Thankful Things

Thanksgiving is definitely a bit different for us this year. We are spending it at home, just the four of us (plus Shadow :D). Actually, I've been really looking forward to it. We're planning to play movies all day, hang out, maybe play games, and of course, stuff our faces! While I love our families, it will be nice, in it's way, not to try and balance spending time with everyone over the break, but just be able to relax in our home. (Though James does have to study, naturally.)

I always like to reflect, at this time of the year, on the things for which I am grateful. I try to be mindful of these things on a regular basis, but Thanksgiving is a special opportunity to really sit down and ponder my blessings.

The other day, as I was thinking about Thanksgiving, I gave myself a little challenge. I decided to try and see how many Thankful Things I could list in 3 minutes. It was kind of fun to rattle them off. I used the voice recorder on my phone, which is why the formatting is non-existent. Here's what I came up with:

my husband my children my home my dog
the church prayer the atonement my Savior
baby smiles 

new words that Joel says 

Joel's laugh 

toddler snuggles
shadows funny run when he's excited
my parents and all my family and my in-laws

adoption the Jacksons the Walleses
all my friends, new and old

playgroup, for me and for Joel

my ability to play the piano and having one in my home
music in general

taekwondo, but I miss it
beautiful photographs of my family
my good health
Christmas
all holidays, really
vacations
our financial circumstances

being able to stay home with our children

my education
James's education, ongoing
my possessions, which I enjoy so much
books and stories and movies

playing Magic the Gathering with James
the Internet
my GPS, or otherwise I wouldn't be able to go anywhere

The order here should in no way indicate degrees of importance. :P Really, this was just me rattling off things as quickly as I could think of them, which is why there are some less-than-serious notations. 

What it really made me realize is the magnitude of my blessings. These were what I could think of in three minutes, and I wasn't done. I could have gone on for another three minutes, and probably much longer.

Life is hard. I have struggled somewhat of late. Adjusting to a new baby in the house. Sleep deprivation. Postpartum blues. Two essentially helpless little people constantly in need of my attention. Taking more than twice as long to get out of the house. Breastfeeding the baby every two hours, feeling chained to him. Postpartum body woes (aka daily wardrobe crises). It can all be overwhelming at times.

But then I consider this list of Thankful Things, and the weight lifts a little. While the challenges I face are real, it is a comfort to remember the things for which I am grateful. It doesn't make the struggles any easier, necessarily. But it helps me rise to meet them.

I hope that you all have an enjoyable Thanksgiving. And I hope you know that I am grateful for you.

Discharged!

When the doctors left yesterday afternoon, we were told that if Xander did well overnight with his oxygen saturation, we'd be discharged first thing in the morning. It had been emphasized to me the importance of a visit to his pediatrician as soon after his discharge as possible. Anticipating that we'd be going home on Monday, as originally planned, I had scheduled this visit on Tuesday morning, as I already had Joel's 18 month checkup scheduled that day. So I told the doctor about the appointment, and asked if we'd be able to make it. He said to go ahead and keep the appointment, and as long as Xander did well through the night, they'd get us out in time to make it.

James joined me at the hospital after putting Joel to bed at home. We were a little anxious for a little while, as Xander's oxygen kept satting around 88%, when the doctors wanted him in the 90s. We kept talking to him while he slept, and continued praying that he would breathe well. By the time we went to bed, he was hovering in the low 90's. The only time during the night that he dropped was when I changed his diaper. Something about screaming his little guts out seemed to interfere with his breathing for a few minutes...

One of the doctors on our team visited us early this morning, before we'd gotten up for the day. He confirmed that Xander had done great overnight, and pending a final check by the attending physician, we'd be discharged around 8:30 or 9am. James had to leave for school before that time. I had already asked my mother to pick us up in the morning, so that she and I could take the boys to the pediatrician.

I packed up all our stuff (amazing how much we'd accumulated in our week stay!) and pumped one last time. Incidentally, once we were officially discharged, the nurse brought to me all the breastmilk I had pumped during the week, and I was stunned by how much there was! I now have an awesome stash.

The doctors wanted Xander to get his hearing test before the official discharge, so I had to wait for that. The nurse finally brought him back to me around 8:45, and then we sat...waiting...anxiously watching the clock...praying that nothing would end up keeping us there...

The team came in at 9:10am. The attending physician briefly examined Xander and pronounced him ready to be discharged. I got the "new mom" instructions, and things to watch for. Then they left to give his official discharge orders. The nurse came back in, removed Xander's IV and security anklet, and then we were free. I quickly dressed him, buckled him into his carseat, and we were out of there!

It has been the absolute best--snuggling my baby at home, with my little family all around. It is such a relief to be done with our hospital stay. We're still praying for Xander's good health. I feel such an incredible gratitude for my sweet baby, my husband, my mother, and for all the friends and family who have sent thoughts and prayers our way. <3

My Adoption Story

November is National Adoption Month. Across the country, conversations and events are taking place to celebrate members of the adoption triad: birth parents, adoptive parents, and adopted children. Many also take the opportunity to educate and promote awareness.

An acquaintance of mine, adoptive mother Lindsey Redfern, posted yesterday on her blog to mark the start of National Adoption Month. Her blog post was entitled and themed, "Be Courageous" in regards to adoption. I was profoundly moved by her challenge.

Many of you know that I am adopted. I am very blessed to have a relationship with my birth father and his family.

What many of you might not know--and which takes all of my courage to post here--is that I am also a birth mother.

I will share that story below. But first I feel I need to explain why I am posting today. Being a birth mother is not something that I have been "public" about up to this point. It is not something that I am ashamed of; it is, in fact, a very special and tender part of my personal history. But I have had reasons, up to this point, to keep this part of my story a little more reserved.

Part of my hesitation has been that I work with children and teens. Being an example and a mentor is very much part of my job, and I am very passionate about being a good role model.

Part of it has been this sense of disassociation that has been growing over the past couple of years. The more time that passes, the less and less it seems real. Honestly, sometimes it feels like someone else's story. It only rarely feels relevant to my life now.

And part of my silence, I'll admit, has been fear. I belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (aka Mormons) and we commit to living the law of chastity, which is that we will have no sexual relations with anyone but our spouse. My fear of the judgment of others has stayed my tongue on many occasions. That, and the world in general is not always kind to birth parents. It has been easier at times to say nothing.

Be courageous, Lindsey wrote. Yes, I thought upon reading. It is time to share my story.

***

I was 18, and in my first year of college. I had been trained by my Mormon upbringing to seek a husband, basically as soon as possible. I dated a lot, and in my second semester I started going steady with a guy who lived the next floor down. Things got serious quickly. We were young, I was very naive, and as I indicated, I was absurdly eager to get married. I thought he was "the one." Things escalated, and I didn't know how to slow them down again.

One night. A few minutes, really. It wasn't very pleasant. And the results were devastating.

That one lapse of judgment and self-control wrought havoc upon my soul for months and years to follow. I immediately felt the departure of the Holy Ghost. I felt dirty...spoiled...used. Part of that is how I was taught to view extramarital sex, young as I was, and part of it was an honest spiritual response to my situation.

But the greater strain came two months later when I discovered that I was pregnant. I couldn't believe it. Those few minutes--he described it as "not even a full round"--changed the course of my life.

My first instinct was to marry as quickly as possible. But shortly after I disclosed my pregnancy, my boyfriend dumped me. He claimed that he'd been planning to do so for awhile. I don't know whether that was true or not. I simply knew that I was single, heartbroken, and facing an unplanned pregnancy alone.

Abortion was never an option. When I considered single parenting, I quickly realized that I was not very well equipped to raise a child, and more importantly, that I wanted him to have a mother AND a father. Honestly, I think that being adopted myself swayed me toward choosing adoption for my baby. My parents are amazing and wonderful, and I have never doubted their love for me. When I was candid with myself, I saw that I simply could not provide for this baby the kind of life that I wanted any child of mine to have. I wasn't ready.

I was introduced to Jen & Joe through mutual friends, and quickly bonded with them. Figuring everything out was complicated (a story for another time, perhaps) but by Christmas time that year, we had settled that I would place my baby with them.

My pregnancy was an average one, physically, but on an emotional and spiritual level, it was torture. I felt like I had no support (even though I did, in fact, have many people who loved and cared about me, though I suspect they were sometimes uncertain how to handle my situation). I tried not to get too attached to the "little monkey" growing inside of me, but that was impossible. As my due date approached, I was both eager and terrified. Eager to be done with the discomforts of pregnancy, eager to be done with my spiritual probation, eager to be done with the disparaging looks in my singles ward, eager to move forward with my life. Terrified of parting with this little person I hadn't ever met, but whom I already loved so intensely.

I went into labor on my due date. Once I was sure it was happening, I called my parents and Jen & Joe, who all headed down to Cedar City, where I was in school. We spent the evening together playing board games at their hotel, until the wee hours of the morning, when I decided it was time to go to the hospital. My mom and Jen were with me in the delivery room. On the morning of February 20th, little Ian was born.

He was beautiful. I treasured every moment that I had with him. Friends came to visit us in the hospital throughout the day, but I spent most of my time just cradling the baby. The next day, after we were released, my parents took us back to their home in Orem, where I spent time with Ian. I am so glad that I took those three days. I know that many people (on my side and Jen & Joe's) were concerned that I wouldn't go through with it. But I needed that time.

On the 23rd, Jen & Joe came to my parents' home, along with our caseworkers. We exchanged gifts. Then we signed all the paperwork. I did it as quickly as I could. My heart was pounding the entire time. I changed his diaper one last time, and then I placed him in his mother's arms and said "see you later."

It was the hardest thing I have ever done. I hope that it is the hardest thing I ever have to do, because it nearly broke me. I loved that baby so much while I carried him under my heart, and it only intensified once I held him in my arms. Knowing that I would not get to parent him, that I would not get to share in his life as his mother, broke my heart.

And yet, time has brought healing. Ian is now a happy and incredibly bright third grader, with two little brothers and so many people who love him. It was hard for me, for awhile. I ached for a long time. But I did move forward with my life. I finally was able to find spiritual healing. I finished college with honors. I have a career that I love. And though it took me longer than I ever thought it would back then, I got married to a man who loves and cherishes me more than I ever could have hoped for. My life is wonderful, and I have been so blessed.

I have never once regretted my decision to place Ian for adoption. I know, without a doubt, that it was the right thing for him, and the right thing for me. He has a loving family, with a mother AND a father, and all the things that I wasn't able to provide for at the time. And now I have my loving husband, and--at long last--a baby that I AM prepared to raise. I am lucky enough to have an open adoption with Ian and his family, so the love just continues and grows!

A Treatise on Faith

Today I have been thinking about faith.

It started this morning at church. During my Relief Society meeting, we discussed Elder L. Tom Perry's talk, "Obedience through Our Faithfulness" from the April session of general conference. There are many great parts to Elder Perry's message. But I was especially struck by his thoughts on faith. He reminded us of Abraham, who was asked by the Lord to sacrifice his young son Isaac, for whom he and his wife Sarah had waited and so earnestly desired. Then Elder Perry said,

I still do not believe I fully comprehend Abraham’s faithfulness and obedience. Perhaps I can imagine him faithfully packing up to leave early one morning, but how did he take all those steps alongside his son Isaac over the three-day journey to the base of Mount Moriah? How did they carry the wood for the fire up the mountain? How did he build the altar? How did he bind Isaac and lay him on the altar? How did he explain to him that he would be the sacrifice? And how did he have the strength to lift the knife to slay his son? Abraham’s faith empowered him to follow God’s lead with exactness up until the miraculous moment when an angel called out from heaven, announcing to Abraham that he had passed his agonizing test. And then the angel of the Lord repeated the promise of the Abrahamic covenant.

I recognize that the challenges associated with having faith in Jesus Christ and obedience will be more difficult for some than others... Each of us is a son or daughter of God, and we have a unique premortal and mortal story. Accordingly, there are very few one-size-fits-all solutions. And so I fully recognize the trial-and-error nature of life and, most importantly, the constant need of [faith].

I have contemplated the story of Abraham, Sarah and Isaac before, but it hit me in a particularly poignant way this afternoon. First, I was struck by the thought of Sarah. Hebrews 11:11 says, "Through faith also Sara herself received strength to conceive seed, and was delivered of a child when she was past age, because she judged him faithful who had promised."

The example of Sarah is most inspiring: her faith in the promise which she and her husband had received--her faith in the Lord who had given the promise--was surely tested in the many years that passed before she bore Isaac. I have not had to struggle with infertility, but I still identify with Sarah's longing for a child. I married at the age of 26; while the modern world would judge this as younger than average, in the Utah-Mormon culture, it is quite a bit older than the "norm." By the time James and I started dating, all of my close friends were already married, and most of them had a child (or three). It was hard, during those years, to not be married, when that was what I felt was expected of me, and more importantly, when that was what I so desperately wanted! I wanted to be married; I wanted children of my own. That said, I believe that having my little Joel brought me even more joy because of the time I spent in longing.

Which brings me to Abraham. Having Joel gives me a whole new perspective on what has always been an overwhelming idea. I cannot imagine being asked to sacrifice my own son. I cannot fathom the faith that it took for Abraham to obey the Lord's command. His trust in the Lord must have been absolute.

In comparison, I find myself so weak. I struggle with the little things that God has asked of me: reading my scriptures (let alone feasting upon them), daily prayers, service to my fellow men. If these simple things are a challenge, how could I hope to obey if the Lord commanded something greater of me?

During Relief Society, our teacher broke us into groups for discussion. My group was given the quote shown above, and then were asked to discuss times in our lives when we have had to exercise faith. My group began to discuss; one of the sisters immediately shared a personal story which indeed illustrated great faith on her part.

I struggled, in that moment, with what to say. There certainly have been moments in my life when I have had to exercise faith. But they felt so paltry just then. My past examples felt so weak! So irrelevant to my life right now. And that's when I received an impression: I am exercising faith right now.

My faith helps me to go to church each week, when it is often so hard for me.
I am faithful when I say little prayers in my mind on behalf of my son.
I exercise faith as I prepare for the future with my husband, facing so much uncertainty.

It was a moment of clarity for me. As I have pondered throughout the day, I have come to realize that faith isn't a matter of size. "Faith is not to have a perfect knowledge of things; therefore if ye have faith ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true" (Alma 32:21). The Apostle Paul also called faith "the substance of things hoped for" (Hebrews 11:1).

I love the use of the word "hope." I hope that God knows me, and loves me. I hope that I can find a solution to Joel being underweight, and that he will grow and be healthy. I hope that James will be get scholarships for law school, and that we'll find a good home, and that I won't be wretchedly lonely, and that we'll all be safe and happy wherever it is that we end up.

But there is a little more to it. Because, after all, "For as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is dead also" (James 2:26). It is this quote from Elder Perry that has stuck with me all day:

Strong, proactive obedience is anything but weak or passive. It is the means by which we declare our faith in God and qualify ourselves to receive the powers of heaven. Obedience is a choice.

My great realization of the day is this: the weakness that I felt earlier when I considered my faith was in fact a sense of my own passiveness. My faith is not weak. But I need to strengthen my works. I need to be more proactive in my obedience to God's will. Through doing so, I can receive the blessings of eternal life, promised by Elder Perry and so many other prophets throughout time. And what a wonderful promise it is!

If you made it this far, I congratulate you, and I thank you for reading. May God bless you and may His spirit be with you always.

Love,
Valerie