…to be continued because we took a lot of photos. And these aren’t even Marie or the girls’ camera photos!
Last fall we started planning our summer furlough. We would go in August, immediately after camp. We would spend the next five weeks soaking up the California sun (while enjoying the California air conditioning). We would swim in Grandma and Grandpa Ducky’s swimming and go boating on the lake with Grammie and Pops. We would have BBQs and picnics and sleepovers with aunties and uncles and cousins.
Then came Valentine’s day. Would we come to California and adopt Noelan? We knew if we went in February that we wouldn’t go in August. But can you really compare the two – – summer vacation or a child?
And so we went. “I can’t attach to him. I don’t love him. Will you attach to him? Will you be his mom and dad?” The mama in me, the daddy in Christian – – we had to respond. And I attached, we attached. We were asked to and so we did. Every ounce of me became Noelan’s mama and every ounce of him became my son. We know the difference between fostering and adopting. We were asked to adopt Noelan, not foster him. And because of that, we became a family and completely attached to him.
Which is why I feel like a piece of my heart is missing.
Which is why two and a half months after loosing Noelan, I am still rocking my almost eight year old when she goes into an infantile grief. And it is why I still wake up in the middle of the night, panicked because I hear Noelan crying for me. And it is why Christian and I sit and stare at each other and have no words sometimes. And it is why my five year old tantrums and throws and hits until she finally voices “I want my brother back.”
Oh grief. Oh August.
The Lord brought me a new, unexpected friendship this summer. And she has already been an ear and a shoulder for me. She sent me this article and as Christian and I read it, we suddenly felt so much more “normal” during this process. I would encourage you to read it and remember it if the Lord brings someone into your life going through adoption loss. Just reading it has ministered to me, because it has reassured me that we are not alone in this process.
these are just a bunch of snap shots from my phone…but we have been so blessed by the love, prayer, encouragement, notes, etc. we have received and we wanted to let you guys see what our past three weeks have looked like. one more week and hopefully mercy will get the green light to leave this house and venture to more exciting places!
two weeks down of complete sequester – – now we are going into a week of camp, where mercy, addy and i are going to sleep in a pensiune (think bed and breakfast minus the breakfast) in the town near camp (called buzau) and christian and i will trade of staying with mercy because she isn’t allowed to be locations like camp just yet. she is very disappointed about missing camp but in good, her puppy is coming with her!
Sometimes when a lot has been going on, I feel that in order to blog I need to recap my silence, explain where I’ve been. Then I realize that I’m not blogging because I don’t have time to back track. So for now…just me, running errands with this kid. We hit up the piata (uh, think bazaar), chatting with the men and women that bring their produce to sell from outside the city of Bucharest. Strange to think four and a half years ago I found this so daunting, so stressful. And now I find it enjoyable and relaxing. After that we went across the street to the mall (where the grocery store is) and ate lunch at our favorite, McDonalds…which you will never really understand until you visit an actual European McDonalds. And we talked. Chatted actually. Wow. The conversations I have with this kid. She is funny. She is creative. She is intense. And she can talk about so many different things at once. We covered space and Mars and the moon. We covered DNA. We discussed life and gymnastics. We discussed magic and the tooth fairy. We discussed boys please pinch me now. Conversations with this kid are never ever boring. I can’t wait to see what she becomes.
dear addy and mercy,
the past two weeks have been horrible, haven’t they? you have had so much hurt, so much pain. i have felt so guilty, so responsible. daily my thoughts haunt me – – i didn’t protect you. i brought you into this situation. gave you a brother and then took him away. i know these are lies. i know someone else’s selfishness and sick choices have hurt you. but that doesn’t make me feel any less responsible.
i just wish i could hide both of you from all this pain.
but i can’t and baby girls, that just sucks.
tonight we talked about Jesus and how judas betrayed Him. we talked about what it would be like to have a friend walk alongside you, help you, serve you for three years and then sell you, betray you, turn you in, sign your death notice. we talked about how hurtful that is. we talked about how much anger we feel right now. you stared into space, mercy adoniyah and then you shouted at the top of your lungs, “i just want noelan back. i just want to hold my brother.” and as i watch you sob deep heart wrenching sobs, i wondered how you ever forgive someone that has intentionally hurt you and your family. it feels pretty raw to put so much trust in a friendship that so brutally betrays you. it feels pretty raw to realize someone you thought was your close friend for over eight years would be willing to intentionally tear apart your family.
betrayal is quite possibly one of the most painful things i have experienced. it is up there with death.
yesterday, addy grace, you were really struggling. you are suppose to be doing school here in california so that you aren’t held back in romania. your smart little brain is hurting so deeply right now, that even simply tasks are grueling. you broke down sobbing, “i just want you to be proud of me, mama. and if i am not smart anymore, will you still be proud of me?” and i held your sweet little quivering chin and i looked deep into your dark brown eyes and i told you this: you don’t have to be smart. you don’t have to be strong. you don’t have to be athletic. you just have to be kind and you just have to do good, and i will always be proud of you. and i know sweet baby girl of mine, that you will always be kind. you have been hurt deeper than any child should ever be hurt. you have learned what true betrayal is. and because of it, my miniature scientist, you will be kind to others and you will always do good.
we are going to go back to romania soon, sweet babies. it is going to be hard and painful but your daddy and i think it is the right thing to do. you have been away from your own home, your own comfort for over three months. you said goodbye to all your friends, your school, your toys, the language you speak more comfortably and you blindly followed us to california. you selflessly loved on your new little brother for three months, you lovingly gave up so much, you graciously allowed us to give your new brother much more time and attention than you got during those three months. you didn’t complain, you didn’t tantrum, you just loved noelan the way daddy and i did. you helped clean house, fold laundry and play with your brother. you did school in the car, in the doctor’s office and everywhere in between. you wishfully mentioned gymnastics, swim lessons, your bicycles, your friends – – but you never complained. addy grace, i will never forget you telling me, “i miss my home. but the bigger picture is that we have a brother.” your wisdom is way beyond seven years old. mercy adoniyah, tonight you looked deep into my eyes and you said, “i close my eyes and pretend that my brother is coming back. but when i open my eyes, noelan is not here, mama. i don’t have enough power to bring him back.”
i look at you and your sister and i think, “i keep closing my eyes and trying to take away your pain. but when i open my eyes, it is still there.”
oh babies of mine.
i am so sorry.
i love you both more than you will ever know. and i miss your brother so much. i wish there was some way i could take this situation and make it all better.
but know this, i will always be so, so, so proud of you both.
I didn’t think I would write about this honestly. Part of me wants to close up and not share a word. Yet the questions have come quickly but out of love. Why?! I don’t get it! Can’t you do something?! Can I help?! I am not sure where to begin. I have been quiet – – we have been quiet, because we were doing quite simply what we were asked to do – – parent. Last February found us in no way planning a trip to the USA. Christian and I packed up our family and moved to Eastern Europe on January 16th, 2012. We didn’t do it because we are amazing. We did it because the call is real and we consider ourselves disciples and followers of Jesus Christ. And then that push comes to shove, you go. And so with a whole lotta awkward, no idea, we packed up our three year old, our six month old, eight 22 gallon plastic sterilite containers, a carseat, a stroller, a sewing machine, and a few other random things. We were blessed to be surrounded by very loving, very forgiving people as we blundered through culture shock and insensitivity, being homesick, grief mixed with excitement and so much more.
Fast forward from January 2012 to March 2015, when our world changed in every way. My niece, Eisley Hope was born on March 23rd and twelve days later, her brave fight to live was over. We had experienced adoption loss before and we had experienced the death of grandparents and friends, but this was something we had never experienced before. Addy and Mercy were shaken. We were shaken. They were crushed and bruised. We were crushed and bruised. After a whirlwind come back to the USA just three weeks after our 2015 furlough, we found ourselves back home in Romania with a huge hole in our hearts. So we did what we know best – – we kept going. We can look back now and see all the amazing people that walked alongside of us, making sure we were okay. We found Mercy the resources she needed and after two very scary months with our precious little girl that had stopped communicating, she started trying again. we saw her slowly emerge from the dark shell she had disappeared into. At Christmastime, DohDoh (my sister) and Uncle Tanner came to visit (Eisley’s parents). As I stood back and watched the chaos of laughter, fun and life – – I saw our family healing. I saw a new kind of “okay” where Eisley’s death doesn’t define us but it changes us into better people. I saw hope and joy in our family again.
So when February 2016 rolled around, we didn’t see ourselves doing much or going anywhere anytime soon. Gosh, we were just proud that we made it through most of winter and spring was on the way. Addy is doing brilliantly in Romanian public school. She is funny and energetic and social and bright and loud. She is creative and joyful. She speaks Romanian better (proper with amazing vocabulary) than many seven year olds born in Romania. Christian and I have felt a tiny bit of jealousy a few times, listening to her flawless language skills. Mercy is doing simply amazing at her new kindergarten. After a rough spring/summer 2015, we were so blessed to enroll her in a brand new kindergarten where we watched her become a new child. She is fierce and intense but loving and kind. She is freakishly smart and can already out argue her parents through logic and persistence. Every morning, she would wake up ready for school and life. I can honestly say the girls were thriving and I think Christian and I were doing pretty good too.
Let’s face it – – we are surrounded by kids without parents. It comes with the job. If I wanted to go find myself a child to make “mine” it wouldn’t be legal but it wouldn’t be difficult either. My life is a mixture of family, church family and kids without a family. Our holidays and weekends include extra kids on a regular basis. I can’t pick up Addy from school without giving 14 million hugs and receiving 29 million crushing squeezes. I go to the mini-market and find 1 or 2 kids I know that shout, “hey Meeeerrrrrrryyyyyy!” I say this because we weren’t looking or even really considering growing our family just yet. Our desire has always been to adopt while living in Romanian after we receive citizenship (the legal way for Americans to adopt) and citizenship takes time. So when Noelan found us, we weren’t sure. Noelan’s story is “simple” enough yet filled with trauma. He was born in Africa and quickly shuffled around from orphanage to foster mom. His California family began his adoption and asked us to be his godparents. We began praying for him while he was just an infant and I love that part of his story.
Like many, most, all Africa adoption, his hit some major bumps and he ended up living with his sweet foster mama for the first three years of his life. Many times it was thought his adoption would not take place but then in January it did. And we found ourselves peering through FaceTime watching him arrive in SoCal and we were full of excitement and joy. But as we know and have experienced and lived, adoption is not an easy nor simple way to add a child to your family. It is a decision to love a child that might be “broken” according to the worlds standards but I would argue that the world is what is actually broken. Adoption is parenting a child with a complex and confusing background, understanding that they might look “fine” on the outside but on the inside they are carrying very deep, very real, very painful wounds. And Noelan’s new legal parents found themselves unable to care for him, to which I say, that is okay.
So in February when they asked us to come and be his forever family, we found ourselves very, very conflicted. Everything in us said we needed to go and yet nothing inside of us wanted to uproot our lives for an unknown time. We wrestled and sought counsel. I still remember my older brother saying, “my fear is that he is too much to for them to parent while he is living with them but once he is gone, he won’t be too much to parent and they will think they can do it and then they will get him back and he will be too much for them to parent and a vicious cycle will start.” And we knew he was 100% right because let’s face it – – we are all awesome parents until we actually have kids. Heck I was the world’s best parent before Addy was born. Yet in our heart of hearts we still felt the urge to go. Our sweet little godson was in danger – – this isn’t stuff you make up. His new legal parents were crying out for help, confessing that they wanted him out of the house, their marriage was in shambles, their home was dangerous and toxic from him – – all words direct from their own mouths. Christian looked at me and said, “if we don’t go, we will always regret it.”
My parents rearranged their lives and schedules to pick him up from SoCal with less than 24 hours notice – – because from the mouths of his new legal family, it was for his own safety. My sister and her husband rearranged everything to provide emergency respite for him. And on the night of February 18th, they got my precious little boy, shell-shocked, numb and turned off to the world. He wasn’t in good condition. He was very dehydrated. He drank and drank and drank water until you had to take the water away and he would tantrum for it. His lips were scabbed and peeling. His skin was dry and peeling. He was simply numb to the world and life around him. DohDoh rocked him for hours those first ten days. Tanner sat on the floor and played cars over and over and over. Pops would get him from DohDoh’s office and drive him up to the “big house” (our name for Grammie and Pop’s house) and Grammie would watch him during the day. He had a non-stop “cold” for the first week.
And we furiously paused life in Romania. We got out cash time and time again (ATM’s have limits you know) and prepaid bills for a couple months as customary in Romania. We started praying and rearranging money to come up with the needed adoption fees (let’s be honest, missionaries and humanitarian workers don’t exactly make big bucks). We pulled Addy out of school and her gymnastics class just a month before starting competitions. We pulled Mercy out of her kindergarten and her swim lessons. Tears of confusion streamed down her cheeks on her last day at school with her sweet best friends Tibi and Iusti. We tried to explain to our “other” kids that we would be gone just for a couple months and we would come back but I knew in my heart “gone” means “forever” in these kids’ hearts and the tears that welled up broke my heart. Our ministry director was encouraging through it all – – reminding us that God would take care of the ministry while we were gone. So with time we didn’t have and money we didn’t have, we came to California on February 29th and we met our son.
It was blurry in the beginning, jumping into mama and daddy to an adorable but freaked out little boy but it was so worth it. The nights were long and the days even longer but it was worth it. The first snuggle, the first “I love you mama” that came in April made it worth it. The girls reaching out and hugging and tickling and loving their brother made it worth it. And with time we saw him start to thrive. He began using words instead of wails, eating healthy portions of food and using the potty for pee and poo. Yes, these are life’s little successes. Don’t get me wrong, for every two steps forward we would take a step back. This is normal development for an adopted child. Noelan’s three and a half years of life are filled with loss, pain, goodbyes, fear and failures. But we were blessed to know a little better this time around how to meet his needs. So we took every day as a new start in this weird pretend life we were living in California. We morphed into homeschooling Addy and Mercy in Romanian (hello challenge) while blending a family of three kids that were strangers one day and siblings the next.
And we kept waiting. It gets tricky here but you asked, so here is the “simplified” answer. Noelan’s legal family was not completely his legal family – – because he was in the middle of an uncompleted African adoption. So his legal family couldn’t sign over parental rights until they legally completed his adoption. Maybe Christian and I are dumb, maybe we just love and trust too much, maybe we just need to have faith that Noelan needed us. But the problem is that we simply believed their word. So we plowed ahead with nothing more legal than a Power of Attorney. We did medical appointments, blood work, vaccinations and minor surgery. We did play therapy and TBRI (Karyn Purvis’ trust-based relational intervention). And we waited for April 5th when his legal family would receive the paperwork they needed to relinquish parental rights.
But they didn’t sign. We asked them why and it was a new excuse every day. We tried to explain we couldn’t stay here indefinitely while they let us babysit Noelan. We tried to remind them why they asked us to come. We tried to answer questions and be 100% open and vulnerable. All the while, the stress just grew in our little family. We tried to hide it from Addy and Mercy but they are just too smart and they would overhear something, see something, know something. And meanwhile, the love and bond between us and our new son simply strengthened. He became a mama’s boy with a deep love for daddy’s tickles. He found comfort in his relationship with Addy and mischief in his relationship with Mercy. He asked daily to visit Grammie or Pops or DohDoh or Tanner.
And we kept waiting, trying to financially afford two lives, one here in California and one in Romania. And we tried to give a grieving family time and space and love. When May rolled around and we were told that no paperwork had been signed, we were confused and devastated. There is nothing quite like loving and pouring your life into a child that you have no “legal claim” to. Our watching in desperation, knowing he has attached to his new family, us. Watching his behaviors show the beginning steps of healing, watching the successes begin to outnumber the setbacks, all the while knowing that a family he wasn’t attached to was weirdly obsessed with him. And finally, waiting as his legal family was told by the adoption agency, “You need to make a decision because Noelan is attached to his family and Noelan deserves permanency” and instead being told, “Nope we changed our minds, we want him back, we are attached to him.” Because you know, 20 days of “this child is in danger in our toxic home” is more beneficial to Noelan that 93 days in a unconditionally loving and stable environment. (sarcasm) Please don’t get me wrong – – I won’t claim perfection, simply unconditional love and safe stability. And that is what Noelan needed and deserved.
Why is he gone in a blur? Why weren’t his aunties and uncles, other grandparents or friends able to say goodbye? Maybe because on Thursday we chose Monday to take him to the adoption agency (over an hour away) and on Friday at 9a we received a call from our social worker telling us they were demanding him that day and we needed to have him in Sacramento by noon. I am so grateful that in that blur at least his Auntie DohDoh and Uncle Tanner were able to drop everything and race up to see him. And I am more than grateful for Uncle Tanner and Pops that bravely drove him to Sacramento and handed him over to a family that was acting out of selfish gain without a single concern for Noelan. And I am so grateful for Pops, that bravely tried one last time to advocate for Noelan.
And now we are here. In California without our home, but surrounded by some of the most amazing and loving family and friends. I lay awake last night, unable to sleep for most of the night, as my mind whirled and swirled, as I, Noelan’s mama, cried myself to sleep wondering if he was ok, as I woke up panicked over and over hearing his phantom cries in my head. To be the parents of a young, innocent child but not have any legal rights over him has got to be one of the worst things I have ever felt. I don’t have a lot of answers or resolution to this blog post. I would just ask that you would pray for Noelan Truth, his safety and his heart. I would ask that you would pray for Mercy Adoniyah because she feels so deep and so strongly. I would ask that you pray for Addy Grace because she loves so intensely. And I would ask that you would pray for us, our family and everyone around us. This pain is deep.
somehow it has been four years since we packed up or sold everything we owned, said goodbye to all the “normals” in our life and moved overseas to eastern europe. four years. it feels like yesterday and it feels like forever. the past four years have been some of the hardest, darkest, most painful, most chaotic, most unknown years of my life. and yet the past four years also hold some of the sweetest, prettiest, best and most special moments.
have i ever looked back and regretted it?
there have been times when i have felt guilty and wondered what i am doing. we took our perfectly perfect children, ages 3.5 and 6 months and we moved them to a country that spoke russian and romanian, two languages we did not. we took them “away” from their grandparents and cousins and friends. we moved in january to eastern europe and this happened. the danube froze. one day the “high” was negative 22 degrees. february’s average temperature was negative 11 degrees. i dont even remember those first few months. my first major memories came in may when my parents came to visit us.
but do i regret it?
there was a time when i could barely watch my children do the goodbyes – – watching them bravely wave goodbye to visitors, tears streaming down their cheeks. or the times we have had to carry them through security in order to get them on the airplane. and those were the times i wondered, maybe doubted what we were doing.
but i have learned something through all this, something i get to experience. if it wasn’t for those heart wrenching goodbyes, i wouldn’t have the most amazing reunions. and seeing the looks on my girls’ faces – – the amazement, the excitement, the magic, the sparkle. seeing them race through the airport into the arms of a grandparent. see their looks of shock and excitement to a surprise visitor. listening to them recount the special moments and memories and gifts.
and i realized that while the goodbyes are painful and heart wrenching, we also have the hellos and reunions. and our moments and memories are extra special because we can count them and remember each and every one. our time together is magic and when we are apart we can remember the times we were together. and when we feel discouraged we can remember those moments and memories, those hellos and reunions.
and that is what makes us stronger. so happy four years of living in eastern europe.
by far these past three weeks have been some of the best. the weather was amazing, the company even better. so while right now we just really miss dohdoh and tanner at least we have all these special memories to think about.
happy 2016. a year to move forward in peace and joy, forever changed for the better in 2015.
i didnt forget you baby. i am sorry if i have been too busy. but here it is anyway – – your birthday post just
a day a week late.
you are really growing up. the past few weeks have been a somewhat harsh reminder of that. we’ve had a few bumps and while nothing horrible – – they are just reminders that you are you. that you are responsible for your choices and actions. and that i am just your caretaker for a very short time.
the first time i held you, i was still numb and paralyzed thanks to your surprise c-section entry. they laid you on my chest, you were so little, so helpless. and suddenly i was it – – i needed to do everything for you and you adored everything about me. everything i said was right. everything i did was perfect. dont get me wrong, we made a couple mistakes together but we were a team. i said green and you ran, i said red and you stopped.
you had a super simple childhood. you got the shuffle sometimes, but you never minded. you got three sisters when you were a year old and lost them before you were two. for a month after they left, you would hold our family picture and carress their faces and cry over your loss. you gained a brother, a puppy and a pregnant mama before you were two and oh what a stress few months those were.
we moved overseas and left all our family behind when you were three. and oh my goodness you were my mini helper. i could buckle your sissy in her portable high chair and you could feed her an entire bowl of food. you loved to work with me, create with me and do things my way. you and i, we had this bond, this music that connected both of us.
and we still have that bond and that music. but as it twists and changes and as you test your wings already, my throat catches and my heart stops and i find myself sitting here, not quite sure what to do next. you can do the basics of survival without me. your teeth are brushed, you comb your own hair, you can choose a decent outfit, you can make a basic meal and you can wash the dishes afterwards.
and you dont need me the way you used to. i dont have to kiss every owie or brush the dirt of your tummy when you fall or wipe the dried yogurt from your cheek. i dont need to rock you to sleep and whisper in your ear that there are no monsters behind the bookcase. it feels like every day you need me less and less at least in a physical sense.
and then last night you cried yourself to sleep in my arms as you tried to figure out this crazy thing called life and choice and cause and effect. and as you buried your head into my chest and i carressed you blond curls, i was once again reminded that just because im not your save all, do all, life source anymore – – that doesnt mean you dont need me.
you just need me differently. i cant just give you a time out for smacking your sister cause well, you dont smack your sister anymore. now i find myself with my hand on your shoulder, showing you two roads and explaining the better choice. but now i cant take your hand and lead you down the right road and while it stinks, i know it is right.
so instead i find myself holding my breath, watching, waiting, praying for you, whisper crazy-mama-pleas that you will choose truth and right and good and kind and loving. but only you can choose that and my baby girl, that just sucks. also i am sorry for being the one to teach you to say “that sucks” and “well crap.” i wish i could blame your father but i cant.
and last night as i lay awake in my bed long after you were asleep and thought about you and how amazing you are and how strong you are and how courageous you are and how stubborn you are and how many gray hairs you have already given me – – i had some pretty deep realizations. you need me to love you, no matter what. even if you take the wrong road, the road that i know will have painful consequences, what you need to know is that I love you and I will always love you no matter what. That I am here for you and I will always be here for you no matter what. Even if you go away and I dont hear from you and when you show up, I dont even recognize you – – I am your mama and I will always be your mama and nothing you can do will make me stop loving you.
dont get me wrong. i am still gonna cry over your first tattoo even though your mama has her own. and i am gonna glare at your first boyfriend you bring home – – those deep peircing glares cause well, you know, i am suppose. and dont get me started i will probably throw my hands up in the air a few times while you are switching your major and spending the summer backpacking around asia instead of working a job and saving money. and heaven knows when you call me to tell me you crashed and totaled your grammie’s brand new car, well i will be a little bit upset. (oh wait, that was me – – never mind, skip that example.)
so addysen grace klein burtt, or ady with one d as you prefer, i love you very much even when you eat gluten that i know hurts your body but you just aren’t convinced yet. cause i know someday you will once again look at me and see the wisest wizzard of a mom there ever was. of course that probably won’t happen until you are 34 and have a 4 year old and a 7 year old and realize you are just another clueless mama in this thing called life. but guess what, i won’t tell you “i told ya so.” i will just hold squeeze your hand and smile softly to myself.
last sunday we had sickies. mostly overtired and overstimulated with a side of sickie. but enough to keep us home. so we did crafts. and science experiements. and had a great home family day that we really needed.
and a couple videos. mercy runs away both times and we thought she didn’t want to get dirty. come to find out she is just too smart for her own good, ha! she told us, “you said you making lava. and me learned that lava is HOT!” also even though you might see a yogurt bottle, it doesn’t have any yogurt. the bottle has baking soda and cinnamon mixed together and we were pour vinegar in. we were making mud volcanos since we live in romania, home of the mud volcanos!