Many of you who have been following our story know that we’ve been Sitting, Waiting, Wishing, and learning for quite some time now. It’s been approximately four months since our home study lapsed, and we are in the process of choosing a private agency to pursue domestic infant adoption. I’m sure to some of you it may seem as if we are dragging our feet on making a decision…on jumping into our next opportunity. And guess what? Maybe we are.

It’s funny. The other day Eli and I had lunch, and as we sipped our delicious beers on the banks of the Milwaukee River we talked about how far we’ve come. I know that with our story, even with some of the blog posts we write, it can get easy to focus on some of the trials and tribulations of our journey, of this journey. As we chatted, I looked over at the river. Boy, the water was really high. There were even some big rocks and branches in the water, but it didn’t stop the water from flowing. The water moved right over, under, and around those obstacles. The ripples and waves those obstacles made were quite beautiful.

As we reflected and took in the beautiful scenery, we laughed a lot. We talked about how naïve we were when we first started. We chose our agency, felt secure, waited, and things ended a little rough. But thank God that we weren’t chosen during that time…we needed, I needed, more time to learn. We completed all of our paperwork in record time. And thank God we know what we are in for this next time. The wait has been hard, but bottom line I thank God for it. Not for my sake, but for our future child’s sake and for his/hers first family’s sake. We owe it to them to be fully educated and as prepared as possible.

Now I know that may just sound like an overly cautious excuse. I can hear some of you thinking Just jump already, Eli and Chelsea. You’ll be great parents. And I do appreciate the sentiments, but adoption isn’t just something you wing. And I know I won’t be perfect, no parent is. But my child as well as our child’s first/birth family deserves adoptive parents who are ready with eyes wide open.

So as tough as it is to wait, do you know what I’ve learned?

I’ve learned that love is not enough. It just isn’t.

I’ve learned that waiting isn’t always bad.

I’ve learned that you can take a leap of faith without leaping blindly.

I’ve learned much, much more about white privilege and how that changes my perspective on the world.

I’ve learned that there isn’t always enough support for birth mothers and fathers.

I’ve learned that adoption is not merely waiting until you “get your child”. It’s wrapped up in trauma, loss, and a lack of resources.

I’ve learned the importance of finding an ethical agency, not just for us, but also more importantly for expectant mothers and fathers (people who are pregnant and still deciding if they will place).

I’ve learned that when many people think of adoption they think of it with a “savior” mentality. “Oh how nice of them to give that child a good upbringing.” This is hurtful and adoption is not a means to “save” someone.

I’ve learned that in the realm of adoption, but also life, knowledge is absolutely power.

This barely scratches the surface of what I’ve learned. You see, there have been obstacles, much like those branches and rocks in the Milwaukee River, but our hunger for knowledge and desire to be informed parents allows us to go under, over, and around them. And instead of being something ugly and super hard, it can actually be quite beautiful.

So thank you Jack Johnson; we’ve been Sitting, Waiting, and Wishing, but with a purpose—to learn.

To do things as well and as right as we possibly can. We appreciate the wait of each step, but we know we will take our next step exactly when we need to. If only it were as simple as just being patient.

~Chelsea

 

 

I remember when Chelsea first told me that she was pregnant. I was deer hunting and I got out of the woods and had at least 15 texts about needing to call her and at least 6 missed calls. Usually this means I’m in some sort of trouble, and it usually looks similar to this:

Hi

Hello?

Hello???????

????

????????

If this is the series of texts I receive I baton down the hatches because I know a storms-a-comin. This didn’t happen to be one of those times. I called Chelsea back figuring I was in trouble but through spotty service she told me that she was pregnant. If you have been there you know the emotions going through my head after I heard the news. If you haven’t it’s a pretty crazy experience. There was excitement, nervousness, anxiety, stress, happiness. This just scratches the surface of the emotions. I specifically remember sitting in the woods the next day thinking about what kind of father I was going to be and how I was going to get there. I love a good challenge and I can only imagine that being a great father is one of the greatest challenges one can encounter. I LOVE hunting but I distinctly remember not being able to wait until I got home to talk to Chelsea face to face. I got home and Chelsea and I had long discussions about what kind of parents we were going to be and discussed some of the emotions I had previously talked about. I remember being really happy.

The day after Thanksgiving those thoughts and feelings associated with being a future father came to a very abrupt end. My thoughts shifted to my wife, her emotional security and her physical health and that’s where they stayed…that’s where they needed to stay.

Fast forward about 7 months…those two blue lines…and a totally different feeling. The thoughts this time weren’t at all focused on being a father. They sat squarely once again on Chelsea. Of course my mind would wander off at times and wonder what it would be like to be a father, but they would quickly be pulled back and kept in check. Then soon enough my thoughts shifted to my wife, her emotional security and her physical health and that’s where they stayed…that’s where they needed to stay.

Fast forward about 4 months…the decision to adopt. In regular intervals my mind drifted off to what type of father I am going to be. It’s going to be an even bigger challenge because my son/daughter will be adopted…right? I’m up for the challenge; after all I love a good challenge. Well, that didn’t go quite as expected. My thoughts shift to my wife, her emotional security and the focus on our relationship and that’s where they stayed…that’s where they needed to stay.

Fast forward about 5 months (6/18/17)…I know better, but I allow myself to scroll through my social media…the masses of references to Father’s Day posts about feelings of being a father, great fathers, how happy so-and-so is to have so-and-so be their father. Ads everywhere for the perfect gift, articles highlighting a father’s sacrifice for his family, the occasional meme highlighting the comical side of parenting. Walking past the card aisle there is not typically a section labeled “for grieving dads” or “for the loss of a father.” It’s not just miscarriage or infertility that can make Father’s Day a hard day for people. There is estrangement, loss of a father, loss of a child, and some people who haven’t met their father and have some pretty deep wounds.

Most likely two kinds of people are reading this post right now–those who have never had a significant loss and those who nodded along with the last few lines.

If the concept of Father’s Day being difficult never occurred to you, that’s OK. By reading this, you are helping to create a safer space for the second group by spreading awareness that it can be a sad day. It can be something other than a celebration.

Maybe the thought is crossing your mind, “well not everyone experienced a loss like that; can’t you just be happy for them? They deserve to celebrate.” I won’t argue that all of the fathers out there deserve to be celebrated. Just like everyone deserves to feel their feelings and educate the rest of the world on how difficult something can be. Let Father’s Day be both.

Not enough people acknowledge it, and perhaps it is because of the societal pressure to celebrate this day. Without recognizing the grief Father’s Day can trigger, we quietly oppress. It is an act of omission, overlooking sadness on a holiday.

If it’s in your heart to celebrate, then celebrate.

If it’s in your heart to grieve, then grieve.

All I know is that the simplexity of such a seemingly simple “holiday” no longer escapes me.

~Eli

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Every year Eli and I put in a really large garden. I mean REALLY large—tomatoes, lettuce,
onions, cucumbers, brussel sprouts, cucumbers, all the herbs, and so much more. This is the latest that we’ve ever put in our garden. Eli is so incredibly planned (and a little dorky) that he has a map of our garden and saves it year to year along with the plant and seed variety that we use. Last year we put in our garden by May 19^th. May 19^th—I mean we are currently like three weeks late, and the funny thing is that we thought we were a little late last year.

Our garden this year fell to the wayside. But yesterday we worked hard. We planted a lot, caught a lot of sun, and I even started a fresh-cut flowerbed (I’m so excited). We are happy that we still committed to planting our garden. It sustains us not just throughout the summer, but also throughout the year. We can, freeze, and share our extras with camp. And besides that it’s something that we get to do together.

Eli and I have been together for, wait for it, 14 years. We are going on 10 years of marriage. And the nurturing of our relationship, our family, has changed over time. See much like our garden this year, there have been times in our lives where other things have taken additional time, but not necessarily precedence. What do I mean by this? I distinctly remember when Eli moved into the role of Program Operations Director at camp. This was a large commitment, and it eventually led to us living on site at camp. During certain seasons it took a lot of Eli’s time, and in return, time away from one another. However, it never took precedence over the nurturing of our relationship. We just had to go about nurturing our relationship in another way. Quick lunch dates on hot summer days or a night sitting out on the dock and talking, even if it was only for a half and hour. Making the decision to expand our family was a large decision that we didn’t take lightly. We researched, had differing viewpoints at times, and talked and talked and talked. Some times, even still now, adoption tends to dominate our discussion. But then we take time just for us, away from the daily demands, the weight of the decisions we are currently faced with or will be faced with, to appreciate what we have. Last night it was panning some gold dirt (I know it’s weird), reading a book, and watching the sunset.

What I’m trying to say is that this idea of nurturing one’s marriage and relationship can apply to any situation, in any family—not just a family pursuing adoption. The definition of nurture is the process of caring for and encouraging the growth or development of someone or something. That definition doesn’t have any stipulations such as difficult times or longer waits or frustration. Nurturing is caring for and encouraging growth and development—there are no ifs, ands, buts, or excepts. See as we’ve continued this journey of adoption we’ve realized how full-circle things truly are. We have to nurture each other, so that we can nurture this journey that we’ve chosen, so that we can nurture our future child/children. Our nurturing of our relationship now, throughout this wait and always, is what has given us a 14 year relationship and 10 year marriage that I’m so proud of. It’s what has strengthened us to not only withstand this difficult journey, but has given us the perspective to rejoice in even the most difficult times.

So this year our garden may have been put in a little late. But that’s okay. As we planted it during the height of yesterday’s heat, we still laughed, sweat a lot, and really, truly enjoyed each other’s company. Now, we will water it a lot these next few days, and nurture these tasty and wonderful plants that will sustain us this summer but symbolically far beyond.

~Chelsea

 

How do you picture or imagine our future family? I know many of you are friends and family and if you’re not, you’re reading the blog because adoption in some shape or form has touched or may touch your life.

So again, I ask when you envision our future family what do you picture? How do you think you’ll feel? Will you sigh in relief because then things go back to normal and we are just a “normal” family built through different circumstances? Do you picture a kid that kind of looks like us, even though they don’t at all and have no biological connection? Will you ask questions, ask how you can support, and talk about adoption? Do you see no color, no racial difference? Will you pray and hope that our child just is cured of their “primal wound” and will attach and blend into our family without skipping a beat? Do you picture a child that looks and acts completely different than us? Will you acknowledge that our story of building our family is different but our family will also be different? Do you picture a well-adjusted, happy, carefree child? Will you think of the woman and/or man who ache every single day because of the choice they made, or will you wonder if they did drugs, had unprotected sex, lived a life of crime, or were a teen pregnancy statistic? Do you picture a child with attachment issues who struggles in school?  Will you ask questions? Or will you just offer love?

The point I’m trying to get at is I think it gets easy to think that once we find our baby, our family, everything goes back to normal. Yay, happy family, and now we are in the realm of relatability. I’m so sorry to say it, but that’s not how it’s going to be, but know this—it’s my sorta fairytale. I say it that way because a mother or father having to place a child is never ideal. A child coping and adjusting to not being with their biological family, regardless of the circumstances, is sad and difficult at times to understand. My sorta fairytale is not me looking through rose colored glasses, but it’s the acknowledgement that I know what I signed up for, and I’m ready for it. This doesn’t mean Eli and I aren’t over the moon ecstatic. This doesn’t mean that my child is certain to have “issues”. This is me being realistic.

When I picture my future family I see:

• A child who has his mother’s eyes and his father’s chin and he/she may look in the mirror and feel sad that they don’t see their biology in their parents every day
• A child who will be told their story when they want to hear it and even sometimes when they don’t want to hear it
• A child who has enough love in his/her heart that he or she can love their first parents and us
• A child who may be scared and sad one moment and joyful and happy another
• A child who is impulsive and rambunctious and fierce where I sometimes wonder if he or she got that from their first mom or from me and Eli
• A child who is loved in so many ways

Honestly, I could continue for far longer. This is my sorta fairytale. It’s different, sometimes hard, but what I signed up for.

The simplexity of it is that it is well with my soul. It is well when it’s hard. It is well when we are happy. It is well as we wait. It is well when others don’t understand. It is well on the mountains and it is well in the valleys. It is well with my soul.

~Chelsea