First Birthday Home

It has been our amazing privilege to celebrate the life of Bogdan Nikolai Lakes, today! Our little guy turned four-years-old and celebrated his first birthday with us, his forever family. 

Our Serb came from a chain-smoking home. Wonder if that crayon is filtered? :)

 I struggled with a migraine off and on all day and late this morning I was laying on my bed when he sought me out to snuggle with me. We made faces for the camera.

And then he snuggled in and dozed off in my arms, which was a gift to me. 

During his fifteen-minute nap, I found myself praying for his birth mama, who was surely thinking of him on this day. It's complicated, my emotion for this woman who gave him life and then gave him up, but I hope she knows that he is well-loved and that we are grateful he is ours. 

This afternoon, it was off to a favorite park for cake and ice cream, balloons, and a rousing family game of hide and seek. Clearly the cake was the biggest hit with the birthday boy.

Not a fan of the party hat idea, so his brother, Zak, had two.

"I don't need no stinkin' spoon!"

 I cannot believe how very much we adore this kid! He fits so well in this family. Recently, he learned how to work the crowd at the dinner table and he loves all the attention!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BOGEY-BO! 

The Tattoo

There was a time when I was blissfully unaware of the misery that encompasses the life of a child who has no one. I was completely ignorant of the staggering statistics...both of the sheer numbers relating to orphans and those regarding their likely futures. I didn't even know enough to find out. Orphans and their plight just weren't on my radar. 

Now, however, they fill my prayers and my thoughts. I have a passion to make others aware in hopes of bringing change. I want to see less orphans in the world. I want to see more adoptive families, more support for families in extreme poverty that often create orphans, more funding for better orphanages, more acceptance for children with special needs, more child sponsors...just more. 

For about a year, I've wanted something tangible that visibly identifies my passion. I want to invite discussion, to open the door to share my heart. I wanted something to draw those of like minds to myself when I'm going about my daily life.

So I did what any forty-something-year-old mother of eight would do in this situation and got a tattoo. 

Pure and lasting religion in the sight of God our Father means that we must care for orphans and widows in their troubles, and refuse to let the world corrupt us. James 1:27 (NLT)

My one and only sister was good-naturedly horrified at my decision. This is the texting exchange we had before I had it done: 

Me: Not getting a tramp stamp, btw. Getting James 1:27 along the side of my wrist. ;)
Tonya: That's a long verse. What version?
Me: Just the reference, silly! Hahahaha!
Tonya: Oh! LOL!
 

Still makes me chuckle. 

I, like many other Christians, wasted a lot of years worrying about my morality and focusing on my behavior, trying so hard to look religious without actually practicing true religion. This is a reminder to me of what really matters, to focus my energy toward loving the unloved. 

I was admonished by several people that, "It's permanent," but actually, it's not. This life is not forever. We are given just a short time on this earth to accomplish that for which we were put here. I want to live my life with eternity on my mind. I want the reminder on my wrist that this is not all there is. One day, this body will die and my Bible tells me that I will be given a new one. This tattoo will die with the old one, but that which is written on my heart will not.

Of course, I could follow my friend, Bruce's advice and ensure that the tattoo lives on, as well. 

Ew. Maybe not. 

Better

We're leaving our church home of fourteen years for one that has a special needs ministry. It is not the church's fault. They have made it clear that they are happy to start a Buddy Program but we would be the test case. Frankly, we have too much going on to tackle that right now and I was finding that, as there wasn't a place for Bogdan, I was just staying home with him and isolating myself more than I already was. 

I'm feeling a bit nostalgic because of it. 

Honestly, everything changed when Eon was born. That tiny bit of extra chromosome altered the course of our lives. 

I am partly to blame. I jumped into the world of special needs with both feet, attempting to drag my friends with me. I waxed eloquent about how "normal" our lives were with Down syndrome, daring anyone to challenge me. I developed a whole new vocabulary and insisted on people first language. 

I made it all about me. 

I became so defensive, friends were uncomfortable even asking me questions and, eventually, felt unqualified to speak into my life at all. The gap between my reality and theirs widened until there was very little common ground left. I regret that aspect of this journey.

But there has been so much good, as well.

I struggled with my faith that first year. Ideas that had been nebulous speculation before, now became concrete reality. My faith deepened. I deepened as I wrestled and grappled with belief. My paradigm shifted and I released my expectations of perfection for myself and my family.

God was gracious to us. Because of it, I have more grace for others and my circle widened to include those of different faiths, or of no faith. He's teaching me, "Imago Dei"...Image of God. All people, regardless of ability, race, belief, intelligence, bank account, manners....all people are created in His image. If I look closely and love deeply, I can see Him reflected there.

My sense of justice was ignited with the birth of Eon. Discrimination of those with disabilities is not just on my radar; I see it rampant everywhere throughout the world, but no more than against the unborn with known special needs in this country. The current hunt to discover and eliminate these unborn babies smacks of eugenics. We should recoil in horror at what's being done to them instead of hiding behind "choice." 

In other countries, particularly in Eastern Europe, those that make it past the womb are in for a horror of their own. Children abandoned at birth, live in their own filth in cribs they will never leave. One percent of orphans will escape through adoption. One percent of 147 million. 

Our Bo was one of the one percent. Now that we have him and know him and love him, I am awestruck at how simple it was to meld him into our family. Don't get me wrong, just like parenting in general, adoption was ten times harder than I expected, but it was one hundred times more wonderful, too. Without Eon, we wouldn't have Bo.

Eon, himself, is hilarious. We laugh so much because of his antics! He is full of personality and engages life more fully than anyone I've ever seen. He is confident and friendly, sneaky and brazen. He makes me smile.

Life before Eon was good. While I didn't know it at the time, it was easy and comfortable. But life with Eon is amazing! It is challenging and fulfilling, crazy and deep, and decidedly not comfortable or easy.

But it is better!

He Chose Life

While in his country to adopt Bo, we were given information about his background and medical history. Some things stood out to me.

His birth parents struggled with infertility for ten years and Bo was a product of fertility treatments. Fertility treatments that often fail, but didn't this time, so insistent was he to become. 

Experts estimate that eighty percent of Down syndrome pregnancies end in miscarriage. Termination rates are high, too and in his country, prenatal testing for women over thirty-five is the law. His birth mother was thirty-four. It is a wonder he survived the womb. 

After birth, he was diagnosed with Down syndrome and a heart defect that caused pulmonary hypertension. His parents walked away. He had trouble breathing initially, and spent some time in the NICU, alone, before being placed with his foster family. 

At six months of age, the social worker picked him up and delivered him to the hospital where he underwent open-heart-surgery. He had undisclosed complications and spent many weeks in the hospital, alone, before being discharged to foster momma and returned to their home. 

In that home, filled with the smoke of unfiltered Turkish cigarettes, he continued to wheeze and was mistakenly diagnosed with asthma and prescribed nebulizer treatments which did nothing for the potentially life threatening condition he actually has. 

Unaware that he has swallowing issues, his caregivers gave him bottle after bottle of juice and milk through a nipple with an over-sized hole, in effect drowning him with every gulp and setting him up for countless bouts of pneumonia that should have cost him his life, but miraculously did not.

Even being home with us, his forever family, did not eliminate his risk of death. Not knowing about his subglottic stenosis, we mistakenly thought the bout of croup he suffered his first week home was something we could handle without medical intervention. With our new-found knowledge, we now understand that a trip to the emergency room was most definitely in order. Still he survived. 

With all the talk of terminating pregnancies for Down syndrome, no one speaks of what the child would choose. By his very survival, against all odds, Bo has spoken. He chose life. Time and time again, orphaned, abandoned, rejected and without a known future or a hope, he fought to survive. He chose to live.

He chose life.

I am so incredibly glad that he did.

Guest Blogging

I have the privilege of guest blogging for my friend, Beck Gambill, over at The Accidental Mama, today. Head over there and read my post. Leave me a comment, too!

Also, please pray for Beck this week as she's in Serbia loving on the least of these in mental institutions. 

There Are More

I've laid low on the orphan front these last few months since bringing home the new kid. I stopped reading blogs about orphans or adoption, stopped following the adoptions of other families, stopped contributing to those causes. Just dropped out.

I admit adoption was tougher than I anticipated. He's not difficult to love or get along with, but just adding another person, along with all of his appointments and dirty diapers, into the chaos of our lives was challenging. 

Having accomplished what we set off to do made me feel a bit finished with all the advocacy. And, honestly, who had time for all of that thinking? I was just trying to keep my head above water. Pride played a part, too, I'm sure. It usually does. It seemed presumptuous of me to suggest that others should do as I was, given that I wasn't doing it all that well. 

But the other night, as I was rolling over in bed thinking about how grateful I am to have him, God spoke. It was almost audible so clearly I heard it in my heart. My breath was taken from me as this thought leapt into the center of my brain.

There are more.

I sat up. What? As realization dawned...

Oh God, there are more!

As I watch this child blossom in the love of family, as I see even his skin transform from good nutrition, as I look at the devotion he has for his daddy, I remember. 

There are more. Thousands of them. No, millions of them. Orphaned, abandoned, rejected.

Alone.

My boy is not special. He is funny and quirky and delightful...and special to me, but EVERY child has the potential to be funny and quirky and delightful and special to the people who love them!

Every orphan has that potential...all of them.

I get lulled into complacency on this cruise ship called America. I begin to think that my next vacation or how much sleep I'm getting or where to find the best local coffee is real life. 

But it's not. 

If you try to keep your life for yourself, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for me, you will find true life.  And how do you benefit if you gain the whole world but lose your own soul in the process? Is anything worth more than your soul? Matthew 16:25-26 

If I live for myself, I'll lose my soul.  Real life is gained when we give ourselves away. How could I forget those we left behind?

There are children without homes. Children who have never experienced love and have probably lived their whole lives without experiencing a kind word or gentle touch. Children whose care is a paycheck to someone, if they get any care at all. Many of them will die from neglect, starvation, or lack of medical care. 

And these children could blossom if they could just find someone who will give a damn about them. 

Rescue those who are unjustly sentenced to death; don't stand back and let them die. Don't try to avoid responsibility by saying you didn't know about it. For God knows all hearts, and he sees you. He keeps watch over your soul, and he knows you knew! And he will judge all people according to what they have done. Proverbs 24:11-12

 There are more. So, so many more. 

Giveaway WINNER

The winner of the Trades of Hope giveaway is....

SABRINA!!!

Thanks to all of you who entered! Please remember Rainy's site when you have gifts to give. 

Sabrina, please email me your address so we can get your scarf to you. 

Congratulations!