this or that with 4 kids? Priorities become apparent. Overwhelming sense of Joy- in the midst my changes/grieving with stuff at work. It's all making sense now. God has been gearing me (us) up for this. 

As time went on I begin to think more about CeeCee- the birth mother. Who is she? what's she doing right now? What's she eating? (it is organic food?)

We decided it would be best to take the whole family and therefore best to drive- adventure is our thing. Gotta love the homeschool. Tons of support from our friends and neighbors. The Mothers Together group gave us a care pack with games, toys, snacks and...air fresheners. Flooded with texts, emails of support. 

The adventure begins- so much anticipation. Trying to take my friend Rob's advice and not have any expectations going into it. He and his wife have adopted two girls domestically. "Don't have any expectations..." Of the process or of the people. Hold it all loosely. Wanting to be expectant of what God will do, versus holding expectations for what outcome this should have. Easier said than done. 

Felt myself wanting to know everything about CeeCee, and the complete lack of control I have about what she does and how she does things. She's used drugs before and she could use them again. Nothing I can do to stop her. 

She's offered a child through adoption before- how was that experience for her? Does she miss them? Does she grieve? 

Turns out she has a real name. It's not CeeCee as the attorney wrote about in the Situation reports. Her name is Connie. She's real. She's a mother. 

Connie sounded like a name for an older woman- every "Connie" I had ever met was older and professional, with short hair and pursed lips. What would this Connie look like?

We didn't get on the road until late afternoon Wednesday, and Kat- a marathon driver- had to keep driving even longer than we anticipated as we battled to find a hotel that wasn't booked up. Apparently Tennessee is a popular mid-week destination. Finally we found a Hampton that would work for us- but it was just outside of Chattanooga, near Lookout Mountain. That was 3 more hours to go, but it would put us closer to Florida- closer to Connie and closer to whatever the next step is that God wants us to take. 

We didn't settle into the Lookout Mountain Hampton until 4 am. Yet I couldn't help but want to get a run in when I woke up- still tired- the next morning. I grabbed the free breakfast (more waffles) with the kids (who didn't seem tired at all) then put my gear on. Made it partway up Lookout mountain - about 2 miles- and around the Civil War battle sites along the river, but decided the switchbacks were risky enough for the drivers on their way up or down the mountain without having to worry about hitting the runner from Kansas in brightly colored gear. It was a much needed, restful run. I waived to the town sherriff on my way up and back on the mountain.

The attorney also has a name. It's Mark. He's a certified adoption-matching, red-tape - navigating, bad ass. Mark called and said he had been in touch with Connie. She'd fallen off the wagon and used again. We don't know how much or when. Submitting to and passing drug tests on a regular basis is part of her obligation once we formalize arrangements. Until then, nothing we can do. 

Mark has a hard edge. No nonsense or small talk. He's worked with hundreds of birth mothers and adoptive families. He knows the ropes and we trust him. Mark had shared with us multiple times that he deals with "a segment of the population that is highly unpredictable."

I have studied and spent time with people who are institutionally poor and I understand it somewhat, as to why people get stuck in a cycle of poverty and what would appear from the outside to be bad decisions. It's hard not to judge, but even harder to not want to "fix" it by offering help. And we do and will help, but there's also times when helping hurts. Knowing something about the "segment of the population" we are dealing with helps somewhat, but it doesn't make it any less frustrating.  

Time to hit the road. No Starbucks in Lookout Mountain. As we packed the van in front of the hotel, Kat pointed to my running shoes sitting on the luggage cart. "Don't forget your shoes." Yeah, wouldn't want to do that, I thought. And then we took off. Without the shoes. 

Heading on the road toward Atlanta and decided we'll catch Uncle Lucas on our way back. After all, we need to get to Jacksonville to leave enough time to rest up and meet Connie on Friday morning. Or maybe not. We got the call from Mark- he suggested we turn around and go back home. 

Turns out Connie is stuck with family in Daytona Beach. Car trouble- water pump needs replacing and that will take the weekend, so she can't get to Mark's office for the meeting until Monday at earliest.  Crap. Mark wasn't buying her story. He thinks we are getting played. I couldn't imagine why a birth mother who has come this far would make up a story about a broken water pump. I asked Mark if we could just meet Connie in Daytona Friday. Long pause. Brilliant idea and while he can't be there, he'll coach us on what to do, what not to say. Don't give her any money. She'll make up sob stories, etc. 

There's a whole secret spy factor to the process that I didn't know about. Establish a separate phone number, separate email. Don't share too much information. No last names. Some friends of ours did this and called it the "Bat phone."

Kat had done all of this already, setting up her old iPhone with a new phone number, listed under just our first names.  Techno-nerdiness is one of the many things I love about Kat. 

At Mark's direction, I made the bat-phone's maiden phone call to Connie. Trying to sound casual. Not too parent-ty. Not too churchy. Best friend voice.  

Her voice was warm, welcoming. She seemed genuinely excited to meet us. I sensed she was releived that the car trouble didn't ruin the whole deal. We'd meet at their hotel in Daytona Beach- The Tropical Winds. Bonus: we'd get to meet Connie's mother and one of Connie's daughters- Jojo. 

Connie asked about our kids- and we said they were all with us. 

This all feels way better than meeting in an attorney's office. 

Mark continued to foward us the text messages he was exchanging with Connie. She's asking him for food and gas money to get through the weekend. He's already invested thousands of dollars in this with the tests, attorney fees, paperwork fees, etc. 

He's hammering her back with tough love texts. Hard to read but we trust Mark knows what he's doing. 

Mark coached us that it would be ok to buy her lunch and give her a gas gift card but that it would be strictly "charity" on our part. Kat and I spoke about it and knowing this is something we've done before for complete strangers, we'd do it now. Especialy for Connie. 

It will be important to establish boundaries with Connie early on but start with grace and love. Always start with love. God asks us to be salt and light to those we interact with. 

Paul writes: 

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. (Colossians 3:12-14 NIV)

I called the Lookout Mountain hotel and they found the shoes. They'll be waiting for us when we pass by there on the way home. 

We're 20 minutes away from meeting Connie. Quick stop at Walmart to buy gift cards and a little something for her daughter Jojo. 

Here we go....

Chapter 2: The Meeting

It took a while to find what we needed in Walmart and a gas station that actually sold gift cards, so we let Connie know we'd be a few minutes late. 

Kat and I prayed in the car at a stoplight. According to google maps we were .3 miles away from meeting Connie.  Lord we come with no expectations, yet expectant of what you'll do. We hold all of this up to you- and we hold it loosely. Help us be salt and light. Help us show your love. no, help us be your love. 

A fire engine was blocking the main road to the hotel- the Atlantic Coast Highway, more commonly known as "A1A" (thanks for ruining that name, Vanilla Ice.)  After some additional navigation, we finally pulled into the parking lot of the Tropical Breeze. As we exited the vehicle, we felt that the weather lived up to the hotel's name. 

We were immediately greeted by Connie, her mother Tina, and Connie's 4 year old daughter, Jojo. 

They were very welcoming and the kids began playing with each other immediately. There was a sense of relief that Connie came out to meet us. Kat sensed that Connie could easily be a member of our extended family.  We talked on the landscaped bent-grass lawn for a few minutes as the kids dug for snails, and right away Connie shared ultrasound pictures with us, pointing to something coming out from the fetus that we all jokingly concluded was a relatively large penis. That's my son, I thought, trying to hide my smile. So far, so good.  

Connie had a warm, yet weathered look. There were layers of life and pain underneath the surface. She had gone through more in her 27 years than most people go through over an entire lifespan.  She is petite even with the basketball-sized protrusion coming from her mid section. She and Kat immediately began swapping pregnancy war stories, and how each child carries differently. 

Jojo had a beautiful smile and sparkly earrings. She reminded me of a younger version of our close friends' daughter Logan, an amazing, talented, and beautiful girl, who also happens to come from mixed race parents. 

Connie asked to make sure we were comfortable with a mixed race child, which we are and we said we looked forward to it.

There are two kinds of hotels on Daytona Beach. Old hotels and new hotels. Tropical Winds was a new hotel 30 years ago.  The diner is a greasy spoon, perfect for casual conversation and not crowded so that our kids could run around and play hide and seek amongst the tables. 

As we ordered then enjoyed the food we jumped into conversation with Connie about family, background, adoption story and interests. We asked her how she felt when she placed her other children. With her most recent adoption (a now 2 year old daughter), she felt it helped that she could distance herself from the child early on, so as to remove some of the emotion, and it was important to her that she have a good relationship with the adoptive parents througout the pregnancy. Connie craves social interaction and relationships, and we know and expect to stay in contact with her throughout the pregnancy and after the birth. 

We covered some of the hard stuff. Drug addiction, choices, relationships.  Connie is very self- aware. She knows her story well, and seemed to key in on when things went wrong, but I sensed she didn't necessarily know why. 

Her father died when she was 12, "and then it all started going bad." That hit home for us, as we immediately thought of how Kat's father passed away when she was 13. Connie became a single mother and drug addict, yet Kat went on to graduate from college, then law school. Why the different paths?

As Mark put it, "but by the Grace of God."  Mark is a wise man. 

Connie was a bit taken aback when we shared that we have chosen homeschooling as our educational choice for the kids, but seemed to grow more comfortable with it as discussion continued. 

Connie wants to make better choices. She told us about wanting to remove certain people and influences in her life. She acknowledged the pull the drugs have over her. Having struggled with addiction to alcohol myself, I could totally relate. 

She seems to appreciate the firm "tough love" hand that Mark is using with her. She respects him and it only confirmed our earlier feelings that we can (and should) trust Mark. 

Kat observed how Connie is trying to be a good mother to Jojo. And upon further relection realizing that Connie's desire to be a good parent also plays out by choosing to have her other children adopted, knowing she is not in the best position to parent them. 

Connie was clearly hurt by the fact that the couple who adopted her oldest child, through the state, had cut off contact. Clearly those circumstances were different and we believe her recent adoption (and hopefully this one) will not yield a similar cut off. 

Connie asked if we were on Facebook, which we replied we were. She didn't ask for our Facebook info, but because we aren't yet ready to share our last name with her, Kat and I later agreed to set up a general Facebook account where we could post pictures, stories, etc for her to view. It's too early to tell if we'll get to the point of full disclosure and sharing of information someday. For now we are staying with the Bourne Identity, secret spy approach. 

After lunch we ventured up to their hotel room where the kids played, and enjoyed a side building view of the ocean. 

We took pictures of each other, of everyone together and of the kids. We even showed off tattoos to each other. She had stories for hers. Some were good, and some were laced with regret. She really liked our tattoos we had gotten for our 10 year wedding anniversary. 

At one point she commented that she was really hoping for a "religious" family to adopt her child and that she whe was glad she found us.  She shared that she believes in Jesus, but quickly pointed out that she felt she hasn't gone completely "all in" yet.  She felt like God has been with her through all of her trials, which I agreed with, noting that I was not a believer until I met Kat. I also shared that before we got married (and even after) I have dealt with some crazy and challenging stuff. "Not as crazy as my stuff," Connie noted. She's probably right, yet it doesn't make the work God has done in and through all of us all any less miraculous. He's good. He's always good. 

We sent the pictures via text message and said we really enjoyed meeting her, Tina and Jojo. Connie responded with: "the same to u. y'all are the ideal parents for my son. thanks for everything."

Aside from the proverbial thumbs up and success of the meeting, there was something about seeing those words that touched us deeply, perhaps in a Mark 1 kind of way. 

Just as Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.” (Mark 1:10, 11 NIV)

Connie chose us. And so did God. 

We headed north to Jacksonville, where Mark's office is located. A pile of paper with legal language resembling a form of English was waiting for us to read and sign. 

It's all becoming real now. Kat's friend Tasha shared via group text with other friends, encouraging all to read and sing the lyrics to Jesus Culture's Come Away with Me:  "it's gonna be wild, its gonna be great, its gonna be full of me.....I have a plan for you."  

That Plan just became very real. 

Birthdays Abound

We are about halfway through our fall birthday frenzy.  We begin September celebrating the birth of Ella Rose, followed closely by James. You will notice that my lovely friend Tara is holding the birthday girl - sadly I was not there for her actual birthday.  She was surrounded by plenty of friends who had gathered to watch the Wolverines and the Bulldogs (blessedly not in the same game).  The kids had a blast making and decorating her birthday cookie treats (as evidenced by the sprinkles and other decorations I was sweeping up in the kitchen for days after).  I was sad to miss it, but we celebrated as a family with presents and well-wishes when I returned.  Special cards came in the mail from Grandma and Grandpa and Great Grandma (GiGi).  Here is a special thank you from the birthday girl just for the G's - she got a little tongue-tied with all the greats and grands, but you get the idea!

While they were celebrating our little girl turning 3, I was a couple states away at a retreat for adoptive and foster moms with a group from the adoption ministry at our church.  10 women from the Kansas City area (5 from our church) drove to a retreat center in rural Illinois for a restful weekend with other adoptive/foster moms.  I made some amazing connections, got to know women from our church better, and enjoyed a couple days not focusing on homeschool and the other craziness that is life with a family of 5.

We are truly blessed to have some amazing friends in our life who come around us to celebrate special occasions and the everyday! 

James flew home from a trip just in time to celebrate his 37th birthday!  The kids and I had fun wrapping presents, making cards, and decorating for the birthday boy.  Of course, I made his favorite chocolate cake and we enjoyed homemade potato soup for dinner...yummy. 

Back to Homeschool

This week we start our second full week of homeschool for 2013/14. Big Sister is in 2nd grade, Bubba is in Kindergarten, and Bean is doing some pre-pre-school (mostly because she wanted her own desk!).

We stepped away from an all-inclusive curriculum for 2nd grade and have been happy with our choices so far. We enjoyed My Father's World for 1st grade last year, but really wanted to explore literature-based options for our avid reader. We landed on TruthQuest History American History for Young Students I, Learning Language Arts Through Literature, Life of Fred Math, Exploring Creation with Zoology I from Apologia, and I Can Do All Things art. We will supplement with some math app work on the iPad, some Explode the Code online, and Wordly Wise online for variety.

Bubba is breaking onto the homeschool scene with My Father's World's God's Creation from A to Z kindergarten curriculum possibly with Professor B's math mixed in. I hadn't planned to start Bean on any real curriculum, but rather send her to Parents Day Out since we love the school Jack went to so much. However, she took one look at the big kids' work space and asked where her desk was (and proceeded to keep asking about it for the next couple of weeks). I also started really planning our year and realized how disruptive it would be to get everyone out the door two days a week to get her to PDO, come home and try to get as much work done as possible only to have to turn around a couple hours later and go pick her up again, come home and finish school.

I found an awesome, creative Letter of the Week preschool curriculum by a sweet homeschooling mama at confessionsofahomeschooler.com. Of course, buying the digital files of a curriculum (especially a an activity and graphic heavy one like preschool) means that I spent A LOT of quality time with my printer, scissors/paper trimmer, and laminator. I actually briefly lost feeling in the tips of two fingers as a result of all the scissor time! The great thing is that I can use the curriculum, with a few modifications, for the next couple of years for Bean.

I decided to start our day as a group with calendar time. Each kiddo has a binder with printables from Confessions of a Homeschooler and Homeschool Creations. We talk about the season, month, day, date, weather, temperature, time, and the associated numbers and number words. I think it gives us a good starting point for our school day - whatever time that may be!

I am sure we will tweak things throughout the year, but have been pretty happy with how things have started. That isn't to say it hasn't been an adjustment going from one student to three-ish. The first day I was questioning my sanity and wondering how I was going to actually accomplish anything with one (or three) kiddos calling my name constantly for some sort of assistance!

We survived the first day and celebrated with a yummy treat at Orange Leaf and a viewing of the new Disney movie Planes. I am so blessed to have a partner in crime who believes in me and shares my passion for home education!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Boston Marathon 2013

Friends,

Wanted to share some thoughts I shared with colleagues and fellow runners in the wake of the Boston Marathon bombings. Writing about this has helped our family process the event. Thank you for your continued prayers for the victims, their families and for the investigating authorities.

-james

Report from Boston Marathon 2013:

I want to thank all of my colleagues, friends, and fellow runners for your prayers and concern in the aftermath of the Boston Marathon bombings.

Fortunately my family and I are safe in our hotel just outside Boston City limits.  We left the finish area about 30 mins before the explosion. Our thoughts and prayers are with the victims and their families during this challenging and confusing time.

I spent a good portion of Monday afternoon responding to concerned texts, emails and social media messages - and for that I am thankful because it means I have friends who care enough to be concerned! I also spent some time talking to a close friend who is a newspaper reporter, who happened to be following my race results online. He asked about my reactions to the events, which prompted me to further process the events and my reaction as a runner, maybe more so than I would have otherwise. I shared this with some of my colleagues already today and thought I would post these thoughts and reflections here also, feeling that other runners might have some of the same feelings, or might be unsure how to feel. 

The Kanary family experience at the Boston Marathon was too close for comfort. Just a day before these tragic events my wife, 3 children and mother in law and a close friend and his son were all standing in the very spot where one explosive device went off- just outside the Marathon Sports shoppe where we visited to buy more souvenirs after the race expo. During the Marathon my family was on Boylston Street - close to where another device went off - after catching me around mile 25.5, as they walked to the family meeting area. As luck would have it I finished well before the explosion and we were all in the family meeting area a block or so away before deciding to head back to the hotel, rather than experience more of the race ambiance, free massages, and celebration. 

We were already driving toward our hotel when we heard the news- or rather when the text messages changed from "congrats" and "kudos"  to "are you ok?" and "just heard the news.."

The entire day and my perspective on the race changed in that moment.

As many of you know, after you run 26.2 miles your body and brain are completely spent. This marathon is no different. Medical personnel in white Boston Athletic Association running jackets stand and watch as you finish, wheelchairs in hand, ready to catch you and whisk you to the medical tent should your legs not know how to function after you stop running. [Sidenote: I was the recipient of such rapid response after finishing my first marathon -the Flying Pig in 2011- where I received a bonus prize of 2 bags of IV fluid and an extra T-shirt.]  The medical personnel at races  like Boston, Cincinnati and Hospital Hill are super-human nurses, physicians and other healthcare professionals- not getting paid a dime for their service. They are volunteers there to serve and use their skills to help others. More on this in a moment.

If you pass on that free ride in a wheelchair you probably have just enough left in your tank to walk to the family meeting area, look for the section with the first letter of your last name, then hug your wife, kids and mother in law (in that order [just kidding, Mom.]) You hang out still somewhat in a daze, taking pictures and joyously celebrating together. You just finished what many consider the Super Bowl of the running world. Pure elation. Then because you're famished you steal some food from your 2 year old when she's not looking. If you can speak in complete sentences, you thank your training team that put up with the brutal training schedule - including your mother in law. 

In just a few minutes all of that joy and celebration would change to shock and confusion.

The Boston Marathon is an international, world class celebration of endurance for many ages, backgrounds and nationalities- this year 27,000 or more ran in the race with thousands more in attendance. Everyone here has a story, having to qualify with a competitive running time just to have a chance to register, which is harder than getting U2 tickets in Dublin.  I have shared my story of transformation with many people and what got me to this stage and milestone of celebration. At Boston there are thousands of stories just like mine, or likely better.

All that changed and became meaningless not long after the finishers medal was hung around my neck. What happened Monday was clearly an act of terror orchestrated to stab at the heart of a joyous time for the city of Boston, the running community, and the world.  From joy to shock and confusion, then to anger. Anger when hearing about innocent victims who were senselessly killed or harmed. Anger because the joy of the event was taken from so many athletes, volunteers, families.  All from these acts of cowardice.

There's another way one can get into Boston Marathon. Several thousand runners secure a racing bib through fundraising of, what I believe to be, $5000 or more- which takes some serious phone calling, facebooking and emailing. Monday morning I met a young woman in the Athlete Village who had raised $6000 for Dana Farber Cancer Research to secure her race bib. On top of that she trained hard for what was to be her first marathon.

After my initial shock turned to anger, I felt a new reaction brewing. It dawned on me that the start time for charity runners was later in the day, so it is likely that that young woman I met earlier and thousands of other charity runners were never able to finish this prestigious race. Frustration.

I also know of a colleague who was in the midst of running the race with his fiancee and they weren't able to finish. Escorted off the course at Mile 18. More frustration.

As my family and I continued to process the day, not only were we thankful for our own safety but even more thankful when we realized that there could have been more victims. Other devices may have been found and further destruction and bloodshed was prevented. The barriers meant to keep runners in and crowds out near the finish may have saved lives. And remember those super-human medical professionals I mentioned earlier?  They were already positioned nearby (watching for wobbly runners like me) when the incidents occurred. Essentially there was a pre-arranged grid full of first-responders on standby, and for that I am thankful, as I am sure the victims who are being treated are also. I should also mention there were a lot of police and other personnel onsite for the regular safety of the crowd and runners. I am so thankful they were close by as well!

Yesterday was Monday. Patriot's Day. The 117th running of the Boston Marathon.  And a very long and emotional day for so many.  As a runner my emotions ran the spectrum from joy to shock to anger to frustration and now to reflection and thankfulness. The victims and all those impacted consume my thoughts.

Finally, I am thankful for many things including the concern and prayers offered by all of my friends, family, colleagues and fellow runners.

Late Monday night I was finally able to come down from the highs and lows of the day and get some rest.  Today brings a new dawn. And we will race on together.

Celebrating

One of the beautiful things about getting older while keeping in touch with friends from high school is seeing those friends build families of their own.  It began with a marriage, then a few more, and another.  Some close to home, others in new and exotic places.  Pretty soon baby showers began and the young limbs growing on the family trees began budding. 

The main reason we journeyed to Atlanta in January was so I could help host a baby shower celebrating the much anticipated addition to the Conley clan.  Five of who we lovingly refer to as the "Tifton Girls" met in Atlanta to co-host the shower for Carrie (and Rod).  The theme was adorable - Little Man - with mustaches adorning everything from the invitations to the hostess gifts.  

Brandy, Danielle, Carrie, Me, and Alexis

Carrie's sister Shannon and long-time friend Runi rounded out the hostess crew with long-distance support from the sixth "Tifton Girl," Tamara.  Shannon and Danielle did a ton of prep work and we all gathered several hours before the shower to transform Carrie's mom Yvonne's beautiful home into a teal and orange celebration for the little man to come.

Danielle, Shannon, Carrie, Me, Brandy, Runi, Alexis

A celebration like that wouldn't be complete without beginning the day with breakfast followed by pedicures.  We had a great time catching up, talking babies, and just hanging out.  The guys joined us as we welcomed a nice group of Carrie and Rod's friends to get them ready for the baby's arrival.  We ate great food, met fun people, and watched the presents pile up.

A month later, on our way back from a trip to Florida, we stopped back in Atlanta and were able to visit Carrie and Rod on what turned out to be the day before baby Crosby was born!  Crosby came into the world hours after we left Atlanta, heading for home.

On The Road...to Atlanta

In January we piled everyone into the minivan and headed to Atlanta to celebrate with my good friend Carrie and her husband Rod as they prepared to welcome their first child.  The baby shower was awesome, time spent with old friends was special, and the hiking side trip on the way home was truly a blessing.

As we drove through Chattanooga, Tennessee I was on a mission.  I was driving, had my eye on the prize - being home at a decent hour (i.e. before midnight), I was not interested in a roadside diversion.  Fortunately for all of us, James had an itch to explore and convinced me to find a park he saw on the map.  I pulled off, with no small amount of grumbling, intent on quickly finding this park, stretching our legs for a few minutes, and getting back on the road.  Fifteen minutes and several wrong turns later we found the nearly unmarked road leading to the park.  We parked and loaded a backpack with some snacks, put Ella into a backpack carrier, and started down a trail. 

The sound of rushing water soon swelled from around a bend.  We came around a group of rocks to find and awesome river.

We hiked for a couple of miles, crossing bridges, climbing over rocks, stepping around tree roots, and sometimes pulling ourselves up embankments.  We found walking sticks to do the trail Gandalf-style.  The kids made a game of finding the trail markers and being the leader of our crew.

The trail came to a beautiful waterfall where we sat down and had lunch.  The hike back to the car was a little faster, but just as beautiful.  We met nice people along the way, chatting for a moment or just waving hello.  We got back on the road, tired but exhilarated.  Our jaunt into the woods meant a post-midnight arrival back in Kansas City, but the memories we made were well worth the road weariness and exhaustion.

Renewed Purpose

We felt like a ship without a heading for a couple of months.  We had the basic information.  We thought we knew what we wanted to do.  We thought we knew what God wanted us to do...sort of.  We just didn't know where to go from there with no map to guide us.  I am a detail-oriented person.  I need a specific set of instructions or a specific plan in place to accomplish a goal.  Starting or growing a family is not like that.  Fortunately, when starting or growing your family biologically once you are pregnant, backing out isn't much of an option.  Once you see the two pink lines, the plus sign, or the digital readout indicating "pregnant," you can't back off and say, "I'm not so sure about this, lets wait a while."  With adoption you have to make decisions at each stage and take purposeful steps forward in order for things to progress.  Without a positive test and a due date to determine your general course and a growing belly to show your progress, it can be a little discouraging.  Second-guessing your decision to have a baby doesn't really matter when you are pregnant, you are all in.  Second-guessing your decision to adopt a baby or merely wondering if this is really what God wants for your family can be a major roadblock, bringing your journey to a screeching halt until you get yourself back on track and take the next intentional step.
We were stuck at a roadblock for a couple of months.  Then a few weeks ago, after a lot of prayer, we decided to take the next purposeful step.  We applied to begin the Home Study process and signed up for the first required class.  We were approved to begin the Home Study process, got babysitters (we have some amazing friends) for the three kiddos, and attended the adoption class at our home study agency.  The class was an opportunity to walk through the process with a social worker, ask questions, and interact with other couples/families also hoping to adopt.  What became glaringly obvious as we went around the room to introduce ourselves and tell where we were in the process was that we needed to get our buns in gear!  We hadn't touched the home study packet (read: 2-inch thick, 3-ring binder full of paperwork to fill out, and tasks to accomplish).
So, I am happy to say that we are now well into the packet (thanks to my wonderful husband who hung out with the kids all day yesterday while I filled out forms, answered questions, stuffed envelopes, and prepared items for submission).  We still have quite a bit to do, but we are approaching the journey with renewed purpose.  We may not know exactly what the journey will look like, but we are making intentional strides in the direction of growing our family.

And the journey begins...

We have had the issue of adoption on our hearts for years.  It was just always something we were interested in.  James' brother Paul is adopted, his cousin adopted a beautiful little girl to add another smiling face to their family, we have watched many friends struggle with infertility, James' sister and her family have fostered kids...the list goes on.  Adoption just always remained something in the back of our minds.  Thanks to God, we were able to conceive with no trouble at all.  We were staggered a bit by a miscarriage in the midst of bringing home three wonderful children.  Aside from that we were blessed and content.
That is, we were content until a few months ago.  We hadn't really ever thought that much about adoption from the Biblical perspective and had only really started thinking about it from the environmental sustainability perspective.  But sometime in November/December, God gave us the kick in the pants that got us on our journey to adoption.  Within the span of a single weekend the concept of adoption came at us on just about every level in our life.  From friends talking about it, to the topic coming up in plot lines of movies or TV we were watching, to a seemingly out-of-the-blue message about it from our pastor at church that Sunday, we got the message.  We needed to look more into adoption as it related to our family.  Before we left church on Sunday James actually told a friend, "God has done everything but take out a billboard to tell us we need to investigate adoption further."  Our friend's response..."You haven't driven home yet."
One of the things mentioned that Sunday as part of the sermon was a class that some members of our church were hosting about adoption.  It was a one-day, all-day class about adoption from a Biblical perspective.  So we signed up, and a few weeks later we took part in the class and learned a lot more about adoption.  We got plugged into the adoption community at our church.  We started reading books, talking to friends and family, doing research online..anything we could to learn more. 
With all that initial momentum you would think we were off to a running start, but after the holidays we just felt stuck.  We had a lot more information, but didn't really know what to do with it.  We prayed about it a lot.  We asked others to pray with and for us.  We talked about it, then we avoided talking about it, then we started talking about it again.  We set up a meeting with a local agency that does home studies and also facilitates local adoptions.  We met with the wonderful owner of Adoption & Beyond here in Overland Park.  She was a font of information and exerted no pressure on us to sign up for anything we weren't ready for.
We solicited information from several local and national agencies, including an adoption facilitation agency (different from a traditional adoption agency).  The people I spoke to at the facilitation agency were extremely gracious and honest.  They ultimately decided that our family dynamic didn't fit with any of the birth mothers currently on their list so politely declined to take us on as clients.  More on that in another post...
After all that, we were still stuck.