Leaving the Garden of Eden

Since becoming a mom, I have heard the adage the days are long, but the years are short and to make sure I soak it all in, for one day you will long to be back here. In the early days, I inwardly looked at people like they were crazy when they said that to me, a constantly harried mom, ever mindful of what had yet to be accomplished to ensure I had my three home in time before the nap window closed forever–or hunger hit (especially with Adrian’s food sensitivities with wheat, soy and dairy). It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy our time, nor our little life. And, I did make a point of  soaking in the beauty and joy within the chaos. However, I was the type of mom who simultaneously enjoyed the current stage and looked forward to the next. I loved their minds growing and learning and their constant becoming. With every stage, I found there were things I longed to leave behind and things I knew I would miss. However, the end goal was always on my mind: to foster a healthy mix of independence/interdependence, with a thriving sense of self and a huge heart for others. 

Today, I love watching them in their current stage of young adulthood. I love seeing their interpretations of situations, seeing how they adopt–or don’t–the lessons I tried to instill. I love the way they challenge the status quo (much of which I blindly passed on to them), and the way their insights explode my whole brain, keeping me fluid in my worldview. I hurt when they hurt, offering to help in any way I can (which isn’t much any more)–and also rejoice watching them emerge stronger for it on the other side of pain/worry/heartache.

I fully recognize it might be easier for me than other parents, as I have never been one who needs my people near. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE when my people are here. There is nothing better than having all my people in the same place–especially when I am allowed to leave and take a nap in the middle of the chaos for a quiet recharge. To be fully transparent, I need to have some of my people within reach, but who those people are has been fluid throughout my life, teaching me that I can be ok when they are no longer available–even through death. 

This is why I think I have rarely struggled with a feeling that God is not near. Even with all the hard shit I have gone through. There are times throughout my life where there has been distance between us, but that has always been due to my desire to go inward or my frustration with Them bc They are not swooping in to save me from the pain I am experiencing. Or, it's been due to my need to heal and not be asked to do anything else for the cause. While I should inherently trust God to take care of me, I think She understands the hard boundary I give during those times and honors my need for a sense of agency while grieving things I cannot control.  However, I have always felt They are near me and when I am ready for comfort and turn toward, the warmth is immediate. 

During their high school years, I was floored one day to find out that our kids don’t remember much of their childhood. I mean, 100% shocked, and a wee bit hurt. To be fair, my siblings and I don’t remember a lot, but I attributed that to collective trauma. I assumed that, consistent with research, my kids would therefore remember more of the fairy hunts, creative projects, LLM’s (Lutes love moments), snuggles, vacations, zoo trips (so many hours spent at the Milwaukee Zoo), etc. All those moments that I was intentionally creating memories of a happy childhood. I literally saw this as my J-O-B, memory making–equal in importance to consistency of schedule and follow-through (i.e. predictability in their little lives). As a whole, those years were some of my happiest in my life thus far–seeing the world through the eyes of happy and well-loved children–all the hope and beauty that entails. For a few days, I actually grieved their lack of memories before realizing that those memories were actually mine to cherish, hold, and share. Yes, they were important for them–the core memories that they hold in their souls that will shore them up and keep them steady throughout adulthood. They were also pivotal to us surviving individuation during the teen years with relationship still intact. However, they were not the sacred and voluminous treasures I thought I was storing in their minds. Instead, they were--and continue to be--sacred treasures stored in my mind–and I am forever grateful for them. 

This morning, as I reflected on what it is like to process the aftermath of this election with three young adults navigating lives at each of their new colleges, all born and raised female (before they knew themselves well enough to reveal their truest selves), all LGBTQ+, all neurodivergent, all deeply feeling souls, I wished they were young children again. For the first time, I longed to be back in those days to ride this out in an environment in which I could corral and protect them. I recently heard someone describe the Garden of Eden as and allegory for leaving childhood and stepping into adulthood. This allegory popped into to my mind and I wept. Maybe the Garden of Eden was really for God. Maybe She knew what was to come and needed that time of innocence, beauty, and deep connection in order to sustain hope for eternity. Yes, it also created a ‘core memory’ that many of us hold as a way to envision what Heaven will feel like, and what to strive for on earth as we attempt to create heaven on earth through community, connection and our best summoning of God’s love for others. For the first time, I really sat with the fall of the Garden of Eden through God’s heartbreak as I realized for the first time that I do miss my kids’ childhood. I miss being able to keep them safe, shielding them from both physical and emotional dangers. I miss the free-flowing joy and love we shared that wasn’t encumbered by the weight of the world. I miss them looking at me, trusting I was capable of those things. And, most of all, I miss seeing the world through their eyes. 

On his way out the door for work this morning, Mike alerted me to the spectacular sunrise. I headed to the front porch and allowed the visual warmth of that sight to wash over my weary soul as I sat, held in God’s open arms, and typed.

A return to margin

It has taken a full week of sunshine, quietly lapping waves, and very little on my agenda–other than devouring words on a page–to get back here. Here, where my body is mostly quiet, mostly content, my mind with space to process and glimpse the possibility of peace. Here, where I am noticing a sprout of restlessness, a familiar itch to create. Here, where there is margin. 

In the summer of 2023, we (who have worked hard to instill in our kids a good work ethic, and realistic valuation of money) told our kids they would not be getting full-time jobs. This was the outline of expectations we gave during a family meeting: 

We would put $ in bank for college for each kid at the end of the summer

Their job was only to earn spending money for the 2023-24 school year

Everyone will ask for Sunday and Thursday off each week so we have family time

Room will be kept clean in order to do social things

Entertain yourself (off screens) and build in your own margin

Do something creative every day

Dad will be working extra, so we will all chip in to help him have margin as well

Reserve time once a week to tackle home project like last summer together—1 hour

Sign up for spot in rotation to cook at least one dinner each week for the family

Tithe 10% to church group of your choice

Do something for family each day—15-20 minutes

Exercise 20 minutes a day–get  your heart rate up and spend time outside

Our goal was to give them  margin, so they could do the things they needed to for mental health 

Last spring, the twins were completing their junior year at Waunakee High School, a year that is known to be grueling, especially for those students looking to earn merit scholarships in college. B was graduating from WHS and had spent the past school year re-learning how to navigate the world, this time without masking autism. Our kids were tired, their mental health was suffering and we wanted to show them that the world’s message valuing constant toil wasn’t worth it. There is  more to life–there must be balance. This was our last summer before B launched and we wanted to set it up for enjoyment! 

The ironic part of this is that while I was leading them to nurture and protect margin, I was depleting my own. Waunakee Artisan Market–a passion project Rona and I co-chaired, was growing annually, more than doubling in all metrics within its first three years. The growth had felt manageable, after adding a great team of volunteers in year two. By fall of 2023, the growth hit a tipping point that we didn’t realize felt exponential until it was upon us! During this same time period, Rona and I had also begun the work to add a non-profit arm to the village committee, Create Waunakee. While we realized birthing a non-profit would be extra work, I grossly underestimated that challenge. On top of all the regular challenges of creating a board, bylaws, infrastructure, branding, we also endeavored to change the name from Waunakee Arts Vision, Inc. to Create Waunakee, Inc. (which, while worth it to keep our beloved name that was gaining recognition in the community and simultaneously solved the branding issue, added many extra hoops). All the while, prepping B for life away at college.

Once we dropped B off, I realized how little inventory I had for my jewelry business–of course, where was the time and space for creativity amidst all of this?! So, in the midst of WAM prep, and beginning recruiting and planning for the Holiday Artisan Crawl (so that it didn’t sneak up and overwhelm us right after WAM), I was also working frantically to make enough inventory for the market. As if this bag of exciting, yet challenging tasks wasn’t enough, we agreed to plan our first fundraiser for Create Waunakee, Inc. a bit over four months out, on February 17th. Our first meeting was held right after the Waunakee Artisan Market in early October. Fully aware of my increasing exhaustion and body limitations, and the weight of my current commitments (Artisan Crawl one month away, the busiest time of year for N’s Whims–and a promise to slow down during the month of December when B was home), I made everyone aware I would not have a large role in planning this event. 

About a week into planning, an opportunity beyond our hopes for CW presented itself and I couldn’t pass it up! In a few weeks time, Tegan Counihan and I launched a collaboration between Main Street Market Piggly Wiggly and Create Waunakee, Inc. The Piggly Wiggly would purchase at full market value up to $5000 of local art, sell it during the lucrative holiday season, and then re-invest the money from sales into our local art scene as they re-stocked their local art market in their grocery store. Participating artists agreed to donate 15% of their income to Create Waunakee, Inc. This collaboration marked our non-profit’s first recurring funding opportunity, and our first ongoing outlet for fair-market sales for local artists. While it was an amazing opportunity for all, it demanded many hours of recruiting artists, setting expectations and process, and marketing. This collaboration launched the week after our Holiday Artisan Crawl. I was now burning the wick dangerously quick at both ends! 

I could continue describing the mounting pressures, but I am tiring of typing the repetitive pattern. Every single opportunity was exciting and promising for Create Waunakee. Our inaugural fundraising gala was set to be a striking success, enjoyed by over 350 people. However, even great things can become too much. Suffice it to say that by January, I now resented the constant pressure to be present for CW, Inc (as did my family). Putting out fires, setting up infrastructure, creating more branding, learning how to be an effective non-profit a half-step ahead of doing it. I began warning everyone that once the gala was over, I would only be active with WAM and leading the non-profit board. I now realize I was hoping to hear others give me a resounding yes with permission to breathe earlier than that. And while I heard a few of these, they felt hollow under the weight of all that still needed to be done. 

Momentum is wonderful and necessary, but it is also a liar–insisting that if not constantly and wildly stoked, it will be squelched. Yes, attention is fickle, yes there are a million flitting squirrels everywhere attempting to steal our attention elsewhere. However, there is also a growing desire for real and sustainable meaning in our lives, a simultaneous grounding and momentum that calls us back to ourselves in its presence. This is the quiet voice I stopped hearing last year. In its place, I heard the louder voices of ego, growth, and opportunity swirling into a constant cacophony, driving me further from myself as I attempted to tame them through production. Every day for the last four months, I woke up to a to-do list that grew overnight, believing the lie that if I could complete it by the end of the day, the next would hold space for rest. It is only while we are frantically navigating the hamster wheel of productivity that we remain caught in its web of untruths. Without the pause, we believe the lies of scarcity, become slaves of momentum, get tangled in comparison, and deny that we have the freedom to choose the pace of life desired. 

Now, at the close of this week away from the constant hum of doing, I realize it was never anyone’s job but my own to say ‘enough’. Why did I look to others to validate my pleas to slow down? Not only that, but in the absence of universal validation to slow down, I didn’t accept the message. Since my illness 10 years ago, I have learned from necessity to amplify the voice of my body, believing she knows best. This is what allows me to live the best life possible post-Pita (the nickname we gave my brain tumor). What in the last year changed my focus?

Throughout the year, those closest to me cautiously asked me if my difficulty taking a step back stemmed from ego. I sat with this, but it did not resonate. I never wanted to head a non-profit. I would much rather fly under the radar in my community than be interviewed for the paper! As much as I have passion for the work we do, I would prefer the luxury of being one worker bee amongst many others. I would 100% be ok not being the president of a young non-profit, and in fact would be happier. However, this week, I sat with the question long enough to decipher the answer. While continuing this pace is not driven by feeding my ego, it does serve to protect it. I didn't want to be a leader in this, but since I find myself here, how do I do the position justice? It was wondering what kind of leader I would be if I allowed others to work harder for the cause than I was?! If I didn’t lessen my friends’ loads when they reached their capacity for stress under the weight of dreams with timelines, what kind of leader was I?! I fell for the lies whispered by my ego, emboldened by the sorrow of brokenness and desperate desire for beauty and community, encouraged by the laws of capitalism, and fully immersed in our culture. 

After this week, I know that in order to lead a healthy non-profit–one with steady and sustainable growth, it must come from a different source of strength. It must have enough margin. It requires leadership that encourages balance and honors rest. It requires a resolute dismissal of the mirage that time is a thief of progress. Time is merely a constant. We need the pause between the waves coming in and the waves heading back out to renew us, to make solid choices, to respond measured rather than impulsively react. Without the pause, integrity is endangered, resources are exhausted, and we are not capable of being fully present. Let 2024 be one of margin. No, don’t just let it–don’t blindly hope for it–rather let’s make 2024 one of margin!  Nurture margin, grow margin, fiercely protect margin, and then watch margin allow each of us the opportunity to function as fully integrated beings. That, my friends, is the missing ingredient to a thriving creative community!

Cole Arthur Riley from Black Liturgies: Prayers, Poems and Meditations for Staying Human 

FOR COLLECTIVE CARE: 

“We confess that we are so accustomed to pushing through an exhausted state that we come to expect the same from those nearest to us. We mirror the demands made of us and dissociate from the reality that these demands have harmed us, left us anxious and unwell…. Free us from resentment and envy as we bear witness to the prophets in our lives who practice rest and boundaries well. Let them be our guides into deeper freedom. Help us to never get used to being used. We were made for more. And together we possess the mysterious power of regeneration wrapped up in our bones. May it be so.

Inhale: I deserve more than exhaustion  

Exhale: I return home to myself 

Inhale: May I rest,  

Exhale: that I might dream. 

Inhale: I’ve given enough. 

Exhale: I choose rest.”

All The Feels

As we quickly approach Bella's high school graduation (tomorrow), I have posted several times--the awards and accomplishments, time hop photos, videos of little Bella. There are so many feels happening, but most powerful one right now is awe. Yes, I have the occasional waves of sadness, which I allow to wash over me and flow on. I am sure the grief will hit me more after they are off to college. However, for now, it is life-giving awe and gratitude that I carry. I tried my best not to imagine my kids' future lives as they were little. I recognized that not only would I surely be disappointed, but the weight of my dreams would be unfair for them to carry. However, I have come to realize that try as I might, there were some assumptions for their future I wasn't even aware I held deep in my soul. The first was that Bella was female and would likely pair up in the future. As Bella has shed the layers of expectation society has placed upon their shoulders, they have realized that gender doesn't feel right on their body. Bella is just Bella and dresses and acts as they feel each day. This blows my mind sometimes, and I am so thankful for the opportunity to consider gender--actually spend time thinking about it. As people, living in binaries and placing others in a box is preferable. It helps us make sense of a wild and unpredictable world. But, what about when it doesn't?! For Bella, the gender binary actually caused pain and dysmorphia. Breaking out of that mold, declaring they are not binary was a huge step in bringing Bella back to us--and themself. 

You see, when Bella was a young child, Bella was so free. They were so curious, so loving, so confident in this world. They had no concept of society's boxes. To them, the world was full of awe, love and possibility. As Bella grew up, this utopic world crumbled--as it does for all of us. Bella's response was to always land on the positive side of all binaries. Bella was always kind, always strove to have the right answers, to get the best grades, to jump up to help when needed. To put it simply, Bella was always appropriate. It was easy to be Bella's parent--there was very little parenting required! Both of us were getting an A+ in life. Over time, Bella became less Bella. I didn't notice it at first--or really for a long time. Life went on, we discovered I had a tumor, I recovered slowly, we adopted teenagers, there was a global pandemic. However, in retrospect, I can see so clearly that Bella became much more cautious over time, much more fearful in their approach to all aspects of life. Simply put, the better they fit in the box, the more Bella was dimmed. 

Over the last two years, that process has reversed, and watching it happen has been such a gift. Was it always easy? Of course not, change never is. Did I hurt for my child watching them wrestle with who they are and how they fit in this world? Of course, how could I not. Do I worry this world and its binaries are not ready for this amazing human? Every. Single. Day. Would I change a single thing about Bella? Absolutely not, for Bella is fearfully and wonderfully made. The world needs what Bella brings with their authentic self, and God knit that in Bella's design. So yes, these days I am grateful to be living in complete wonder at the gift of Bella, at the fact that I get to be Bella's mother. As I watch them navigate this world with such bravery as they claim their authentic self more every day, I am inspired and I am grateful. Unlike most comments I hear from other parents of seniors, I do not want to go back in time--nor do I want to freeze it. Instead, I want to continue watching in wonder and gratitude as Bella's journey unfolds from my really great front row seat!

P.S. Bella has read and approved this blog post. If you are reading this and cannot treat Bella with all the love and respect that they deserve, kindly remove yourself from their life and mine until you are ready. Their world is hard enough to navigate without your input. 

My third PITA-versary

I often find myself in a place of reflection on anniversaries. Today is no exception. August 28, 2017 marks three years since brain surgery. I am so glad I did not have a crystal ball four and a half years ago when I made the first appointment to find out why I was not feeling well. Hope is such a wonderful thing. Throughout this journey, I have consistently thought relief was just around the corner, 6-9months out. I can do that--I mean, women have been surviving crazy symptoms for centuries in 9 month segments, right?! Honestly, if pregnancy lasted 4.5 years, humans would be extinct by now. I love my kids as much as the next person, but I certainly would not have signed up for that more than once, if even at all.

As this anniversary approached, I spent a lot of time thinking about where I am now, what I have lost, what I have gained? Am I healthy now? What does healthy even mean to me? Finally, whether or not I can unpack my bags from this journey. Am I home?

I noticed that I was spending a lot of time focusing on what I had lost. On the surface, I had lost a lot. One of the most noticeable was that I can no longer sustain many forms of physical exercise. Most of the activities I used to engage in I cannot do: spin classes and long, hilly bike rides, TRX, weight lifting, and running. Prior to my illness, my nickname was the Energizer Bunny. Not only would I do these activities, but I would usually do 2-3 of these every day. I had so much cortisol in my body (unbeknownst to me), that I naturally did this to dump the excess. Since I can't sustain these workouts, I no longer enjoy teaching these kinds of fitness classes. I tried to teach them, but I realized it was a constant reminder of my limitations, which was not doing me any favors. Teaching classes was both a social outlet and a way to give back to the community, so I felt this loss on more than one level. I saw many of the people in my fitness classes several times a week for many years. I knew the little things going on in my students' lives and felt very fond of many of them. When I gave up teaching, most of these relationships understandably were lost. My students still needed to spend the time we spent together pursuing their fitness goals and I had little energy for social activities anyway.

Another activity that I enjoyed very much prior to my illness was making jewelry. Mental focus and energy levels were both affected by my illness, so sitting down to be creative was difficult to manage. I still had the skill required to make simple jewelry, however, those of you who know me well know that I was never good at assembly line jewelry making. It was the creative process that filled my bucket.

Relationally, the illness stole abilities from me as well. Prior to my surgery, I had so much cortisol that I was essentially experiencing 'roid rage. My girls and I referred to myself as the momster, which sadly, was pretty accurate. I actually hit my husband one day, which, thankfully, shocked both of us. Along with the anger, my memory was affected. I could no longer remember the little details in my loved ones' lives. I forgot entire conversations. I couldn't focus enough to problem solve. I had little energy to even listen--let alone get dolled up and go on a girls' night out or date night with Mike. Slowly, each of these issues has improved. Yes, they impacted many of my relationships--some even permanently. So, relationally, there have been losses, but is that the end of the story? Wouldn't I have had some losses relationally over the last 4.5 years anyway?

That led me to consider the changes in relationships. My kids--I realized that I was judging my current level of interaction with the level of interaction prior to my illness. My kids were 6 and 7 then. They were still in the stage where they needed near constant supervision and interaction from me. Now, we are at 11 and 12, in the stage where they are more independent, enjoying playing without my help (I can't say I miss pretend play with My Little Ponies). They want to know I am available, but don't want me constantly interacting. I think I can give myself a pass on that change as it would have happened, tumor or not! We are able to joke about the momster days, have begun to navigate pubertal changes with way less drama than I imagined and I am truly enjoying this phase of watching my girls grow up. This example really highlighted to me why we should pause and unpack the negative thoughts in our heads. Often when said out loud, things aren't as bad as you believe they are when they are bouncing around unchecked!

My friendships--Am I as good of a friend as I used to be? There is a reason that people say that you find out who your true friends are in times like these! I will admit that being a little hurt that some of my relationships didn't make it. A lot of that I put on myself, I just didn't have as much for other people, so I wasn't the kind of friend I used to be. Honestly, though, we all have needs that need to be met. I wasn't meeting them for others and the need to get them met just didn't go away for others. They still needed to get those needs met through other relationships. We all have only so much time and energy. Many people reached out in big ways in the beginning and cheered me on periodically on Facebook (which I really appreciated). However, I was sick and needy for A LONG TIME. I didn't always look sick and needy, but it was a long time of me sucking up others' resources without giving back. On the flip side, many of my friendships were strengthened during this time. I have some AMAZING girlfriends--ranging from 40+ years of friendship to about 4.5 years, or less. These women have carried me through this journey and I am so thankful to truly know that there are not limits to our friendships. I have noticed another positive aspect to fewer friendships, and that is that I spend more quality time with them because I am not spread so thin. Again, once I really unpacked the facts, it is allowing me to let go of the negativity surrounding these changes.

My marriage--honestly, we are the cliché. Stronger after the storm is an apt description of our marriage. I am going to be really real, it was rough at times, y'all! He was stressed and stretched by my inability to handle any of the load. He also lost his person. I was not the same. My heart was the same, but I was so deconstructed. All the "stuff" that we think makes us who we are was removed. I could not longer do anything for anyone else, I looked different, I acted different, my intelligence was affected, my self-confidence faltered. The upside of all of that is that I had to really look at who I was. Turns out, even without all of that "stuff", I still liked me. My heart is true. I no longer apologize for disappointing the masses. If I am not your cup of tea, that is fine--I can't be everyone's nor do I want to be! Now that I spend less of my energy on so many other people, I have more for my family. This has been a huge boon to our marriage! Another thing that truly helped our relationship was getting to the other side. I learned that when he said, "...through sickness and in health", he meant it. I am forever grateful. We went to therapy to keep our relationship strong. We talked about the tough stuff. We kept at it and we didn't lose hope that it would get better. Now, we truly appreciate how good life can be with less stress and we can trust the strength of our bond so much more after going through the storm.

My relationship with God--I have always considered God to be a big part of my life. My young life was on the mission field in Indonesia and after my dad died, my mom remarried a pastor. All three of my parents absolutely live(d) their lives relying on God. As many of you know, my life hasn't ever really been easy. I have a history that includes many trials and I have always been able to count on God to guide and heal my heart. He is always faithful. That being said, this journey and the failed adoption journey in the middle of it really challenged this relationship. Just as I had to lean on other relationships, I leaned on God hard. Our relationship got real. I yelled at Him, I begged for strength, and I asked others to join me in praying for healing. I was so vulnerable, and He was faithful. Now, we are on the cusp of adopting two wonderful kids from Colombia. Our three that we could not adopt are so close to being adopted by a family who better fits their needs. We have been able to maintain a close and loving relationship throughout the process. God has shown me yet again that He is good and He loves each of us so deeply. The intricacies of His plan through our adoption journey and the timing with my illness and my healing are so beautiful. Each of those details tell me how much He cares for me, my biological kids, the Ukrainian kids, and my future kids. I also know that I am no more special than you are. You have those same level of details in your life, as does every single person. That, is so cool.

Am I healthy now? Every time I go and see my endocrinologist, I hear more of the things I am at risk for. Early cataracts, greater chance of falling due to permanent muscle damage, greater chance of breaking bones if I do fall due to permanent bone density damage, higher cholesterol, risk of heart disease and diabetes due to my tumor, etc. Since I only have a portion of my pituitary, my thyroid doesn't get the signals it needs, so I am hypothyroid as well. I take a medication for my thyroid, which we are still tweaking to get the right dose. As someone who has always taken great care of my body, this can be depressing. However, now more than ever, I am taking care of myself. If I do not do self-care, I do not feel good. It is a non-negotiable at this point in my life. In order to thrive, I take a thyroid medication, go to acupuncture once a month (Amy Guinther is amazing), take supplements, get massages regularly, sleep 9-10 hours a night, avoid gluten, sugar and alcohol, and recently have added in daily yoga. For a long time, I fought having to do these things. I was annoyed I had to, they take so much time and I have so little energy. I wanted to put the energy into others, especially my family after so long of not being able to. Three years post-surgery and I have finally realized that I am thankful that I can do all these things. Thankful there are things I can do that help me feel healthy. When I do them, I actually have more energy to give to others. When I do them, I feel so much more like me. What a gift!

Speaking of yoga, I have finally found a form of exercise that I can sustain daily! Some days, it is just 10-15 minutes of gentle yoga and breathing, other days an hour of that, and then other days I can do a challenging flow class. I finally found a local studio that offers all of these types, Blue Soul Yoga in Waunakee. On the days that a class doesn't fit my schedule, I use my Yoga with Adrienne app. At the beginning of June, I set the goal of getting in 365 straight days of yoga. In the spirit of yoga, I do whatever my body needs that day. Twice in that time, I have missed a day. This matters not to me. Sometime in my lifetime, I will reach that goal. In the meantime, I am getting in more yoga than I was and I feel great. My flexibility is returning, my endurance is growing, my strength is improving (I even have baby arm muscles again!), my sleep is deeper, my pain level is decreasing, and my pant size is shrinking. I am also kinder to myself. If I would have realized the impact that a daily practice would have had on my healing (sorry I didn't listen, Katie. Genevieve, your encouragement to continue what I found in Mexico stayed with me.), I would have done this three years ago!!!

Other positives in my life following the removal of PITA (the nickname I gave my tumor)? It takes a lot to upset me these days. I let most of the little things go. I take things less personally. The drama factor in my life has greatly decreased (as long as you don't count my youngest in that equation). Focusing less on the unimportant distractions has allowed me to focus more on the big things. Deconstructing my concept of self and getting a second chance on life really led me to look at my purpose. Why am I still here? Am I wasting my time on earth? I have come to realize that for me it is relationships. It is giving love and often receiving it back. It is spending less time talking about making a difference and more time doing it. It is leaving this world better than it would have been without me. It is teaching my children to do the same. Once I am gone, there will be little physically lasting even a generation down the line. However, if I can teach my children to live their lives the same way, and they teach their children, etc. the ripple will be huge and unending. This desire led Mike and I to consider adoption. We will be leaving in about a month to make our family of 5 a family of 7. Luisa and Andres will be joining our family and I can't wait to see how much stronger each of us becomes after we adjust to the changes. It may be messy at times, but if I have learned anything, it is that life is a beautiful mess.

If you got to the end of this, congratulations on your excellent focus! As is usually the case, I write when the bouncing ideas in my brain get too loud. Putting the thoughts out here helps me gain perspective. Hopefully it gives you something to think about, too! As for am I finished with this chapter? Am I home? I am ready to stop seeing myself as ill? After really unpacking everything, I can say that I would not change this part of my life. Did I enjoy having my life upended? No. Not at all. However, I like who I am and where we are--I like where this journey has led us. I have learned to make the most of my new normal and embrace this stage. I am looking forward to using this new energy to expand and strengthen the bonds of our family. I am absolutely comfortable with me and my purpose as I walk this life. Yes, I am and home is a beautiful place to be.

My journey in photos.

My Heart Cry

Yesterday I had the first flashback I have had in over 20 years. Over 20 years ago, I took power back after my sexual assault. I went through extensive therapy, to fix and strengthen the broken parts of me. I relived my experience while giving my deposition to an unsympathetic and doubting man to help change the law in my state. I told my story to individuals in order to raise awareness for this injustice. Through the grace of God, support of others and inner strength I did not know I had, I even got to the point of forgiveness and a continued relationship with my abuser (this is not something I would advocate for in most circumstances). My healing journey brought me to the place where I could honestly say that while I would never want to relive my experience, I would not change it--for it shaped who I am, and I really like her. My point is that I have come to a place of healing that many in this situation will not reach.

Being that this is where I have been in my sexual assault journey for over 20 years, I was blind-sided by the flashback. It was just as real as if it had just occurred and left me shaken. I learned long ago that I cannot control these experiences, they come when they are triggered. They are a visceral reaction to my previous experiences and my current state. It does no good to try to suppress the flashback. Instead, I have learned that if I let it play out, give grace to that innocent girl, and give myself time to process it, I can find my balance again. It also helps to understand the trigger--what in my current life has set off this flashback?

This time, I realize, it is fear. Fear of not being heard and validated. Fear that the world is not safe. Fear that society does not stand with me, does not hear me, does not validate me. For me, my reaction to the election results is more than sadness at not winning. It is a lump in my gut that will not dissipate. It is fear. The victim of sexual assault in our country has the obligation to prove way beyond a shadow of doubt first that the assault even occurred, second that she did not agree, and third that she was completely innocent. Not just innocent of explicit consent, but every conceivable implicit consent (Was she wearing too short of a skirt? Was she possibly intoxicated? Did she walk into a dark alley after looking his way, thus implying she wanted it?). As we learned from the Stanford rape this year, she finally has to prove she is worth more than he is as a person for him to receive a punishment that affects him a fraction of how it will affect her. Here I am, 20 years and a lot of therapy and support out, more whole than many with similar experiences, brought to my knees with a vivid flashback. In public. In broad daylight. It doesn't really go away. Ever. When our country elected Trump, the message to this sexual assault victim was a solid stand with my perpetrator. That might not be what your vote meant to you, but it is what his victory told my soul. By voting in a man who bragged about sexually assaulting women, my country told me that behavior is okay. It tells him, it is okay. Voting him in to office has reinforced his behavior. This is the part I am struggling with. This is what has caused enough primal fear in me to trigger a flashback.

I can't pretend to know another's experience, but I wonder if this isn't the same fear sitting in the guts of minorities in our country? I have heard of multiple racist and sexist accounts against my friends' children. These have occurred in the days following the election. Voting for Trump, despite his hateful comments about minorities, women, and other so-called "lesser-thans" is viewed (by me, by Trump, and by many others out there) as approval for him and his behaviors. Conservative Christians and other really good hearted people out there, I get you. I grew up with you and I grew up as one of you. My life circumstances may not allow me to be you anymore, but I get and I love you--and I hear you. You wanted change that aligned with your values. You wanted change that heard your struggles. You don't agree with his hateful comments, and you may not even like him as a person--but you needed the change he promised to bring. The problem is, on the ballot there is only one box to mark. You don't get to mark yes for him, but no for the hatred he spews.

When I told my mom (who loves me very much and does not ever want to see me hurting) that I had had a flashback yesterday, she urged me to get therapy. She wanted me to find a way to fix myself so I could live successfully in this society. While I appreciate that this comes from a place of love and isn't a bad idea, what I hear is that I am broken. The reality is, my world is broken. When Trump's views on sexual assault became clear, I was still okay. Why? Because there was outrage. Society stood with me and all the other me's out there and said, "We will not stand for this! This is wrong!" His ratings dropped. I felt surrounded by support from the majority. However, when he won the election, the message to me was it is ok. It is ok that the man who will have the most powerful position in the world feels free to misuse his power against women. I wonder if people of color across our nation had the same reaction when he said hateful things about their race, when he incited others at rallies to show their hatred?

One thing that has been shown over and over in occasions of violence is that silence is the same as acceptance. The same. It sends the message of acceptance to the victim. It sends the same message to the perpetrator. This silence has to stop. The message has to change. The thing is, sexual assault happens to 1 in 4 women in college. Right now. Today, 1 in 4. Twenty-five percent of males are not causing all of this pain. In fact, the number of people causing the pain represents a very small percentage of those in our society. The same is true for those people doing overt racist acts. The problem is that a small percentage of people doing similar acts to multiple people makes this a very big problem. If our President does not see this as a problem, and in fact incites this very behavior, the problem will grow. We have learned from this election that racism is more rampant than we once knew. Those of us who come from a place of privilege don't experience it daily, so we were able to believe that it wasn't as bad as it is. Now we know. Our power doesn't stop with the ballot. We need to be very clear of our expectations for those we have placed in power.

Trump is here for the next four years. I accept that. We have had Presidents before and will have Presidents again that I don't align with. I accept that. However, we don't have to and should not accept his hateful comments. He needs to acknowledge the power his comments have as the President of the most powerful country in the world. He needs to acknowledge they were wrong and that those sentiments will not be tolerated in our country.

I don't feel safe--I don't feel that my daughters are being raised in a community that has their backs. I don't believe people of color feel safe. I don't believe the LGBTQ community feels safe. I don't feel people with disabilities feel safe. Everyone deserves to feel safe. If you believe that God calls you to take care of the "least of these" in society, or if you believe in taking care of them because you are just a good person, than please, stand with us. Hear us. Please don't discount us as just being emotional or "sore losers". Hear us and tell us you will keep us safe. An easy way to tell me you hear me and stand with me is to write letters to every person you have voted into a position of power. Tell them that you expect them to stand strong for the safety of all people in this country. If you voted Trump into office despite disagreeing with his stance on humanity, make that very clear to him. If you need a template for your letter to get you started, let me know. As parents, we don't make our children guess our expectations. Instead, we clearly state them ahead of time so they have a chance to meet those expectations. We, the people, are now Trump's boss and we need to make sure he understands our expectations prior to his inauguration. Another way is to share this perspective with your friends and ask them to join you in setting expectations. Remember, Trump ran on the platform of being different than the establishment. Therefore, we can not expect him to follow the implied rules of the previous establishment. We cannot sit back and hope and pray that he will be for all people. Also, if you see people peacefully protesting, listen to them and stand with them. Obviously, your experience is quite different from theirs or you would be standing there with them. Find out what it means for them. Chances are, they aren't wasting their time, standing, marching, holding up a sign and chanting until they are hoarse because they didn't have anything better to do. It is because they have been hurt or they see hurt and need change and healing.

This blog post is for every woman who has experienced sexual assault. If this election has had this affect on me, what is it like for those women who are just beginning their journey to healing? I have put in a lot of work towards building a strong self, taking back the power that was ripped from me so long ago. Writing this blog required me to be very vulnerable. To take down the walls of strength I so purposefully constructed. If you are feeling inclined to take action steps to stand with me, please leave a comment and let me know how you have made an effort to make this country a safe place for all people. I still believe that love is more powerful than hate, and that together we can make influence the outcome. Thank you for taking the time to hear my heart cry.

The million dollar question

Photo taken by A Mother's Art Photography

How are we doing? That is a really good question. 

In the weeks that followed our decision not to adopt K, S and A from Ukraine, we really struggled. My health tanked following the kids departure. My cortisol levels dropped to a subclinical level. The last time my cortisol was that low, I was taking supplemental cortisol to keep me functional. Chronic fatigue and pain became a part of my days again. I chose not to start the supplements again because I did not want to have to re-wean off of them. We figured it was a temporary setback due to stress, so Mike stepped back into his caretaker roll as I have been pretty useless. I am not sure how we would function without that man! On top of my health, the girls began to struggle at school and at home. This was their biggest experience with loss to date. We had to put some extra supports in at school and muster up extra patience and grace at home. Thankfully, they have some very understanding teachers with really big hearts! It really felt like all of the work we have put in the last several years to help the twins do well at school despite their issues was coming unraveled. We started to question why we had chosen to rock our seemingly stable boat to pursue this adoption! We wondered whether all this effort had been for nothing. 


It took us about two weeks to get in touch with the kids in Ukraine. It was torture waiting to tell them. We felt honesty was the best tactic since we truly wanted to continue being a positive relationship in their lives. If we were not honest, how could they trust us going forward? We also wanted to be very careful not to make any more promises we could not follow through on. We cannot let them down again! They took the news so much better than we thought they would. Our worst fear was that they would be angry with us and not want anything to do with us. All of us cried on the phone as we shared our hearts. There may come a day that they are angry as they also grieve this loss of a dream. If that happens, we will work through that as well. Since our first phone call, we have been able to talk weekly. It has been so good for our souls to hear their voices and know that they are doing well. 

photo taken by A Mother's Art Photography

In the time that has passed, K and S got to take a 19 hour train ride to meet the President of Ukraine. How exciting is that?! They got to take some tours of Kiev, eat a very nice lunch and talk with the President before returning to their orphanage. They have shared how well school is going (K says the boys are working hard in school for the first time. She says they are starting to learn to read!), new soccer skills they are achieving and much more. They also shared that the boys have asked K to read them the bedtime story we read nightly, as well as singing their song to them (we had a personalized song we sang for each child at tuck-in). It has been so encouraging for us to see that our time together did make a difference for these kids! All of the love that we (and many of you) shared with these kids seeped into their hearts and minds. The English lessons that we are still able to provide for these kids continue to show them that they have worth, that their learning matters to someone in this world. It gives the boys time to spend together three times a week (without this, the boys rarely see each other in their large orphanage), which reinforces the bonds they have built during previous hosting experiences. English lessons give them time with an adult who cares. Their tutor spends time with just the boys two days a week and all three of the kids a third day (K gets English class in school, unlike the boys). This time with a safe and caring adult is a rare luxury in an orphanage environment. K tells us they really enjoy their tutor. I know their life over there is still hard. We still pray nightly that they will be adopted by a family better suited for their needs. However, hearing the smiles over the phone and their excitement about certain aspects of their lives makes a world of difference for our hearts. 

So, how are we doing? We are doing much better. We are settling back into being a family of five. We are getting used to the quiet again. We are slowly making our house 'ours' again and not 'ours and theirs.' We are recognizing that our family is not yet ready to make such huge changes. We need more time for my body to heal. My body cannot yet handle the increased load adoption would bring to our family. This is a hard pill for me to swallow. If you know me at all, you know that 'you can't make this work' was never part of my vocabulary prior to my illness. Being still (Psalm 46:10) is not something that is easy for me. I want to help God move the mountains. I need to learn to wait for Him to move

photo taken by Rose Davidson

the mountains, make the path, and illuminate the way. Our hearts are still with these kids and the millions like them. We still hope and pray to be used by God to help children who are hurting. While we wait for our opportunity, we will continue to make

health--both mine and our family's emotional health--stronger to prepare for future opportunities.

Thank you to all who have loved us through this loss in our lives. We have really appreciated all of the support during this time.

P.S. I have been reading the book, Kisses from Katie, to the girls in the evenings. What an amazing impact this book has had on all of us. The conversations we are having about the world outside of our safe comfortable bubble are fantastic! Either the girls are being kinder to each other, or I am noticing it more when they are (or both). If you are feeling like you can't possibly make a dent in the world's problems, you really should read this book. 

When there are no good answers

I know I really need to blog when I don't know where or how to start. As many of you know, we just spent a month hosting three kids from Ukraine. That is a month that I will not ever forget. Our hearts were stretched way more than we thought possible. We had so much support from our little community (and even from our further away heart community). You guys allowed us to do the day in and day out loving and nurturing for these three precious kids. I wish this blog could be about all of the little ways we, our girls, and these three felt the love of all of you. How they felt worth. It was amazing. I also wish this blog could be about the million funny, beautiful and heart-wrenching moments we experienced in the last month. It was, hands down, the most alive month of my life. I am sure we will be processing and savoring many of the experiences far, far down the road. 

Since this blog can't be about those other topics, I should probably get on with it. I just really don't know how to. Here goes--if you have ever read my blog posts before, you know I don't know any other way than to be raw and real. Grab the tissues or close the screen now. 

When we started experiencing delays in the adoption, we decided to host the kids while we waited. It was another big expenditure (which many of you helped fund), but we wanted to all be together for Christmas--shoot, we wanted to all be together, period. We also, through the desire for more education on adoption, had become more acutely aware of some of the unsuccessful adoptions out there. Pair those stories of caution with my degrees in psychology and we thought hosting would help us put our worries aside as we moved forward. Our thought was that if we provided a very structured, consistent and calm home for a month--one that gave a very realistic representation of our life--we might either see that it clearly wouldn't work, or we would see signs that it would. We were very realistic going in, as we did not expect to resolve any of the deep wounds these kids carry in a month of hosting. We were hopeful for small signs of progress, but more than that, we were hoping for no signs of brokenness that we couldn't help them overcome. You have to know that we expected wounds, we expected one to two years of unrelenting hard work followed by many more of being selfless for these kids. We prepared our three here for many ugly possibilities, including how to handle abuse. We expected deficits--in learning, in life experiences, in accepting love. We were not afraid of what was required of us on this journey. Let me be very clear here, we fully intended to adopt these kids. We were "all in". They were, in our hearts, already our kids. They had been hosted three times as a unit and a few times individually. All families had fallen in love with these kids and felt they were adoptable for a family. We did not expect to find anything that would keep us from adopting, but needed, for the sake of our family, to not be afraid to pull out if we could not ensure safety. 

We were fully committed for the entire month. One of my biggest regrets is that we didn't see it earlier so that we could explain, in person, to the kids why we can't adopt. I did not see the most disturbing behavior until we were staying in the hotel in Texas the night before they flew back to Ukraine. At that point, I was so exhausted that I couldn't even process what I saw. I was so concerned with meeting their emotional needs as they left for Ukraine that mine were on hold. When I returned to Wisconsin and began to talk through my unease with Mike, the behavioral patterns became more clear. I also reached out to two different psychologists, not to rely fully on my own training since I was so emotionally attached. I then reached out to our adoption director for her input. We spent several days in prayer and have leaned on the wisest people in our lives. There has not been one person who has not understood and encouraged us to heed the warning. The psychologists and our adoption director all strongly advised us to stop the adoption proceedings based on the behavior we described.  Despite this, I have spent the last few days trying to talk myself out of the decision. Trying to figure out a way to make it work without jeopardizing the safety of our family.  

As I type this, I feel like I am trying my best to explain my heart so there isn't judgment, rather than convey what really matters. What does matter is that there are three kids out there that we promised the world to and we can't deliver. Three kids who are so broken and hurt, through no fault of their own and we can't fix it or even hold them close while they hurt. We can't prevent a world full of future hurt. They are in a situation that sets them up for failure and we can't remove them from it. Two of the three are so ready and open for a family and Ukraine won't split siblings for adoption (not that they would agree if we could). Two of the three have so much potential for amazing things and we can't help them reach that potential. The third has so many things going against him. They are all unfair and out of his control. They are all possibly workable except that he has so much pain that he wants to make others hurt like he does. This is the part that breaks my heart the most. It comes from a place of so much pain, I don't want to give up on him. Realistically, though, we can't be what he needs while at the same protecting the other 5--let alone having anything left to provide for the others' needs. His best chance would be a loving home with no other children. 

We have really struggled with the whys. Why did God bring them into our life? Why did we feel led to tell them we were adopting them? Why did our lives seem so destined to be led out together? Why didn't God give us a "no" before when it would be less painful? I still don't have the answers, and I won't pretend to. I may never have the answers. My friend, Christa shared this song with me the other day. You know how I lean on songs for prayer and focus., well this one is perfect for me right now. Maybe it will be helpful for you, too. The song is "Trust in You" by Lauren Daigle. I don't know why I am always amazed by the intricacies in God's plans, yet am thrown for a loop every time when they don't go the way I envision. Even though I know His plans are always good, I struggle with letting go of my ideas. As she asks in her song, how do we go on when He doesn't move those mountains we want moved? 

Here is what I do know and trust. I have never met a person with faith like K's. She is 14 and is amazing. The stories she shared with me are incredible. God has been constant in her life--very present, guiding and protecting her (and in doing so,  also protecting her brothers) in palpable ways. He has a plan for this child, that is way bigger than mine. We were clearly led to be a part of her plan, just not in the way we thought we were. He has not led her this far to hurt her and walk away. Please continue to pray for these kids. Their story thus far is full of heartbreak. It has also been so touched by love. Everyone I know who has touched their lives has fallen in love. The love they felt from our community was not in vain. It is one more positive experience to shore up against the negative. They know there is good in this world--they felt it with every meal, every gift, every experience they had while they were here. We will continue to support and love them in whatever ways they accept. Even if they are too hurt to accept our presence in their life, we will understand that and continue to pray for them. We cannot stop loving them; we don't know how to. Despite the hurt, we wouldn't want to, even if we could. 

   I also know and trust that God has a plan for our family that is equally big. He has    
   opened our eyes and our hearts in a way that cannot be shut. We are not going to rush 
   into anything. We need to take some time to grieve this loss and wait to be led. Trying 
   to control or influence God's plan has never worked out well for anyone.  

This is the hardest post I have ever written. Our family is devastated. Our house now feels like their house. It is full of memories from last month. We are raw. We are trying to attend to the grief of our girls, but struggling because we have so little left to give. Last month, while amazing, took a lot out of us. It was exhausting. Instead of taking a breath and looking forward to their return, we are grieving the loss of our family of 8. Watching the pain of our three here is so difficult. I wish I could take it away, and yet I know in the long term it will be one of the things that teaches them to cope with future loss. It doesn't make it easier. Then my heart travels across the ocean to my other three hearts. I cannot hold them as they cry. I cannot answer when they ask, "Why?" All I can do is pray that God scoops them up in His huge and capable hands and wraps them with His love. I can't help but also pray that He gets on with the amazing part of His plan for them sooner rather than later. 

   One more thing, we know that many of you have invested financially in us adopting 
   these kids. The adoption site that we used will only reimburse us for actual expenses we 
   have (we send receipts). The majority of the money covered the cost of hosting the kids
   last month as well as upfront costs of adoption (home study, etc). If we adopt in the 
   future, we will have a head start with our home study complete already. All money left
   in the adoption fund will be dispersed to other families that did not raise enough to
   cover their adoption expenses. Therefore, all money donated has or will go toward the 
   care of orphans. That being said, if any of you would like to be reimbursed, please let
   us know. We don't want there to be any animosity about money. You can also rest 
   assured that what you donated helped bring the kids here and gave them a month with 
   a family that truly cares about them and will look out for them in the future.