I mentioned in a previous post how I used to volunteer in the nursery at our church with my friend Angie. This was something I loved doing, and I did it every Sunday after Confirmation, unless I went to Bible Study with my mom. I wound up being at church for something like 4 hours most Sundays - 8:30 am early service, 9:30 am Confirmation class, 11:00 nursery or Sunday School with Mom.
One of those days, sometime in March, my mom met up with me after her class and I was in the nursery and told me I should've come to class with her today. I asked her why, and she told me there had been the most adorable little girl in her Sunday School class - one of the women's granddaughter. I replied that there were adorable children in the nursery too. She then told me a little bit about the woman in her Sunday school class and the circumstances she'd explained that caused her grandchild to be with her that day. Their family was hurting - and if there's one thing I always had, it was a soft spot for children who were hurting.
A couple of times I went to Sunday School with my mom, hoping to meet this child she said was just too cute, and so well behaved. I met her grandmother, I enjoyed being in the adult class and was treated like a member, but the little girl hadn't been back... until one day in April. I was in the nursery, but things were slow, so I changed my mind and went downstairs to my mom's class. When I came in the door, I saw the little girl sitting there next to her grandma, and I smiled at her. She ducked her head under the edge of the table, but before she did, I could see the hint of a smile on her face.
The little girl spent the whole class coloring and rolling her crayons on the table. When the adults weren't looking, she and I played a version of peek-a-boo that involved ducking under and over the table. By the end of the class she was grinning at me. After class, my mom introduced me to the little girl, M. M was three, but almost four, and she was having her birthday at Chuck E. Cheese! (This was told to me with much enthusiasm). M was quiet, shy, but I'd managed to charm her out of her shell. I told her grandmother that I worked in the nursery and that if she ever didn't want to bring M to class with her, she could drop her off, that I would be there. She told me that M didn't like to stay with people, that she'd tried the nursery before and M had fussed. I promised her I'd take care of M.
Can you say foreshadowing?
After a couple months, M started coming to the nursery. She would only stay with me. She would come in crying often, she was a sensitive child and one thing or another would set her off... and then she would insist on spending the first half hour of the service on my lap, budging only for cheerios and crayons. The second half hour, I would try to engage her in play with the other children, but stay close by. After a while she started playing with them... and after a while I didn't even have to be right next to her the whole time. Over time I got to know M and her grandmother very well. They didn't have it easy, but they loved each other so much.
In the next few years, a series of things happened. M started school. M's grandma, who she lived with (as well as possibly her mom - I didn't know much about those early years) fell ill and had to be placed in a retirement home. We visited her there and she told us how M was behind in school and how she missed her. In the summers when I taught VBS, I offered to pick M up so she could participate. I'd pick her up at the house she shared with her mom and her great grandmother, take her to VBS, take her out for ice cream, and then take her home. M would tell me animated stories in the car. In between summers, I missed seeing her at church. Those days truly proved that absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder.
When I was 15, having only seen M for VBS one week out of the past year, I continued to volunteer in the nursery with other children. They weren't as needy as M was, so I never felt them quite as close to my heart. They never faced the opposition in their lives that M faced at such a young age. They didn't need my protection.
Until one day in the summer, the middle of July, a harried woman came to the door with a one-year-old little girl in her arms. Mousy brown hair, uncertain expression, big brown eyes... she reminded me of a tiny version of M. The woman introduced the child as A, and herself as A's grandmother. She told us she was needed in the service and wasn't sure if A would stay with us, but was going to give it a try. I promised to take care of A. A started to cry as soon as she was placed into my arms. I repeated my promise, and then tried my unfailing childcare technique at the time: bribe them with cheerios. At first, A didn't seem to want the cheerios. She wouldn't stick her hand in the cup and pick them out. She was about 15 months old at the time and I expected her to have this skill. As I sat with her in the rocking chair, I tried picking one out myself and feeding it to her. That did the trick. A had now discovered that I had FOOD. She stopped fussing. She sat on my lap and ate cheerios the whole time. I loved every minute of it.
A was close to my heart from the start because she reminded me of M. I missed little M so much at that time, and I worried about her with her beloved grandma in the retirement home. Now each time little A came back to the nursery, I took her under my wing. She never cried at drop-off again. At first, she'd cry if I put her down, or if there were no cheerios in sight. Then, as she got used to sitting on the floor with me and playing with toys, she'd cry if I picked her up... unless I had cheerios. The funny thing about little A was that she could walk... but she didn't know it. While she was playing, she'd walk along just fine for a few steps, then realize it and plop right back on her little diapered bottom. I'd laugh, and tell her, silly girl, you can walk!
A only came to the nursery sometimes - when she was with her grandmother, I took it, as I'd never met her mom. But when she did, she was my little cutie, and we'd play together the whole hour long. A turned two, and grew more confident in her walking, but she still never said a word. Point to the cheerios, cry when picked up (even by me), and hide when she had a dirty diaper... but no words. One day, A's grandma came to the nursery to pick her up and pulled me aside. She said she knew I babysat outside church, and wondered if I'd be interested in watching A sometimes. She told me that some unfortunate events had occurred in the lives of their family and that A and her mom were now living with her, and they needed someone to keep her when their work schedules conflicted. The words were barely out of her mouth before I said "Yes". She asked what I charged. I gave her my usual answer: "Whatever you can pay me."
It was a while before I heard from her. Then, another Sunday, she asked if I could watch A the following week. I agreed, and she told me what time to be at her house. The first day I watched A was a Wednesday. Funny, the details you remember. I was 16 by then and driving. I went straight to their house after school.
A was asleep in an upstairs room when I arrived. When she woke up, after performing The Most Challenging Diaper Change I Have Ever Done (children can hide... places 16-year-olds can't fit...), I resorted to my usual method of bringing A over to my side. I offered her food. This seemed to cheer her up and then we played with blocks, me stacking them up, her knocking them down. Then we went for a walk - where I will never forget the absolute joy on her face climbing up the curb in the small subdivision... and hopping down onto the street, all the while holding my hand. We did this over and over. We had a blast. Knowing that A had recently been through trying times, I enjoyed giving her time just to be a kid. When I left I was asked what time I got off school the next day. I told them, and they asked me to come back after school the next day - so I did. And the next day. And the next week.
The next week I asked permission to take A with me to an after-school event, Spanish club. Her grandmother granted it willingly, and as I had a break between the end of my school day and the afterschool activities, I went to A's house after school, got her up from her nap, got her dressed, brushed her hair, packed a bag full of diapers, crayola color wonder markers and paper, and animal crackers. I put her in a car seat I had bought myself (secondhand - which is bad - but I didn't know it, oops on me), and took her to my school. I carried her inside and held her on my lap. A behaved perfectly the whole meeting, and was much beloved by my classmates (most of whom asked "Is she yours?"). So thus began a comfortable routine - on the days when I wanted to attend clubs and meetings, I'd get A ready beforehand, and bring her with me. The only difficulty we ever faced was the lack of a changing table in the high school bathrooms. Go figure.
One day, not too long after this routine was established, A and her grandfather followed me out to my car to say goodbye to me. As soon as we were outside, A toddled around to the door next to her car seat and pointed to the door handle. She wanted to go too. I said, "Oh, sweetie, I would take you with me but I think your Mommy and Grandma and Grandpa might miss you! I'll be back tomorrow." A shook her head and pointed firmly at the door. I gave her a hug and told her I wished I could take her with me but I couldn't, that I had to go. At this point, A attempted to climb me. Her grandfather had to pry her off me as I got into my car, and I'll never forget her precious little face, sobbing for me as I drove away. I sobbed too... all the way home.
A and I continued our routine through Christmas. Her attachment to me grew. She stopped running away when it was diaper changing or hair brushing time! I bought her Christmas presents. I took her to special events, even on my days off, just because I wanted to. Her family appreciated the break. I read about speech delays and tried my hardest to get her to talk... to no avail.
Come January, our routine was comfortable as ever, and then I got a phone call - another Wednesday. It was M's grandmother, whom I had left a poinsettia for at the retirement home a few weeks earlier, with a note and my phone number. She was frantic. It was around 2:30 pm. She told me that M's mom had to go to work at 4:30, and the person who used to watch M, who was 6 now, had suddenly become unavailable - could I take her?
I couldn't say yes fast enough. I couldn't wait to see M again! I didn't have A that day so I was home, and M's mom brought her over. She was shy at first - she hadn't seen me in a while - but she warmed up. We worked on her homework together. We read a book. We played. I told her about how I used to take care of her in the nursery when she was little. She ate dinner with us, at a place at the table my father had painfully vacated years earlier. She tried to eat the whole chicken bone - she had never had chicken with a bone in it before. We had a blast. When M's mom picked her up and asked if she'd been good, I told her she was a joy and that I'd watch her anytime. She thanked me and told me she'd see me tomorrow.
M's grandma hadn't at first mentioned that they would need childcare every day now, but now that her mom said that, I realized it should have been obvious. What else were they going to do with her on short notice? I was ecstatic that I would get to see M every day - every weekday, anyways. It was at that time I faced the opposition that I spoke of in another post. People told me - the hours are too long - you already babysit every day - you can't take on another child. When are you going to do your homework? What are you going to do when you have both of them? Don't you want to 'be a teenager'?
The first two I had answers for. The last one made my eyes cross. I was 16. I went to high school. If not 'being a teenager', then what on earth was I doing for the last three years?? Apparently, people felt that I needed to 'be with friends' and 'be a kid' and 'enjoy life' - and surely I couldn't do those things with two little girls attached to my hip. I told them just the contrary. I wouldn't have enjoyed life without them. And though obstacles marred our path at times, I knew I was right, I kept my head up, and a new routine began - one in which I picked A up after school, brought her to whatever clubs or meetings I had, then back to my house where we waited for M. Then we'd eat dinner together and play until both girls were picked up. I was lucky. A was comfortable enough with me by then that going to my house barely phased her. She knew M from church, when a few times someone brought M and her grandmother with them. In fact, their grandmothers knew each other! I'd finish my homework in study hall, between classes, at lunch, or in class (much to the chagrin of my teachers). Anything I had left, I incorporated the kids into. I vividly remember reading poetry aloud to A out of my English book. She didn't have a clue what I was reading, but I was reading to her, so she was happy. When I sat down with M while she did her math homework, I did my own math homework. We found our way, and sometimes it was exhausting, but it was the way that worked for us.
A, Summer 2006, Age 3
A, Fall 2006, playing at COSI
M, on her 7th birthday, excited to have a cake with her name on it. She's carefully removing the candles to lick them.
M, Winter 2006. Christmas present. "I'm cute, let's put me in charge."
Now, was I supposed to say no to those little faces in the name of "Being a teenager"? What did that mean, anyways? Was it this?
From "The Secret Life of the American Teenager"
Or was it this?
London Evening Standard (2008). "Teenage Girl Smoking".
No... why would I choose that life, when I had this?
All of us, Summer 2007. Me squinting. I'm not photogenic.
Yup. Through my last two high school years, I had at least one 'tagalong' everywhere I went. I became known as "The girl with the baby" or "The girl who comes in here every day after school with a kid in a stroller". And yes, the rumor circulated that one or both of them were mine (simple mathematics people, come on... I'm only ten years older than M!)... but I didn't care. We were making memories and smiles that would last forever.
And my dear little A, my nonverbal A? At a Spanish club meeting in my Senior year, at 3 years old, she said "Unodostres". It was her newest trick, props to Dora. After that, she started saying more words, until eventually... she never STOPPED talking! And precious M, who was so shy... I enrolled her in gymnastics (with permission) and saw her literally grow in leaps and bounds!
I kept getting criticism. A few people were supportive. My wonderful mom - thankfully - was one of the supportive ones. In fact, I'm pretty sure they had a hold on her heart similar to the one they had on mine. But others... were indifferent at best, and downright hurtful at worst. Among other things, I was asked "What are you going to do when you go to college?" Sometimes that question was followed with "You've got these kids all attached to you and now you're just going to leave them!" Another person pointedly informed me "You need to stop playing 'house' with these kids. They're real children, with lives and feelings, and they're going to be hurt when you leave them."
I was downright insulted by those insinuations. My response - "I love them as though they were my own flesh and blood, I will NEVER leave them," was met with just as much criticism. "But they're not yours." "You can't promise that." "You need to live your life." "Don't you want your own kids?"
Do I look like I care?
The date is wrong on this one: It was Fall 2008. The girls are 9 and 5.
Little did everyone know, I had an experience in the summer of 2006 (which is for another post, another day) that showed me that I was not meant to leave home for college. I chose a small school close to home and commuted for four years. I got a job at a daycare center, where the occasional presence of one of the girls was not minded, and I even enrolled A over the summer for two years.
Many of you are likely wondering now, what was the relationship of these children to me that I was this intimately involved in their lives? It certainly doesn't seem to follow the traditional babysitter-child lines. And you would be right. This is the part that remains undisclosed for the protection of those involved. Suffice to say, we became like family.
In October 2009, another little one joined our patchwork little non-family family. A's mother gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, whom we'll call AJ.
Myself and A visiting with the baby. He's only days old here.
I started watching AJ when his mom went back to work in late December. Along with the joy of having a baby around, came enormous obstacles, ones that I was once again assured that I could not possibly overcome. After one too many sleepless nights, I fell asleep in one of my college classes. I was sternly chided by the professor not to let the children infringe on my education. I thought to myself - don't let your education infringe on the children. Sure, college was important to me, but it was a means to an end, a way of achieving a desired quality of life so that I could continue to do good in the world around me. Even my advisor at school told me, when I told her I was trying to schedule my classes in blocks two days a week so I could be home with the kids the other three, that she "didn't see how" I was going to graduate in four years, work 20 hours a week at the daycare, and take care of three kids.
(Imagine a picture of my diploma here. I don't have one, and I didn't go to commencement.)
Yup, I did it. In four years. After changing my major halfway through my sophomore year. Taking one quarter of overload, for which I temporarily took an incomplete due to the surgery described here. Taking two independent studies. Adding a minor. Magna Cum Laude.
Take THAT, naysayers.
Oh, what's that you say? Surely the children were neglected because of my studies?
Do they look neglected to you?
So - you ask - what does all this have to do with my adoption story? Well, as much as I taught the kids... colors, first words, long division... compassion, honesty, kindness... They taught me even more.
They taught me that family isn't defined by whose blood runs through your veins.
They taught me that a person isn't defined by their limitations.
They taught me that when everyone says you can't do something - it's even more of a reason to do it.
They taught me that hard work reaps great rewards.
They taught me to ignore the people who said I was wrong, when I knew I was right.
They taught me that I will always be glad... to set another place at the table.
'My' three little cuties... M, A, and AJ... they are now 12, 8, and 2... and I couldn't be prouder of them. They are blossoming into beautiful, wonderful, young people, and I am blessed to have them in my life. They bring joy to my every moment. They are a huge part of my adoption story, because they taught me the lessons I needed to learn to begin my journey to adopt. And I hope they'll be proud honorary 'uncles and aunts', when I bring my children home.
Why yes, that's me in skull footie pajamas, at 22 years old. Jealous? And look how big my little M got!
Probably my favorite picture of me and A.
And probably my favorite picture of me and AJ.
For anything I've done for them, they've done tenfold for me.
To M, A, and AJ - my little patchwork non-family family - I love you forever.
I disagree with your non-photogenic comment...whenever you're holding your little ones, you're amazingly photogenic. And I think it's because that's when you're happiest...and it shows :P
ReplyDelete<3
~Jess~
Haha, I have to agree with Jess!
ReplyDeleteI've been reading your blog for a little bit, now but I think this is the first time I've commented.
I can honestly say that I read all the way through, and this part of your story has really blessed me. Thank you for sharing!!!
I really enjoyed this story. I always wondered how these children came into your life. They are beautiful and your love for them is obvious. What a win-win situation for all! Your writing is excellent too! Now I hope you get your health back so you can continue on your path with heart!
ReplyDeleteI agree with Jess too, when you are pictured with the little ones, you look beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the comment on my blog. Its quite obvious you care deeply for children, and I wish you blessings in your journey towards adoption. And I wanted to wish those three little ones the best as well. You are so special to them.