Missing a few more teeth this time around...

What I've Learned From My Adoptive Community

(Pictured: a handful of Guatemamas I got to see this weekend. Not pictured: the rest of our foster/adoptive community here in STL and from Guate.)

* There's no land too far or stay too long, there's only longer tourism visas.

* There's no cost too high, there's only more grants, more fundraisers, more selling stuff you didn't need anyway.

* There's no confusion as to whose child this is, there's only attachment practices and fierce love.

* There's no such thing as re-homing. There's only more therapy, more doctors, more conferences, more reading, more loving. (and more wine.)

* There's no right way, no right answer, there's only prayer and support.

* There's no loneliness, there's only more phone calls, texts, and emails. There's only encouragement and support.

* There's no fake smiles, there's only tears and laughter and hugs.

* There's no judgement, there's only nodding of heads and similar stories and a new day tomorrow.

Two kids later and I'm still infertile. (National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Day post)

Most days I forget that I've never given birth. Most days I forget that my children didn't come from my genetics. Most days I forget that if I hadn't miscarried, we'd have an 11 year old. Most days I'm so busy being a mom that I forget how I became (and didn't become) a mom.

Other than an excuse for a new wardrobe, being pregnant was never my desire. It's beautiful and no one knows more than me how miraculous it is but my desire was to have biological children and I would tolerate being pregnant to get them. But that never happened. Slowly over time we've grieved this and have settled into our amazing story quite happily.

Grieving didn't happen easily, even with our arms full of the greatest children on the planet. That certainly helped but sorrow sneaks up on me. There's still triggers. I still stifle a urge to punch women in the face who joke about getting pregnant on accident. (Not really...but maybe a little?) I still get sad sometimes seeing little girls with brunette hair and green eyes (what I'd always pictured our little girl to look like). I went ahead and unfriended an acquiantance on Facebook who was pregnant the same time I was. There was no reason to see a constant stream of pics of her son playing baseball or what he made her for Mother's Day. That was just a weird form of infertility torture. Congrats but no thank you.

To be honest? I'm not sure I've said this on here or not, but overall I'm thankful for this part of our story. Not just because the timing led us to our boys but because I can now offer what I so longed for back then. When we were in the thick of shots, ultrasounds, etc the only people that could relate ended up having biological children. Some people were compassionate and gracious but there were still lots of "Hang in there! It'll happen!"s and the like. I had no one to look at and ask, "But what if it doesn't?" And now I can be that for others.

We hosted an event at our church right before Mother's Day this year for couples struggling with infertility, a place to come and ask questions, to be reminded of God's promises not being tied to a positive pregnancy test. A woman asked to speak to me after. She asked if I was okay being infertile still. When I said yes she asked when that happened, going from pursuing something so diligently with every resource you have to feeling peace that it didn't happen, essentially asking when is it okay to say stop.

My answer? You'll know. That's not a cop out. You'll know. When you've opened doors, walked through them and felt unsettled, you'll know. When you're heart has changed to other things, you'll know. When you are "late" and it causes more fear than excitement, you'll really know. And it's okay if you're not ready to stop. It's okay if you're not being called to adoption yet (or ever). It's okay to switch doctors. It's okay to try different treatments. This road is different for everyone. And once you've moved on, it's still okay to get sad about it.

And it's okay. It's okay to move on once you're ready. I struggled with this, thinking it was a sign that I lacked faith that God could still do this. But I misread that. Moving on is another part of grieving, letting the dream be transformed by The Storyteller.

Someone sent this quote to me once and I've held onto it's truth:

"The only way to dispossess the heart of an old affection is through the expulsive power of a new one." Thomas Chalmers. (19th century Scottish dude.)

And by expulsive power I mean->

Unless God pulls a "Sarai", I will always be infertile. It doesn't define me but I've allowed it to help shape me. I won't fight the grief when it sneaks up on me but it no longer makes me angry. If anything, it makes me squeeze my boys harder and love on them a little bit more.

The couch 2.0 (or would it be 3.0? I dunno.)

There's enough new people in our world that ^ phrase won't make sense. Knowing some of them are lazy clickers I'll explain briefly, but also link in case some want to do their own research.

Cliff notes: On a particularly emotional day I saw a commercial for some cable provider where a family of 6 is all slammed together on a couch with the cliche huge bowl of popcorn watching a movie and it hit me. I wanted a full couch. I was insanely in love with our son but knew we were supposed to be more. (Or Mohr? Either one.) Well, it's that time again. Our couch is squirrelier (new word coming to Webster Dictionary 2014) and fuzzier with the addition of Dez but there's still room...

Since starting the adoption process back in '06 we've never felt peace about returning to the fertility world. We've started to and just known it wasn't for us. (I have thoughts on this that I'll share in another post, lucky you)

We've done international adoption. We've done foster care. We've done private adoption. We've done infant state adoption. So we thought we'd mix it up a bit this time. Not for the sake of mixing it up, but because that's where the need is and what would work best for our family in this season.

The Mohr's are signing up for an older child adoption through the state.



We've already met for an initial house walk through with a social worker, filled out some oh-so-familiar paperwork and are signed up for the adoption classes in November. We're waiting to hear what the next steps will be after that. We know we need to update our home study but not sure passed that. We could be paired with a waiting child soon or it could take awhile, we don't know. We're fine hangin' in the waiting room until a team decides we're the right family for a child.

We'll update as we are able to! Thanks for joining in our journey, as always!

Rejected by Dumars!

I grew up near Detroit, during the Pistons beautiful years. My family has always been into sports and they were always on television. Being somewhat close, we even went to a few Tigers and Pistons games. All that to say, sports phrases were common venacular in my house growing up. Whenever anything got knocked down, one of us would yell "Rejected by Dumars!" (Joe Dumars is a 6'3 basketball player from the late 80's/early 90's who was known for great defense and the announcers would yell that at any given moment during a Pistons game.)

(Sporting my Pistons T at summer camp. All the cool kids were doing it.)

I have been putting myself out there a lot lately. I sent my book to a real.live.agent. and wrote an article that I submitted to several very large publications. And so far? Nada. The agent wasn't interested in my manuscript and nothing but crickets on the article. Rejected by Dumars. Dumars being a 6'3 professional literary world this time.

My initial fear is the American Idol syndrome. The people who audition with bold statements of being "The best singer in their entire town!" and then you hear them sing aaaaaaaand....yikes. That internal dialogue of whether or not you're good at something? The rejection confirms your fears, that you're making this up as you go, that you have no formal training doing what you're doing and therefore no business pretending you're a contender.

But then you get an email from someone who read your blog and it helped answer some questions for them. Or helped them realize they wanted to adopt. Or just made them laugh.

From the beginning I've said that this is not our story, we didn't make this happen, that God set all this up and we walked through it. Once I finished the book, I felt very unattached to a fantastic outcome or not. I was very open to whatever happens, happens. But then I got my first rejection and felt like closing the writing chapter of my life's book altogether.

I know there's a bazillion agents and publishers and publications. I know that our story is supposed to get out there, I know that I have only just started this process and need to have as much thick skin as I have patience.

I met with a long-time mentor of mine last night. She's also a big fan but an honest one. She reminded me that I began writing the book 6 years ago. I was a different person back then. I hadn't really written before. I hadn't found my style or my voice yet. The second half was basically written by a different person.

So, in answer to the questions of "So, what's happening with your book now?" My answer is that I'm sharpening my editing pen and/or butchering knives and having a hard look at the original manuscript. I'm taking it from a documentation of an international adoption to a memoir worth reading. And in the meantime I'm going to keep writing articles and putting myself out there.

Look out, Dumars, I'm comin' atcha.

Ididit,Ididit,Ididit! Check 7/12

It took six years but I finally finished all 230 pages of the first draft of my book. The memoir documenting Eliot's adoption is written.

It needs a serious amount of editing but I'm super happy with it. I've sent it to a small handful of people. Some "yesmen" that I know will give me pats on the back and even a few that I specifically asked for critiques. I'm having to get used to the exposed feeling that comes along with sending this out. I waver between "I think this is actually really well written." and "What am I thinking?!"

I met with a published author/professor this week to talk publishing. He was so encouraging and I'm still processing all that we discussed. He mentioned how my role has switched now from author to salesman, from creating to selling. He asked good questions and helped me sort through some preliminary decisions. I've also received at least 4 very detailed emails from friends offering their knowledge and experience. I don't know why, but this graciousness of the literary world has been a pleasant surprise. I hope I remember this when someone approaches me in the future asking for help.

So, what now? I'm writing a book proposal. I want to pursue traditional publishing before I go to self-publishing. The more I research, the more I'm finding but it all goes back to a book proposal. And an agent. The book proposal is in my control but the agent is not. It seems overwhelming and I'm unsure of where to even begin.

Interestingly enough, it feels like it did starting our international adoption. Big and unfamiliar and unlimited directions it could go.

Greed by any other name would still CLING TO HIS TOYS.

Last year while in Guatemala, our family (Russ) was asked to help build bunk beds for a family whose children attend the school we worked with. The day was also spent with a neighbor boy, a squishy cute 3 year old with whom Eliot shared his toys all day. Including a handful of matchbox cars. At the end of the day I asked Eliot if he wanted to give one of his cars to his new little friend. His reaction was to cling, CLING to his backpack full of toys as if it were his oxygen tank.

Startled by his reaction, I reminded him of the basketloads of cars waiting for him at home. It was no consolation. He could only see those within his grasp. As a mom, I didn't love seeing the 6 year old version of selfishness and/or materialism no matter how "developmentally appropriate" it was. At that moment it became clear that he'd learned sharing as a tolerance instead of as generosity.

Fast forward to a couple months ago. As Russ was designing Eliot's amazing birthday party invitations I had an idea, knowing we were headed to Guatemala the day after the party. I ran it by Eliot.

"Hey El, what if instead of your friends bringing you gifts (since you'll be getting plenty of gifts from your family), they bring new matchbox cars for you to give away in Guatemala?" He was *sort of* on board.

(Sidenote: we were inviting his whole class (plus more), of which is pretty diverse socio-economically. We were going to say "No gifts" in case the expectation to bring one would keep anyone away. This party would not have been a gift revenue source either way.)

Upon revisiting the idea multiple times since that first convo, this is what he heard: "Your friends will give you new cars. You'll pick the ones you don't like and give them away." OR "Your friends will give you new cars and you will give away your old cars." We kept reminding him of the original plan.



The invitations went out. The night before the party I asked Sandra (MIL) and Russ if they thought Eliot understood what was going to happen with the cars. The party came. We partied like it was 1999. The party ended. We gathered all the bags in the living room. We held our breath, waiting to see if there would be any tension as Eliot opened 116 brand new cars. 116 brand new cars. He'd never seen a collection that big or shiny ever. And they were all sitting in his living room.

After a lot of "Look at this one, guys!" and "Woah, red is my favorite color!" and of course, "Look at the spoiler on this one!" they were all opened and put into columns.

He looked them all over and said, "I can't wait for the Guatemalans to see these!"

And then I wept.

When Russ asked, "Well Eliot, what do you think?" Eliot asked if he could maybe keep 2. Russ offered to buy two extra before the trip to replace the 2 he wanted and Eliot was content.

And then I wept. Again.

Eliot wheeled his small suitcase through the airport proudly, laughing at the xray machine showing an entire carry-on full of cars. The day came. We headed to Guatemala City and met with a new ministry. We brought out the two bags and told Eliot it was finally time. We started down one walkway and saw a few kids. Eliot carefully chose cars for them. One little girl paused, looked closely at her pink car. Her eyes widened, a smile broke out across her face and she took off running yelling, "MAMA!" Eliot looked at me and smiled.

And then I wept.

It took about .4 seconds for word to spread through the neighborhood that someone was handing out cars. Sweet kids came from every doorway and every alley. Eliot happily passed out every single car and was disappointed when he ran out.


Did this whole experience teach him generosity like we'd hoped? We have no idea. Did he come home and immediately start giving everything away? No. In fact he had get used to sharing with a certain 2 year old again. But our hope is in the seeds planted.

We wanted him to feel it. To feel generous. To wish he had more to give away. To experience joy through sacrifice.

We have no idea what we're doing as parents the majority of the time. I've tried outsourcing the development of my kid's character but no dice. The problem is that "more is caught than taught" so while we work hard to provide experiences like this, it really comes back to what they're seeing is us on a regular basis. I've got some work to do.

One week overview.

In the last week:

I made dinner. A few times.
I volunteered at E's school.
I tamed the fro.
I helped loosen a tooth.
I yelled.
I read chapter books.
I read board books.
I took pictures.
I made cookies.
I explained to Eliot that the 80s were not about dressing like clowns, it was a style.
I held slugs, rollie pollies, ants and worms.
I broke up fights.
I dreamed of escaping. All by myself.
I grocery shopped.
I wiped noses with my bare hands.

I forced myself to stay in the 'parent section' of the baseball field as I watched my first grader fight back tears after getting out at first.
I watched Cars for the 900th time.
I bought organic food. And also Cheetos.
I argued about homework.
I spent too much time on my phone.
I administered antibiotics.
I wondered about biological children.
I paid a babysitter instead of buying a new top.
I planned two birthday events.
I didn't sew anything. Or do any craft projects.
I packed lunch.
I lost my patience.
I protected.
I made appointments for annual check-ups.
I prayed for birth moms as we approach mothers day and both boys birthdays.
I made both boys cry. A few times. For not giving in to what they want vs. what they need. But also because I was mean.
I hid in the bathroom.
I hid in my car.
I hid in the basement.
I made Eliot try asparagus.
I overreacted. A few times.
I dreamed of adding more children.
I was consistent. Until I was inconsistent.
I cleaned ears and flossed teeth.
I grieved our miscarriage.
I did laundry, dishes and sweeping.
I didn't vacuum.
I cursed the day PowerRangers decided to make a television show.
I dated my husband.
I prayed over them, with them and for them.
I sang to them. And then stopped when Eliot asked me not to.
I took a lot of deep breaths.
I dreaded the day they each realize their loss of their birth families.
I cried.
I tickled.
I laughed.
I hugged.
I consoled.
I thanked God for letting me be their mom. A few times.

Check 4/12

There's lots to share about my weekend at Summit9 in Nashville but had to share what happened when I got home!

Upon walking in the house, Eliot asked me to close my eyes and walked me to the living room, where I saw this!

(The sign says "Happy Mothers Day!")

It's worth noting that this is only the second television we've bought in our 17 years together. Also? If you keep up with our Instagrams you've seen screen shots of our last TV and the lack of the full picture...

It's just so fancy I don't know what to do with myself. So I've started drinking tea. (That's what fancy people do. duh.)



Check!

Before Mother's Day...

This year, The Journey – Tower Grove will be rolling out a series of services and resources called “FORM.” Our purpose with FORM is to provide a variety of worship experiences, designed to assist in spiritual formation & personal growth.

Our first FORM event will be held on Thursday, May 9 at 7:00pm at REBER PLACE (formerly the Luminary), and will be a lament service for families experiencing infertility.

For many couples, growing a family can be a long and difficult (sometimes impossible) process. Our hope is to create space within this service to help couples ask hard questions, wrestle with doubts, fears, and brokenness, and ultimately find hope in Christ, who promises to draw near to us in our sufferings.

If you or someone you know are experiencing difficulty having children, we encourage you to attend this service.