Pup-date

I mentioned in my previous post that I was having some anxiety about Lucy's temperament. I've actually been feeling very nervous about my choice since the second time we visited her. I couldn't ignore my gut feelings any longer and called the breeder yesterday to discuss my concerns. I ended up going over yesterday afternoon, observing the litter for about an hour, and choosing another puppy. During the hour I watched her, I noticed Lucy was not only very fearful of me, but also cowered and tucked her tail around the breeder. I was really hoping I'd see things that encouraged me about her, but the more I watched her the more I knew she wasn't a good fit for us.

I'd never interacted with the other puppies much, so I spent some time with the three that were still available. Two beautiful yellow boys and one adorable black female. The boys were so tempting! They were gorgeous, sweet, playful, and just downright puppylicious. The female was outgoing and inquisitive, not too dominant, and very sweet - exactly what I was looking for. I'm sure the breeder thinks I'm a nut, and the kids felt we'd abandoned poor Lucy - but I feel so much better about this choice. Getting a dog is making a 13+ year commitment, and I want to make sure we get the right one for our family dynamic.

After much discussion on the matter, none of us could bear to just switch the name we'd so painstakingly chosen over to another dog.
We took a vote and settled on Maggie Mae.
We pick her up this afternoon, so prepare yourselves - this blog will soon be inundated with puppy pictures, videos of the family reveling in puppy raptures, and lots of stupid puppy stories that I find hilarious and you find ridiculous.

~ Jen

If I had my way . . .

This is how I would spend all of my time:

My Mom and I went to visit Lucy this past weekend - she gets to come home Friday!

Having never chosen a puppy this young before, I'm starting to feel nervous about my choice. We've had some fantastic luck with pups that were a bit shy at first, but we've also had one very bad experience.

See her tail tucked in the second photo from the top? Not good!
She seemed fine with her litter mates and the breeder's family, so I'm hoping she's just a bit slow to warm up and it will all work out.

Thank you all so much for the wonderful comments about our situation with Hannah. They really meant alot, and it is great to know that we are being covered in prayer. We are making progress, though it feels slow at times! This past week I've been working on holding her while she's having one of her "rages". When we were first introduced to this step, I wondered if that wasn't positively reinforcing really bad behavior. The first time I tried it, I realized how deep Hannah's wounds really are. She hated it. There isn't a strong enough word to describe how crazy she went, but I certainly dropped the idea that I was providing positive reinforcement real quick. The whole ordeal was very powerful, and at the end of two hours we shared some of the most tender, honest moments that we have ever had.

Another assignment we've been carrying out is scheduling Snuggle Time in twice a day. Snuggle time is when she spends some time listening to my heart and tapping out the beats with her fingers, then we wrap up by her maintaining eye contact with me for a period of 30 seconds. That doesn't sound like a long time, but it is extremely difficult for her. She can't hold eye contact for more than three seconds right now. I have a little word of advice for new adoptive parents - make sure that your little one is making actual eye contact with you! I really thought that Hannah was, which is another reason it took me so long to come to the conclusion that we were dealing with an attachment disorder. Now that we are spending purposeful time just looking at each other, I realize that she looks at my mouth, or some other part of my face rather than into my eyes. If I wasn't paying so much attention, it would be easy to miss.

I am seeing Hannah responding well to the new set of consequences we're employing. And a couple of times now, we've had some nice conversations. Before therapy, Hannah talked incessantly, but she never actually communicated the way a normal relational person would. I can't tell you how amazing it was when yesterday Hannah told me all about an interesting project her classmate had done. I'm making a point to celebrate every little tiny victory, it gives me strength for the next battle.

Speaking of strength, I wonder if I could make a specific prayer request? While I still feel great that we are on the right track and already making strides, I've been struggling with feeling overwhelmed and extremely run down. I've had a nasty cold, and I'm sure that isn't helping. Sometimes I wake up in the morning and feel discouraged before even getting up. I think it has to do with having to be "ON" every single second - measuring every word, expression, and action with Hannah throughout the day. So, if your praying and I happen to come to mind, would you pray for strength for me? Thank You!

~ Jen

Getting Real . . .

I'm always hesitant to deviate from the "sunny fun" tone of my blog. For one thing, if we're close you already know all of it, and if we aren't, I doubt you'll find my troubles particularly enthralling. But lately I've been wondering if it wouldn't do some good - at the very least for myself and maybe, even better, for someone else - to get a little gritty and be real about where our lives are right now.
So here it is folks, the real deal:

If I'm being completely honest, I knew deep down that something was wrong the moment they placed her in my arms. There was no hard evidence to support my gut feeling, she did all of the things the books say a traumatized and grieving toddler will do - but I knew all the same that there was something more.

Her first year home was the most grueling time -physically, emotionally, and spiritually - of my entire life. The experts told us that might happen, that all of this was normal. I truly believed things would start to settle down after that first year. I counted down the days like a prisoner awaiting freedom from a particularly cruel sentence. But I honestly believed that if I did all the right things, that if I just loved her enough, everything would turn out fine.While I clung to this hope, in my quiet moments I spiraled ever deeper into anger and despair.

I'd done all my homework going into this adoption. I knew all about Attachment Disorders, and in my more honest moments, I suspected that Hannah fell somewhere on that spectrum, but the implications of that were so frightening to me that I quickly hushed those thoughts.

As we near the four year mark, I began to believe that this was it. I started to believe that there was no hope, and that my happy family and tranquil home were just gone forever. And now she was struggling in school, too. I felt powerless to help my daughter, powerless to give my other children the happy home they deserve.

Most of all, I felt like an absolute failure. After all, don't good mothers overflow with loving patience? Don't good mothers feel invigorated by their children rather than drained completely dry? Aren't their hearts filled with compassion rather than defeat and anger? As a matter of fact, there were days when I felt like I couldn't stand her. What mother could feel that way about her child?

I think that was one of the main factors in my waiting so long to seek help. I was ashamed that I had to reach out, to admit that I didn't know how to parent one of my children. I was ashamed that I was struggling to love my daughter, and I was afraid that if I did reach out for help, I would find none. I was afraid to admit defeat (or what I saw as defeat), and I was afraid to hope that things could get better. I guess at some point we all have to get up from our defeated position curled up on the floor, no matter how scary that prospect might be. I'm not exactly sure when the moment was that I decided to get up, or why. I just did.It feels so good to stand again.

Now that I was up, I wasn't sure what to do next. I started with her pediatrician, who sent us to a neurologist. The idea was to rule out anything neurological that could be causing her behavior and learning issues. I won't even go into that whole ordeal - it was an ordeal, for sure. Once they ruled out anything neurological, I began the search for an Attachment Therapist. This wasn't as daunting as I'd initially thought, due in large part to the book "When Love Is Not Enough", by Nancy Thomas. If you can relate to any part of this post, I would highly recommend this book.

One of the many benefits I gleaned was how to tell an Attachment Therapist who knows their stuff from one who doesn't. This was invaluable to me, and saved us quite a bit of stress and heartache we might have experienced bouncing from one therapist to the next.

I did find a therapist in town who specializes in attachment and works exclusively with the child's parents - the idea being that the child's best therapist is their parent, and I wanted a therapist who could equip Joel and I to help Hannah heal.

In two sessions, he's given us some tools and alot of insight into dealing with her behaviors. He's helped us understand what's really behind them, and helping us learn positive ways to interact and connect with her. Interacting and connecting with your child probably sounds like something you shouldn't need to learn to do. That's what I used to think! Moms are just supposed to know this stuff, right? But it's completely different with a detached child.

To get an idea of what it's like, I recommend finding a large, angry porcupine and giving it a nice snuggle - maybe even try spooning with it for awhile. Doesn't sound like much fun? Well, that's how "connecting" with Hannah used to sound to me.

The greatest part about the therapy is, I'm already seeing a huge difference. Admittedly, the differences in Hannah are subtle thus far - but they are there. But the difference in myself is monumental! I feel like ME again, I feel empowered and calm and in control. I feel myself starting to delight in my family again, and I find myself looking at Hannah with brand new eyes. In fact, when I look at her, I make a point to picture to myself the little girl she really is inside. I see the real Hannah behind the behaviors that are really just a protective mask - the one who has been through hell, suffered so much pain, and needs me to come and get her.In so many ways, we haven't really brought Hannah home yet.I've found what I've been missing for four years - Hope.

We still have a long journey ahead of us, and I know that there will be many steps back for every step we take forward. The difference is that I'm no longer fighting this battle blind, helpless, and hopeless. I wish that I had sought help four years ago, that I'd realized that "more love" wasn't the key component here - and I wish I'd been strong enough to admit that I wasn't strong enough!

I'm not going to look back and wallow in that regret, I'm only going to look forward to our future together. I plan on talking more about this as we continue on this journey, and share some of the techniques we're learning in our therapy sessions. I sincerely hope that maybe our story will serve to strengthen another lost Mom.This post has taken me over a week to write, and I feel terrified that I'm actually posting it. It makes me feel so naked somehow . . . putting it out for everyone to see and judge.
I keep thinking how it would have helped me to know I wasn't alone in this, and that is what gives me the courage to hit the "Publish Post" button. :)

BMX Fun!

Aren't puppies just the cutest? Of course they are!

Everyone loves puppies, especially itty bitty lab puppies like these:Come home with me? No! Don't be ridiculous! Aw Geez . . . look at that face! No . . . No . . . It's just not possible. I already have two dogs!
No, I don't care how much your Mom likes my Mom!

Or how sweet my little boy looks holding your sister:

Yes, they all look very sweet together - but it's just not going to work out between you and I. You see, I'm really busy, and . . . wow your puppy breath smells good.

What was I saying? Oh yes, I'm very busy.

Now don't go smelling my little boy, you'll only get attached and make this harder on both of us.
Not the sad eyes and the cute puppy lips! Oh that's just not playing fair!
You're right, you are even cuter with my husband kissing you . . .
Me hold you? No, I couldn't possibly . . . well, just for a minute. I'm not supposed to have my picture taken because I got a really stupid haircut - but I suppose pictures holding puppies are an exception. You know what? You are obviously a puppy with impeccable taste in children, men, and you are graciously oblivious to bad haircuts. These are not qualities you find in just any dog. You really are something special . . . and that puppy breath is simply amazing!

Okay, listen . . . I'll be back to get you in two weeks my sweet little Lucy.

And that's my final word.

I know it's been forever since my last update! So first of all, Happy New Year! We had a really fun New Year's Eve playing board games with the kids. Once again, it was so neat having my Mom here with us making fun memories together as a family. All the kids made it until midnight in various states of catatonia - which made them much easier to beat at Monopoly. I also took advantage of some sales and replenished our craft supplies, and this is what I found bright and early on New Year's Day:
We have quite a little nation of alien PomPom creatures now - but most amazing was the absolute silence through the house when I woke up that morning. I generally awaken to the sounds of children arguing over the remote or the ear splitting sounds of boisterous wrestling matches breaking out - both things much more easily dealt with after a few cups of coffee. No, this wonderful morning there was only the collective silence of little minds buzzing with creativity.Even the budgies got in on the fun - "Hey Emma, build us a new buddy!" We also launched the boys' model rockets on what had to be the windiest day in history. I was a huge wimp and waited in the car for most of that. In my defense, I had two contact lenses full of dirt and ears that were aching in time to my heartbeat after standing outside in the cold wind for just ten minutes. Still, now I'm "the Mom that waited in the car", so I've got to find a way to redeem myself by doing something really tough and brave.
Suggestions are welcome . . .

We tried to get some video of that day, but they didn't turn out very well so I'm posting a video of the second launch. Can you tell Eli loved it?

Joel and the boys had such a great time building and launching them together - good call Joel!