I am physically small and weak. I’ve never been able to do a real push-up, and after birthing 3 babies, I can no longer do a sit-up. I’m no longer “climbing” the career ladder. I had to choose between spending more time with my family or advancing my career. I chose my family, even though I still miss a lot of class parties, field trips, medical appointments, and other events while I am at work.
By worldly standards I am clearly not strong or powerful, but when it comes to my children, don’t underestimate my persistence and determination. I can function for days (or years now) on interrupted limited sleep. I can juggle a to-do list so extensive I can’t even remember it all in my head anymore. I can power through a 10k with my cross country kiddos with limited preparation. God has been equipping me in different ways to be the mother of the 5 children He has entrusted to me.
Our experiences adopting have brought out the Mama Bear in me. Vulnerable children seem to struggle disproportionally more than other children. Adoption is spiritual warfare. Ask any family involved in foster care or adoption, and they will tell you they have experienced spiritual attacks like they’ve never seen before. In her book I Call You Mine: Embracing God’s Gift if Adoption, Kim de Blecourt says, “One type of love I never experienced, however, until I became an adoptive parent was fierce love.” In her description of God’s love for us she notes, “His love for us...is so fierce He would do anything, go anywhere, fight anyone, and give up anything — including His only Son.”
Take our youngest child, Simon, for example. God must have epic plans for him based on his life so far. It took us 4 years of waiting and 3 home studies (foster, international, and domestic) to bring home the child God intended to be our son. Like every adopted child, Simon experienced trauma in the loss of his first family and their culture, though we are doing what we can to maintain ties with both.
We had complications legally with his adoption, to the point that we literally sent a letter to every state congressperson in Alabama pleading for help. We had attorneys in 3 states working through the mess, which had nothing to do with his birth mother’s consent for the adoption as she went above and beyond to help us. Minutes before Simon’s adoption finalization, which we had travelled out of state to complete, we were informed that the judge may not allow it due to another crazy legal glitch.
During this stressful time, we were also trying to secure the necessary medical interventions for Simon’s hearing loss. We were not expecting to discover that not only were the needed specialists all out of town, but our private insurance did not cover the majority of the expenses. The following year, we started the fight with early intervention to get him “appropriate” speech services. Again we pleaded for help by sending a letter, this time all the way up the state early intervention chain-of-command. A year later I was at the state capitol speaking on behalf of the dismal state of early intervention services for children who are deaf/hard of hearing in Alabama. During this time Simon was chronically ill with ear infections and had 2 sets of tubes and his adenoids removed within a 1 year period of time.
Even though Simon had greater delays due to not receiving the speech services he needed as an infant/toddler, he is finally making great gains! At the beginning of this year when Simon was not quite 3 years old, he was almost 2 years delayed in expressive/receptive speech. He has almost caught up to his peers in receptive speech (what he understands others say), and we have seen good progress in his expressive language skills (others understanding what he says). He attends speech therapy 3 times a week, with one of his visits involving a 75 minute drive each way. He has audiology visits several times a year to recheck his hearing and monitor his hearing aid function. Now he needs occupational therapy, and yet again, we have run into road blocks with how to get the therapy he needs covered (private pay) and how to fit another therapy appointment into our little guy’s week. I am becoming an expert at IEP law, and let me tell you, it feels like I am earning another college degree.
God has given me a peace about Simon’s struggles. I have never feared that Simon’s future would ultimately be limited by his hearing loss or resulting speech problems. But every once in a while I feel sad for him. He got stuck in a piece of playground equipment one day at preschool and couldn’t communicate to his teacher why he wouldn’t come when she called. There was an incident with another child in his class, but Simon couldn’t tell his teacher why he was upset or if he was hurt. When Simon’s hearing aid batteries die, his ear molds act more like an ear plug, blocking the residual sound Simon can hear, but he is not able yet to communicate that his aids aren’t working. His unintelligible speech is a picture of what he heard for the first couple years of his life when we could not clear the fluid from his ears.
There are signs of hope, though. Simon loves to sing and count and say his ABCs. He can spell his name. He is starting to express his needs and wants verbally. Just today Simon was in the Chick-Fil-A indoor play area. I was watching him through the window when I realized one of his hearing aids was flipped off his ear. I didn't make it out there before he approached another mom and indicated he wanted her to reposition his hearing aid for him. I laughed at the time at his boldness, but later realized he was learning to advocate for his needs.
I pray that Simon never loses his outgoing personality or self-confidence. I pray he is not bullied because he is different. I pray he is never ashamed because of the way God made him. I pray I can be the mother he needs. I pray to have the fierce love for my children that God has shown towards me.
