A new twist on the biracial family

     A few years ago, I was always a little sensitive about stating the obvious, the elephant in the room.  We are white and our kids our black.  Anymore, I crack up at Blake and Etienne telling the lady in the check out line, "He's my twin," (this always leaves a stranger speechless).  I am not sure if I have grown accustomed to the stares or maybe I am too busy making sure that I don't lose a kid to care about the looks.
     Last night at the park a little boy stopped at my feet as I was snuggling Zeke.  It's funny when kids blatantly stare.  I said hello and he asked "Is that really your kid?"  I shook my head yes and kissed Zeke again.   He said "Ok," and went on his way.  Love that.  So simple.  It's us grown ups that usually screw things up by making it more complicated than it is.
     Last week on our last night without Daddy, we cashed in on our four kids-eat-free coupons at a local restaurant.  As we were eating, I definitively felt the stares.  One couple kept turning and doing the I'm-pretending-to-look-out-the-window-but-my-husband-wants-me-to-look-at-you stare.  I looked them directly in the eyes with each slow glance and smiled big.  After a while,  I finally asked Molly if she noticed a lot of people looking at us.  Her reply was classic.

"Mom. It's because there is only one grown up out to eat with four kids."

     So there you go.  I was complicating things!

Comfort from fiction.

     Ryan has been home now a few days.  It was like a switch turned Etienne off as soon as his father returned.  I wish that I could capture the intense behavior that Ryan's departure triggered....destruction, sleeplessness, regression.  Those are a few words without getting into details.  It was heart wrenching, exhausting and humbling.
     Something else happened when Ryan left.  It triggered a lot of memories for our Etienne.  He can't articulate specifics, but he can use words  like "dark," and phrases like "I didn't want to be alone, I was scary."  Not any descriptions that we have ever given for his birth country, the people or "his story."  Not any descriptions that any child should ever choose for their memories.
     This has changed me too.  For two plus years, we have been telling Etienne and Ezekiel that before they came home, the people and the places that cared for them cared for them.  For as long he either boy can remember, I have striven to paint their story happy.  That our birth mamas couldn't give them food and clean water, but they knew a place that could.  That their first family didn't have the means to give them what every little boy needs and deserves, but someone else could.  But what if the reality isn't so?  What if my son's beginnings were every parents fear?
     Ultimately, everything broken is fixed the same way.  Every healing comes from God.  I know this, but I am grieving.  I am grieving a story that was probably always fictional.  I am grieving for my child that still has so many layers of hurt to heal.  I am sad that my other children have watched him and their mama suffer.  I just need to cry.
     While my husband was out of town, I really held it together.  I kept and will always keep a lot of the conversations that Etienne and I had in my heart and the back corners of my brain.  Now that Ryan is home, I am overwhelmed with emotions.  I am impatient, overly sensitive and dramatic.  It took a sleepless night for me to realize that I just needed to process all that is.  All that has been done.

"Then your light will break forth like the damn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go forth before you and the glory of the Lord will be your guard." -Isaiah 58:8

Everyone needs a Blake.

     "Little" can only be used to describe my birthday boy's physique.  He has the biggest heart in the family, not to mention being the funniest.  I can't imagine surviving life post adoption if I didn't have Blake's quirky sense of humor ("someday when I eat enough to cover my rib bones, can we have a party and eat ribs?"), his nurturing manner with his brothers ("Etienne, hold my hand if you get scared, I have go-go gadget arms"), or the energy that he spreads (we once left him up watching Sports Center to see how long he would last; he pulled an all nighter watching the same episode run over and over again.).
     Blake wants to be a paleontologist when he grows up, while being married to an Ethiopian woman (he charmed them when we spent time there after being in Rwanda) and raising 7 adopted boys.  Last week he told me that he missed Africa.  While his daddy has been out of town, he's been emptying the trash, telling me I am pretty and offering to "watch the boys."  Several days this week, he has whispered in my ear in moments of stress with his brother that he is praying for me.  I'm sure you can tell I'm smitten with him.
     The thing about being Blake is that reality was the hardest for him.  When we brought his new brothers home, he lost his title as baby BUT ALSO had to let go of virtually everything that was "his."  Molly could maintain her princess status and the little brother's never had much interest in her toys, room, etc.  Blake shared his belongings, his room and even his bed with a glad heart.
     Until last year, Blake completely believed that he was adopted from Hawaii.  After learning his status as biological, he sighed, shook his head and walked slowly away.  He does have the surfer boy look, living in board shorts, topless with a tan and white hair.  I love, love, love that this child believes that adoption is totally the norm.  Happy birthday to my wanna-be Hawaiian.

Meeting his "little" brother.  Etienne has continued to hold at least 25lbs on Blake at all times.

They like to be "twins," when he gets his barber shop 'do on, I fear he looks like a happy Eminem

It's difficult to tell, but Blake is holding his baby brother on his lap.  Don't  mind that Zeke weighs 5lbs more..."He ain't heavy, he's my brother"

Goofball wanted pickles, shrimp and mixed berries for his birthday.  The other kids ate cheese pizza.

Fried Green Tomatoes

"Etienne, please don't touch the tomato plants, they will break."
"Okay, Mama.  I won't touch."
Touch, shake, shake, shake.
"Etienne! Don't touch OR shake the tomato plants. Look me in the eyes and tell me what I said,"
Wiggling but not touching.
"OK! I won't touch or shake them."
Kick, kick, pass.
"ETIENNE! Give me your hand and with the other hand hold onto this car.
Pulling me from my spot, charging the car into the tomatoes.  Tomatoes are airborne

Fried green tomatoes for lunch.

About last night

     In the middle of the night I climbed into bed with Etienne.  I gently rubbed his arm, feather-like touch.  During the daytime, he resists this but will occasionally rub my arms.  I prayed for him and listened to him breathing slowly and evenly.  After a few minutes I got back out of bed and as I was walking out of the room he whispered, "Thank you mom."
    He is going to start sleeping with me again.

Isolated.

"I call with all my heart, answer me, O Lord, and I will obey your word.  I call out to you; save me and I will keep your statutes.  I rise before dawn and cry for help.  My eyes stay open through the watch of night, that I may meditate on your promises.  Hear my voice in accordance with your love; preserve my life, O Lord, according to Your law."

 -Psalm 119:145-149

     My brother sent me this verse this morning and tonight I prayed that God would just give me sign to remind me that He is present.  I opened my bible and it fell right up to this exact verse.  He's so real right now.  

     The funny thing about this verse and this week is that I have felt very, very alone.  Since I am with all four kiddos 24/7, I can't talk very candidly on the phone to girlfriends or family unless it's late at night (Etienne's behavior is such that he can't be farther than a few feet from me) .  Next: my phone battery keeps randomly shutting down, in the midst of texting or conversation.  Three: Ryan is on West coast time and in class all day which limits big time how much we can talk.  See where I'm going with this?

     I felt utterly alone because I was relying on the things of this world to give me strength and reassurance that I can parent my child.  So my phone has become unreliable, my schedule has isolated me from my support system and the requirements of keeping my home from looking like a battlefield are further separating us from the things of this world.  It's like God had to slap me on the side of the head to remind me that He's here in the midst of this mess.  That at the end of all this, I will only find respite in Him.

     I have some company for the next couple days and I am going to savor every shower that I get with the stall door closed.

Hannah.

     Last night I was reading about Hannah.  Hannah was unable to have  children.  She spent many days and nights crying out to God for a child.  She prayed that if God would give her a child, she would dedicate that child's life to God.  God gave her what she desired, He gave her Samuel.  This is Etienne's middle name.
     I was thinking back to all the nights and early mornings that I sat in my glider, praying out to God.  Begging to bring my children to me.  While I was crying out, Etienne was most likely lying alone in a crib next to countless other children.  Alone and unknowing of love.
I am holding onto this today.