No Matter What

We say "I love you" a lot in our family. Words of affirmation are big for me. And I think that with as much loss as my first two kids have experienced, they need to hear those three words continuously. Those most important words need to burrow deep into their wounded souls and heal over all the pain they've experienced in their short little lives.

An old friend that I follow on Twitter says that when she sings lullabies to her 1 year old son at night, she finds herself only being able to sing "I love you. I love you. I love you." over and over again. In this broke down world, I don't think there's anything more important for a 1 year old to hear above anything else.

A few months ago a friend shared that in his family they add three words to "I love you". They say "I love you...no matter what". When I heard that, I knew it would become a Diaz family mantra. Judah and Addise are just catching on to those extra words. Now sometimes when I say "I love you" I'll let it hang in the air a little long and they'll sing out "NO MATTER WHAT". My heart soars!

Today, driving home Addise was beyond tired. She'd played hard at church all morning with her bestest friends and she needed a nap. Twenty minutes ago. We'd missed the window of "no meltdowns between church and home". It was going to be a grueling 15 minute car ride home. I was trying to ask her happy questions about church and her friends and her lunch, yet everything I asked her was met with defiance and anger. She was determined to be argumentative and negative about EVERYTHING I was saying to her. This went on for about 5 minutes. Just for kicks, it went a little like this:

Me: Addise, how was church? 

Addise: No mommy. No talking church.

Me: Addise, you don't tell mommy no. 

Addise: No mommy telling me no. 

I was exasperated with how to correct her attitude/behavior and still safely drive my minivan (that's right folks...swagger wagon). I whispered a breath prayer and the Holy Spirit opened my mouth and I sternly said, "ADDISE!" 

Addise: Yes? (in her soft sing songy voice) 

Me (still stern): I LOVE YOU! 

Addise (slightly softening): Mommy, you love me? 

Me (a little more tender): Yes, I love you. 

Addise (sweet as sweet can be): Mommy, you love me...no matter what? 

Me (humbly): Yes, baby, I love you no matter what.

 ...peaceful silence for the rest of the drive. I couldn't believe it. 

I had a similar experience a few days ago in the car with Judah. He was whiney over something silly but it somehow linked to his wounded past. His reaction was nonsensical (which should have alerted me to his tears being historic). He wouldn't stop after all my sane tactics. 

So I yelled at him. I mean I really let him have it. 

I was so angry and frazzled and done. Well, that didn't work (DUH!). He started SOBBING and again the gentleness of the Spirit nudged me. I apologized to my son. I asked him to forgive me. He said he did. But he didn't stop crying. Ugh. So the Spirit pushed a little more. 

Me: Judah, do you need me to tell you that I loved you. 

Judah (crying): Yes.

Me: Judah, I love you...no matter what. I'm sorry buddy. 

Judah: Thanks mom. Love you too.

With those six words, he stopped crying and flipped a switch into happy Judah-boy mode. I think he saw a bulldozer on the side of the road and he was eager to tell me about it.

It's so easy to think that though my kids have been home with me for close to two years that their wounds are already healed because of all the love and intention we've poured into them. But these past few days have been reminders of how desperate they are to still hear...

I love you. No matter what.

I suppose they aren't that much different than you or me.

Of Your Own

As an adoptive momma and (now) a bio momma, there are a handful of thoughtless, "harmless" comments that prick me from time to time. The one that stings that most is "of your own".

In the minds of some, there is a slight difference between your biological child and your adoptive child. Surely, they would never say that it's different, but it leaks out, unassumingly. Over the past year, since pregnancy and Asher's birth, someone will say, "You have one of your own and two adopted?" They don't mean any harm. They don't even know what they're saying is hurtful - nay offensive! - but it's another wound my Judah and Addise have to bear.

"Of your own". They mean "biological", but it's received as they are not your own. They are other. They are not as much mine as the child that carries my DNA. That simple phrase is heard like the child I carried in my womb is somehow more mine than the children I carried in my heart. Those three words passively communicate that they are a little outside of our family.

I swear, every time those words are spoken I force a smile and constrain my hand from backslapping their oblivious face. I will tears away from my eyes. I demand graciousness out of my mouth, not rebuke and correction. I hate those words for Asher's sake. I hate them for Judah and Addise's sake. The love I have for my children is the same (I blogged about that here).

Maybe I should let my hand fly and words burst out for my three kids' sake - and all the adopted kids of the world. But I restrain partially because of my people pleasing addiction, partially because I would probably emote nonsensical words, and partially because I know they don't mean harm by it.

But please, please, if you know an adoptive family, please never use those words with them. And if you have accidentally, go back and apologize to that beautiful family. Because the Judah and Addise's of this world need to feel more "of my own" than any other. They need to feel woven into the fabric of a family, not hanging off like a loose button. Kids who've experienced loss, abandonment, rejection, and numerous transitions deserve to feel grafted to a mommy (and daddy) who love them like they are bones of my bones and flesh of my flesh. Their families need to be safe places of healing, not places where their wounds fester and grow.

My own children need it. Their healing requires it.

Same Love?

If you've ever wondered if the love you have for your adopted child is the same as the one you have for your biological child, I will unequivocally scream YES! The love is the same.

There's no way to adequately explain how the "same" it is. If ever you've wondered about adoption and felt like you wouldn't love your adopted child as much or the same as your biological child, I can squash the myth now. Do NOT let that fear get in the way of you choosing the miracle of adoption!!! Actually, I wondered if I could love my biological son as much as I love my adopted kiddos, but I'm crazy like that. My kids are my kids. Period.

Enjoy a few pics of my crazy, lovable kiddos from this past week.

Goof Ball!

After his first bath at home. He screamed the entire time.

She adores her baby brother. "Mommy, I hold it!" A hundred kisses, head rubs, and holding requests every single day.

Though I was terrified about my third child, I can confidently say today that I LOVE my three kids beyond words. Sure, they drive me mad and I've lost countless hours of sleep, but I would saw off my limbs for them.

This kind of love is unmistakable.