My Overthinking

Philly Area mom, Life forever changed by adoption

Heather’s adoption story {Guest Post}

On Easter Sunday, I shared some suggestions on how to think through your testimony. And, I invited you to share it. Heather took me up on that invitation.

Grab a cup of decaf coffee (since Heather likely is as she is reading her own words right now) and sit for a few minutes to hear from Heather about how she came to know God.

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Before Christ.

I have to admit, I don’t like thinking about who I was before Christ. It’s not a pretty picture. Oh, it may have appeared pretty, but under the surface was the dark, ugly stain of sin that plagues us all.

Raised in church, I knew how to play the part. I wore the mask of the “good girl” well. I had a knowledge of God, but it didn’t translate into how I lived my life as a young person. I believed Christianity was about being as good as possible. I didn’t realize that no amount of “goodness” could cover my filthy, sin-stained heart.

It was when my quest for goodness and my need to please people collided that I realized something was wrong. It became impossible for me to “fit-in” and follow the Biblical standard I had been taught all my life. I grew weary of trying to live up to a standard that seemed impossibly high. Especially when I realized my peers could completely ignore the standard all together and seem just fine.

So I caved. I maintained my image at church and around Christian people, but I gave up on ever being “good enough” for God. No matter how hard I tried, I failed. I turned to acceptance from my peers- especially guys- for self-worth. I was so worried about being accepted that I became obsessed with my physical appearance to the point of an eating disorder. But no matter how much attention I got from the opposite sex or how many compliments I received on my physical appearance, it was never enough. I felt always felt less-than. Less-than perfect. Less-than pretty. Less-than talented. Less-than loved. Less-than enough.

It was after an ugly break-up with a boyfriend during my senior year that I finally saw what I had become. My self-esteem bottomed out and I felt like I was completely unworthy of love. My value had been wrapped up in the price that I allowed others to place on me, so when I faced this harsh rejection, I felt worthless.

But I knew better. I had been told all my life (and had even told others) that “you are created in the image of God” and “He loves you just the way you are”. But when it came to believing that for myself, it just didn’t seem possible. How could a God that saw every detail of my life, including the hidden sin that no one else knew about, still love me?

It was at a youth retreat I attended that God destroyed the lie that had haunted me so many years. Sitting at the back of the room, I was just a bystander until the speaker said something that would change my life forever:

“You can never be bad enough for God to love you less, and you can never be good enough for God to love you more.”

The walls of disillusionment began to crumble, and I realized for the first time in my life that God didn’t care about how good I could be (or appear to be). It wasn’t about how bad I had been. It was just about love. His love…for me. Flawed, imperfect, less-than me. He loved me just as I was, no matter what.

It was like a huge weight was lifted off of me when I finally realized the truth of who God was. He wasn’t a tyrant looking to cast me out at the first sign of imperfection. He was a merciful, forgiving God whose love for me was less about my goodness and more about His grace.

So again, I caved. Not to peer-pressure, but to the incredible, gracious, forgiving, life-changing love of my Savior. I finally laid my “less-than” life on the altar and walked away, changed by a God who will forever be more-than anything I could ever need.

Since then, things haven’t always been sunshine and roses. Do I mess up? Constantly. But His love for me never changes. Do I want to please Him with my life? Absolutely. Though not to “earn” His love, but to honor Him and point others to the love that changed my life. I no longer place such high value on the opinion of others about myself. I know that I am enough…because God says so.

Before Christ—I was lost and hopelessly less-than.

Because of Christ—I am loved unconditionally by a God that is, and makes me, more-than enough.

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how to share your testimony

Heather Fallis

Heather Fallis is a wife, mother, preschool director, youth pastor, writer, musician and coffee addict. She and her husband have two biological daughters and recently adopted a son from South Korea. Heather has documented their miraculous adoption journey in hopes of inspiring and encouraging others who have dreams of adopting. You can read more at www.ourheart-n-seoul.com

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It’s a really cute bed when no one is stuck in it

brimnes daybed ikea

That title pretty much sums it up.

This bed? It’s pretty cute, right?

We just made a big change around here. The girls who had been sleeping in bunk beds in a room next to us moved up to the attic playroom. The playroom moved down to Drew’s room. And, Drew took over the bunk bed room.

Lots of newness around here. And, newness apparently leads to some curiosity which leads to frantic phone calls to Mark during an important lunch meeting asking for help to free our daughter from her demise.

She was supposed to be napping (I wonder how many stories start with that…). I was at the computer working when the all-too-wonderful quiet was broken with screaming coming from the attic paired with banging and the words, “GET ME OUTTA HERE!!!!” I ran upstairs and went right for the closet. She must have gotten out of bed, went to get something out of one of the big walk-in closets up there, and then had the door shut, leaving her stuck in the dark. But, the screaming wasn’t coming from the closet. It was coming from the bed—meaning under the bed.

Lydia had decided to open up one of those drawers under her bed and crawl into it. And, somehow, that said drawer shut; whether that was her doing or not, I have no idea. What I do know is that those drawers cannot hold over 20 lbs. And, though she’s small and spry, she’s more than 20 lbs. which led to the bottom of the drawer breaking just enough so that the drawer was no longer able to open. I could only open it as far as this:

Lydia stuck in drawer1

 

It took nearly 30 minutes for me to figure out how to get her out of there. I mean, nearly 20 minutes of chaos as she yelled and kicked and cried and I tried to calm her while trying to strategize. I couldn’t get the drawer front off. I removed the other drawer which at least got some light to Lydia, but there was not enough space for her to squeeze out the back of the drawer and out the other opening.

I considered calling 911 but figured they’d use the jaws of life and saw our new bed in half. And, I was hoping we could resolve this without total destruction. So, my 911 call was to Mark who was at a lunch appointment. When I called 3 times in a row, he finally picked up.

“YES?”

“I need help. Lydia’s stuck in the drawer under the bed, and I can’t get her out.”

How’s that for an interruption?

With his coaching, I was able to move the entire mattress off the bed and remove the wood holding the bed together and supporting the mattress until Lydia was able to stand up and get out from above.

She was shaking and nearly hyperventilating when I finally got her out. And, I felt like I had just run a marathon (note: I’ve never actually run a marathon nor will I ever, so this is all hypothetical based on what I imagine someone who actually ran marathons would feel like).

I felt like collapsing, and I thought Lydia did too…until she called for me about 20 minutes after it was all over when I thought I had settled her down for a nap again to show me this.

Girl with moustacheGirl stuck under bed

I guess she’s okay afterall. At least until the next big thing.

(sigh)

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Adoptee Links to Linger On

Because adoptive parents need to take time to listen to the voices of another community of folks too…

 

Don’t We Look Alike – a collaborative blog written by adoptees and adoptive mothers

The Adopted Ones blog – Challenging reads from two anonymous adoptees

Declassified Adoptee – Amanda, very popular adoptee activist and blogger, blogs here.

Bitter Angry Ajumma – Jane’s an adult adoptee originally from Korea whose birth mother actually found her. She’s a published writer and now lives in Korea.

China’s Children International blog named Two World’s, One Story…What’s Yours? – Good resource for young adoptees

Neither Here Nor There – “Peach” blogs here and shares her thoughts about being adopted and adoption in general and her experience knowing her first family for 20 years.

Harlow’s Monkey – Popular blog by JaeRan Kim, adopted at the age of 3 from Korea. Published author and professional who has worked in the adoption world, this one is definitely worth reading.

Love is Not a Pie – from an adoptee who is now a biological and adoptive mother herself.

Diary of a Not-so-Angry Asian Adoptee – If the title isn’t enough to make you want to visit her site, you should. She’s a really good writer.

My Mind on Paper – words from African American Kevin Hofmann who was transracially adopted, growing up in a caucasian family

Adoptionechoes – blog by an adult adoptee from Korea who is a therapist now specializing in adoption related issues

One Voice Giving Voice – blog from Carissa Woodwyk, an adult adoptee from Korea and now a sweet friend of mine. She’s a gifted writer and speaker and brings a unique piece to the adoption conversation.

Designed With Purpose – blog from my friend Sharee Morris, adopted domestically as an infant, survivor of severe postpartum depression after the birth of her first baby and now an adoptive mom to a baby they adopted domestically. She shares honestly and vulnerably about their experience on her blog.

The Faithfull Adoptee – Miriam Christina’s blog – adult adoptee born in Canada and reunited with birth family, teenage “mum,” stepmom, and now in the midst of infertility treatments. Encouraging and honest blog.

Memoirs of an Adopted Teen – Colin, adopted from China right before aging out at 14, blogs here about his experience (in English AND Chinese). Every Chinese adoptive parent should be reading this blog to learn and encourage this guy at the same time.

Transracial Eyes – Collaborative blog from adoptees for adoptees led by Daniel Zayd. I’m a committed reader even though most entries are hard for me to read as an adoptive parent.

Spiritual Breathing – Blog of Amy, adult adoptee who has reunited with her birth mom. She isn’t so much an “adoption” blogger but blogs about her life and faith and is worth visiting.

The Cork Board – Korean adult adoptee now adoptive mom of children from Korea and Ethiopia. She blogs about faith and trust-based parenting.

 

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Birth at 15 {Guest Post}

March is full of significant days around here. Not only are 3 out of my 4 children’s birthdays in March, but March holds a lot of significant days for our Lydia which means that we spend a lot of time thinking about our family we don’t know, her birth family in China.

 

Becky, the woman guest posting here today, didn’t give birth to a child in China; she gave birth to a son right here. But, her account of what that day was like is one I think adoptive parents and adopted persons should know. Read on.

 

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I was ready to go to the hospital now. I had been having contractions five minutes apart for about 24 hours. I had taken a shower, done my hair, and my make-up. You would think by looking at me I was ready for a night out with friends. Instead I had got myself all done up to give birth. I felt that I needed to look just right. I held mom off. I told her to not take me just yet until my hair and make-up was done and legs shaved. I don’t know what I was preparing for but I wanted to look my best. When we got to the hospital, they hooked me up to two machines, one monitored the contractions and the other monitored the baby’s heartbeat. I took off my best clothes and got into a hospital gown. The doctor came in and checked on me. I was only dilated to two. Plenty of time, he said, to give birth. It would be a while yet. The contractions continued every 5 minutes. Just enough to take my breath away but not enough to stop talking through them. You see…I did not want to give birth. If I did then I knew that my baby would soon be parted from me and I did not want that. He had been my constant companion for 9 months. I did not want to be parted from him because that meant he would be parted from me forever.

 

The next morning, the doctor came in and said I was still at a two so they were going to start hard labor by starting a potassium drip to start contractions hard. Boy, did that work. Soon, I was screaming in pain as the contraction monitor showed contractions that would go up into a peak but never really come down. I was having contractions every minute with no space in between. The doctor came in with bad news. I was still only dilated to two. He decided to break my water. He told me this would increase everything and that the baby had to be born within 24 hours. They broke my water, and I felt a huge relief. The contractions stopped. But, then the doctor told me the water looked funny. The baby was under stress and had a stool in the liquid. I watched the heartbeat monitor go down. Something was wrong. The baby was fighting hard to be born, but my body wasn’t letting him. They were worried. I, on the other hand, felt relief because the labor had stopped.

 

The doctor came in again and said they had to do an emergency C-section. They shaved my tummy and hooked me up to more monitors and I was wheeled into an operating room. I could not feel anything from my neck down except for tugging. They were cutting my abdomen open to pull him out. I had a screen placed in front of my face so I could not see what they were doing. I just felt lots of tugging and pulling. Suddenly, I heard a baby cry. A doctor laughed and said, “He just peed all over me.” Honestly, my first thought was… just take him away… I can’t stand to see him, and I can’t do this. Then, I looked over at a side table. He was there wriggling violently and crying. They were washing him off, and I suddenly wanted to hold him, comfort him, and help him stop crying.

 

They placed him in my arms against my chest. He had very little soft blond hair and blue eyes and was crying a lot. I just stared at this creature they had just removed from my body. They took me to a recovery room. The baby was still crying, so I asked for a bottle. The nurse laughed and said, “he isn’t crying because he is hungry; he is just not used to being out in the open.” His screams assured me he was hungry, so I asked again for a bottle. The nurse finally said she would give me one but not to expect he would drink very much. Instead, he downed almost the whole bottle and was silent after that. “I guess he was hungry” was all the nurse said. They took him away to do some measurements and clean him up some more. I was given some pain medication and taken back to my room where upon I discovered the lawyers were waiting.

 

I signed the papers giving him up.

 

I was tired and just thought I was supposed to sign them. After this, I crawled into bed and fell asleep for a while….

 

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Becky and her birth son Carl

Becky and her birth son Carl

Becky Aske is a wife, mother, stepmother and birth mother. She currently serves as Vice-President of the nonprofit organization named Beauty Amidst the Ashes which is committed to educating people about the adoption option. Her birth son Carl is President and founder of the organization. At the age of 15, Rebecca chose to place her newborn son with a family in Iowa rather than parent. Her story of being a birth mother, along with stories from her now grown son and his parents can be found on her Facebook page. She has a BA in Ministry Leadership, an AA in Biblical Studies and a Child Development Associate Degree. She lives in Washington State with her husband, 18-year-old daughter, two step sons, a dog, and cat.

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