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Author: Whitney


This Easter I am reminded of how our expectations can really mess up a day.  I’m serious, how many of you took pictures of your kids’ baskets perfectly lined up and ready to be devoured last night?  How many dressed your kids in matchy matchy dresses and ties or t-shirts and made them stand still while you took that perfect picture?  How many of you had to threaten them with their lives to quit goofing off during the pictures?  Or how many people saw looks or even heard words of disappointment when they realized all they “got was candy” or...

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Doctors, specialists, nurses, therapists, pharmacists, surgeries, followups, case managers, insurance companies, medical supplies, this test and that…  All of this on top of typical school and family activities, celebrations, and illnesses.  It is sometimes easy to forget your little one was once an orphan.  It’s easy to forget they have buried fears and pains that you will never fully understand.  Sometimes while trying to keep their little bodies functioning properly we lose sight of where they came from.  I find myself guilty of treating Lizzie as though she has always been here, she fits in so perfectly.  It’s as if she was made for us, I know in a sense she was, but in an unbroken world she would be in China.  Her heart would have been repaired at birth and she would be with a family that shares the same DNA.  No matter how blessed we are to have her now or how thankful we are to have the necessary resources she needs to survive, there are hurts I can’t take away.  How I wish I could. Adopting under normal circumstances (whatever normal means) is difficult.  Bonding, trusting, growing together is something that takes time.  As the parent of a medically fragile child you might find yourself building a relationship while in an aquarium called a hospital room.  It’s like you’re in a fishbowl and everyone, from nurses to janitors, gets a front row seat to...

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Love Is An Open Door

Today as I sit and watch Frozen for the umpteen millionth time with my precious little girl, I mindlessly belt out every word to every song.  Partly because Lizzie really likes when I sing, partly because it drives the boys nuts when I sing (for some reason they don’t appreciate my sweet Disney princess singing skills), and mostly because I just can’t Let It Go and get over the fact I’m too old to be an American Idol (like what I did there?).  Anywho, one song really stands out to me.  We sat in a hospital while the rest of...

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This One’s For The Boys.

I’m writing to the parents of girls out there; I would like to strike a deal with you…  I will raise my boys to be gentlemen but you’ve got to help me with your daughters.  They need to learn to be ladies, to be respectable.  This may make feminists scream foul, but I do not care.  I am all about women’s empowerment but not at the expense of my boys, or any other child for that matter.  We need to teach our girls not just to respect themselves but also to respect our boys, the boys that will one day be...

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Happy Heart Day, Sweet Susan Elizabeth!

On this day one year ago my life, our lives, were completely changed forever.  Today is the anniversary of Lizzie’s first open heart surgery and the anniversary of the start of many relationships I will always cherish.  From housekeepers to surgeons, I know without a doubt God placed them all in our lives precisely when we needed them the most.  For when we needed to cry, when we (me) needed to scream (sorry about that), when we needed to feed our boys, when we needed rides, when we needed a hug, even when we needed to laugh.  On one...

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