White Christmas

The sky was a clear, bright blue banner reaching overhead, as two cars slowly drove down the main street of the picturesque skiing village of Stowe, Vermont.  It was the day before Christmas, and after a quick stop in the town's general store to stock up on warm woollens, the two cars, carrying 6 people, wound toward the top of a mountain on a road lined with pine trees covered in snow, and glistening in the bright light.  At the top, the six people climbed into a red wooden sleigh behind two Belgian horses that pulled the riders through the snow-covered fields  in the bracing cold as they huddled beneath the blankets and sang a round of Jingle Bells before taking us back to the lodge run by the family whose escape from Nazi-occupied Austria became the musical A Sound of Music.

In a two-horse open sleigh in Stowe, Vermont

It sounds like a movie, doesn't it?  This was Christmas 2011.  Because when you are in Vermont and it's Christmas, you get to do things like that.

Like a postcard, Stowe, Vermont on Christmas Eve

I can't tell you how happy that I was when I stepped out of the Burlington airport to find it snowing after a week when we'd been told a white Christmas wasn't in the cards.  The snow let us do the sleigh ride at the Trapp Family Lodge (you would know their story best as the Von Trapps) above Stowe, Vermont and inspired a trip to the ice skating rink on top of the more traditional holiday celebrations of presents, home cooked turkey dinner and an evening of board games.

Downtown Stowe is decked out in its holiday finest

Our sleigh ride gave us a beautiful view of the winter wonderland of Vermont's Green Mountains

I escaped an hour and a half of ice skating without my butt meeting the ice even once.  Success!

The only thing missing was my better half, an absence I felt acutely on this holiday so centered around family.  Our decision for separate Christmases was predicated on the fact that we wanted to save Troy's vacation time for when we get the call that a new family member is joining us.  It is my sincerest intentions that this was the first and last time we are spending Christmas apart.

After so much excitement, it's good to be home again.

Traditions of Christmas Past

For a long time, I really struggled with identifying our family's Christmas traditions.  It seemed we always did things the same from year to year, but I never really identified those things as "family traditions."  In my mind, a family Christmas tradition was something like gathering at Grandpa's feet while he sat in the rocking chair and read A Christmas Carol.  Or a traditional stuffing recipe that was passed down from my great great great great grandmother who made it during the Civil War.  Or bundling up in warm coats, hats and mittens to serenade our neighbors with a collective off-kilter rendition of We Wish You A Merry Christmas from their front porch.  Forgive me for that moment of sadness, when I thought of all of the things that I didn't have to pass on to our child.

But, wait.  Am I kidding?  Of course we have traditions.  And we can make traditions (ooh, I see a future blog post in the making).  I have nothing to be sad about.

Take, for instance, the annual hunt for the perfect Christmas Tree.  When we moved out here 8 years ago, Troy suggested that we find a Christmas tree farm and cut our own tree.  To a suburban girl in the country, that sounded like a dream come true.  I'd never really thought I'd have an opportunity to do it, so the suggestion  grew like a flame on dry tinder.  And 8 years (and 8 perfectly imperfect trees) later, we continue to trudge out to the middle of the field, where the dog finds every mud puddle or dried leaf, decide on a "small tree" in the field, only to find that on the car ride home it has mysteriously grown two feet and what looked like a perfectly reasonable tree in the field is now too tall for me to fit the start on top.

And then there is my annual trek back to my childhood home in Elkhart to see my high school's Christmas variety show, Christmas Spectacular (Spec, for short) in the company of my parents.  I believe this year, the show is celebrating its 30th anniversary, and I have been there, either as a spectator or participant for 20 of the last 21 shows.  I have seen at least a dozen renditions of the Concord Singers' Fruitcake and even endured the one year that someone decided that Parade of the Wooden Soldiers had been done before and removed it from the show.  Of course it had been done before, but it's simply not Spec without Parade and it simply isn't Christmas without Spec.

Or the pilgrimage to Midnight Mass, where we have to be early so that we can hear the choir sing the prelude of Christmas carols and, more importantly, so that we can join our voices to the gathered congregation.

And, as I experienced last night, the absolute joy I find in turning off all of the house lights so that I can watch Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown by the lights of the Christmas tree while I recite the dialog word for word and "do do do" along with the animated cast to Hark the Herald Angels Sing.

And on Christmas day, when one person dons the elfin headgear to pass out presents, one at a time, while all of the family watches the receiver's joy of opening a gift and the giver is thanked with gratitude in front of the whole family.

And the post-dinner game of Rummy when things among family members get a little bit heated in the most friendly way (it isn't called Crap on your Neighbor for nothing).

These are the legacy of the Stinson family that I can't wait to pass along to the next generation while we wait to create our own holiday traditions that bridge the generations.

After 11 Years...

November 25th marked our 11th anniversary, and as I write this, I can see a framed photo from that day and marvel at how young we looked.  And how young we were.  And how right this was back then and how right it continues to be.

Last year, we took on the biggest physical challenge of our lives (to date).  The 500 Festival Mini-Marathon became a metaphor for our marriage.  We started out together, eager and optimistic.  As the walk continued, we allowed each other to set our own pace.  We were still in close proximity and shared encouraging smiles over the short distance.  We met back up at the most difficult part of the journey, the 2 1/2 mile trek around the Indianapolis Motor Speedway's banked track, and encouraged each other and talked to keep our minds off our hip and back pain.  Then, as I started to slow down, I demanded Troy continue on.  I wasn't confident of finishing and I refused to keep him from reaching his goal.  He went forward, but stopped occasionally and waited until I met up with him to make sure that I was still moving and to encourage me to continue on.  And as I came into sight of the finish line, there he was, pacing just short of the timing strip, waiting to take my hand so that we could finish together.

After 11 years...

Towers have fallen, unemployment has risen. 

Wars have begun and been promised to end. 

Elections have been contested and elections have been historic.

The Colts survived a run back of a kick off in a Super Bowl win and perished by an on-side kick in a Super Bowl loss. 

Friday Night Lights has come and gone.

And still we have each other.

Thankful

Many of my Facebook friends have been expressing their thanks all month long with daily statements of those things they were most thankful for.  I admire their efforts to do that on a daily basis, and I, too give my thanks to God each evening for His gifts in my life, but that list is largely the same day in and day out with a few thankful exclamations during the day when I rediscover my misplaced car key, or find out that the dribble from lunch didn't stain my new sweater. 

It's difficult to put into words my thanks for the wonderful things in my life.  Too often I feel that a few words of gratitude are simply inadequate.  I know how blessed I am.  So, with all humility and the certain knowledge that mere words will fail me, here is my list:

1.  I am thankful for my wonderful husband who is my partner in life, a dear friend, a confidant, and absolutely my better half.  Without him, my life would be without color and passion.

2.  I am thankful for my parents who have taken the idea of loving and supporting their children to a whole new level.  Someday, I will write a blog post entitled, "A Mello, A Volleyball, An Airplane and A Parent" to explain further.  They have both been excellent role models for me in their personal, professional and spiritual life.

3.  I am thankful for my sisters.  Sometimes they are as different from me as night from day, and yet it never keeps us from laughing, crying, sharing and caring.  I probably don't tell them often enough, but I am so proud of the women they have become, beautiful outside and in.

4.  I am thankful for my Monty and Tyson.  Dogs love unconditionally and know without having to be told when I need the comfort of a warm furry body wrapped around my feet, in my lap, or (on occasion) in my face, especially during a particularly stressful Notre Dame or Colts football game. 

5.  I am thankful that I have a roof over my head, and more than that, that we have this particular house.  Sure there are bigger houses out there, and those that are fancier.  But this one is ours, in its heart and soul, and I love it.

6.  I am thankful that, not only do I have a job, but that I have one that I enjoy, that challenges me, that provides me with co-workers whom I genuinely like, and a boss that has gone out of his way to show his appreciation for his staff in general and me in particular.

7.  I am thankful for my health.  I have not missed a day of work for illness in what has probably been 3 years.  Now, I will knock on wood.

8.  I am thankful for my faith.  The joy and comfort that it gives me has gotten me through some pretty difficult times, especially over the past couple of years. 

9.  I am thankful for the worship community of St. Mary's Episcopal Church.  Just over a year ago, they welcomed me with open arms and have become a source of inspiration and fun. 

10.  I am thankful that I am who I am.  Not long ago, I was devastated to read the words: practical, intelligent, and makes me think through things before being spontaneous in my husband's entry under the Why We Love Each Other heading on our profile letter.  Yes, the words were true, and he meant them to be complimentary, but they seemed so very cold and boring, not at all likely to inspire a woman to think, "That's a perfect quality for the mother of my child to have."  Those were words to describe a buzz kill of a person.  Then a couple of weeks ago, a friend of mine came into the office clearly upset and pulled me aside.  After venting and seeking my advice, she said, "I was so hoping you were there, because I knew you could make me calm down and think straight."  It's really all a matter of prospective, and now I've got that too.  Incidentally, those qualities will likely come in very handy in the teen years...

11.  I am thankful for my friends and neighbors.  It's good to know that if I dropped off of the face of the earth, someone would notice....and feed the dogs for me.

And last, but by no means least...

12. I am thankful for where we are in the expansion of our family.  I believe that God's plan all along was for us to journey down this path, and my generous family members, both alive and gone, have helped us move down this road.  We are blessed that we have had the support that we've been given and that we are able to pursue the avenues that we did to welcome a child in our lives.  Though adoption wasn't our first choice, it is our best choice and we are so lucky to be in a position to be able to pursue it.   

Have a Happy Thanksgiving.

The Power of Words

One of the things I absolutely deplore about today's society is the phrase, "Just keepin' it real," which apparently means that whatever rude thing that I have just said must be forgiven because I am just telling it the way I see it and you can't judge me or my rudeness. 

The fact is, our words have power, and throughout this adoption process, I have come into contact with some very well-meaning people who have no idea how the words that they use betray society's deep held beliefs that adoption is a shameful failure.

For example, I've heard the very common term "give up for adoption" frequently used to describe the process from the prospective of a birth parent.  Until I started this journey, I would say the same thing.  But look at what is implied in those four simple words.  It implies that the people who sought adoption for their birth child were throwing in the towel.  They just weren't trying hard enough.  They simply quit on their child and the responsibilities of parenthood. 

By and large, these women don't abandon their children.  They are carefully weighing their options.  They are making a very conscientious decision.  And they are are doing something all good parents do: they are making a choice with the best interest of their child outweighing their personal desires. 

I'd like to invite you to use the alternative when discussing a birth parent's decision: "placing a child in an adoption".  Making a placement plan implies forethought, and effort, and concern.  And that is what the reality is for most of these women.  And that's just keepin' it real.

"Glee"fully Aware: Television's Role in Raising Adoption Awareness

I have never had a difficult time telling fact from fiction where television is concerned.  Most television dramas are intended to entertain and news and documentaries are intended to educate.  Rarely is that line so distinct in the real world, however.  And many of the dramas on television today attempt to set themselves apart amid the clutter of hundreds of cable channels and thousands of television shows through cutting edge plot lines that no other show wants to touch.

One of the recent new hit shows that thrives on exposing and humorously diffusing previously avoided awkward situations is the musical dramady, Glee.  From a cheerleader with Downs Syndrome, to an openly gay relationship; from bullying to mixed families, Glee features a variety of situations that earlier shows shied away from, and though there is always a humorous, slightly nonsensical element to it, it embraces the "misfits" with loving arms.

No one in their right mind would mistake the show for real life. 

But, whether the writers intended it or not, by making these stories such a prominent part of the show and by embracing these story lines, they have also embraced the task of bringing awareness to these situations.  That has never been more evident than with the recently resurrected story of Quinn's decision to place her and Puck's baby with an adoptive family. 

In the first season, Quinn--popular, pretty Cheerio and New Directions member--experienced an unplanned pregnancy, and after a season of confusing and unrealistic plot complications, placed her daughter Beth with a rival glee club coach who happened to be the birth mother of Quinn's glee club rival Rachel.  In the second season, you'd think the writers had forgotten all about this prominent story line.  But by season three, it was time to resurrect it...unfortunately.

Shelby, Beth's mother, moves to Lima and takes a job in Quinn and Puck's high school.  She confronts Quinn about her destructive lifestyle and dangles the promise of an open adoption before her to encourage her to act more responsibly.  And after a single night in the company of Beth and Shelby, Quinn decides to go "good" again in an effort to "get full custody," which she believes will happen in a matter of weeks.

And just like that, the writers have gone off the deep end.

Now, I don't expect these writers to get everything right.  Or most things right.  After all, anyone who watches this show accepts the need to suspend their disbelief for 60 minutes, and a really true to life story line would stick out like a sore thumb.  But  I did not expect them to write a story line based solely on research gleaned from Lifetime movies. 

This story line does a huge disservice to all members of the adoption triad.  It portrays birth mothers as unstable baby snatchers.  It feeds the fears of hopeful adoptive parents that their adoption is not permanent and subject to revocation at anytime in the 18 years of their son's or daughter's childhood.  It treats innocent adoptees as objects to be passed between waring parties.

Most people that have offered opinions on this particular story line seem to understand that it is far-fetched and rooted in the very active imaginations of the writers.  But the target audience of this show are the very teens that it depicts, and when the writers are showing their contempt for the women who choose an adoption plan by showing them to be crazy, spiteful and desperate, it plants seeds of doubt in their heads about the wisdom of an adoption plan.

When only 3% of the teenagers who give birth to a child make an adoption plan, it is important to examine why.  Adoption is not the answer for every unplanned pregnancy, no matter the age of the mother.  But, for many teen moms, they haven't even considered adoption because they believe adoption is still the closed, shameful and secretive institution of the 60's.  And Glee's writers should have taken the opportunity, not necessarily to advocate for adoption, but certainly not to advocate against it.

The optimist in me says that at least people are talking about adoption, and no press is bad press.  But I wonder which is worse--not talking about adoption at all, or perpetuating the lies?

November is National Adoption Month

November is National Adoption Month, a month dedicated to raising awareness about adoption and celebrating families created through adoption.  Throughout the month, I will be posting my views about how society sees adoption in the hope that my readers will take the opportunity to examine their beliefs about adoption. 

Since the beginning of this blog, I've been searching for my voice.  The process is a lot like trying on clothes.  You like how things look on the mannequins, but until you try it on yourself, you just aren't sure of how it will actually look, feel and fit on you. 

I intend to continue to provide glimpses into our lives throughout the blog, but wanted to take this opportunity to try and flesh out some thoughts about adoption that seem pretty persistent in my head.  I appreciate feedback from you and hope that this provides at least a little food for thought this November.

From Burden to Blessing...Our Journey To Embracing Open Adoption

November is National Adoption Month.  This month, I'd like to take the opportunity to reflect on the journey we have personally undertaken.  The following post was written in October, but I have held it for this occasion.

It was one year ago this month that Troy held me as I wept at the devastating news that our third, and what would be our final, attempt at IVF had failed. After I had dried out, he sat down across the table from me and gave me a directive. "Research all of our options. I want to know everything that we can do." As the planner of the family, the person who loves to research and dig into something, I was grateful to accept the task he had set me to. It gave me something to think about. It made me feel like I was moving in a direction. It gave me some purpose. I believe he knew that it was exactly what I needed.

A week later, we sat back down and I had a pro and con list for every option that was available to us including accepting the mantle as permanent DINKs (dual income no kids), embryo adoption and international adoption. I remember that the domestic infant adoption section of my list had a particular concern of mine in bold under the cons: Domestic adoption laws don’t inspire confidence of permanency. Also under the con: Open Adoption.

I can't speak for any other prospective adoptive parents (PAPs), but from what I have gleaned from our agency, and from reading about adoptions in the era of openness, my stance was not atypical. Social workers and authors have said that this is because we PAPs are often insecure about our right to parent after often failing to become pregnant or carrying a pregnancy to term. And those insecurities mean that we perceive birth families as threats to our authority. All I knew was that in every Lifetime Movie I had ever watched (unfortunately Lifetime was the only experience I had of adoption at that time) the plot line revolved around biological parents returning and either legally or illegally regaining custody of their children. Those story lines certainly didn't "inspire confidence of permanency."

I tried to convince Troy that international adoption was the way to go. Not only did 5 weeks in Russia sound like an adventure, but we would not have to worry about those pesky birth parents stalking us or stealing our baby back in the middle of the night. But the cost and time frame were hard to justify and Lifetime Movies were a horrible source upon which to base this life-changing decision.

I sought out information from our agency, the Independent Adoption Center, primarily because their placement time frames seemed to be the shortest around. I read about Open Adoption skeptically, thinking it was more a necessary evil that we would have to learn to cope with in order to shorten our wait time, than a preferred way of life. Eventually, we chose the IAC, though our reluctance in open adoption was ever-present.

For our homestudy, we were required to read two books. Everyone read the first, Children of Open Adoption, and we got to choose our second. Since going down this road of open adoption, I had sought out what seemed to be the bible on Open Adoption, a book entitled Dear Birthmother, co-written by our agency's founder and a pioneer in the field of open adoption. Since I already owned that book, I choose it as our second title.

I have long been fascinated with the power of the written word and love reading letters, which made our choice of Dear Birthmother a particularly moving one. The book is composed mainly of correspondence between members of the adoption triad (birthparents, adoptive parents and adoptees) explaining the reasons they chose adoption, and their wishes for their loved ones that support the dismantling of the four myths of adoption, some of which I admittedly believed. The poignancy of the letters and the deep expressions of love and hope with which the adoption decision was made made me cry and made me think.

All of a sudden, it wasn't, as one of my old colleague's mentioned, "adopting the birth parent, too." It was honoring the role that another family played in our child's life. It was respecting their sacrifices, and the hope and expectations that drove them to this decision. It was allowing our child the answers to all of the tough questions from the very people that made the decisions. It was also allowing us the opportunity to share something special with even more people.

On occasion, I will re-read my journal from a year ago when we were weighing our options. I laugh now because each entry seemed to point in a different direction. It truly seemed we were a bit rudderless there for a time. But now, with experience and research, and a good dose of reality, I can say that our compass is pointed firmly due north, toward our future with an Open Adoption, no longer a burden, but a blessing for our family's future.

October Surprise!

I love autumn.  The vibrant reds, yellows, oranges and (my very favorite) bright pinks of the leaves changing color make every familiar road a surprise.  The weather is chilly but not cold, perfect for a good mug of hot cocoa, an old, broken-in sweatshirt and thick slipper socks.  Saturdays and Sundays ripe with battles on the gridiron.  And the sounds of drums and horns fill the air and flashes of brilliant silks of every color shimmer under the lights on football fields around the state.

Next to December, October is my favorite month and this year, it has been a busy one.  All of the above have played large parts.  But the colors have started to fade to a barren brown, the weather has taken a blustery turn, and the football has been, well, a bit like Jekyll and Hyde...you never know which team is going to come and play.  The corn maze has been visited, the pumpkins plucked from the "most sincere pumpkin patch around", the Great Pumpkin has been watched and the pumpkins carved.  Since we're too old to Trick or Treat, that leaves one final activity for the month...Indiana State School Music Association's Marching Band State Championships.

The Class B field of 10 Finalists

As I was waiting for my alma mater's class to begin, my eyes were drawn to the huge HD video screens in the corners of Lucas Oil Stadium, where played an interview with someone who was also a former marcher in one of the Indiana high school marching bands.  I had to laugh when they said, "It's one of those things that when you start out you wonder why you are doing this and you aren't having fun, but then one day you look up and you realize it's gotten into your blood."  Preach it, brother!

It was 20 years ago that I was struggling with those same feelings as a freshman in the Concord High School Marching Minutemen.  My family often reminds me of my coming home one Wednesday evening (the night of the intensive weekly 3 hour rehearsals) in tears because I hated marching band so much, I didn't know what I was doing, and I wasn't going to be able to do it.  They sympathized with me, but told me that since I had committed and others were counting on me, I had to honor my commitments.  Next year, though, I could choose not to march. 

Two months later, as the season came to an end on the AstroTurf of the (then) Hoosier Dome, I was devastated that marching band was over for the season.  It had gotten into my blood.

One year later, we marched off the field as the last band standing, bringing our school's first Class B State Championship trophy home to Elkhart.  And twenty years later, I had the great pleasure of being in the crowd as, once again, the Marching Minutemen were the last band standing. 

To my fellow marchers, one day, if you haven't had the time already, you will reflect upon the kind of man or woman this activity has moulded you into: the kind who wakes before dawn not because someone told you to, but because you told yourself you needed to; the kind who helps someone else because you win and lose as a unit; one whose honor dictates that even though no one else knew you messed up, you do the push-ups anyway. 

Congratulations to all the young men and women that make up the 2011 Class B State Champion Marching Minutemen.  I am proud to have worn the green and white. 

Pardon our mess....

I don't know how Troy instinctively understands how to do construction.  Maybe it's because he has a "math brain" and was accepted to Rose-Hulman (13th year at the top of US News and World Report's Top Engineering Colleges in the Country...Tami shout out!), but I watch him build the deck and am in awe.  He's only a couple of days from finishing up part one of the deck project (get deck built) to await the completion of phase two of the deck project (get roof built out).  And throughout this time, I've been the trusty screw hander-outer and board lifter-upper.  Brute strength is not really my best skill, but I can help in even a modest way (or especially in a modest way) to make things easier.

Unfortunately, Mother Nature seems to want to make up for a rather dry summer all in one fell swoop and we're getting some pretty constant, if only occasionally heavy, rain.  Our deck project is now mired in mud so it's on hold now until it gets a little dryer and the ground a little firmer. 

Yesterday, before the endless rain started, was a perfect morning for a little bit of a walk.  My employer participated in the Indianapolis Sports Corporation's Corporate Challenge and since my challenge is, was, and always will be an utter lack of grace and balance (and those pesky weak ankles), my contribution was participating in the 5K fitness walk (as well as an enjoyable, but less than successful effort bowling last weekend).  People, pets and kids in strollers walked the banks of the White River at a nice pace, just enough to get the heart rate up a little and feel a nice burn in the legs.  Not only did I get to start my day with an energy boost from exercise, but I got to store important knowledge from those parents around me for the days when  I will be one myself.  What was the most important lesson I learned?  It is not a good idea to give your child keys to entertain themselves with as you walk near the side of a pedestrian bridge.  Especially if your child has shown a propensity toward a future career as an MBL pitcher.  Nothing good can come of that.

Here's to a dry and mild week, another Sunday School lesson that will engage the kids and hopefully a completed deck before hunting season starts on Saturday!

September 9, 2011

Dear Baby,

I made it to Vermont and back and am happy to report that I had a wonderful time.  Some day, you will enjoy going to Vermont, a place with lots of trees and lots of dogs.  Oh, the people in Vermont love their canine friends, and this weekend your aunt and uncle were taking care of 12 canine legs belonging to three dogs. 



Bearlington gets his heart before getting his happiness fluff



You will really enjoy a stop at the Vermont Teddy Bear Factory.  It's a place where you can go around and administer a "hug test" to stuffed bears of various shapes, sizes and softness.  In fact, you can even create your own bear.  While I promise to let you do so in the future, I'm happy to say that you have a couple of bears that are waiting for you in your nursery right now.  Bearlington is a very huggable carmel colored bear that has been filled with what I am assured is 100% pure happiness fluff.  Furmont, his friend, is a soft and furry chocolate brown bear that was filled to the brim with love fluff.  I know this because I was the one who created them.

Until you are ready to travel to Vermont to see your aunt and uncle and make your own teddy bear, these two will keep you company.



Bearlington (l.) and Furmont were born at the Vermont Teddy Bear Factory in Shelburn, VT on September 3, 2011



Sometime, we'll also take you up to Quebec to visit Parc Safari. Hopefully, we'll not have to contend with mud created by a tropical storm and we can see the giraffes striding among the other animals. But even if they are in their pens, we'll have fun feeding and petting the other animals just like we did this past weekend.  

We got up close and personal with some American Bison, too.  While they were smaller than I expected them to be, they were large enough to strike fear into the heart of Tracy.

The furry beast behind Tracy is an American Bison

I have also heard that during the fall, winter and spring, there are dogsled rides at a place nearby.  The next time I go out there when the rivers aren't high and the roads aren't closed and the people aren't stranded, I'll take a dogsled trip and see if its something you would enjoy.  I suspect it would be.

Soon, baby, you'll be joining us on these adventures!

Love,

Toni

Change of Direction

One of the best things about being human is that we possess the ability to learn and to grow.  And after reading through past posts, I came away with a sense that I was a little bit lost...and I was the one who wrote them.  I have no idea how lost you've felt while I've searched for my point of view.  The truth is it's hard to write when you don't have a sense of who your audience is.  Am I talking to fellow prospective adoptive parents or expectant parents?  Interested friends and family or internet strangers?  So I am making up an audience.  I invite you all to continue with us on our journey.

Oh, and as a PS, hello to Tracy and Jason who have been checking this blog daily since I posted on Facebook that I would be writing about my recent trip to see them in Vermont.  Happy Anniversary!

Through Different Eyes

I am one of those people who finds rail travel romantic.  Yes, I know.  Train travel is not necessarily the fastest way to get between point A and B, and often times rail travel across country can be darn right unreliable (someday I'll relate my travels on Amtrak's Desert Wind...I know unreliable).  But there is something magical about the train that transforms the view out the window. 

While I've seen it happen in many different ways, the most stunning was at the end of one of my most recent trips.  I was sitting in the train as it rolled into the town that I had grown up in.  Along the south side of the train, a four lane unlimited access highway dotted with big box stores and restaurants, a mall and a junior high school, and church after church paralleled the train tracks.  I'd traveled this road many times.  I could probably drive it blindfolded and not miss a light or turn into the wrong parking lot.  But somehow, looking out the window, I saw my old stomping ground through new eyes.  By moving north 100 feet and elevating myself, my hometown looked as new and foreign to me as had Cumberland, Maryland and Martinsburg, West Virginia had earlier in my trip. 

Strangely, I was reminded of this while I was sitting in my seat at a pre-season Colts game this evening.  I was sitting behind a family of Packers fans (though they all professed to be Colts fans second).  The family consisted of mom, dad, a boy of about 8 and a girl of about 10.  Unlike many of the other opposing team fans I've had the "pleasure" to sit with, this family was polite and friendly, and their enjoyment of the game and their enthusiasm was very clear.  Maybe the reason that they were so polite and friendly was because this was a pre-season game and the outcome didn't matter.  But that's also what makes their enjoyment and enthusiasm so unique.

Where most people see pre-season games as a chore, something to attend so tickets, either their own or their friend's,don't go unused, this family enjoyed this for what it was:  an opportunity to see their favorite team in a beautiful stadium under the star-spangled sky with their family. 

A couple of years ago, I took my neighbor girl (a self-professed Jaguars fan) to the first pre-season game played in Lucas Oil Stadium.  I was prepared to take her to the game, watch through the first half and head home.  But it became obvious from the moment we parked that she was enthralled.  Her eyes were wide as we went into the stadium.  She cheered for every third string player that got on the field.  She thought the stadium hot dog was gourmet food and she refused to leave until the clock read triple zeros after the fourth quarter had been played.  On our way out, she drug her feet, agonized over just the right souvenir to purchase that would remind her of her first NFL game.

And throughout the night, she showed me what it was like to be a kid again, by seeing things through her eyes.

I can't for us to discover the world again by looking through our child's eyes, where everything old and familiar becomes new again.

Helping the Lord Help Us

I believe that God has a plan for all of us, and that His plan is perfect.  I believe that God will give us everything we need to live a good life.  I believe that God is good.

I am also a firm believer that God helps those who help themselves. 

My philosophy on this topic is pretty well illustrated by a funny parable I once heard that has stuck with me for years.  The story goes like this:

An elderly man named Mr. Jones lived in a home in the low lands by the river.  One day, after a bad storm had moved through the area, neighbors pulled up to Mr. Jones's home in a truck and called out to him.  "Mr. Jones, come with us.  The river is rising and you will be in danger if you stay."  Mr. Jones shook his head and sent them away with the comment, "I'm not worried.  The Lord will save me!"

Hours later, with the water flooding the first story of his home, a boat arrived at his door and the men inside called out to him, "Mr. Jones, we've come to take you to safer ground!  Please get in the boat!"  Mr. Jones shook his head and sent them away with the comment, "I'm not worried.  The Lord will save me!"

A few hours after the boat left, the water had risen to the second story and had forced Mr. Jones to the roof of his home.  Hovering above him was a helicopter.  A man leaned out from the helicopter, lowered a rescue basket and said, "Mr. Jones, we're here to rescue you!  Please get in the basket!"  Mr. Jones shook his head and sent them away with the comment, "I'm not worried.  The Lord will save me!"

Soon the water destroyed the house, washing it away, and with it, Mr. Jones.  His next conscious thought was while he was standing in front of the Lord in heaven.  He looked at the Lord with confusion and said, "Lord, I thought you were going to save me!  I had faith in you.  What happened?"

The Lord responded, "I sent you a truck, a boat and a helicopter.  What more did you want?"

Sometimes, God's intervention comes in ways that we don't expect, and it's important not to be so biased that you can't see what you aren't really looking for. 

In this new era of social networking, statistics say that nearly 10% of adoption matches are made through personal networking.  That means that about 20 of my agency's clients will match with an expectant mother through their own networking efforts.  I don't know that our efforts will result in us being one of those 20, but I do know that if we don't make any efforts, we certainly won't be.

So we've put together profile letters, purchased business cards to leave places we visit, created a Facebook page (www.facebook.com/toniandtroy), begged people to "like" us on said Facebook page, created a YouTube page, tracked the views and hoped for comments, created a profile website (www.iheartadoption.org/users/toniandtroy) and checked our inbox several times a day. 

I pray to God every night that women in unplanned pregnancies will feel the blessing of His love and comfort as they weigh their options.  I pray that we will soon be blessed with a child. And I pray that He will make us worthy of the holy vocation of parenthood through His mercy and grace.  And then the next day, I continue to work on our marketing plan, because maybe this technology is the vehicle God is sending us to fulfill His plan for our family.

Why everyone should do a homestudy

A homestudy is an integral part of the adoption process.  Though it does include a visit to the home, the homestudy really is a much more complex process of criminal background checks, employment verification, personal references, medical exams, interviews and pre-adoption education.  It's a collection of information that allows a social worker to determine, to the best of his or her ability, the stability of our relationships, our fitness to be parents and our preparedness for parenting a child who was adopted. 

After the frustration of infertility and the lack of control in the adoption process, many prospective adoptive parents vent their frustration on the homestudy process.  It isn't uncommon to hear the lament, "Why do so many good people who would be great parents have to jump through so many hoops when other people don't have any prerequisites to have kids?" or the more direct, "I know people who should have to go through a homestudy to see if they would be allowed to parent."

I think everyone should go through the process of a homestudy, whether they are looking to adopt or ready to start their family biologically.  Not for what it tells someone else, but for what it tells you about yourself.  It isn't about someone else telling you you are ready to parent, but rather putting yourself in the best mindset to parent. 

Through the process of interviews and autobiographies, it gave me an opportunity to put my life in perspective, especially my relationships with others.  With all the coming and going that is part of life, it's easy to forget to appreciate the things you love about your spouse, your family, your work and your life.  Having a reason to reflect on those things lets you reassess all of the other activities in life and makes you really appreciate what you have.  It helps you reaffirm the choices you've made in life and maybe even point out a few that you would have changed.

This reevaluation and perspective can only make people better parents and strong families, either biological or adoptive.

Putting the "Active" in Actively Waiting Part 1: Do Something!

Ask anyone who has been through IVF what the hardest part was and they'll probably tell you the dreaded two week wait.  It's the time after the procedure where you are injecting viscous oily hormones into your backside with a big long needle while you over-analyze every twinge, pain, and flutter of your body trying to determine whether the little embryos burrowed in and are growing.  There is nothing you can do but wait. And though it only takes two weeks, it feels like it has taken years by time you either break down and pee on a stick or stand strong and go in for your blood test.

Needless to say, it was the waiting that caused me the greatest struggle.

So now, we're in the same position.  Waiting.  Though this time it is actually labeled "actively waiting" which makes me chuckle.  But in reality, something I thought was just an ironic little label is actually an instruction.  I need to be active during my wait, or else I will drive Troy totally batty (and he's the most patient person I know...what does that say about me?)

So I need a hobby or to take up a sport.  Actually, I just need to find something to do with myself until I can be immersed in football and marching band.  Once the Fighting Irish, the Colts and PuntersArePeopleToo (my fantasy football team) kick off and the marching musicians hit the field, time will simply fly.  But until then, I need to do something.


I'm not a particularly athletic person.  You know that dart player guy in the Zoosk commercial (chicka-KOW)?  Well, I'm not even that skilled.  I have poor balance, no grace, little strength and a right ankle that is probably held together with chicken wire and duct tape and which sprains if you look at it funny (see, there it goes!).  But (on most days) even I can walk, can't I?  And if you add a backpack, high topped boots, a trekking pole and reduce the path from a four foot wide cement ribbon to a twelve inch wide winding and uneven dirt footpath, well then it becomes a sport!  I'm finally an athlete!  Well, at least as much as that dart player is!

So off we go, visiting the quiet forests, scenic lake shores and dried creek beds of southern Indiana's hill country.  It feels good to accomplish something concrete, something quantifiable.  To do something physical and challenging that makes your muscles ache and your blood hum.  And a nice little walk in the woods, of say 10 miles, well, it does a little something for the soul, too.

MTV's Take on Adoption

I don't usually watch MTV and until last week, I had never seen a single episode of either Teen Mom or 16 &  Pregnant.  But when I was setting up my DVR for my run of Sunday night television (The Glee Project, In Plain Sight, and Food Network Star), I stumbled across the episode of 16 & Pregnant featuring Catelynn and Tyler.  Admittedly, I only recorded it when I saw that the couple were making plans for an adoption plan, and was skeptical that anything related to MTV would treat the subject seriously.

Much to my surprise, I laughed, I cried, I cringed, and I cheered.  I was humbled by the maturity of Catelynn and Tyler.  The choices that they made, how they dealt with them and their support for each other was only eclipsed by their obvious love for their daughter. 

Sitting on the other side of the profile letter, I have given thought to the expectant parents' thought processes, but seeing how they made the decisions they did, and their struggles with the grief process really served as a learning process for me.  I was amazed by their ability to feel the pain of loss and not allow it to overrule a decision that they truly believed was best.

Humbling.

You only get one chance to make a first impression (or the Dear Birthmother Letter)

I'm glad that I have a minor in marketing because one of the most frightening things to contend with in the preparation to become active in our agency's book is that fact that we have one opportunity to show who we are and what makes us unique as the expectant mother (and father) sort the stack of letters into "yes" and "no" piles or decide whether to save our web profile as a favorite.  So, how do you take 10 1/2 years of marriage and all 30+ years of your life and distill it into 4 pages? 

We began our process by looking at samples from other couples who have worked with our agency.  When we did, both Troy and I realized that we did very little reading, but spent time commenting on the photos.  It was valuable to know that that's how we "read" a letter, because that was how we approached the letter going forward.

Our agency gives their clients 17 templates to use, or you can choose to have a graphic designer create your letter.  Since we had a budget for "marketing" and it wouldn't allow for a graphic designer, we opted for the templates.  Knowing that we were visual people, and comfortable with the knowledge that we had a collection of good photos from which to choose, we immediately identified the template that would allow us to use the most photos.  Even at that, we only had 15 photos to convey all facets of our lives that made us the couple we are.  So we knew that beyond the 900 word allowance we had, we could further tell our story with the overall design of the letter.

We began by identifying those personality traits we wanted to highlight.  It was like a company identifying their corporate culture.  We wanted to show our sense of humor.  We wanted to show we were laid back and friendly more Casual Friday than Business Attire.  We like being outside, and living in the country.  All of this was important for our letter layout. 

First, we chose a letter template that looked less formal.  It didn't lack professionalism, but the overall layout was casual with photos turned slightly on their axises and corners overlapping.  The other template had a very symmetrical layout, with color blocking and the look was simply "to slick" for the people that we are.  Next, we had to decide on a color palate.  I tried many in variations in blues, yellows and reds, but in the end, we chose earth tones with the overall color a nice sage green, boarders of maize yellow, body text in charcoal grey and the headings in rust red.  Now that I think of it, it's the same color palette as our living room, so it truly describes us.  Finally, we tried font after font, and finally decided that a serif font (the ones that have the little feet on the letters) was again too formal.  We chose a sans serif font that looked less stuffy and more relaxed.

Now that the layout was telling the story of who we were, we could move on to the content.  In may ways, this was easier than the layout, because the message was more blatant, the story more obvious.  The most important is the front photo, the main photo of us as a couple.  Our agency had lots of rules about what photos we could use and which we couldn't, most of which were pretty standard portrait photography rules.  The most important of these was that we had to look natural, approachable and friendly.  My dad, the photographer who took our photo, did a wonderful job capturing this, but I think it may have been my mother who insured the success of the photo as she said something that generated a laugh just before my dad took the photo.  The result is the single best photo of my husband and I in our 10 1/2 years of marriage.

The rest of the photos were chosen with care: a variety of horizontal and vertical shots and candid and posed photos.  We wanted to show us engaged in pursuing our interests but also tried to show the relationships we had.   And all the while we wanted to show those "corporate culture" characteristics we had identified early on.
In hindsight, the 900 word text was easy to come up with.  We simply wrote from the heart and told all of the ways we could share our lives with a child.

We hope that the final product will not only be appealing, but real too.  After all, we only have one chance to make a first impression.

The (Second) Most Wonderful Time of The Year

I love Independence Day.  Since 7th grade, I've been enthralled by the American Revolution and the founding of this country and the natural extension of that is a love of July 4th.  This year's celebration was a robust collection of people having a good time.

When the weather cooperates like it did this weekend, we are blessed out here on the lake.  Two days of celebrations highlighted by a cookout and two fireworks displays brought our neighbors together.  Corn hole, sparklers, sidewalk chalk, music and good food...

It's times like last night, as we sat on our neighbors' beach, waiting for darkness to fall and admiring a far off lightning display over the trees that I most appreciate living here.  A place where everyone looks out for everyone else.  A place where it doesn't matter how much you make or how much stuff you have, we all look forward to the simple pleasures of life.  Like the 12 year old neighbor girl's first attempt at German chocolate cupcakes from scratch.  Or the two year old who was thrilled to toss stones into the lake under the watchful eye of her mother.  Or the cool breeze on our face as the gold, green and pink fireworks burst overhead and that same 2 year old serenaded us with peals of laughter.

Yes, this is the (second) most wonderful time of the year.