So I got into this whole adoption thing for the kids. I wanted to change the life of a child (or multiple children) by raising them in a loving, safe environment that they wouldn't get otherwise. I was so anxious going into adoption via "fos-adopt" because we did not want a child to come into our home, become a child of ours, and then get ripped out of the family when the bio parents got their 'ish together. People asked if we would ever consider fostering and I think our response was always a disgusted "heck no".
As you know if you've read a bit about our story, our child was placed in our home just after being taken from her bio parents. This was not what we planned. We wanted a "safe" fos-adopt situation where there was no chance they would come into our home and then be taken back out. We always said this was for Avery and Myla's (our 2 biological daughters) sake but maybe looking back, it was to protect ourselves too (that's for another counseling session another day;). Anyways, when we got "Olaf" we thought it was going to be super temporary, then maybe a bit longer, then maybe forever.
Our relationship with bio family was more than tumultuous in the beginning. We did not see them regularly but when we did there would be lots of crying (on both sides), screaming, hitting, kicking, even cussing (unfortunately out of the mouth of our "new" 2 year old). We would lay awake at night dreading when we'd have to face the family again. We were the bad guys. We were the ones taking the child out of the bio parent's arms. Let's take a pause here and admit that our case is so different (although are any cases really the same?) because of the medical fragility of our girl so visits were infrequent, unorganized, and quite frankly, Hell.
As time has gone on and visits have become a bit more regular, things have been changing. This situation, our situation, is way bigger than me and my little family. The change started specifically at one of our court hearings when I was able to sit and chat with bio mom for about an hour. She shared her struggles, her history/past, details about herself, her family, and bio dad, her gratitude to my husband and I for taking care of her daughter, etc. In the same sentence that she was thanking us for taking such good care of Olaf she said, "but I'm going to keep fighting for her." At first, it was overwhelming and scary. She is getting her life back together. She is doing well. She is fighting for MY daughter and in that moment, it felt like she might win. Andy and I left that court room feeling so scared and confused. Now that time has passed, I look back on that conversation and the conversations since that moment and there is such healing and beauty in this whole situation.
I used to hate bio mom (am I allowed to say that on the internet?) I viewed her as a person who made really bad life choices that continued after having a child and who's choices had an affect on not only one of my children, but my whole family. I blamed her for Olaf's bad behavior, the kicking, hitting, screaming, whining, constantly needing timeouts, for the bad manners, the addiction to soda and crappy food, not to mention the difficulty she had going to bed when we first got her. I was mad because of all of the things sweet Olaf had endured in the short 2.5 years she was alive and that we would have to pay for it. I hated how bio mom just cried and cried at visits and how Olaf would always say, "my mommy is so sad". And then, bio mom and I chatted for an hour...
I learned a bit about bio Mom's past and what lead her to be where she is today. I took a step back from the situation and thought about all of the peripheral things in her life that were pushing her down (don't get me wrong here, I'm not giving her an excuse for her bad choices, I'm simply empathizing with her). I also realized that at this moment, she is doing the best that she knows how to do. She's getting her life together and even though that looks so very different than me getting my life together, she's trying. Visits are more than cordial now too. We hang out where normal people would hang out (parks, etc.) and we chat and then I let them have their time together. I keep her updated on all things medical, not because I have to, but because I think she deserves to know.
Honestly, it's weird and I can't totally explain it BUT I feel like a small miracle has happened because I can honestly say I love the bio mom. Not like I love my family or friends, it's a different kind of love but a love none the less. It's the kind of love that's full of compassion for her and her story. It's the kind of love that says "We have one thing in common, our daughter, and because of that, I'm going to choose to love you."
I'm amazed to see how God has changed my heart. Do I want Olaf to be our forever child? Definitely. Do I think she will be? 99% sure. But I can honestly say at this point that if our role in all of this craziness was for us to take care of a child who was sick when nobody else could and to therefore give her bio mom a chance to get back on her feet, I would be okay with that. I would be sad, maybe even devastated for a time, but okay with it. God has a way bigger plan here than I could imagine. Sure, I have my idea of what that plan should be, but He's all-knowing and He knows what's best for all 3 of our girls. I can rest assured in that and live my life today as the best mama I can be to Olaf (and my other two of course:) because that's what they deserve. I am so grateful for the opportunity to love not only our child, but her bio Mom as well.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Monday, February 9, 2015
When Chemo stops working (or not)
I've been wanting to write this post for a while but haven't been able to get myself to do it. Partly because it deals with a hard/ugly time in my life, partly because I don't know that anyone cares:) But because I know there are other people on similar journeys out there and because it takes a village, here I go (before you panic remember this is written now about something that happened a couple of months ago)
When you or a family member is going through a life and death situation, it's a roller coaster. When you're going through an adoption, it's also a roller coaster. Lastly, when you're going through both it's just plain shitty (sorry to offend any of you with that word). As far as we knew when we got Olaf, treatment had been working wonderfully. The combo pack of chemo (aka IV poison) and radiation (aka beam poison) was shrinking the tumors with magnificent responses.
Myla and Olaf take a ballet class every Monday and because it's been winter and they're usually bundled up, this is often the only time we see their little arms. One day we noticed Olaf's cancer arm seemed abnormally large. We were heading in for chemo a couple of days later so we didn't worry too much about it.
The day she was admitted I was working and I knew things couldn't be good when our Nurse Practitioner (also a co-worker and friend) approached me saying she wanted to talk to Andy and I about Olaf. The walk to her room seemed endless and my heart was beating what felt like 1000BPM (beats per minute, sorry non medical people). The NP proceeded to tell us that we would not be admitted because the size of her arm was concerning for tumor growth. Cue nausea...
How in the world could chemo just all of a sudden stop working??? My mind was blown. I was quickly educated that this is often what rhabdomyosarcoma does. It's a tricky little cancer and has ways to learn to adapt to the various poisons we're throwing at it and get away with it. Rhabdo is a jerk.
We made a plan of what do to from there which involved MRI's, CT's, ultrasounds, and eventually another admit. The few days between hearing this news and answers were some of the longest of our lives. Sure, we lived our lives, went to work, took care of the kids, etc. but I'm pretty sure we were both zombies. All of the "what ifs" ran through our heads constantly making it almost impossible to focus on the potential positives.
What did they find you ask? Nothing. The tumors continued to shrink just like we thought they were doing all along (for those of you who are medical and wondering why surgical intervention wasn't an option it's because the tumors are too wrapped up in the nerves). Unfortunately the re-admission was the night before Myla's 3rd birthday...cue 24 hours of this mama crying (psychologically what am I doing to my other two children???, etc.). Right now we're calling it lymphedema...it's swelling from long term affects of radiation. The treatment? A compression sleeve, and of course my 3 year old picked bright pink. Just another reason for the good people of San Ramon to stare at my black/latina child with no hair, #awesome. The good news: everything worked out, we all made it to Myla's birthday party and the chemo continued to work, praise God.
It's not that great for everyone though and that's going to be my struggle the rest of my life. Sometimes, the chemo stops working. Families continue to suffer with the losses of loved ones, pain continues to persist. I hate cancer. I hate the suffering that cancer causes. I hate the pain that cancer causes. I'm so glad that at this point, Olaf's chemo is still working and I'm so sorry for any of you out there where it stopped working. That totally sucks.
When you or a family member is going through a life and death situation, it's a roller coaster. When you're going through an adoption, it's also a roller coaster. Lastly, when you're going through both it's just plain shitty (sorry to offend any of you with that word). As far as we knew when we got Olaf, treatment had been working wonderfully. The combo pack of chemo (aka IV poison) and radiation (aka beam poison) was shrinking the tumors with magnificent responses.
Myla and Olaf take a ballet class every Monday and because it's been winter and they're usually bundled up, this is often the only time we see their little arms. One day we noticed Olaf's cancer arm seemed abnormally large. We were heading in for chemo a couple of days later so we didn't worry too much about it.
The day she was admitted I was working and I knew things couldn't be good when our Nurse Practitioner (also a co-worker and friend) approached me saying she wanted to talk to Andy and I about Olaf. The walk to her room seemed endless and my heart was beating what felt like 1000BPM (beats per minute, sorry non medical people). The NP proceeded to tell us that we would not be admitted because the size of her arm was concerning for tumor growth. Cue nausea...
How in the world could chemo just all of a sudden stop working??? My mind was blown. I was quickly educated that this is often what rhabdomyosarcoma does. It's a tricky little cancer and has ways to learn to adapt to the various poisons we're throwing at it and get away with it. Rhabdo is a jerk.
We made a plan of what do to from there which involved MRI's, CT's, ultrasounds, and eventually another admit. The few days between hearing this news and answers were some of the longest of our lives. Sure, we lived our lives, went to work, took care of the kids, etc. but I'm pretty sure we were both zombies. All of the "what ifs" ran through our heads constantly making it almost impossible to focus on the potential positives.
What did they find you ask? Nothing. The tumors continued to shrink just like we thought they were doing all along (for those of you who are medical and wondering why surgical intervention wasn't an option it's because the tumors are too wrapped up in the nerves). Unfortunately the re-admission was the night before Myla's 3rd birthday...cue 24 hours of this mama crying (psychologically what am I doing to my other two children???, etc.). Right now we're calling it lymphedema...it's swelling from long term affects of radiation. The treatment? A compression sleeve, and of course my 3 year old picked bright pink. Just another reason for the good people of San Ramon to stare at my black/latina child with no hair, #awesome. The good news: everything worked out, we all made it to Myla's birthday party and the chemo continued to work, praise God.
It's not that great for everyone though and that's going to be my struggle the rest of my life. Sometimes, the chemo stops working. Families continue to suffer with the losses of loved ones, pain continues to persist. I hate cancer. I hate the suffering that cancer causes. I hate the pain that cancer causes. I'm so glad that at this point, Olaf's chemo is still working and I'm so sorry for any of you out there where it stopped working. That totally sucks.
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