A whole blog post dedicated to Fit4Mom. Whoa.
Where to even start?
How about here: When people used to ask me how I spent my time as a mom when I first had Asher, I would embarrassingly choke out the words "Stroller Strides." I could not say it without laughing or making fun of the name. Now I hand out fliers like a mad woman and talk to every mom within ear shot about Stroller Strides. (And it helps that Corporate re-branded to Fit4Mom, thanks gals!)
I am obsessed.
The amazing Ellen Wilcox (also owner of Pure Energy Dance Studio- check it out!) opened a Stroller Strides franchise in Bryan/College Station in April 2012. I happened to enter a drawing on a friend's website to win 10 free classes... and I won! Good thing I did. Pridefully, I was always the type of person to judge those who spent money on exercise. As a runner and avid fitness video fan (That's real. I love them), I felt like people should be able to exercise for free any time, anywhere. Just grab your shoes and go for a run, ride your bike, walk to the grocery store, etc. Spending money on a gym membership seemed like such a waste of money. But then I went to Stroller Strides. I cannot express to you how sore I was after that first class. Somehow, in all my running and 80's workout videos I missed out on some serious strength training.
Anyways, I used my ten free classes and found myself in a dilemma. Do I betray my standards and pay for a membership OR stop going to a class that I had unexpectedly grown to love? I picked up a little job on the side to pay for a membership.
Not only did I find myself getting stronger, but I found myself forming friendships with women in the same stage of life as me. This became a treasure. Being at home with a baby can quickly become isolating, especially when it's your first. Your day is a blur of feedings, changing diapers, trying to get the baby to sleep, and then every blue moon you can maybe change out of pajamas or brush your teeth. The women at Stroller Strides were in the same trenches as me. A mom would show up late and NO ONE would wonder why she was late. A third of the moms had some sort of bodily fluid from their child on their clothes, no one batted an eye. A baby would cry while the instructor was talking and no one would be annoyed. And somehow we all managed to get in a challenging workout while tending to our kids and swapping stories about the sleepless night before.
In the Spring of 2013, I became certified to instruct Stroller Strides and Fit4Baby classes. One of the best decisions I have made in my adult life.
There is quite a bit that I dislike about the conventional fitness industry, i.e: the focus on how you look, the motivation to be sexy in a bikini, having the best body around, blah blah blah. It truly makes me cringe.
When people ask what I do, I feel the need to explain that I do not work for a typical fitness company and that my goals for my mama clients are not for them to post a picture on facebook in minimal clothing with their new hot bod.
"Functional fitness" is what I shoot for every single class. When I incorporate bicep curls, it's because my mamas are doing that same movement to lift grocery bags out of their car trunks. Deadlift- same movement for putting a baby down in a pack n' play. Upright row- folding up a stroller to put in the car. Squats- bouncing an infant to sleep. I could go on a on. These are things that I noticed in my own life when I joined Stroller Strides. Holding Asher for long periods of time did not make my arms burn with pain any more. I could lift all my laundry at the laundry mat without hurting my back. Stroller Strides truly gave me strength for motherhood.
Everything else is secondary in my perspective. If my mama clients lose weight, wonderful. Some may feel more confident wearing shorts, more power to them. Others may be relieved to not have as much arm flab, fantastic. But if my moms can take care of their families and do daily life with more strength and knowledge to protect their bodies, I feel like I have done my job.
Is fitness the end all? Absolutely not. It's a small slice in the realm of holistic healthy living. But our bodies are the vessels to carry out our lives. When I am sick, I cannot be around others to show them the love and kindness of Jesus. If I am injured, I am barely helpful around the house with the kids and keeping our home running smoothly. When our bodies fail us, it affects everything.
Fit4Mom offers several programs. Here are the ones that I am certified to teach and LOVE!
Stroller Strides: You bring your kiddos with you in the stroller for a 60 minute workout incorporating cardio and strength training. Asher loves going to play with his friends after class. Malia loves it because we sing kids songs instead of counting reps (genius). I love it because I get to hang out with other moms, laugh about things our kids say, vent about parenting, simply share life together. Did I also mention there are weekly play dates and once a month Mom's Night Out??
Fit4Baby: I cannot think about Fit4Baby without getting teary. Prenatal health is so very important. Seven months in the womb of someone not receiving (or actively pursuing) prenatal care wrecked Malia's little body. This class is for expecting mamas. Bonding about the aches, pains, and joys of pregnancy while taking care of themselves and baby via exercise - just beautiful.
Body Back: This is an 8-week program that focuses on more high intensity exercise partnered with nutrition/food journals. It's for moms (of any age!) who want some time to re-focus on their health and take some time for themselves to do it. How refreshing to workout with women in all stages of motherhood!
If you are a mom, I encourage you to go to fit4mom.com and search for the franchise closest to you. I cannot promise that the moms in that franchise will be as hilarious as the ones in Fort Worth (seriously, so funny) or as ambitious as the ones in College Station, but I have a hunch they will be pretty awesome. Or off the record, just grab your stroller and a friend and go for a walk! Be in community with other moms, get some fresh air, and take care of yourself.
After graduating from college, I never would have thought that my personality and passions would lead me to teaching fitness classes. But here I am and I absolutely love it. I can't imagine ever teaching classes at a random gym. Leading classes full of women who are up to their elbows in baby poop, or waddling around due to their pregnant belly, or women who have not slept in 5 years because they are taking care of their kiddos is so incredibly life giving to me. I walk away from each class filled up. These moms care so much about others, that they want to take care of themselves enough to do it well. That's inspiring.
Love me some Fit4Mom. Spread the word.
Monday, December 8, 2014
Monday, September 15, 2014
Serenity
Pregnancies, adoptions, moving, seemingly milestone events make their way to this blog.
But sometimes I just need to write. To sift through 1,000 thoughts mingling in my mind, I must sit down with a keyboard and see what comes to life.
I feel like I have been holding my breath the past few months.
Waiting for some big life event to happen.
Or a terrible turn of events.
And nothing has happened.
Our married life has been like a swift moving river- fast paced, rushing around corners of the journey, flooding over obstacles and pushing to the other side. Yet, now the river has emptied into a quiet, calm lake.
For awhile I felt like a crazy person in the serene lake, wide-eyed and soaked from the recent rapids, life jacket still buckled tight, and gripping my kayak paddle with white knuckles.
Slowly, but surely, I began to loosen my grip and relax my posture.
I am realizing I can now exhale. This is a season of peace for our family. This is a safe place where we can just be.
Allow me to explain.
We do not have foster care workers and CPS workers rotating into our house on a consistent basis.
We can give Malia her medications without having to document it, every time, every day for the state's regulations.
Otha can get to work in less than 10 minutes.
Otha's school is less than 0.5 miles from the children's hospital that Malia receives her care from.
So if you do the math, we can get to Malia's appointments in less than 10 minutes. Just typing that out makes me teary.
I plan multiple things on the same day that Malia has appointments. It used to be an all day affair to take her to Houston for each appointment, including having friends watch Asher in Bryan while Otha was working.
People. Cook Children's Hospital is amazing. I bring Asher with me to most of her appointments. You know why? Because it's so close to our house. Because there is FREE VALET PARKING for patients going to appointments in the specialty clinic. Because the nurses blow bubbles for Asher and Malia while they take her blood pressure. Because the receptionist sees that Asher has come with me and therefore prints out superhero pictures for him to color during the appointment. Because every person on Malia's care team talks to Asher just as much as Malia and comments on how much they love his cape. Because he matters to them, just like Malia matters to them.
Malia's therapy appointments here are only 30 minutes long instead of an hour long. Some may see this as a downer. Less therapy- less improvement. However, I see this as an incredible blessing that helps our life feel a little more normal. Five therapy appointments in Bryan would equal five hours every week that we needed to be home, but Malia be awake, and not interfering with dinner time, etc. It was a little challenging. Here, five therapy appointments equals 2.5 hours a week. It just feels more manageable.
I am so thankful I could seamlessly transition to the Fit4Mom village here in Fort Worth. I can still do what I LOVE and teach classes. There was a training this week in the DFW area... which was awesome for it to be so close (and that my mom could watch the kids). Let's be honest, I don't think corporate will ever hold a training in Bryan. Little things like this add up quickly to help us treasure where our time goes.
We get to see my parents and grandpa on a consistent basis. My kids are obsessed with them. So am I.
I could go on an on.
For better or worse, I easily become dependent on living a chaotic life. So when the winds die down and the sun comes out, I panic. The tranquil makes me nervous, like it's too good to be true.
But it is true. And I am so very thankful. I am finally ready to embrace the sweetness this season of life has to offer.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Bryan/ College Station... How I love thee.
People don't come to Bryan/College Station for vacation or a night on the town, nor would I recommend anyone coming for those reasons. But this place is one of my favorites. It's a big enough city to have grocery stores, a mall [no comment on the quality of the mall], some great restaurants, etc. yet small enough to where people's social circles often overlap. Best of all, this city has some great gems hidden amongst the rocks. And by gems, I mean people. There are people here who love unconditionally, live whole-heartedly, and pursue the Lord relentlessly. And if you ask me, that is worth 100 times more than breath-taking landscape or a hip night life.
I am 25 years old. The last 8 of those years have been lived in Bryan/College Station, Texas.
Let's do quick math, people. That's a little over 1/3 of my entire life.
Yes, I realize I am still ridiculously young and have so many years left to live ...and will probably live in so many other places... probably for even longer than 8 years. So yes, I realize that this entire post may seem dramatic. What can I say? Maybe I should have invested my time in theatre growing up instead of soccer. [There are zero perks as an adult knowing how to kick a soccer ball correctly. Unless you play professionally and get paid to do that kind of thing. I checked our bank account last night and sadly there was no income listed as "professional soccer player".]
As I was saying...
B/CS hosted the seasons of my life as I transitioned from a baby 17 year old to adulthood. To be honest, I can barely label myself as an adult without laughing. But for the sake of our story, let's go ahead with the technical term "adulthood" because I am over the age of 18... or 21 ... or whatever age 'merica deems as an adult these days.
I moved to this town filled with dreams to live internationally, ambitions to save the world - one social justice issue at a time, and a disdain for traditional education. Yep. I was that girl who sat in college classes, rolling my eyes at "useless" information, walking barefoot around campus looking for the next fundraiser to benefit children in Africa.
I am 25 years old. The last 8 of those years have been lived in Bryan/College Station, Texas.
Let's do quick math, people. That's a little over 1/3 of my entire life.
Yes, I realize I am still ridiculously young and have so many years left to live ...and will probably live in so many other places... probably for even longer than 8 years. So yes, I realize that this entire post may seem dramatic. What can I say? Maybe I should have invested my time in theatre growing up instead of soccer. [There are zero perks as an adult knowing how to kick a soccer ball correctly. Unless you play professionally and get paid to do that kind of thing. I checked our bank account last night and sadly there was no income listed as "professional soccer player".]
As I was saying...
B/CS hosted the seasons of my life as I transitioned from a baby 17 year old to adulthood. To be honest, I can barely label myself as an adult without laughing. But for the sake of our story, let's go ahead with the technical term "adulthood" because I am over the age of 18... or 21 ... or whatever age 'merica deems as an adult these days.
I moved to this town filled with dreams to live internationally, ambitions to save the world - one social justice issue at a time, and a disdain for traditional education. Yep. I was that girl who sat in college classes, rolling my eyes at "useless" information, walking barefoot around campus looking for the next fundraiser to benefit children in Africa.
Proof: "Displace Me" Event 2007
(yes- that's Juliette)
My sophomore year of college, I began attending Community Church. This group of people so graciously embraced me, all of my unrealistic desires to bring peace and justice to the entire universe, and my naive views of life. More specifically, older women welcomed me into their homes and showed me the ins and outs of daily life as an adult. We talked while folding laundry, washing dishes, changing diapers... you know, the fun things in life. I will treasure those times forever. Truly, forever. These women listened to my college drama and would gently guide me to solutions. They were honest with me about their own struggles, whether it was in their marriage, as a parent, in friendships... their vulnerability eternally impacted me. Because of their open homes, I felt so much more prepared to be a wife and a mother and overall, to be an adult. Some people grow up and are surprised by all the mundane things about adulthood. I am so thankful I was able to see these things in my early college years, throw a fit about them, and then embrace my future with some foresight about reality.
These are the same people who walked with me through dating, engagement, and marriage to Otha. Dating someone you don't know very well who is moving to Africa for the majority of your relationship? No problem, we will help you do this well.
These are the same people who let me cry on their couch when I found out I was unexpectedly pregnant with Asher. They cast no judgement when I was not completely excited about the new baby in my womb. They also lovingly came along side me when I embraced pregnancy and helped me prepare for the new member of our family.
These are the same people who walked through the entire foster care process with us. Newly married couple with a baby wanting to do foster care? Great, we will help you. Took in a child with extreme medical needs? Let us support you. Let us take care of Asher while you are in Houston. Let us come visit you all the time in the hospital, while you sit with this baby who is not even yours. That doesn't matter to us. Malia is part of our family too.
The people who are part of this community are unlike any other collective group I have ever met. The more you reveal your ugliness and brokenness, the closer they draw you in and the more love and grace they pour out on you. I have never, ever seen this church give anyone the stiff arm. Anyone is welcome- the sinner, the outcast, the lame, the poor, the rich, the needy, the criminal, the drug addict, the prostitute, the regular ol' boring individual, anyone. They live life like Jesus, in the best way that they can. What's even more beautiful is that they are marked with humility and consistently asking the Lord to show them how to live out the Gospel.
Somewhere in the midst of doing life with these people, I changed. I was no longer looking for the next big Africa fundraising event or throwing up in my mouth a little when I thought about my college education. Somehow I began, so very slowly, prioritizing the people in my own home and community. By nothing short of a miracle, I began fostering thankfulness in my heart for my education and the empowering opportunity of attending a university. There are over 1,000 ways I have changed over the past 8 years, all of which I still have a long ways to go. I am glad to say that I still deeply care for international affairs, for impoverished people, and for practical skills like trade school > college. But these passions are also now paired with some wisdom, tangible vision, and some adult years under my belt. I never want to stop dreaming and reaching for the impossible. However, I want to accomplish these things with Otha by my side and my kids holding my hands learning from every step. What a shame it would be if my 18 year old self lunged forward in life to pursue dreams and left her husband and kids on the curb.
These have been transformative years in Bryan/College Station: I graduated with a degree in Sociology from Texas A&M, married the most incredible man, bought out first home, added two kids to our family, and experienced a richness in life that I did not know even existed.
Thank you Bryan/College Station for some of the most difficult and best times of my life. It's been fun. I would say "let's do it again, sometime"... but I am pretty sure Otha is ready to wave goodbye to you for the last time. [Remember that time Otha and I moved to Austin right after we got married... and then came right back here a month and a half later? Good times.] You will forever be remembered as the city where I grew up.
Added bonus: A picture from each year in B/CS
2006. One of my first Aggie Football Games with my long lost twin, Lindsey. True story- people confused us at her wedding. At. Her. Wedding. We were both wearing jackets, so it was somewhat acceptable because the jacket was covering part of her wedding dress.
2007. This is a picture taken right after myself and a group of friends from ASSIST got dots tattooed on our ankles. I kid you not. I now have a blue dot on the inside of my left ankle... just like Lisa Sandoval, Tara Clifton, and Jo Blythe. Bringing you down with me, ladies.
2008. Juliette, my social justice partner from previously in this blog post, drove us to hear Shane Claiborne speak. He was unexpectedly a giant.
2009. Allie and I being roommates. And best friends. Did I mention Allie and I have lived in the same city as each other for 12 years?? And that ends Sunday. It's the worst.
2010. Otha and I got engaged... and married... and pregnant. We are efficient people.
2010. Otha and I got engaged... and married... and pregnant. We are efficient people.
2011. We met this little guy.
2012. We had the Marions, Lisa, and Michelle living with us. The Jumonvilles and Bechtolds were within walking distance. It was the best.
2014. Our kids grew. And they were adorable.
2012. We had the Marions, Lisa, and Michelle living with us. The Jumonvilles and Bechtolds were within walking distance. It was the best.
2013. Malia defeated the odds and turned 1 year old!!
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Finally.
On Wednesday, May 14th we will finalize our daughter's adoption. <---- should I just end it there?
Probably. But I will keep writing. Read on brave souls...
This is the equivalent to me writing out Asher's birth story. Eh... or something like that.
I am currently sitting on the couch in our living room where I sat and signed papers on December 4th, 2012 stating that I would be Malia's care-taker until further notice.
It seemed at that time that she would not be staying in our home for long. The day of her placement we received several calls before CPS even brought her to our door, saying that she had siblings in foster care and she would be placed with them instead. However, the siblings' foster family was under investigation at the time, so we would be Malia's placement until the investigation was over.
CPS informed us at the beginning of 2013 that they would be moving Malia to live with her siblings on Friday, January 18th. So that week I pack up her belongings, cry like a baby, then emotionally shut myself off from her. Thursday evening rolls around and her CPS worker calls us saying the paperwork was not processed in time, therefore he would come get Malia on January 22nd instead. Seriously?! I had already become emotionally numb towards this little baby and I was supposed to be her mom over the weekend too? And it was a three day weekend for crying out loud. Obviously, I was very mature about the entire situation.
Monday comes. I cry again. I pack her things up again, knowing she is leaving the next morning. Then Monday afternoon she doesn't drink much of her bottle. By 7pm Monday night, she refuses all food, becomes limp, lethargic, pale, and cold. So we take her to the Emergency Room and it felt like an out of body experience. When we handed her to the nurse who does an initial evaluation at the front desk, the nurse took her temperature then scooped Malia up in the blink of an eye and rushed back to where the ER patient rooms are. She kept saying: "I have a very sick baby! I need help now!" Then the rest was a blur. Otha and I watched as medical staff rushed in, intubated her, and saved her life. Within hours, Malia and I were on a plane to Texas Children's Hospital.
There I was with a very, very sick child... who was under my care... who I had already said goodbye to, twice... in the ICU in Houston. What?!? Meanwhile, we are on the phone with CPS asking if her new foster parents will be coming to the hospital to take over or if Malia transitioning homes will not happen anymore. Yes- she will still move homes. But not until she is out of the hospital. So be her parents while she is in Houston, but once she is discharged from the hospital, she will also be discharged from your care. What the what? I will not even go into the conversations we had with the foster parents of her siblings during those two weeks. The excuses they had for not coming to see her in the hospital were terrible... and terribly alarming.
ALL THAT TO SAY- she was supposed to leave our home, but instead her body tried to die instead.
She gets discharged from Texas Children's a few weeks later. CPS decides that Malia's cardiologist will just need to clarify that she is "stable enough to move homes" at her next follow up appointment in March. Between discharge and follow up appointments, Malia is sick. All. The. Time. People could hear her breathing in the other room. The weekend before her follow up appointment, I pack her bags again, cry again, and emotionally distance myself again. I take her to the appointment and the cardiologist says: She is a very sick baby and needs to be admitted into the hospital. And before he signs papers to admit her, I explain the situation and ask him if he can decide whether she is stable enough to move homes. He says - yes, I don't see why she couldn't change foster parents right now. I ask him to put it in writing. He says he is too busy, just ask the cardiologist in the inpatient unit to do it.
After Malia is settled into her hospital room, I ask the other cardiologist the same question and he says - no, she is not stable enough to move homes. Um... excuse me? Ok, can I get that in writing? A few hours later, he hands me a letter to fax CPS saying that Malia is medically unstable to transition homes at that time. Otha and I then spend hours on the phone with CPS, our foster agency, and Malia's lawyer's assistant telling them that if they have plans to move Malia after she is discharged, then her new foster parents need to be at the hospital too learning about Malia's conditions, medications, etc. Back and forth, back and forth. Finally the lawyer decides Malia will stay with us. Her situation trumps the priority to keep siblings in foster care together, for better or for worse.
ALL THAT TO SAY - she was supposed to leave our home again, but her primary cardiologist was too busy to write a letter.
We sat by Malia's bedside for weeks and weeks in March and April, not sure if she was going to live. I begged God to heal her. We shed so many tears, thinking we were going to lose this precious girl because her body was just not strong enough. Then God did heal her. It was beautiful and miraculous and we took her home with us, unpacking all of her belongings again.
At that point, we knew that unless Malia's biological parents fulfilled their court appointed services, Malia would be with us forever. Happy Ever After, right?
Wrong.
Summer came. And my immaturity struck again. What if something crazy happens and she doesn't stay with us? I don't want to be that foolish foster parent who gets comfortable and attached and becomes a wreck when the unexpected happens! These were real thoughts people. I could not even call her Malia, even though that's what we decided we would change her name to when we finalized her adoption. I could not commit to something unpredictable.
So then I felt disconnected from Malia. Really, really disconnected. I spent hours thinking through people who could adopt her instead of us... because those people could really love her like she deserves. Those people have bleeding hearts without guards, walls, and moats to protect them from potential pain that comes from love. I was basically saying that I wanted her out of my life before I got hurt.
[When people tell me how selfless I am for doing foster care, I want to laugh. Does the paragraph above sound selfless? Selfishness to protect myself ruled my world that summer.]
Then in mid July, Malia's body tried to shut down again. We moved into Texas Children's Hospital again. And it was this hospital stay that God did more healing, but this time in me. He healed my heart of so much anxiety, fear, selfishness, and a million other things that prohibited me from loving Malia 100%. As much as those two months were terrible, watching Malia struggle for life once more, those months brought so much life to my soul. It was the first time I really recognized myself as her mom and wanted to advocate for her as my daughter, not just my foster daughter.
In all that time, people were helping us raise Asher, counseling me through my brokenness, and holding our family together. Seriously, I cannot think about Malia's life so far and not think about the incredible community who truly did life with us during our hardest year ever. Those were some of the darkest times of my life, yet I never felt alone.
There were also a few months during the fall where we thought we would be adopting Malia's two siblings as well. The foster family that Malia was supposed to move in with initially, lost their foster license. So we are extra thankful that Malia was never moved into their home.
When I reflect on our journey the past 18 months with Malia, I am overwhelmed by God's grace and patience for me. I was an eager 24 year old wanting to save the orphan and passionately throwing myself into being a foster parent. And it destroyed me. In the best ways. My love alone was not enough. My passion for helping those in need was not enough. My pride in not wanting to be vulnerable and get hurt like the average foster parent was not enough. My experience working with families from hard places was not enough. I, myself, was not enough for the task. I jumped into an ocean of foster care and I was barely keeping my head above water. Yet, God saved me. Not in a way that he just took me out of the water. He graciously taught me how to swim... how to depend on him and how to love Malia whole-heartedly with full abandon. He taught me how to risk everything for another person, in the same way that he gave up himself for us. He taught me how to be a mother in a whole new way.
I am a different person because of the past 18 months. It's truly been life-changing. So life-changing that we are going "in-active" with our foster care license for awhile. I am exhausted.
Our next big adventure is moving to Fort Worth the beginning of June. We are excited to live close to an amazing children's hospital for Malia and to be close to my parents as well.
I'm sure I will write a sappy blog about how much I love Bryan, TX though. So don't worry, that's coming soon.
But first, I would like to introduce you to my daughter, Malia Catherine Graham:
Probably. But I will keep writing. Read on brave souls...
This is the equivalent to me writing out Asher's birth story. Eh... or something like that.
I am currently sitting on the couch in our living room where I sat and signed papers on December 4th, 2012 stating that I would be Malia's care-taker until further notice.
It seemed at that time that she would not be staying in our home for long. The day of her placement we received several calls before CPS even brought her to our door, saying that she had siblings in foster care and she would be placed with them instead. However, the siblings' foster family was under investigation at the time, so we would be Malia's placement until the investigation was over.
CPS informed us at the beginning of 2013 that they would be moving Malia to live with her siblings on Friday, January 18th. So that week I pack up her belongings, cry like a baby, then emotionally shut myself off from her. Thursday evening rolls around and her CPS worker calls us saying the paperwork was not processed in time, therefore he would come get Malia on January 22nd instead. Seriously?! I had already become emotionally numb towards this little baby and I was supposed to be her mom over the weekend too? And it was a three day weekend for crying out loud. Obviously, I was very mature about the entire situation.
Monday comes. I cry again. I pack her things up again, knowing she is leaving the next morning. Then Monday afternoon she doesn't drink much of her bottle. By 7pm Monday night, she refuses all food, becomes limp, lethargic, pale, and cold. So we take her to the Emergency Room and it felt like an out of body experience. When we handed her to the nurse who does an initial evaluation at the front desk, the nurse took her temperature then scooped Malia up in the blink of an eye and rushed back to where the ER patient rooms are. She kept saying: "I have a very sick baby! I need help now!" Then the rest was a blur. Otha and I watched as medical staff rushed in, intubated her, and saved her life. Within hours, Malia and I were on a plane to Texas Children's Hospital.
There I was with a very, very sick child... who was under my care... who I had already said goodbye to, twice... in the ICU in Houston. What?!? Meanwhile, we are on the phone with CPS asking if her new foster parents will be coming to the hospital to take over or if Malia transitioning homes will not happen anymore. Yes- she will still move homes. But not until she is out of the hospital. So be her parents while she is in Houston, but once she is discharged from the hospital, she will also be discharged from your care. What the what? I will not even go into the conversations we had with the foster parents of her siblings during those two weeks. The excuses they had for not coming to see her in the hospital were terrible... and terribly alarming.
ALL THAT TO SAY- she was supposed to leave our home, but instead her body tried to die instead.
She gets discharged from Texas Children's a few weeks later. CPS decides that Malia's cardiologist will just need to clarify that she is "stable enough to move homes" at her next follow up appointment in March. Between discharge and follow up appointments, Malia is sick. All. The. Time. People could hear her breathing in the other room. The weekend before her follow up appointment, I pack her bags again, cry again, and emotionally distance myself again. I take her to the appointment and the cardiologist says: She is a very sick baby and needs to be admitted into the hospital. And before he signs papers to admit her, I explain the situation and ask him if he can decide whether she is stable enough to move homes. He says - yes, I don't see why she couldn't change foster parents right now. I ask him to put it in writing. He says he is too busy, just ask the cardiologist in the inpatient unit to do it.
After Malia is settled into her hospital room, I ask the other cardiologist the same question and he says - no, she is not stable enough to move homes. Um... excuse me? Ok, can I get that in writing? A few hours later, he hands me a letter to fax CPS saying that Malia is medically unstable to transition homes at that time. Otha and I then spend hours on the phone with CPS, our foster agency, and Malia's lawyer's assistant telling them that if they have plans to move Malia after she is discharged, then her new foster parents need to be at the hospital too learning about Malia's conditions, medications, etc. Back and forth, back and forth. Finally the lawyer decides Malia will stay with us. Her situation trumps the priority to keep siblings in foster care together, for better or for worse.
ALL THAT TO SAY - she was supposed to leave our home again, but her primary cardiologist was too busy to write a letter.
We sat by Malia's bedside for weeks and weeks in March and April, not sure if she was going to live. I begged God to heal her. We shed so many tears, thinking we were going to lose this precious girl because her body was just not strong enough. Then God did heal her. It was beautiful and miraculous and we took her home with us, unpacking all of her belongings again.
At that point, we knew that unless Malia's biological parents fulfilled their court appointed services, Malia would be with us forever. Happy Ever After, right?
Wrong.
Summer came. And my immaturity struck again. What if something crazy happens and she doesn't stay with us? I don't want to be that foolish foster parent who gets comfortable and attached and becomes a wreck when the unexpected happens! These were real thoughts people. I could not even call her Malia, even though that's what we decided we would change her name to when we finalized her adoption. I could not commit to something unpredictable.
So then I felt disconnected from Malia. Really, really disconnected. I spent hours thinking through people who could adopt her instead of us... because those people could really love her like she deserves. Those people have bleeding hearts without guards, walls, and moats to protect them from potential pain that comes from love. I was basically saying that I wanted her out of my life before I got hurt.
[When people tell me how selfless I am for doing foster care, I want to laugh. Does the paragraph above sound selfless? Selfishness to protect myself ruled my world that summer.]
Then in mid July, Malia's body tried to shut down again. We moved into Texas Children's Hospital again. And it was this hospital stay that God did more healing, but this time in me. He healed my heart of so much anxiety, fear, selfishness, and a million other things that prohibited me from loving Malia 100%. As much as those two months were terrible, watching Malia struggle for life once more, those months brought so much life to my soul. It was the first time I really recognized myself as her mom and wanted to advocate for her as my daughter, not just my foster daughter.
In all that time, people were helping us raise Asher, counseling me through my brokenness, and holding our family together. Seriously, I cannot think about Malia's life so far and not think about the incredible community who truly did life with us during our hardest year ever. Those were some of the darkest times of my life, yet I never felt alone.
There were also a few months during the fall where we thought we would be adopting Malia's two siblings as well. The foster family that Malia was supposed to move in with initially, lost their foster license. So we are extra thankful that Malia was never moved into their home.
When I reflect on our journey the past 18 months with Malia, I am overwhelmed by God's grace and patience for me. I was an eager 24 year old wanting to save the orphan and passionately throwing myself into being a foster parent. And it destroyed me. In the best ways. My love alone was not enough. My passion for helping those in need was not enough. My pride in not wanting to be vulnerable and get hurt like the average foster parent was not enough. My experience working with families from hard places was not enough. I, myself, was not enough for the task. I jumped into an ocean of foster care and I was barely keeping my head above water. Yet, God saved me. Not in a way that he just took me out of the water. He graciously taught me how to swim... how to depend on him and how to love Malia whole-heartedly with full abandon. He taught me how to risk everything for another person, in the same way that he gave up himself for us. He taught me how to be a mother in a whole new way.
I am a different person because of the past 18 months. It's truly been life-changing. So life-changing that we are going "in-active" with our foster care license for awhile. I am exhausted.
Our next big adventure is moving to Fort Worth the beginning of June. We are excited to live close to an amazing children's hospital for Malia and to be close to my parents as well.
I'm sure I will write a sappy blog about how much I love Bryan, TX though. So don't worry, that's coming soon.
But first, I would like to introduce you to my daughter, Malia Catherine Graham:
Friday, February 28, 2014
Heeeelp
I am going to ask you to donate money.
Ok, so for those of you who have chosen to keep reading- Hello.
There are two events coming up that I am participating in, both of which I would like to raise money for.
Event #1: 5th Annual World Record Event for Mercy Project.
Mercy Project was established by a couple at my church who have a passion for ending modern day slavery. The focus of Mercy Project is to free children who have been trafficked into the fishing industry on Lake Volta in Ghana. How, you ask? Mercy Project partners with fishing villages by teaching them aquaculture, replacing the need for child labor. This is not something that just works in theory. This is really happening. Mercy Project has successfully transitioned two villages from using child slaves to using fishing cages. You can read more here: mercyproject.net
Over the past few years, Mercy Project has done some fundraising by breaking Guinness World Records. This year the goal is to run a 24 hour mile relay. A what? Individuals will run one mile, back to back, passing a baton off to the next runner each time... for 24 hours. Both Otha and I will be running during this 24 hour extravaganza on April 4-5th and we are pumped! I'm super excited to do something I love while raising money, awareness, and promoting real change for kids in Ghana. Otha and I both are committed to raise money for this event. If you feel inspired, you can donate here and be sure to put either Otha or my name for the participant you are supporting.
Event #2: March of Dimes
As many of you know, I work for an incredible fitness organization called Fit4Mom. It's my favorite. Some mamas from our Bryan/College Station Franchise will be participating in a March for Babies walk on April 27th. March of Dimes supports research and programs that help moms have full-term pregnancies. The funds are also used to support families who have a baby in the newborn intensive care unit.
In past years I thought, "I don't know if I have time for one more thing in our schedule. I am not very connected to this thing." But then we added Malia to our family. She was born at 32 weeks gestation and was a tiny little thing struggling to survive. I had multiple strangers ask me around town if I had a doll in my baby carrier. 1. I don't know why I would carry a doll in a Moby Wrap. 2. I will give them the benefit of the doubt because she was SO SMALL. There have been multiple times in her life that I that wondered what her health would be like if she had been born full term. I know what it's like to have a premature baby and I know what it's like to have that tiny baby in an ICU. And both are less than ideal. Please join me in decreasing the number of premature births and helping support those parents with little ones struggling in the NICU. You can donate here.
Thank you for your support!!
In other news... the little humans I spend my time with get cuter every day.
Ok, so for those of you who have chosen to keep reading- Hello.
There are two events coming up that I am participating in, both of which I would like to raise money for.
Event #1: 5th Annual World Record Event for Mercy Project.
Mercy Project was established by a couple at my church who have a passion for ending modern day slavery. The focus of Mercy Project is to free children who have been trafficked into the fishing industry on Lake Volta in Ghana. How, you ask? Mercy Project partners with fishing villages by teaching them aquaculture, replacing the need for child labor. This is not something that just works in theory. This is really happening. Mercy Project has successfully transitioned two villages from using child slaves to using fishing cages. You can read more here: mercyproject.net
Over the past few years, Mercy Project has done some fundraising by breaking Guinness World Records. This year the goal is to run a 24 hour mile relay. A what? Individuals will run one mile, back to back, passing a baton off to the next runner each time... for 24 hours. Both Otha and I will be running during this 24 hour extravaganza on April 4-5th and we are pumped! I'm super excited to do something I love while raising money, awareness, and promoting real change for kids in Ghana. Otha and I both are committed to raise money for this event. If you feel inspired, you can donate here and be sure to put either Otha or my name for the participant you are supporting.
Event #2: March of Dimes
As many of you know, I work for an incredible fitness organization called Fit4Mom. It's my favorite. Some mamas from our Bryan/College Station Franchise will be participating in a March for Babies walk on April 27th. March of Dimes supports research and programs that help moms have full-term pregnancies. The funds are also used to support families who have a baby in the newborn intensive care unit.
In past years I thought, "I don't know if I have time for one more thing in our schedule. I am not very connected to this thing." But then we added Malia to our family. She was born at 32 weeks gestation and was a tiny little thing struggling to survive. I had multiple strangers ask me around town if I had a doll in my baby carrier. 1. I don't know why I would carry a doll in a Moby Wrap. 2. I will give them the benefit of the doubt because she was SO SMALL. There have been multiple times in her life that I that wondered what her health would be like if she had been born full term. I know what it's like to have a premature baby and I know what it's like to have that tiny baby in an ICU. And both are less than ideal. Please join me in decreasing the number of premature births and helping support those parents with little ones struggling in the NICU. You can donate here.
Thank you for your support!!
In other news... the little humans I spend my time with get cuter every day.
Over and out.
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