Winning and losing

Noah's basketball team won the league championship tonight. This was his face afterwards.

I tried everything I could to get a real smile out of him but he couldn't really muster it. You'd think a 9 year old kid winning his OWN giant trophy would be ecstatic. He wanted to be happy, but he didn't feel like he took part in the victory. He only played 3 minutes the entire game and barely touched the ball. His coach barely looked at him after the game.

The first day of practice the coach placed three trophies in the middle of the floor. He told his team that he was there to win his fourth consecutive league championship. He said anyone that didn't take it seriously would not play very much or would get moved to a different team.

Nobody takes basketball more seriously than Noah.

The season was intense, to say the least. The coach yelled at the kids A LOT. He punished them with push ups if they made mistakes. He spoke over Noah's head and Noah often couldn't understand him because he would talk really fast. It was very frustrating. Once, they defeated a team by 30 points and the coach yelled at them because, "they should have won by 60." Nothing was ever good enough for this coach.

Noah is a gentle soul. He's also very sensitive. He would sometimes come home from practice crying. His dad and I offered comfort and guidance but we did not let him quit, even though he wanted to. The fact is that he's going to have a lot of different types of coaches in his life and he needs to learn how to work with all of them if we wants to reach his goals.

The season got better. Noah figured out how to make the coach happy. He started getting more playing time and scoring points during games. He seemed to finally enjoy playing on the team. Then the coach announced that he was assembling a travel team. He invited Noah to join. Noah declined and the coach benched him.

As I watched the team warm up for the championship game I noticed one of the captains was constantly yelling at Noah. It was like she had a problem with him. At one point he bounced the ball off his foot and she yelled, "that's what you get for trying to show off Noah!" (For the record, he wasn't doing anything fancy.) Most of the players on this team are really nice but this girl really doesn't seem to like him for some reason. I felt angry that she was treating him that way and then I realized that she was simply following the example set by her COACH. I don't blame her, I blame the coach who set that example.

In contrast, last year Noah played on a different team that worked together and treated each other with respect. He had a coach who was kind and valued every single player on the team. They became the team with the best record in the league but lost the championship game by one point. He walked out of that game with the second place plaque and a huge smile on his face. They were winners because of what they accomplished together.

Noah learned that a happy second place is better than a miserable victory. Sometimes the cost of winning is too high.

Then I thought of Donald Trump. (Yep, you thought this post was about something else didn't you?) He has behaved like a bully. He has belittled and insulted people all in the name of winning. This is the example that he is setting for Americans. This is the kind of behavior that many of his supporters are already emulating, just like that 10 year old team captain did to Noah. It doesn't really matter if President Trump is a better person than candidate Trump. The damage is done. He was asked in an interview recently if he regrets any of the things he said during the campaign. His response, "No, I won."

Noah's team won the championship. But Noah lost.

Donald Trump won the election. But America lost. They just don't know it yet.

I lost 12 pounds

Those first few weeks after returning home from China were a blur of tantrums, sleepless nights and jet lag. The physical and emotional toll of the trip really caught up with me. After two days Keith went back to working 12 hours a day 6 days a week. After two weeks the older children went back to school. It was just me and Autumn. All. Day. Long.

Before bringing her home I thought going back to having a 2 year old at home would be a breeze. I did it before, I could do it again, right? WRONG. I sunk into a DEEP depression. What I didn't know before is that postpartum depression happens post adoption too. This leads me to think that it's a reaction to environmental change, not a reaction to hormonal changes like everyone says. 

This is very hard for me to share because a part of me is embarrassed that this was so difficult. The logical part of me says that it's silly to feel embarrassed. It wasn't as though I chose to become depressed, it just sort of.......happened.  It happened in the same way that a person gets hit by a train; fast, hard and without warning. I can remember sitting and staring at a plate of eggs and not being able to physically move myself to eat them. That was the moment. I felt like myself before that moment. That was two days after we got home.

Mentally, I had prepared myself for a really rough time in China. The trip was definitely not easy but, for some reason, I had absolutely no problem handling it. I was never overly emotional and adapted well to sudden changes in plans and long hours in the hotel room with nothing to do. It was all a-okay, no problemo! That's because I knew it was temporary. I thought I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. What I actually found at the end of the tunnel was darkness.

One day after arriving back in the USA

It wasn't all doom and gloom. We got along well as a new family of five. We went to the playground a lot and Autumn got along really great with her new brother and sister. They spent hours on the trampoline together and laughed a lot.  

The problem was me.  All me. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep and I lived with a huge rock in my stomach all the time. I lost 12 pounds. My feelings of anxiety consumed everything and I could hardly function and could feel nothing else. It was immensely perplexing because I couldn't pinpoint a cause and I had never felt quite like that ever before. 

So overwhelmed with these emotions, I couldn't bond with my new child. In fact, I started to blame her (or my decision to adopt her) for the way I felt. Then I started feeling guilty for blaming her. Then I blamed Keith for letting me go through with adoption. Then I felt guilty for thinking that too. I had a laundry list of negative thoughts, each one followed by guilt. It was a vicious cycle that I couldn't escape. Anxiety. Guilt. Depression. Anxiety. Guilt. Depression. What was happening to me?!

It got to the point where I was having thoughts of hurting myself. I went to the doctor, I got medication for the anxiety but it made me more depressed. I stopped taking the medication. Then, I went to therapy and it changed my life (more on that in a future post.)

Thanks to a lot of hard work, prayer and support from many friends and family members I'm happy to say that I have found my way out of the darkness. This experience has fundamentally changed who I am as a person. I feel different and I view the world differently. I'm not sure if it's a good change or not. Time will tell.

Who could blame her?

See this picture? This is what our daughter's adoption looked like one year ago today. This sweet little girl was scared out of her mind.  She didn't want to leave the only caretakers she had ever known and live with complete strangers who spoke a different language.

Who could blame her?

She had been screaming and writhing for at least 10 minutes in my arms. She had the inhuman strength of a toddler in full tantrum. I could scarcely hold onto her. Sweat was dripping down my back.  If I put her down she would run away looking for her "aunties" (that's what she called her former caretakers.) If she found them we had to separate her from them all over again. It was unimaginably heartbreaking.

We were not allowed leave the civil affairs building with our daughter that day until we took a family picture to be printed for our adoption decree (a legal document proving our status as her parents.) "Say cheese!" This was the best picture they could get.

Before traveling to China, I read the books, listened to the podcasts and took the webinars. They all said to be prepared for your child to not want to come with you, especially a toddler in a foreign country. I was not prepared for this. Nothing could ever prepare anyone for a day like that day.

Remembering this day doesn't make me feel like celebrating. It makes me want to cry. This is the ugly truth that nobody wants to tell you:

Adoption is pain. Adoption is tragedy. Adoption is harder than you can ever imagine.

But it's also totally worth it.

Top row: Her second day with us, showing her defiant side, at the playground
Middle row: First pic of all three siblings together, at the playground, in China after a week with us
Bottom row: Getting to know big sister, showing her silly side, soap mohawk in the tub 

Sometimes you have to know your limits

Last week I deactivated my Facebook account. It felt liberating but also a little scary. It was scary because I don't know what people are saying about me in my absence. Probably nothing, but I get kind of paranoid.

There are several reasons I did it:

1. Politics: The current political mood is so negative and I am tired of hearing about it. I did not go on Facebook to argue politics. I wanted to see things that uplifted me and catch up on what is happening in the lives of my friends and acquaintances. But my friends and acquaintances could not seem to stop arguing politics. I'm hopeful that after the election everyone will just chill out.

2. Cyber bullying: This is sort of related to the political mood. I firmly believe that it is wrong to call people names and belittle them because of their political beliefs no matter how much you disagree. It was extremely upsetting to see people I know and respect behaving in that way. I had a hard time just scrolling by when I saw someone doing that. Recently, I spoke up and boy was that a mistake. Standing up to an online bully only has one outcome: the bully targets you instead.

3. Self-control: Some would argue that I have complete power over the amount of time I spend on social media. That's technically true, but the fact is that I was addicted. If it's at my finger tips, I will spend too much time looking at it. It will effect my emotions and distract me from my REAL life. I don't trust myself to stay away. Sometimes you have to know your limits. It's healthier to spend time building relationships with friends and family who you actually see face-to-face on a regular basis. I was definitely spending way too much time on social media and ignoring the people who are right in front of me.

4. Happiness: Facebook was not making me feel happy. It almost always made me feel anxious (see the above reasons.) Life is too short to waste time on things that don't bring you joy.

People have survived without social media for thousands of years. If you find yourself ignoring the real world in favor of a virtual world take a step back and examine your priorities. Is it really worth your time?

This began in 1619

Earlier this week I saw this tweet this and it has been bothering me a little bit.

Although I agree with the sentiment and the statement that we are all children of God, Mitt just doesn't get it. We can't "stop seeing" people's skin color. Ignoring race adds to the problem.  Instead of loving one another DESPITE our differences we need to love one another BECAUSE of our differences. If you can't do that, then you might be racist. We need to be able to look into each other's faces and try to understand. We need to able to say, "I'm sorry."

I got into an elevator yesterday morning with five large black men. I tried to make eye contact and do the awkward elevator smile that everyone does. Not one of them would make eye contact with me.  I wanted to tell them, in light of all that's happened these last few weeks, that I'm sorry.

This is not a modern problem. This began in 1619.

It is impossible for me (a white, middle-class woman) to fully understand what it is like to have a heritage that was abused in the way the African people were abused in the 17th and 18th centuries by Americans of that time. I can never truly understand what it was like in the time immediately following the Civil War. It was unimaginably horrible and it has gotten better but it is far from over.

I don't think there is any way to completely recover from that kind of trauma. It is something that will carry on for generations to come. History will not, nor should it, be forgotten. It is not water under the bridge and it probably never will be. Many African Americans are angry, and they have every right to feel that way. When something terrible happens you don't move on and pretend nothing happened. You have to learn from your mistakes. So we have to ask ourselves, what have the American people learned since 1619?

Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf, one of the leaders of the Mormon church, gave a talk at a church wide conference a few years ago that has really stuck with me. There was one admonition that he kept repeating, "stop it!"

I watch the news and read what people are saying and I want to stand up and shout STOP IT!

To people who fear others because of their skin color, stop it. To people who refuse to acknowledge that we have a problem with racism in this country, stop it. To the NRA who is using racial tensions to line their pockets, stop it.To the media who are constantly looking to highlight conflict to boost ratings, stop it. If we don't stop, we are going to implode.

Take a good long look in the mirror and ask yourself this question, "am I part of the problem?" Or better yet, "how can I be part of the solution?"

If we lived in the deep south

This last week I was reminded why diversity matters, especially for a family like ours.

We were driving home from a family reunion in Alabama. We stopped at a Sheetz gas station in southern Virginia for a quick dinner. If you've been to a Sheetz it's better than your average gas station food and more like a fast food place. They had some nice little outdoor tables with umbrellas. It was a beautiful evening so we ate outside.

At the table next to us there was a caucasian family with two young children. As we sat there and ate our dinner a little old lady walked by and said to the other family, "you have such beautiful children!" Their table and our table were very close to each other and she had to walk right by us as well. She looked at us, paused, and walked by without saying a word. We even smiled at her and she avoided eye contact. "That was interesting," said Keith.

The way we were sitting she could only see the back of Noah and Allison's heads. She had a perfect view of me and Keith with Autumn sitting on his lap. Perhaps she didn't consider Chinese children to be beautiful. Or maybe, she didn't know what to say because it was something she had never seen before. Maybe she was trying to figure out why we couldn't find any white kids to adopt. There I go assuming negative thought bubbles.

It didn't really offend me and we actually laughed about it afterward. It reminded me to be grateful to live where we live. There's enough diversity in the Baltimore/DC suburbs that, most of the time, people don't behave that way. I imagine that if we lived in the deep south that Autumn would always struggle to fit in. 

For a transracial adoptee, it's extremely important to feel accepted by your community as well as by your family.

All my kids are beautiful.

I don't have to treat all my children equally

Newborn Allison with Noah

Allison was such an easy baby. She was happy, didn't cry much, slept through the night pretty early, and was just such a joy to be around. When she started walking it all changed.

Allison's first birthday

Sometimes I joke around that I can't wait until she grows up and leaves because we drive each other nuts. She has ruined furniture and other household items with a variety of things including (but not limited to) poop, yogurt, ground up goldfish and baby powder. She seemed to do these things out of vengeance which might sound strange for a one year old but, it's true. I would tell her, "no," to some request and she would get this look in her eye and calmly walk away only to be found minutes later pouring an entire bottle of maple syrup onto my favorite arm chair. It wasn't until she was four that she started to calm down. I refer to ages 1-3 as the "dark years." 

Fourth birthday 

3 years old after playing in the dirt, this is her defiant look

One thing I've never had to worry about is her self confidence. She was always so independent. When she went to Kindergarten I worked at her school as the music teacher. I would see her on the playground at recess by herself and I would worry that she wasn't making friends. When I asked her about it she told me that she was more interested in doing what she wanted to do. She wanted to do the swings so she did the swings and she didn't worry about anyone else or feel left out. I was super impressed actually. It wasn't long before kids were drawn to her quiet confidence and wanted to do the swings with her. She was tough as nails and nothing ever bothered her.

That all changed when she became the middle child. 

We came home from China with her little sister right before her second grade year. Autumn was not nice to Allison at first because she didn't want to share mom and dad. Autumn didn't feel as competitive with Noah and would pay attention to him and basically shun Allison. That really destroyed Allison's self confidence and it was so painful to watch because there was very little we could do about it. 

Allison became a completely different person. She started being afraid of everything and constantly thinking she was sick. She started coming home from school unhappy because a certain friend didn't play with her at recess. She started reacting differently when I would discipline her. She started telling me that she wished she was born to a different family.  I felt guilty because I thought it was my fault for bringing home another child, like my actions had caused some sort of permanent damage. 

When she as the youngest it didn't matter how much I yelled at Allison. We had EPIC power struggles to the point where I would have to leave the house and walk around the block. We would scream at each other and slam doors and she would dig her heels in even more. Now, if I yell at her even a little, she weeps and wails like it's the end of the world. She doesn't dig her heels in anymore.

I had to relearn how to parent my child. 

Adjusting to having three kids proved to be a lot more difficult than I thought. Allison was exhibiting classic "middle child syndrome" behavior and wanted constant attention. I was determined to treat them all equally.  After months of equal treatment Allison's emotional explosions, hypochondria, and fears were only getting worse. 

As we were considering adopting our fourth, I began doing research about disrupting the sibling order and found that it's only really an issue when you disrupt the oldest or youngest. Middle children don't have the same feeling of privilege the oldest and youngest do and so, they can't really be disrupted. I interpreted that to mean, that for middle children, it can't get much worse. 

Then I had an epiphany. I don't have to treat all my children equally. Noah and Autumn are more emotionally healthy because of their birth order. Middle children tend to perpetually see themselves as less important. Whether or not this is actually true doesn't really matter because perception is reality. In order for Allison to feel like she was getting equal attention I needed to give her extra attention.

So, she and I talked and we worked out a system. If she feels unhappy or ignored she can come to me and ask to speak privately and I will drop everything and do it. This happens almost daily now. I would absolutely do the same for my other children if they felt they needed it but they have never asked. Usually our conversations are 30 seconds or less. It has made such a difference. 

I spent so many years worrying about spoiling Allison. Now that she's a middle child, I get to spoil her as much as I want. She gets more one-on-one time with me than any of my other kids. She needs the time and it has not turned her into a spoiled brat. It has made her feel equal to her siblings. She is beginning to turn back into that confident kid I admired so much. 

As an added bonus, Autumn came around and the two girls are best friends now. 

Man, do I love those kids.