Tuesday, February 26, 2013

I have not disappeared per se. End of January, I was in a nasty car wreck. Thankfully, my seatbelt saved my life. However, my beloved 12 passenger van gave it's life to save mine. I was bruised from sternum to armpit and my bruises and bangs are still healing a month later now. Children have had needs that require attention. Therapy continues for multiple children, some for grieving, others for demmons they are working to lay to rest in their lives. The children are all thriving, which is honestly the most important thing.

In addition to all of that, I am back in school. The school I started is miserable. I am taking a mandatory orientation class where I am learning such critical information as how to determine a scholarly source, how to understand what plagarism is, how to properly use commas and cite sources. It's just thrilling to be treated as if I were an errant six year old who needed my hand held, and potentially slapped..........NOT.

The good news is that I have resisted the urge to poke my eyeballs out with a rusty grapefruit spoon, even if it does seem more appealing than this class has been. I have instead determined that this is simply not the right academic program for me. I have successfully argued that I do not require a basic statistics course after multiple semesters of higher math and social science research method coursework. I have been cleared to take Nursing Ethics for the second half of this semester, which will salvage my semester and dovetail into my new program nicely. I am currently researching my options for Graduate work, whether to go nursing or Sociology and where to do so. I must know and have my applications ready to submit by Christmas time. I am nervous but greately excited.

I have also settled into my work environment. I endured peer reviews and a requirement that I develop two professional goals for myself in the upcoming year. I even submitted to a peer review from the co-worker who despises me and politely listened to her comments whereby she admitted that she has not actually worked with me since before Christmas, but she finds my clinic skills to be abysmal. I didn't even breath a word about the reality that I find her to be ignorant and incompetent and clearly demonstrates what the difference between a seasoned versus a new graduate nurse is. She is still a new graduate, and a terribly dumb one to boot. However, I am no longer beneath her and officially come off probation within the next two months. I rarely work with her, and I have worked with finding my footing in the midst of overwhelming grief. It is clear that niether my boss nor my co-workers have any understanding of the raw grief involved in losing a child. However, it is also clear that I simply don't care what their understanding is, as at this point I have found my footing and am clearly equal to all of them.

II and I still cannot decide whether to stay where we are, or to return to our previous state. We cannot decide whether to accept his position for medical school or do what is easy and safe for the children. Now that my own health is *almost* stabilized, I can see a future with more than the dejection and misery I was lost in for the months after Micah died when I was so terribly sick. Yes, I have developed another autoimmune disorder. Yes, I will require not only my regular doctor but specialists. However, I am functional again and almost feel normal at this point. Most of the pills I now swallow every day are vitamins to compensate for the nutritional deficiets caused by my medical conditions and not the conditions themselves. I can, finally, see a point where I can function and thrive again.

I actually want to post a series of posts about my kids. I'm fiercely protective of my kids and I have no intention of giving identifying details about their lives. However, I feel an urge to show who these amazing individuals who have meant so much to my own strength and healing. If my life is a journey to find and care for me, it is a journey fueled by my role as their mother and my desire to show these kids by example so that one day they will automatically know how to take care of themselves and not have to learn in the painful manner which I have embarked upon. Each of these children are as unique individuals. I'm proud to be the mother. I often say the one thing I have absolutely done right in my life is to BE their mother.

Saturday, February 2, 2013

A story worth telling someday

Today....I had to reassure a teenager that it's OKAY to not always show respect, to question authority and to not conform to the rules of your parents. I had to explain to this teenager that this is part of being human, part of being a teenager, and NEVER makes it okay for a child to be abused, belittled, abandoned.

I never wanted my children to express blind obedience to any authority. I wanted them to question, to hold their own moral fortitude even in the face of immoral behaviors around them, to submit to authority they felt was right....was just....was worhty of their respect and obedience. I always taught my children that I expect them to respect me not because I say so but because I earn that respect by first respecting THEM.

Of course, I would prefer my teens to work through attitude and struggles, to learn learn strong communication skills and dialogue with me when they disagree. Yet, I had to help this teen see that the fact that they refused to confirm to abuse, neglect, and terror did NOT mean THEY DESERVED WHAT WAS DONE TO HIM.

I still am not free to tell this child's story. It deserves to be heard. They deserve to have a voice and cry for the injustice they has suffered at the hands of Quiverful, Patriarchy, so-called Christianity. I do call it "so-called" because there is NO semblance of the God I know and worship with the disgusting behaviors that were done to this child. When this child is finally, truly safe, then I will share the story enough for the miracle of this child's escape and chance to heal to show.

I no longer trust the motives of Quiverfuls who adopt. I do not trust them to treat the children they adopt with love and mercy. Two deaths of African children at the hands of their so-called Quiveful adopters is two precious lives too many. S's story is one I have heard before over and over within the Quiverful adoptive homes. However, the basic fact is that most Quiverfuls adopt to "rescue" and "convert" adoptees. They don't allow any emotions but "happy, sweet, submissive" and label everything else not annoying but SIN. They want adoptees to be forever grateful for being rescued. It's unfair to ever expect an adoptee to be grateful for traumatic changes thrust upon them by adults who were simply older, stronger, and richer than they. They lose EVERYTHING, all too often they lose even their most basic possession of their own name. Then, they are expected to be grateful for everything that has been done to them.

S is still struggling. The Stockholm Syndrome that was forced upon this child is horrific. The abuse this child has endured is insidious. S often cannot SEE the abuse they have endured. S can tell me that they lived in fear every day they lived in their first adoptive home, yet in the same breath S can tell me that their first adoptive parents were right to throw S out because they had to "protect" their own children. When S entered my home, S knew a terminology that none of my children have EVER been exposed to. S knew that they were an "adopted child," and that there was a difference between this status and a "birth child." For S, this meant that one by one, three children who were brought to America from Africa together were systematic thrown away to protect "birth children" who might pick up the deviance, the pain, and the disrespect these new children carried with them. S was banished from being allowed to be near children in the home their own age, for fear they would corrupt those children with their attitude. S was banned from being near the little children in the home for fear they would hurt those children. Furthermore, ANY repsonse but happy, sweet, and compliant was further proof that S was wrong and the adoptive parents were right.

It goes without saying that S goes to weekly therapy now. I wish I could heal all of the holes in S's heart and soul. This child is one of the most precious children I have ever had the honor to know, much less to actually parent. This child is the most protective big sibling I have ever seen. S says that the priviledge of being ALLOWED to be a big sibling heals S's soul. S adores hanging out with siblings their own age, the friendships with the teens in this house is stunning for me to see. Yet, every month, S attempts to reach out to the family that threw S away. S just wants to be loved. S still believes deep in their heart that if they can show that first family that they are thriving, they are safe, they are healthy, they are doing wonderful in school, they are responding well in therapy, they are in sports and have friends and get along with siblings and do their chores and rarely get into trouble and have normal teen priviledges....maybe all of this will prove those people were wrong, that S is a good person....maybe, myaybe they will love S.

This is what S is starting to see. It will never happen because S was never the problem in the first place. S was a victim of their hate that they disguise as Christianity. I wish S's story was something unique. However, it is not. The entire reason I opened my door when S was being thrown out was because I know dozens of adoptees just like S, trashed, trampled down and ultimately thrown away from Quiverful, Patriarchal, Fundamentalist aoptive families who aren't really adopting because they love a child, but because they are trying to rescue a child.....and garner the praise of others just like them for all they sacrifice in doing so.