The Tree, The Storm, and The Stakes

There is a wonderful analogy spoken of in Christian circles. It is one that helps the believer to understand why a loving God would allow trials into the lives of those He adores. I speak of the analogy of the tree and the storm. The illustration basically boils down to this, in order for trees to be strong, they need deep roots. In order to have deep roots, they need to withstand storms. It is the storm that encourages the tree to plant firm roots so as to not topple over. In contrast, trees with shallow roots will easily fall at the slightest squall.

This morning, on the drive to my 16 year old's high school, I was able to remind him about the purpose of storms in our lives. This past year we have been introduced to facets of our son's life that have been overshadowed throughout the 11 years since his and his sister's adoption. The details of these facets will, I am sure, make the topic of a future blog post. For now, understand that our son has endured far more storms than the Hubster and I were aware of. These disturbances, that we as parents have had no control of, have been brewing in my son's mind for the entirety of his life with us. Often, he can no longer hold back the pressure of life so he finds opportunity to release his anger, hurt and frustration in the place he feels safest, our home. Last night we, as a family, experienced one of those episodes.

This morning, with the burden relieved, my son was in a place where he could receive some maternal wisdom. I explained that he has had an abundance of storms in his life and that his Dad, the Hubster, and I know he will be able to overcome them. While overcoming these trials, his roots will grow so deep that, we know, he will not be moved nor shaken. He will be stronger than anyone I know. But it is in the overcoming that he will be made stronger, not in the storm itself.

At that moment, I had an epiphany and began to speak to myself as well. You see, when we plant young trees, we use posts or stakes to support them until their roots are mature. Usually, there are two stakes. The responsibility of the stakes are to help the tree not to need them anymore. There the stakes stand, one on each side of the young tree, both gently but firmly holding on to this new life. It is a fine balance, the responsibility of a stake, hold on too tight and the tree can be choked, it could snap when confronted with resistance, or the tree could grow and envelop the stake, never to be free and independent. Yet, take to weak of a grasp and that tree is at the whim of it's environment.


I continued down the road of the responsibility of the stake. You see, the thing about stakes is, they don't leave when the storms come, They withstand the storm with the tree to help it through the winds it would not overcome on it's own. It is during the storm that the stakes' work is most difficult and most important. The stake needs to be planted firmly. The stake needs to be sure of it's job. The stake needs to support yet allow the environment to affect the tree so the roots may grow deep. The stake does this in hopes that the tree will no longer rely on it and will flourish on its own.

As parents, we stand along side our children. We try to find that balance of strength and flexibility. As parents we weather all that our child endures and hopefully help our young ones to learn for themselves. As parents we set our goals to, one day, watch our child flourish, on his own, independent of us.

Deterring Deviations

This past week I spent my mornings sitting in the back of my 7th grader's class.  I did not go there to embarrass him, contrary to what he thought my purpose was.  I did not go to make sure he was doing the right thing by policing him nor to investigate his friendships.  I went to observe him in his natural surroundings.  I knew my presence, though, made the common habits of a 13 year old boy difficult.  Still, I had my eyes searching for any type of academic engagement.  

My son is quite capable of a "B" average, straight "A's" if he pushes himself.  In his circle of peers, though, it is not the popular thing to raise your hand in class, whether to ask a question or to give an answer.  I guess the teens are concerned with looking too smart or too confused. As a result, some bad habits, accompanied with matching grades, have begun to emerge.  My job is to help my son overcome previous choices, but such a task can be daunting and trying to produce new habits in this kid is not easy.  Fortunately, I am a parent committed to grow responsible young people.  

 I actually had a pretty good time at school.  I sat in my designated chair, opened my tablet and then developed a system to keep track of his involvement.  Next, I diligently invested my time on Pinterest planning dinners for the next couple of weeks (complete with grocery list). Texting the hubster to keep him filled in on all of the hand raising, answering and asking of questions was of severe importance.  I then kept up on facebook, noting the new things I learned like what an "ellipsis" is.  I also did some blog planning but did not have much time to actually write. All I really needed, was my physical attendance in the back of the class. Who really cared what exactly I was doing.  My son would rarely look back to see if I was still there, it was easier to be in denial if he didn't actually see me. Needless to say, my child's teachers noticed an increase in academic activity as well as appropriate behavior.  

It has taken me a few years but I have finally realized, why must the discipline initiated for my child be a punishment for me?  I began to see the need for me to retain my sanity.  So I try to make the most of my child's corrections.  I could have sulked in that seat.  I could have documented the deviations.  Instead, I sought out positive conduct and made sure my needs were met also.

After three days, three hours each, I have been asked to "pop in" anytime I want a few times a week.  Kind of keeping my son on his toes, so-to-speak.  Hopefully we can assist this boy in forming new habits both educationally as well as socially.

Today, I popped in, unannounced, went back to my chair and updated my grocery list.  Just prior to leaving for his math class, my son was invited outside to take a spelling test he had missed.  In his absence, I too became absent.  I did wait to leave the school, as he would pass the parking lot on the way to math.  I wanted him to see my van and anticipate me joining the class at any moment.  Instead, I popped into my vehicle, drove to the grocery store, pulled up that grocery list, and shopped for those dinners.  

Oh yeah, I actually had time to write today too!

The Beginning of Jillian

This past March I received a message asking if I would be interested in writing and entry for a friend's blog.  This friend was Katie Reid.  Katie and I met because of Down syndrome.  You see, I was and still am the odd woman who approaches you at church, (or on the street, or at our kid's school, or at Target... OK, anywhere) if I see I have something in common with you.  (I frequently get the "CRAZY LADY" look from people I am only trying to connect with)  Sometimes I think I might scare people with my over zealousness.  Anyways, I digress.  Katie's brother happened to be at church with their parents that day and, he happens to have Down syndrome.  I introduced myself and the relationship began.

Needless to say, my entry to her blog  Deep Breaths appeared May 6th, 2013, as part of her "Intentional Mothering" series". I am so glad I did because it lit a fire in my heart to share our entire story. Jillie is an integral part as you will read, but still, only a part of our adventure.  

Please join me in following Katie's amazing blog, Deep Breaths. I am sure you will enjoy it as much as I do.

Thanks Katie for helping our family's story be told.

All photos in this post are provided by Brooke Photography

I was forty-one when the shocking news of my pregnancy came to me.  I woke one morning with a whisper in my heart saying, "You're pregnant."  I laughed.  It was January 2008 and our family had recently grown from two to five children in less than two years through the foster/adoption of three siblings.  My last pregnancy had been eleven years prior.  Surely, this thought was foolish, just a remnant of something I had eaten the night before.  Still, it resonated in my soul.  A few weeks later, it was confirmed, we were to be joined by child number six.  "What was God thinking?" ran through my mind.  Our roller coaster of a life was rushing through the starting gate with seemingly no intentions of stopping anytime soon.

Being of “advanced maternal age”, I was treated to a variety of tests, one of which tested for chromosomal abnormalities.  The initial results returned with an appointment to a high-risk pregnancy center where a detailed ultrasound was given.  By the end of our visit, we were told of the one in five possibility that our baby would be born with Trisomy 21, Down Syndrome.  
A month later we had another appointment, another ultrasound and another result; our chances had risen to fifty percent.  We decided to find out with certainty so that we could know whose life we would be celebrating.  Our outlook on our newest child was a breath of fresh air to the doctors, nurses and technicians in the office.  We were the only couple, out of four families with similar diagnoses, that was planning to continue their pregnancy.  Later, I found out that babies like our Jillian have less than a ten percent chance to be allowed to see the light of day, because the majority of parents, who find out early on, fear the unknown.  

The amniocentesis was simple, the waiting was difficult, but not for the reason one would expect.  I found myself longing for my baby to be gifted with that extra chromosome.  We went out to dinner the night of the procedure and saw a couple with a baby boy, just months old, he had Down Syndrome.  My heart ached for that baby.  The urge to cradle him in my arms was overwhelming.  He was what I longed for.  That weekend was spent, convincing myself that a typical child would be okay too.  Monday came and, to my delight, Trisomy 21 was the diagnosis.  My heart had been prepared.

  

I remember sitting in church worshiping, Jillian inside of me doing her usual flips and kicks with the melody.  With eyes closed, my heart and mind were thoroughly engulfed in the music and verse filling the immense room while I prayed, “I want to see your face.”  I opened my eyes, looking across the room at the contingent of people signing their praise to God and the words, “This is My face” came to mind.  My hands were settled on my restless belly when those same words, “This is My face” washed over me once again.  At that moment, I knew, my baby would be born perfect.  Jillian would be perfect for the tasks my Lord would prepare for her.  She would do things that He would trust only her to accomplish.

I am beginning in the beginning for a reason.  Do not think for a moment that it was my idea to give birth to a child with special needs.  The thoughts of what she would miss out on flashed through my head.  Would she go to college, get married, enjoy a life as I have known?  I had no idea.  

What I did know was this... I had yet to see an adult with Down Syndrome who was embarrassed of their parents.  I had yet to hear of someone with Down Syndrome smoking, let alone choosing to use drugs.  I had known many people with Down Syndrome and have found, while experiencing the same array of emotions we all do: they are content with the life handed to them and, in fact, they cherish it.  

God knew, my family, at this point, was not easy, nor would it be.  The last thing we needed was to add more social workers, doctors, nurses and therapists to our already consumed lives of foster care and all that comes with it.  But, God did know and He choose the perfect place, the perfect time and the perfect family for this extraordinary little girl.

Life as we knew it continued throughout my pregnancy.  Visits with social workers, lawyers, judges, and birth families kept us busy.  My children, new and old, were still trying to understand where God had placed them.  Eric and Emily (12 and 11 yrs old) soon recovered from the shock of their parents producing a new life and were enthralled that their baby sister would be born “special”.  Often, people would respond to the news of Down Syndrome with, “Oh, I am sorry.”  Emily did not understand why.  I was blessed to realize that I needed to explain the world’s view on this extra chromosome and that her outlook was nowhere near that of some.  We were thankful to have friends cheering us on in our adventure of a family. Educating the rest of the world about our daughter was now on our “to-do” list.

The effect of this new life on the latest additions to our family was something that made me pause.  Before the news of her uniqueness was known, Angel (7 yrs) asked me who the baby would look like.  He had been experiencing a kind of identity crisis.  A few months into our relationship, this became evident when my oldest Hispanic child expressed his thoughts on his appearance.  You see, at six years old, he believed himself to look just like my oldest son, blond hair, blue eyes and all.  When he finally realized his true image, he was a bit discouraged.  I spent my time encouraging him that I fell in love with the boy God had made and I wouldn’t have him any other way.

My heart was blessed when I realized that Jillie would be born with features that neither Kevin nor I have.  She and her brother would each carry traits just like ours as well as those very different from ours.  Maybe he would be able to understand that it isn't what is on the outside of a person that we adore, it is what is in their heart.

Our daughter, Alize, at 4 years, was (and still is) one tough cookie and extremely strong-willed.  Jillie has given her the opportunity to sharpen her nurturing skills and has worn away some of those rough edges.  I adore watching Allie’s soft side grow stronger, knowing that when she needs to be tough, she will be.  Jillie will need people like Allie in her life to advocate for her.

Then there is Joseph, one year old when our pregnancy was confirmed.  Joe has a protective instinct in him that has caused him to stand up to boys ten years his senior.  What a perfect place for a big brother to be positioned, just 18 months prior to our special needs daughter.  Just today I watched my son, in true Joe fashion, wrestle “opponents” twice his size.  Moments later, when his baby sister expressed her need for his attention, his gentle hug and kiss on her forehead made my eyes well up.  God has given Jillie a brother who will be with her in places like school where she will be out of my grasp.  This little man has such a heart for his sister that, I know, he will take care of her when I cannot.

That brings us to Jillian.  She is the cherry on top of this crazy sundae we call a family.  Ask any of her siblings who their favorite is and they will, without hesitation, say Jillie.  At four years old, she amazes us almost daily.  As a mom, I expect my children to do their best in life.  Not anyone else’s best, just their own.  Jillie’s best is far above anything I expected.  Before she was one she discovered her shadow and played with it often.  At two years old, she had over 300 signs to communicate while her verbal skills were growing.  When she was three, she began recognizing letters of the alphabet.  She knew all of the signs but I had no idea she had been picking up the written at the same time.  A year later, numbers and counting grabbed her interest.  Now, waiting to enter kindergarten in August, she is working on letter sounds.  Not because I drill her but because of her eagerness to learn.  As her parent, I provide her with constant opportunities to grow and be challenged.  I make sure what I set before her is something worthwhile, something to encourage her, to educate her, or for her to emulate.  Children with Down Syndrome learn a lot by mirroring the actions of others. I have learned that this girl with special needs, needs me to continually raise the bar of expectation so that her innate contentment does not cause her to become stagnant. I know God has given Jillie to me to protect her, to praise her and to prosper her.  And now I realize she does the same for me.

Jillie at 10 days old

Jillie today