The end of summer

On the eve of the first day of school, I can't help but reminisce about the happenings of this summer and sit in awe of all the change we've gone through as a family and how we've miraculously come out so much greater. Even though Bob had a choice to take it whenever he wanted, there was no better time for him to take his paternity leave. He was here, 100% present, for every second of the summer, and having the luxury of his undivided attention really helped to bring us all closer together. I am so ecstatic to say that this has been the best summer we've had since my oldest two first joined us back in 2014. I can't even believe these words are our reality right now, because we've notoriously had horrible summers with insurmountable stress in the past. (and that has been from day one, because they were placed at the beginning of the summer that year) Unfortunately, their emotional issues caused them the inability to transition well from the school year to the unpredictability of summer, so we pretty much white knuckled every painstaking day from June to August in summers past.  And if that wasn't enough, every year prior to the summer, I would personally spiral downward into a little bit of a depression the closer it got to school letting out, because I dreaded what was in store. I can compare it to a hurricane; gearing and boarding up for the storm to come, and then riding it out, because for us, there was no place to escape to. I wish I could say that I'm just being dramatic, but that is not the case, this has been our reality. However, this time around, I had so much going on with finalizing the adoptions with the three new little's, I was distracted, so that part wasn't as bad, yet in the back of my mind, I was still expecting it to be crazy-town and had some anxiety not knowing what the dynamic was going to be like between the five of them. Much to my delight, as the summer went on, it was shockingly calm and overall really wonderful! Of course we had some minor behavioral issues with each of them, but nothing out of the ordinary or even remotely noteworthy. Bob and I just really enjoyed spending time with our children. We laughed with them and at them, we joked around, we played games, went places, and hung out. Oh, and we even celebrated milestones; like Mylee not having any accidents anymore for the first time, and Noah and Asher going the entire summer WITHOUT getting suspended from Boys and Girls Club for acting out! (Wahoo!! That's a big one.)  It's so bizarre when I think about it, though, because we went from having two high needs children, to adding three more high needs children, so we should totally be going through disastrous behavior and transition hell, but we're not; we're just simply not! Experiencing the possibilities of how tempestuous it can be first hand, and it not being anywhere near that crazy, is how I know that our family was ordained by the Lord. Bob and I, reluctantly, just wanted to add one little girl to our family, but God in His infinite ways, knew what we were capable of, knew what we needed, and blessed us with it in the most unmistakable Godlike way. I don't share our story with too many of how our newest children came to be with us, but trust me, it has His workmanship all over it. We are so madly in love with these children as they have brought so much joy to our family. We get asked all the time by people who know our past struggles, how Noah and Asher are taking having new siblings, and its so much fun to see their faces when I tell them how remarkable they are doing with them being here. It has been so easy, and it feels like they were always supposed to be here. Yes, we have had to learn how to be a large family, and make room in our already too small of a home, but it hasn't been a struggle whatsoever, and we are so thankful. Just last night, I was making dinner for my family and felt blessed to be feeding them; hearing them enjoy the food I made, when Asher spoke up and said, "Thanks for cooking dinner..." which promoted the other children to say the same thing. Then I heard Logan quietly say something else under his breath, so I asked him to repeat it, and he said, "Oh I said, thank you for being my mother. Of course I like the food, too, but mostly just thank you for being my mother." 😭Totally blessed me! This morning, Lia was playing with Lego's on the floor while I did some work on my laptop and out of nowhere she said, "Mommy, I'm weally (really) happy that evewyone is my family. You, Datta (that's her name for Bob), Mylee, Loge's, Noah and Asher. It makes me happy this is my family." 💓😍 Listen, I personally don't need gratitude from any of my kids for adopting them, as the way they came to me is marked with so much pain; oh but when their hearts speak things like that, does it ever bless my soul. It shows me that they feel the magnitude of what's taking place in their world. So for the first time in four years, I'm happy to express that I'm sad to see summer come to an end and totally relieved that I won't dread this time of year anymore.

Little Sister and the tornado

This morning, on the way to day camp, Little Sister asked, "Mommy, can tornadoes suck us up?" It took me a minute to figure out what it was she was asking, but when it clicked, I told her, "Yeah I believe they can if you are standing right underneath or in front of one, but mostly people just hide from them until they pass. Why do you ask?" She got quiet for a second and then finally said in a soft tone of voice, "Well because I don't want a tornado to suck me up and take me away from my new mommy and daddy." My heart sank as I reassured her that she is going to be ours forever, and that no one will ever take her away again. I'm sure my words helped some, but reality is, she has been "swept away" more times in her life than a five year old should have, so that is something she has come to expect and dread. I don't think people realize just how devastating that really is to a child; her unintended metaphor was spot on, actually. Think of the clips you see on the news after a big tornado plowed through a city; homes leveled, families displaced, and nothing left but remnants of where neighborhoods use to be. That's almost exactly what happens to a child's world when they are removed from the birth parents. Even though it may have been a terrible home where horrible things happened, that's still all they know, and there is some comfort in knowing your surroundings. In the past, as soon as she got comfortable, as soon as she settled in and began to love the new people in her life, there she is again, in the backseat of a caseworkers car with her few belongings in bags, headed to the next house. Each new place with new rooms, new people, new smells, new food, new routine's, and new rules, overloading her little mind as her heart aches for the last familiar place she called home; over and over again. As many disappointments as she has faced in five short years, I'm surprised she's not just a shell of a child. I'm surprised she still has the ability to smile and find laughter in the world, as dark as hers has been, but that's a Little Sister for you. She is a beautiful child with a beautiful heart that is eager to please, doing whatever she can so that she doesn't get sucked up and taken away again. It's so sad that a system that was designed to protect these children has hurt them instead; yet I realize it's almost unavoidable at times. But I thank God she's here with us, now. We are her forever, and she is ours.

Little Boy's pain

Little Boy just woke up crying his eyes out. I got him out of bed and he stated that his foot was hurting, but I could tell that it was about much more than just his foot, because he was completely grief stricken. However, I got some oils and told him he was in good hands, because taking pain away is what I do for a living. I applied the oils, started massaging his foot, and he stopped crying almost immediately. I asked him if he had a bad dream and he said 'no,' so I obliged his wishes not to press further as he got quiet. A few seconds later, he said, "My feet and legs use to hurt at my old house. Where my bio mom lives." So I asked him to tell me more and he just said, "I don't know why. Probably when I got hit by that car, because my legs got hurt." I told him, "That makes sense. But I think your foot just needed a little bit of love tonight, what do you think?" He smiled sweetly and nodded his head in agreement. After about five minutes, I gave his feet a stretch and worked on his toes and lower legs and asked him if he was hurting anymore, he smiled and said they didn't, so I hugged him, whispered a quick prayer over him, and had him go back to bed.

It's times like these I am honored to not just be a mother, but one who specializes in mothering hurting children. I believe I was made for this! My grown up heart can't fathom the pain his little heart feels, being treated so poorly, and then being taken away from everything he has ever known. Yes, it was for his safety, but he doesn't yet realize any of that. All he knows is his heart aches! It aches for safety, aches because of the confusion, and aches ultimately for 'home!' It's unfortunate that the place he longs so much for doesn't even exist, though. That place is nothing but a distant memory; one where the gaps and darkness have been replaced with visions of grandeur and imaginary happenings that make home seem like the only place he will find peace and happiness. And I can't blame him, either. Who wants to swallow the bitter pill of reality when it hurts that much?! It's such a shame, and he didn't deserve any of it, none of them did. I am so grateful that God put him and his sister's here with us, though. Three more children was not at all what we had in mind, but it has been so much more wonderful than I ever imagined it could be. I mean a total miracle! But that's a whole other story for another time.

Pouring out

When I first started this blog to document our journey, I committed to transparency because my hope is that my family's account, will help someone else feel less isolated in their adoption journey (or journey with a similarly hard child), and see that there is hope and some sort of silver lining in all of this. Believe me, I realize the following message includes harsh words to speak about my own son, whom I chose to adopt, but I'm only saying them now because it's the truth, and I'm compelled to say it; not for my benefit, but for the benefit of someone else out there who may have needed to read it.

Reality is, our hearts were broken, we were confused, and going through all of this privately has seriously been so incredibly devastating and scary. 

We've had the week from hell, literally. I won't go into detail because it's private and frankly, not necessary, but just so you know the gravity of what I'm talking about, we had no choice but to call the authorities on my oldest son, Noah, and pending a lengthy investigation, he could end up going to jail. So we're potentially up against some very hard things coming up. However, you have to understand that just as He has from the beginning of our adoption journey with our boys, the Lord has been with us, continually guiding our steps, even through this extremely difficult season, and this particular blog entry is a testament to God's grace for my son and our family. 

Honestly, though I have a strong relationship with Jesus, I haven't been faithfully going to church, but rather, catching a service here and there over the past year or so. Not that it's a reasonable excuse, but personally, my husband works so much, and the kids require an incredible amount of our energy daily, that come the weekend, I truly just want to rest and enjoy being with him at home. Yet, this week as our nightmare played out, I've been experiencing so many types of emotions wondering how this will all work out and what life going forward with my son is going to look like. I felt like everything I thought I knew about him was a lie, and what little bit of trust we had built up in our relationship over the last four years was gone. I had palpable anger and resentment toward him, questioning how he could be so stupid to put us through this, and that made me question my love for him, our journey this far with him, including all the progress he has made and if it was ever even genuine, or if he was just going through the motions to get us off his back. I actually expressed to my husband privately, that with all we've been through, I don't know if I even want to do it anymore, if I even wanted him to be here anymore. I honestly pondered if he'll ever lead a "normal" life, or end up the psychopath he appeared to be during this time, because we truly could not see him express any type of empathy or remorse for his choices, and heard only the blaming of others for the reason he got into this mess. So anyway, after going through all of this emotional turmoil, I have been studying the word and trying to connect with the Lord on what we should do and how we should proceed being Noah's parents, because it felt like we literally lost all direction. I had been praying for for guidance and a word from God, so when I realized it was Wednesday, I arranged for the kids and I to attend church in hopes we would get something, literally anything that could shed some light on what we should do next.

Since Noah is now 13 and too old for children's church at the one we attend, he was with me in the main sanctuary. The music was great, as always, but the message seemed like it was literally tailored with Noah in mind. The pastor spoke of things that directly correlated with what my son struggles deeply with and I could tell he was really taking in what the man was saying, which pleased me. I spent the service listening and pondering how I was glad I brought him and hoped it would "stick" because we needed all the help we could get with him at this point. Once the pastor closed his sermon, they started to play music and opened the alter for anyone to come up and receive prayer. I immediately got up and grabbed Noah's arm, propelled him into the aisle and directed him toward the front. He has never gone to the front to receive prayer before, so he literally froze in front of me. Like his legs stiffened up and he turned to look at me with a look of sheer terror on his face, so I grabbed his shoulders, whipped him back around, pushed him forward and said with authority, "GO!" He moved a few more steps and stiffened up again, so I kept prodding him forward until he was finally at the very front, right in front of the alter among about 20 or 30 other people. As the music played, standing behind him, I put my hands on his shoulders and as the pastor prayed over the crowd, I began to pray over my son. Once I opened my mouth, my voice went from a whisper to a roar and I realized the Lord took over and had me warring in prayer over my son, saying words completely opposite of how I had been feeling every day this week; life giving words. It was then when I felt my son break under my touch and double over in tears, praying for forgiveness, and pouring himself out before Jesus. He was freeing himself before God! All of the trauma, all of the mess that has been his life was literally pouring out of his body, and his spirit was being transformed right before me. I opened my eyes briefly and realized that during this "prophetic prayer" that was coming out of my mouth, my voice had gotten so loud that others around us heard and began praying with us, laying hands on us in agreement for my sons soul. It was SO POWERFUL! I felt like the Hannah in the Bible, drunk before God, begging Him for a son that she'd commit to Him if he blessed her, storming the gates of heaven for MY child. The words coming out were not my words, they were God's word for Noah on my behalf, utterances I couldn't seem to find this week among all of the disappointment and resentment, words Noah's soul needed to hear to transform him. Once prayer begin to die down and dissipate, another young man came and prayed for him. Then as we were walking back, and older man came up and grabbed him and prayed for him. Noah was bawling and holding onto this mans shirt as if he was in the middle of the ocean clinging onto a life raft, while he whispered into his ear. Once we finally made it back to our seat, I hugged my son and told him that I know he has some tough things coming up, and though he has to go through it because of what he did, that his actions don't change that he is still our son, and that we will walk with him through it as a family. It was then my son said the most honest thing I've ever heard him say. He looked up at me wiping the tears from his eye and said, "Momma, momma, thank you for loving me. Thank you so much for loving me. I've never had anyone love me as much as you and dad, and I want you to know I appreciate it. Mom, I want you to know that I know in my heart that I would not be a normal person if you hadn't have adopted me. It's because you and dad love me that I am who I am now. Thank you for loving me, mom. Thank you for bringing me here, I really needed this." Right there in our embrace, his words made me realize that my son gets it, he really gets it. And with the healing my son received tonight, I know he is going to be okay, WE are going to be okay. God is going to get us through the hardship that is to come and even if nothing happens with his case, going through this was worth the miracle that followed. I'm convinced, it was ordered of the Lord! I can rest now knowing that God fully intends to carry out the plan and a purpose for Noah's life that He told me about before we got him, and nothing, no devil in hell, can stop it.

Please be in prayer with us in the upcoming weeks as we go through the legal process. I personally don't want leniency, because I feel Noah needs to go through this hardship as it plays out naturally, to understand the gravity and consequences of his choices, but I want God's will to prevail above all, as His ways are not our ways.

Hannah 

13

The first thing Noah asked me when we got the restaurant for his birthday lunch today was, "Mom do you know what time I was born?" My heart sank because I wish I could answer that question but unfortunately I can't, and probably never will. All I know is he was born December, 16th, 2004 to a young girl and her much older boyfriend, in a hospital just over the Texas/Mexico border.

Every year on my own birthday, my parents tell me the story of the day I was born. They talk about all the friends and family who came to the hospital to greet and hold me and how they clapped as I was presented to them. It warms my heart thinking about how cherished and loved I was when I entered the world, apart of a huge family that loved me the minute they saw me, and even before. That's the way it should be for all children, but sadly that is not the case. I can't speak for my son's experience because I wasn't there. But knowing the circumstances surrounding his first family, I don't imagine it was a very joyous occasion. Was he loved? Possibly, yet I can't be certain. But cherished, he was not. The three years with his birth family that followed were marred with abuse, neglect, and abandonment. Then when he was in foster care he endured six more years of empty promises, instability, and more maltreatment.  So the words written on my sons heart from the very beginning were, "We don't love you, we won't keep you safe, you don't exist, and you're just another file on a caseworkers desk." Certainly not what any child deserves.

Fast forward to October 19th, 2013. I saw two little boys waiting for a balloon artist to make them swords at an adoption match event. I asked their names and they told me. Noah looked at me with the sweetest bashful smile and brown eyes with long eyelashes, then looked away, cheeks red with embarrassment. My heart leapt!! THESE ARE MY BABIES! I FINALLY FOUND THEM! It took me a year and a half of searching and preparing for them and here they were before me. I knew it instantly. Bob and I knew it before we even got out of bed that morning, something special was in the air.

June 2nd, 2014 at around 10am, we signed placement paperwork to officially have them come live in our home. November 18th, 2014 at approximately 10am, we finalized our adoption with the boys over the phone with a South Texas judge. And it has been one heck of a ride since! Noah in particular has been especially tough. It's hard to erase what shouldn't and rewrite what should have been on his heart in the first place. It's like erasing pencil; the visible marks are gone, but there's still outlines, smudges and residue on the page from the hurt and pain that only Jesus can wash. So we have no choice but to turn the page and start new with him; creating new memories and new words. I haven't been the mom I thought I would be, and that has been a bittersweet awakening. Unfortunately the love I knew and grew up with wasn't and still isn't enough for Noah, it's like a whole different language to him. He has required me to grow in a strength I never knew existed. To trust that God could make me into the mom Noah needed, instead of the fairytale mom I had in my head.  The last 3.5 years since he came to be our son have been up and down but I can tell you that watching him go from sad, tortured, and belonging to no one, to being able to smile and enjoy what it means to be a Biffel has been the single most amazing thing I've ever been apart of. No, we are not perfect parents but this boy, this now 13yo boy is loved, cherished, wanted, and is above all, safe! He is growing up into the healed man God ordained him to be as he is exchanging his ashes for beauty every day. He is not a mistake, he is a BLESSING to us and I can't wait to see the man he grows up to be.

Happy 13th Birthday, Noah. I may not know the time you were born, but I know when I first saw you, when you came to live with me, and the time when you officially became my son. I love you with all of my heart and will always be here for you.

~Hannah

Her

I wish she could see them the way I see them. How precious they are, how they didn't deserve to be left. How they didn't deserve to go through everything she let them go through because of her laziness and unwillingness to provide safety. Their pain is now my frustrating pain. Picking up where she left off many years before I came along has been the single most difficult thing I've ever done. I hate that because of her actions, my son has sadness deep inside that festered into a palpable anger because he didn't feel safe enough to express his sorrow to strangers while in foster care. I hate that Asher says he still just wants to be a baby because he had that stage of his life stripped away too soon. He learned to walk with a foster mom. He lost his first tooth at our house within six months of being here with us. Noah's socially awkward and lacks communication skills because he was grieving too hard during the stage of his childhood when you learn those things. It's an outrage! It should not have happened this way! I love the saving grace of adoption, but the fact of the matter is, children should never have to go through that magnitude of pain in the first place! I realize it's a fact of life that things happen and kids end up in bad situations, so I'm grateful that we are the people we are, because it could be much worse. But I'm still angered and saddened by it. It angers me to endure Asher breaking/destroying things because he wants to see if we'll finally get upset enough to abandon him like she did. It cuts me like a knife every time Noah ridiculously bully's his brother and pumps himself up/talks about how amazing he is all the time to scratch that itch inside that constantly screams he's simply not good enough as he is. No matter how much we tell them we're not going anywhere, that adoption is forever, they still believe in the depths of their soul that if their own birth parents hurt and left them, we will too, someday. It's a never ending battle, every single day to prove ourselves. Going to a new restaurant shouldn't be that big of a deal, but it is when you've been moved so many times, the words "lets go somewhere different, tonight" is an instant trigger. Fidgety fingers, body movements, disrespect all the way there. Then the ride home is more drama because they're exhausted from being at a new place. There's more but there's not enough time, nor space, to go through it all here. The truth is, they're amazing boys. Deep inside each of them is a precious little being that is has been pushed down and protected by the hurts, anxiety, and frustration of being let down over and over and over again. Sometimes their preciousness come out to play, and it lights our world up when they do. Asher is a giver, a sharer, a child that loves to connect to others. His laughter is infectious. He's funny, incredibly handsome, loves action, and is forever playful. Noah is naturally quiet, careful, and loves to learn everything there is to know about whatever subject he is interested in. He has a passion for animals, and loves spending time with them. But for someone who's so important to them, she doesn't have a clue who they even are, and the sad thing is, she wouldn't even know them if she walked past them on the street. It shouldn't be that way! It should never have come to this! But I gladly stepped up and I will continue to forge on through the brokenness for as long as God allows me to. She may have given them life, but I am and will always be their mother.

Making the grade

Well I checked Noah's first set of grades for the beginning of the year. I was not happy about what he was coming up with in math and writing and the fact that he chose not to bring home his first progress report a while back because he was failing miserably at that time and knew we would not be happy. I considered grounding him for that and also holding him to getting it together in both of those classes to get ungrounded, but then I looked at the bigger picture and decided to change directions. In the grand scheme of things, he was doing pretty dang good in all his other classes. He even had two attached comments in his digital record by teachers saying, "he's a joy to have in class," and is "an overall good student." So instead, I sat him down and we had a long serious conversation about personal responsibility, and juggling athletics and his grades in order to play. We also discussed asking for help, turning in work completed and on time, and choosing not to horse around in class. I used some strong words to get my point across, so that he knew I was serious. Naturally, he wasn't very pleased and tried to give excuses, but he ultimately knew deep down that he had some work to do and was listening. So once I was done giving my lecture, I made a point to end the conversation with reading off all of the comments from his teachers and how I thought his other grades were awesome. I also mentioned that aside from our relationship struggles, I was so proud of how he was conducting himself at school, over all, and how far he has come despite his history. Would you believe that he smiled and started crying happy tears?! Yes! He was overjoyed to hear that and it did something to his spirit to know that we noticed his progress. It also touched me to see that he cared so much, especially when he tries so hard to act tough and unaffected by literally everything. Yeah I'm hard on my kids, I am the first to admit it. In the same regard, I have very hard kids who don't usually respond until it gets serious. I'm a loud person, which tends to trigger them, I'm personally not very cuddly either, and have to work at being approachable. But regardless, I love them with that same intensity and want only the best for them. They know the second they've messed up, yet I spare nothing in showing them how pleased I am when they get it right. Noah has every reason in the world to stay pissed and refuse to do well in life as he has gone through unimaginable grief and trauma. Yet, he is choosing to rise above it, is doing well, and that's all I really want. Is there room for improvement? Sure there is! Not only on his part, but mine, too, as his mom. I can't rightfully ask him to improve, if I'm not willing to lead by example; even if that means changing tactics when the situation allows for it. Even though I knew that grounding him works and would have propelled him to do better, I wanted to dial into his strengths and let him know that at the very core, we are proud of him and notice his efforts. He's still very aware that he is on notice and has work to do, but at least he left the conversation upbeat and with a positive outlook instead of irritated, like usual. He even told me his game plan for Monday; how he's going to talk to both of his teachers to see if there's anything he can do to improve both grades before they turn them all in on Tuesday, eating lunch with them, and staying over/skipping the game Monday to work on his grades. We shall see if he actually follows through, but nevertheless, I am encouraged by how it went, because it could have been much worse. Just goes to show you how improving your tone as a parent really can effect the outcome with your kiddos. I'm sure this won't work every time going forward, but I'll take what I can get.