This week Mother Nature has thrown a lot at us—mild temperatures, a little sunshine, cold temperatures, rain, sleet, ice, and snow. Now normally in Wisconsin this isn’t too much of a shock. But in April? It’s hitting us hard. I’m looking out my window seeing the nuthatches and cardinals eat at our feeder while the snow is falling and whipping around. It’s weird, but I have a strange sense of calm and peace. Why? Because spring is coming. It always does.

In my recent blog post “Ecclesiastes 3:1”I talked about seasons and how they relate to life. For a while this year I really felt as if I was in the fall and winter seasons of my life. It didn’t last all that long because I’m generally a pretty cheerful, happy person, but it lasted long enough. It involved a lot of rest, self-reflection, building of relationships, some prayer, and a bit of wanderlust.

The road to building a family through adoption is a process. It takes time and just about any analogy for life will work for adoption. There are valleys and mountains. There are seasons of winter and summer. It doesn’t make life bad; it makes it an adventure. A learning process. A time to grow. To gain perspective. Isn’t that what our time here on this beautiful earth is all about? Moments of darkness, pain, confusion, anxiety don’t seem so bad when you relish in all of life’s beautiful moments.

I am so thankful for the seasons we’ve had throughout our adoption process. And the seasons don’t always come in a perfect order or when we think they should. Ironically the winter moments have taught me far more than the summery, sunshine moments. And I know that I will relish in the summer much more because of those harsh winters. It’s an adventure.

So beneath the 5 inches of snow and layer of ice, I know that the grass will get green and spring will come—right here in good ole’ Wisconsin and in our journey to building our family. Our application has been approved; we’ve taken a calculated leap of faith and will be working closely with our caseworker on our second home study at our new agency. Do I feel a little scared? Sure. Do I think the journey is close to ending? No, it never is. Am I excited? No, but I feel peace because I’m certain we are where we should be regardless of where we end up, with or without children. With one child or a sibling group. But better yet, I feel courageous because I’ve learned to trust this journey. Now winter, fear, time or whatever is thrown at us won’t stop us. The seasons have been long, but we’ve needed them. The time has been long, but we’ve needed it. So although I don’t always know the plan God has for us or the plan Mother Nature has for Wisconsin, I’m trusting in it.

Snow in spring? Sounds pretty crazy. But have faith. It will be gone in a week as if it wasn’t even here. And that first real spring day where the earth comes to life with trees budding and the sun kissing our very winter skin will revive all of us. So much that we won’t even be thinking about the winter but we will relish in the spring.

~Chelsea

 

 

So the application is in–now we wait for ‘approval’. I hear the comment frequently, “Oh there’s nothing to worry about, and who wouldn’t approve you?” In my conscious mind I get it and understand it, but it’s hard to not let the subconscious dominate in certain situations. Especially when you have to wait.

The hardest part of a trial, or anything for that matter isn’t always the level of darkness, the uncertainty, or the breadth and scope of it all. The hardest part of a trial is often its duration–that uncertainty of how long it is going to last. How long should it last? Another month? Maybe another couple of years? Longer than our already preconceived expectations?

Let’s get basic for a minute…we can’t know.

And that’s the hardest part.

We started our adoption journey 2 ½ years ago—and counting. How long in your life is two years ago? How long in your child’s life? Did you even have children? Imagine being in the same condition for 2.5 years—not aging, not moving, stagnant.

Okay so that was the heavy part.

So here is what I have learned about the wait. No matter how long I have been waiting the clock must never be my focus. Whatever, time, trial, hardship I may have experienced or may be experiencing today—and however much longer I may have to experience it still—the clock will always be a source of discouragement. Speculating, calculating, and marking that time will always distract me from the important stuff.

So if watching the clock builds despair, and the wait is difficult, yet we have to wait, how do we build hope?

A couple of things in my life build hope in often trying situations and one of those is FAITH. To obsess over the clock is to put MY time limits on how long I think I should be forced to wait. It’s putting our human expectations on time and what WE think should be happening at each precise movement of the second hand.

Watching the clock leads to all kinds of trouble. But my faith leads to hope.

So I live right now in total confidence, sure that my faith, no matter the outcome of my life situation, will lead me to exactly where I’m supposed to be. No matter how many years it needs to last.

So here I wait…will we get approved? Will we adopt? I hope so, I think so, but I don’t know so. And no matter what I have to wait. And this current wait is even before the home study–more waiting. And the matching—still more waiting. But my answers are never to be found in contemplating the clock face. They are only to be found in my faith.

Tick, tock…

~Eli

 

The other weekend Eli and I were at church. Our pastor was giving a sermon about the seasons. The seasons of life that is. He explained how throughout our lifetime we float between seasons—fall, winter, spring, and summer. Fall is the working time of our lives. The time where we are putting in the long hours, nose to the grindstone, completing tasks at hand. Winter is the hard times. The times where one needs to pull inward, seek advice from those who offer wisdom, time to take care and rest. Spring is the time for renewal, new opportunities, possibly a new journey to take. And summer—summer is the high times. The time for celebration, excitement; the time where life is just great. Our pastor then asked us what season were we in? He noted that we might be in between two. He also noted that the time spent in each one might not be equal. I reflected and prayed and really thought about what season of my life I’m in.

Lately in my life, I’ve been straddling between winter and fall…mainly in the last six months or so.

Fall

I have a million things to do. Work is forever getting more difficult. I want to do well and excel, and I don’t want to let my students or my colleagues down. It’s important for me to be successful…not just for my own benefit, but because I have people in my life that are depending on me. Typically, I pride myself on helping anyone who needs it. I take on responsibilities when I feel needed. This can look many different ways—standing along someone who is facing an injustice, chaperoning a dance, helping out a family member, listening to someone who has had a hard time (God knows people have listened to me), protesting/demonstrating for a worthy cause, among so many other things. The fall right now in my life is also getting my ass in gear to really start this next leg of my adoption journey. See, what you don’t see are the countless hours of research, the committing to an agency, the four background checks, the 40+ hours of paperwork, and having faith. I’m willing to work, but the fall in my life has left me feeling tired and weary.

Winter

I feel like I try hard. I feel like a lot has been thrown at me, and honestly, at times I feel really guilty for saying that because let’s face it—I’m incredibly blessed. But on the hard days, and the moments I feel depleted, I can’t help but feel that Eli and I tend to have to take the rockier journey. The slightly more difficult path. I know it’s for a reason…trust me…I have full faith in that. But a rocky road is still bumpy even if it gets you to your destination. The winter, my winter is comprised of many things—a long adoption journey, insensitive people, an innate need to stand up for what is right even if it is scary, uncertainty. I’m generally a pretty happy and bubbly person, so it’s out of my character to feel in this season for much longer than just a few days.

See, one thing this journey, our adoption journey, has done is put things into focus. I’ve learned a lot about myself, and I’ve experienced feelings, emotions that I’ve never felt before. I’ve been humbled. So what does one do when they know they have to work hard but feel like life is throwing them a lot of curveballs? You dress for the season. You nestle in and take time for yourself. You ask for help. Sometimes it’s not about needing a positive word of encouragement, but instead just needing a validation that life is hard and you’ll get through.

~Chelsea

 

For some reason I always look at Daylight Savings in March as the gateway to the spring. Like it’s just about here. For example, as I sit and type this right now I have my window open just a bit…even though it’s still quite chilly. The sun’s rays feel a little warmer and I know that winter is no longer here to stay. Tomorrow will stay light just a little longer, and by golly, that feels good.

This time of year gives me the same feeling every year regardless of what is going on in my life. It never ceases to amaze me. It’s a time of energy, renewal, warmth, and hope. This is why I love spring so much.

Two years ago we were in our hopeful adoptive parents’ bliss. Our crazy amount of paper work was completed and we were home study ready. We thought about what our future child/children would look like, we read every bit of information we could possibly get our hands on, heck, we even had an adoption party.

One year ago we were literally and figuratively walking out of one of the winters of our lives. We were just getting started to mend a broken heart and repair shattered expectations. Our home study lapsed, we were not going back to our agency, and we had no idea where our journey would take us. But we were eager for spring. We were eager to feel some warmth, some healing, and we knew spring would help us with that.

Right now? I’m blasting some Vance Joy, enjoying an Abita Purple Haze out of a mason jar (very spring to me), typing up this blog post while looking outside and seeing the snow melt, and hearing the ice on the lake move and crack. Not only do I still feel the hope of the spring, the warmth of the sun’s rays, but this year I also feel renewal. The spring in our lives, and here in Wisconsin, is just about here, and I can’t wait. And I’m fully aware that spring and summer wouldn’t feel so good if it weren’t for the harsh winds and frigid temperatures of a brutal Wisconsin winter. So as we walk out of the winter of our lives, we feel tougher, wiser, and realistically hopeful. This year our spring will consist of a true commitment to another adoption agency, and hopefully, another joyous and wild ride to building our family.

The gateway to spring is all about smelling and enjoying a vase full of daffodils while watching the snow melt. Happy almost spring everyone!

~Chelsea

 

 

 

Expectations. They are pretty natural. We all have them. We have them for ourselves and we have them for others.

There are a couple different definitions for expectation… “a strong belief that something will happen or be the case in the future” and “a belief that someone will or should achieve something”. From those two definitions alone this blog entry pretty much writes itself.

Adoption is FILLED with expectations…and although we have been pursuing for a while we are still only in the early stages of adoption. I know that as we move through this process these expectant feelings will only intensify. These feelings can be basic such as, “we expect that we will have children though adoption someday.” But just think about the expectations surrounding that sentence alone. I know when I hear it, I conjure up thoughts in my head about what my family, holidays, and school will/should look like.  And I know you do too! Guess what, some of those thoughts are correct and some of those thoughts will be proven to be false. For both of us.

So what happens when expectations are proven false? We have all felt disappointment when others in our lives don’t live up to our expectations of them. We have all felt the bitter sting when friends and family don’t seem to share in our biggest moments with us in a way we expect. Does that make the expectation wrong?

Okay, so here is where I’m caught. It’s important for me to be highly variable with my expectations around the expansion of my family and what that looks like. I need to walk through the adoption process “eyes wide open”. If I don’t, how I can truly open myself up and be accepting of what my family might look like, sound like, and act like. I have to be expectant of pretty much all future behaviors, situations, and scenarios in order to educate myself in the best ways of handling those. Only then will I be doing myself and my future family justice.

If we can learn to let go of our expectations a little, we are much less likely to put others and ourselves under too much pressure to be ‘perfect’. We are much less likely to feel disappointment when others don’t act how we expect them to, or how we would like them to.

So here’s the rub. I understand we need to learn to accept others for who they are. I get (and hopefully do) that. Does this mean I shouldn’t have expectations of my friends, their thoughts, words or actions as it pertains to my adoption story? I have thought long and hard about this. Do they just not know what to expect? Should I expect that they not educate themselves because they aren’t the ones going through it? Maybe it’s an issue of me having too high of or false expectations of who they should be and how they should act?

As I ponder some of those pretty serious questions, it dawns on me that maybe none of it really makes any sense. Then the reality hits:

WHEN YOU LEARN TO ACCEPT INSTEAD OF EXPECT YOU WILL HAVE FEWER DISAPPOINTMENTS.

This doesn’t mean I shouldn’t/don’t have expectations of others and myself through this process. It does mean that I have to accept how others think, feel, react, and don’t react to my story. I expect one behavior and, in most cases, have to accept something else. From both others and myself. So what has that taught me? Sometimes people don’t get it. Sometimes I don’t get it. Both of those are okay as long as one expectation is met. I try and you try. That is the bare minimum expectation that when not met I just can’t accept. From either of us.

~Eli

 

 

Approximately two and a half years ago Eli and I decided to expand our family through adoption. The decision was made after having two miscarriages, but don’t let that fool you, it was not made for us. We chose and still choose adoption. A biological family wasn’t necessary for us. Around the time that we made this decision we felt so excited. We knew that this was exactly where we were meant to be. We researched agencies, talked to lawyers and adoption experts, and attended informational meetings. We stood at the edge of the lake just ready to jump in headfirst.

I now cringe at the “adoption newbie” I was at that point.

Today Eli and I attended one of three informational sessions to pursue the next step of our journey to adopt. To update you all we are pursuing public adoption of children, specifically sibling groups, out of foster care (side note: the number one goal of foster care is reunification, and we are not only very aware of it, but we also vehemently support it). But let’s face it…we have now relinquished to the fact that who knows where we will end up.

So exciting, right? No, that’s what I felt and thought as I sat in a chair at a private adoption agency two and a half years ago looking at adopting a cute and cuddly infant from a brave first mom (again my naiveté showing). The lake that we had just jumped headfirst into began to slowly but surely freeze. Today, being very well informed, we walked into an informational session that we already knew most of the information for, but that was required of us. We were updated on the two licenses we would have to hold, the 30+ hours of training we would have to do, among other things. That isn’t what made me cringe at the wide-eyed Chelsea of two and a half years ago. Today I didn’t feel excited. The ice on the lake became super thick at this point and was strong enough to walk on.

Don’t get me wrong…I am eager to begin parenting, especially with such a great partner in Eli, but I’m not excited. Why? The children who will come to me through adoption will be coming to me after being removed from their first home. This is a devastating event to have to deal with, regardless of the reasons for removal. Then they will be placed in a foster home, will spend an extended time there, before being placed in an adoption permanence resource. Notice how I said “the children who will come to me through adoption”? Perspective, and a little bit of wisdom, has allowed me to really notice that it isn’t my place to call them my “future children”. Not when their first families are fighting like hell to keep their family together. This is where the very frozen lake we had been walking on began to shatter, but not break. We could still walk on it.

See I’m not excited because I’m aware.

This is going to be a really hard journey. But it should be…especially for us as future adoptive parents. Why? Because it shouldn’t be easy to take a child away from their first family. Every attempt possible should be made to assist a child in remaining with their biological family, whether that be their biological mother and father or their biological extended family. Because the children who come to us through adoption will hurt and long and ache for their first family. As they should. The trauma of losing a first family is a big wound, and we understand that. Because nothing is as simple as it seems.

Awareness is key, and I’ve really learned that in the two and half years. It isn’t about your “missing puzzle piece”. It isn’t about cute little blackboard signs acknowledging the addition to your family. It isn’t about acting like this child’s DNA and biology doesn’t matter. What it’s about is the willingness to open your eyes to just how monumental it is for a child to adjust to his or her identity of being adopted.

So for those of you who have been closely following our journey…we aren’t confused, although I know at times it may seem like we are. As a matter of fact, I think we have more clarity than ever, even if it is still a little a cloudy. See, sometimes the water is liquid and you jump in headfirst and realize it’s just not the right time to swim. Eventually the lake freezes over, becomes crystal clear and you can walk on it. And even though that big crack exists and it looks like you are going to fall through you don’t. It supports you, holds your weight, provides a sense of stability. And it’s at that moment you realize you should have been standing on the lake the whole time and not swimming in it.

~Chelsea and Eli

 

 

 

It’s the day after Christmas. I woke up this morning to the cozy comfort of my warm house. I sat up in bed, looked out my window, and was handed a fragrant pepperminty cup of good coffee from my husband. It was a good day. We had just come home from my parents’ house after enjoying a wonderful Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with my mom and dad and my brother and his girlfriend. As I took in my first cup of coffee this morning, I decided to see what my friends and family had been up to this Christmas via Facebook.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year.”

As I scrolled through my newsfeed, I was inundated with pictures of baby’s first Christmas, beautifully wrapped presents, sonograms announcing pregnancies, cutest children in the world, and memories being made. A picture is truly worth a thousand words, but sometimes I think those words are lost in translation.

So we are standing on the precipice of 2018. And what have we learned about adoption and our experience?

• There is no normal. And our family sure isn’t normal, won’t be normal, and we don’t and won’t fit into your “average” family.
• Our family, our future family has some sadness, grief associated with it. This doesn’t mean that Eli and I are sad. This doesn’t mean that we desperately want a baby. This doesn’t mean that we aren’t happy with exactly where we are. What it means is that we truly understand the ramifications as to why are children will be with us. To deny their loss is to deny their history.
• Our privilege makes us responsible to speak out against injustice, and not just when it serves our purpose, but at all times.
• We will have “firsts” but they won’t involve a cute Santa hat and professional photo ops. And guess what? We are very okay with that.
• We are stronger than ever, and we most definitely need support, but we don’t need validation for our family’s choices.
• Life is far more complicated than anyone wants to show on a Facebook post.

Please know…this isn’t meant to be a post that shows all of our friends and family how hard this road has been because let’s face it…the difficulty of our journey isn’t the waiting for our family; it’s the knowledge that we are in this 100% and we will adapt to whatever comes our way. We’ve been beyond blessed. But my tiny bumps on this journey have helped me to truly empathize with those whom this season is a little more difficult for. Those who dreaded Christmas this year. Who can’t look through another photo of a seemingly perfect family’s Christmas. Who desperately miss those who aren’t with them. Who are tired of trying.

So I just want to acknowledge all of them. Those who can rejoice in the joy and hope that comes with the season, but who really just don’t feel that this is, “the most wonderful time of the year.” Is there anything more simplex than that?

~Chelsea

 

In the last few years Eli and I have had the joy, and let’s face it sometimes the frustration, of being able to see situations from a unique and different perspective. We are right now standing at the precipice of 2018 and if you look at the surface it almost seems like we are further behind than we were two years ago right after we had submitted our completed home study.

Right now, there’s no home study.

There isn’t an agency.

But so much more has been gained than meets the eye.

Education isn’t free, and boy have we ever learned. Right now as I’m typing this post I’m sitting in my cozy home. I’m looking at the camp that restores my soul. Peeking into the bedroom that I’ve redone, once again, that will hopefully become my future children’s room. And guess what? I don’t feel sadness. I don’t feel sorrow. I feel comfort…even as my husband makes fun of the serious face I’m making right at this very moment.

See, perspective is everything. I feel like right now I have a much more “360” view than I had in the past. I understand that adoption comes with loss, but I don’t feel sad. I feel tired and weary at times from the challenges we’ve faced, but I feel stronger than ever. I see the blessings we have so much more clearly now.

To see the world clearly and to understand perspective, I truly believe that you have to be willing to see it from all angles. On the surface we may not have accomplished a lot, but let me tell you we’ve gained far more experience, perspective, advocacy for our future children, and certainty that this is what we should be doing. I know to the world and to many of our friends and family, a speedy adoption is what everyone is praying for. But the fact of the matter is that we wouldn’t have gained this unique and much needed perspective had we been matched right away. And to be honest, I don’t think we would have been as well equipped as parents as we are now. Parenting is a lifelong learning process, but parenting a child or children through adoption takes humility, empathy, understanding, grit, and a willingness to completely and utterly throw the What to Expect When You’re… books out the window.

It’s standing in the same spot and having that knowledge that seeing what many would view as a cold, gray, barren landscape can be as breathtaking as a radiant, beautiful, take your breath away sunset.

~Chelsea

 

 

 

Thankfulness, gratitude, contentment. These should be felt and exemplified with more than just one day. I mean, let’s face it, do we really need a day that was really about the exploitation of America’s native people to remind us that we should be thankful for what we have?

The last few years have been some of the most monumental, humbling, raw, amazing, trying, growing, difficult years of our lives. Not just for me personally but for so many people around the country. However, perspective is everything. It is one thing to be thankful. It is one thing to feel blessed. But it is a completely other thing to take action with those feelings. In my personal opinion, thankfulness and blessing without action becomes complacency. It becomes selfishness. It begins and ends with oneself. So how does this relate to adoption? In more ways than you can even imagine.

I can only speak for myself, but when Eli and I first decided to adopt we were over the moon. We couldn’t be more excited to start the journey, tell our friends and family, and plan for our future family. We were thankful. We counted our blessings and trucked along our journey. We enjoyed Thanksgiving, celebrated the birth of our Savior on Christmas, rang in the new year—2016, and had birthdays come and go.

We became more and more humbled as time passed. And as more and more time passed we felt grateful for all the opportunities we had to learn. We took online courses on trauma, we read hundreds and hundreds of articles, we listened to first-hand accounts of adult adoptee’s experiences, we studied transracial adoption and became more involved in issues that challenged our white privilege. We became awoke.

As we became more and more enlightened, we took action. We took action for more than just the betterment of our own situation but for the situations of others. Why? Because we are thankful. Because we are grateful. Because the recognition of what we have should make us take that and positively impact the world around ourselves.

So, by all means, there is nothing wrong with taking a day of the year to pay extra attention to the things we are thankful for. To appreciate all that we have. But the power of true thanksgiving is the simplexity of what one plans to do with that gratitude.

My plan?

• To provide a voice to the voiceless
• To engage in an adoption process that is ethical and in the true best interest of my children and their first parents
• To keep an open mind and learn
• To call out injustices
• To truly listen
• To use the privilege I have for the betterment of others

What do yo

 

u vow to do with your gratitude?

~Chelsea

 

 

 

 

 

We are moving in the right direction. Some decisions have been made. Emails have been sent. Heck, we have a set of bunk beds in our guest room. We aren’t sure where our journey will now take us, but we have faith that it is where we are meant to be, and have a sense of contentment and joy surrounding that.

I’m not sure if you’ve noticed or not, but Eli and I are constantly on the go. It’s hard for us to sit idle for too long. We like to do—stuff. Whether it’s checking out a great brewery, starting a new house project, grading papers, helping out family, visiting great friends, we are always in constant motion. We try to live our life fully, and what a great life to live. This is great, and don’t get us wrong, we are incredibly thankful that we are blessed with a life that allows us to do these things. We are fully aware of that.

I look out my window and am still expecting to see lush green trees and hear the laughter of kids at summer camp. Reality is the leaves have already fallen, clocks have changed, and Thanksgiving is around the corner.

One area, however, that we do fall short in is self-care. The concept of self-care applies to all people and all families but has become super vital within our lives. And let’s just face it, we suck at it. Eli and I tend to be pretty self-sufficient. We share a lot of our lives and our journey, but when it comes to the nitty-gritty stuff, we work through it, we learn from it, and we push on. I’m proud of our resiliency, but we hit points where we deplete our tank. There is only so much we can do. There are only so many obligations we can fill, so many phone calls to make, so many resources we can exhaust, so many places we can be. We want to do it all. And guess what, we are realizing that we can only run for so long until the tank is empty.

So because Eli and I are doers we need some kind of action to fix this “depletion” we are feeling. But where do we go? What do we cut back on? What obligation do we not fulfill? What relationship do we not nurture? How do you set priorities in your life for things that are all really important?

The big question is: what do you do when you’re very content, happy with decisions you’re making, but feel depleted? You take on the simplex task of personal introspection and figure out which areas of your life can give a little without having to give them up. How can we learn bamboo resilience–bending but not breaking?

~Chelsea