[Always] New Territory

People ask me, "How do you make time to blog?" Well I don't. If I'm blogging, something else is usually not getting done. Like right now: sleeping. Or cleaning up the daily debris from the Spencer family tornado. But sometimes, I just need to write things out. And when I go back later to read them, I'm always glad I did. And if an occasional reader gets something out of it too, it's a bonus.

We had a long, full day. But I had a cup of coffee too late in the evening and I'm not tired. Everyone else is asleep. It's just me and the sound of spinning hamster wheels down the hall, buffered by the hum of the A/C.

The matter on my heart: parenting. Is parenting ever not on a moms heart? Always some new territory to cover.

For years now, it's been the world of toddler and preschoolerhood (is that a word?) and of course the varying array of developmental milestones in kids with DS (which is tricky but moves slowly enough to stay ahead of it, for the most part). But with my oldest girls, it's "mission: preadolescence". And all that it entails. It feels like I'm walking a balance beam. Trying to travel cautiously and carefully but also feeling thrusted forward like someone is pulling a rope around my waist. It's all coming so fast. Sweet girls that have always been my babies... are getting big. Like, "Hi Mrs Spencer is Ashley there I don't have my spelling list" big. And they're getting bigger every day. They've got personalities and friends and passions and wills and fears and questions. I'm dealing with emotional children and I'm an emotional person. 

Am I prepared for this journey? I should probably be reading books on talking with your kids about... stuff. Or taking a class or something. None of this was covered in Babywise. ;) But thank The Lord that I've got friends to walk this out with. I literally have no idea what I'd do without my circle of Mommas. They make me feel normal. We can compare notes and share stories. Or give tips on where to find beginner bras or decide which shorts are too short. And we can ban cell phones for our 4th graders together in solidarity. (Thank You Lord.) And I've got an amazing husband who's years in youth ministry come in crazy handy.

As much as I want to do the very best that I can to help my kids navigate this time; when it all comes down to it, my only goal is to point them to Jesus. Because I know that if they have Him, the rest will fall into place.

How to do that- how to point them to Jesus- isn't as easy as I thought it would be. 

I'm not a great example. I can only pray that they see Christ's mercy and forgiveness transforming me daily because I'm sure not the best example of daily Godliness. I blew it today. I'm gonna blow it somehow tomorrow and next week. And I know that if I'm not transparent enough-- if they don't see the process of me acknowledging my imperfections and how He forgives me and draws me back to Him... My faith will look phony. And they won't want anything to do with it. Or maybe even with me.

One side of the balance beam is friend, the other is mother. I have to find my footing somewhere in the middle. Knowing the relationship we are building on now is the one we will carry into the teen years. My own mom danced across that beam beautifully. She was my very best friend whom I'd tell everything. But I wouldn't dare break her rules because I knew there were consequences.

Friend. And. Mother. Confidant. Mentor. Disciplinarian. ....hmm. Lord You're going to have to carry me across this beam. Because the truth is, You are the very best of all of that. 

I don't have some beautiful literary bow to tie up this post. No sweet story or even scripture. Just a prayer. Lord carry me. Cover me. Cover my kids. Cover the parents out there that are navigating new territories. Mold each of us, parent and child alike, into Your image as we give ourselves to You. Do it all in the name of Your Son, we pray. Amen.

End of School Year Festivities... aka. Chaos Week

We're in the home stretch. Moms everywhere are silently holding up fingers like some secret gang sign to one another: the number of days left until school is out. No more carpool, packed lunches, late night school projects, or guilt because we forgot to sign the folders again.

Most moms gave up on ironing back in February and are considering just buying the library books that are lost in the abyss of our playrooms. At this point, we've given up on creative lunches. I think a bag of popcorn, a fruit and grain bar and a yogurt cup makes a decent lunch box. After-school chores have given way to after-school Popsicles and sprinklers.

All of that is just us? Oh ok.

Two of my school kids have 3 1/3 more days of school. The other two have 2 1/2 days left. 

We've got a Special Olympics event and 2 Talent shows under our belt, with 1 ballet recital left tomorrow night. (Gotta clear room for pictures on my phone and buy flowers). 1 school field day down, 1 to go (Kids need water bottles, towels, and dry change of clothes). 4 end of year parties this week (2 boxes of Gogurt tubes for 4th grade, Pizza money for 1st grade). Kids-with-summer-birthdays celebration (fruit tray for 3rd grade). Monday 3rd grade can wear anything to school, but 3rd and 4th can wear spirit wear to the passport club party. 3rd grade can wear a swimsuit, shorts and spirit tshirt Tuesday and Wednesday but 4th grade just on Wednesday.

I just wrote all of that from memory so I'm probably forgetting something. Praise the Lord for Google Calendars and iPhone reminders.

I don't share all of this because I think anyone will find it interesting. Because I'm sure some of you are stress paralyzed just reading that and some of you are rolling your eyes because you've got twice as many school kids and this is nothing. (Though some are nodding heads in solidarity or wondering what email they missed about the bathing suit on Wednesday.)

I share it because I hope that someday I'll look back and laugh. Because I think someday I'll forget what its like to have a 4th, 3rd, 2nd and 1st grader. Because by Friday my babies will be rising 5th, 4th, 3rd and 2nd graders with a rising Preschooler and Mothers Day Out-er.

Another school year gone. It's  bittersweet. Lessons learned and friendships deepened. Goals met. Everyone a little more mature. Everyone a little taller.

And someday no one will need me to pitch in with 24 tubes of gogurt or pack them some dry socks and underwear. 

So as I inevitably drop the ball somehow this week, I'm gonna roll with it. This chaos week of End of School Year Festivities won't last long. And then I'll be diving into the beautiful chaos.. of summer. :) 

A mothers letter

Micah was the first one up this morning. Which isn't uncommon. But there's no school today and Jake was getting ready for church (he leaves before we do). So I went to get Micah up, motioned for him to be quiet and follow me. We both climbed into my bed, each hitting the pillow hard. Without a sound, Micah reached to Jake's nightstand, grabbed the remote and with half-closed eyes, handed it to me. His unspoken, "I want to watch morning cartoons." So I turned on the Sprout channel. A few "Happy Mothers Day" notes scrolled quietly across the bottom of the screen and I remembered it was today. Before the first commercial break Micah was snoring. I smiled and drifted back to sleep.

Last night I was talking with some friends about how our moms call us every year on our birthdays. Mine goes through the whole story of my birth every year. Inevitably I roll my eyes but... I always love it. I told them I wondered if I'd call my kids and do that. And I can't remember my comment exactly but Jake had to stop me and remind me that I didn't actually deliver Micah. I forget that sometimes.

And today, while thinking of all my grandmothers, mom, stepmom, mother in law and mentors.... My mind drifts to a woman I've never met.

I wonder what she looks like? I wonder where she lives now? Did she have other children? She's 44 this year. Her name is Tatyana Borisova. The birth mother of my baby boy.

I wrote her this letter about a year ago but updated it some. *sigh* I'm posting it today... and praying for her.



Dear Tatyana,

As I write this letter, you don't know me. We'll probably never meet. You had your lawyers make sure of that. But I woke up thinking about you this morning. Because you gave birth to my son.

I know that his Down Syndrome was a surprise to you. I know that you were ashamed. I know that you told the doctors you should have sued them because they didn't detect his diagnosis. I know that you said you would have aborted him, had you known. I know that you told your family he died. The orphanage told us everything.

But he didn't die.

He lived for four years shut away in an orphanage. Just a number and a diagnosis.

But he's been adopted. By my husband and I. He has 5 sisters. And friends.

You see, God had a plan for this little boy. A plan to redeem him. To give him a hope and a future. I'm not sure if you named him or the hospital did, but his Ukrainian name was Borisov Pavlo Viacheslovovich. We named him Pavel Micah Spencer. Micah means "Who is like God?"

I want you to know. Your little secret... he's alive.

He's thriving. And he's loved.

I want you to know that I understand what you went through. I too had a baby growing inside of me with no clue that she had Down Syndrome. I too was totally surprised by her diagnosis. I too was scared and confused. But it was all too much for you to handle. And I can only assume it was because you didn't have the power of the Living God to bring you through it.

And now...

It makes my heart so sad to think that you are missing out on all of this. Do you have any idea??? I wish with all my heart that you could see him now.

He's so smart. He can read, write and type. He's great at math and loves science. He's in a regular classroom with an aid. He's the only one with special needs in the class. Actually they're taking a field trip on Tuesday just to cheer him on at his first Special Olympics event.

He's not really speaking. He had no early intervention speech therapy in the orphanage. And they only gave him bottles and babyfood, not allowing his oral motor skills to develop. And because he didn't have a mother talking and singing to him, he didn't have a need to speak back to anyone. But now he's learning to sign and is making some sounds. Everyone is amazed by how quickly he learns and how sharp his problem solving skills are.

He has a great personality. He's so funny and has a contagious, bubbly, raspy, little-boy laugh. He doesn't know a stranger and spreads love without condition. He's known for his hugs and kisses. He forgives immediately and knows no other way. The teachers and kids at school all love him. Everywhere I go in our town, children call out, "Hey that's Micah! He goes to my school!"

Micah loves water. Sprinklers, swimming pools, the ocean... our family vacation to the beach is his favorite time of year. Which I think is funny since he was born in a touristy beach area by the Black Sea.

He's handsome. He has tan skin all year around and has beautiful chocolate brown, almond shaped eyes. I often wonder if he looks like you or your husband. If he favors his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins...

He's healthy. He's had none of of the medical conditions commonly associated with Down Syndrome. Except that he needs glasses. But do you or your husband have glasses? Does that run in your family? He also is lactose intolerant but that comes from the years living with a parasite at the orphanage. It makes me so sad to think he could have a normal diet, had we gotten to him sooner.

He's in a family who loves him. Adores him, actually. He has 5 sisters who all boss him around. But he doesn't mind at all. He loves the attention.

He has such amazing potential. There's really no telling what all he'll accomplish, if given the chance.

I don't know why, but I need to tell you that I forgive you. My guess is that you are living with an incredible amount of guilt and torment over your secret. Or maybe you aren't. But I've got your little boy. He's safe and he's mine now. And I'm taking good care of him. And loving him as my very own. He may not have grown in my belly but he grew in my heart. And I'll do my best to raise him up into an amazing young man.

And I hope that someday, if you haven't already... you are able to find hope and healing in Christ.

Sincerely,
Amy