Update on Evangeline

I haven't given a Marchenko family update on Pocket Lint in quite a while. So, here goes!

I will take a day to cover each kid; or else this post will be longer than Santa's Christmas list of who is naughty or nice. I think I'll go youngest to oldest.

Let's start with Evangeline: four years old.

First: The Business...

We've recently completed her yearly specialty appointments: vision, hearing, dermatologist, general pediatric. What else? Oh, we still need to get her in for a spine x-ray because she has a small, but stable gap between two vertebrae that deserves a yearly check up.

Everything looks good. Evie doesn't require glasses. She hears well. She's healthy. We're thankful.

Evie is non verbal. She does not use sign language, but did start to wave bye consistently. When she is hungry, she goes to her chair and climbs in. She gets her coat and brings it to us when she wants to go outside. Sergei noticed she keeps eye contact more often and for longer amounts of time. She smiles a lot. Her laughter is high pitched and sweet. We are encouraged.

Evie completed four weeks of summer school and now has a break until preschool resumes in September. She is out of her crib and into a big girl toddler bed in the room she shares with Polly. She likes musical toys and hand over hand activity to sing songs and she absolutely loves swinging at the park and at home in her therapy swing.

Seond: The Bonding...

It's still hit or miss with our bonding. Honestly, I am sad about it. Some days I think, we got this!, she loves me and I love her and all is right in the world and other days she's the nonchalant love interest and I'm the brooding teenage crush. I crave her attention. She blows me off.

Our mother-daughter dance is memorized; two steps forward and one step back. She is learning how to be a daughter. And I am learning how to be her mother.

Overall, Evangeline is comfortable in our family. She loves to play with her sisters and has a precious relationship with Sergei. She brightens when he comes into the room. If he is sitting reading or watching a show, she climbs up into his lap for a hug.

My relationship with Evie reminds me of what it must be like for God to have me as his child. I often ignore his loving attention. He has all this goodness to share but I am too suspicious to let him in. All God really wants me to do is come quietly and climb up into his lap. And yet, most of the time, I choose to sit off to the side alone.

Of course, the comparison doesn't pan out. I am so not God, and God is not the type to sulk when I ignore him. And Evie is not the problem child. She is just a little girl learning to love.

I am an impatient mother who wanted love at first site, but got real life instead.

Evie has been home two years and I am still frustrated with our relationship several times a week. I want us to be farther along by now. I look around at other adoptive moms and assume they are better at this than me. I so want to be passed the dating stage with my daughter.

But sometimes I look at her, and she is smiling or laughing or thoughtful, and I am blown away that I get to be in her life. I learn from her. She is the mirror God knew I desperately needed to realize hard truths I choose not to look at about myself.

She could be sitting in an orphanage alone somewhere. She could be sick, or sad or even dead. Instead, she just went to the grocery store with Sergei and will go for a walk with the rest of the family later today. She is here, with us.

She is right where God wants her to be.

And for that, I am glad.

(Interested in special needs adoption? Go to Reece's Rainbow to learn more)

Evangeline then, Evangeline now

On June 24th, 2009, we stood in a court room in Ukraine before a judge, and were granted the legal request of making Evangeline our daughter.

Two years ago, today.

Where does the time go?

The last two years have been up and down. Sometimes, Evangeline feels like the very fiber of my being, and other days, I still wonder if her mom will show up to take her home.

But I love her. God is teaching me so much about myself, and about him, through her.

She is a precious child. Worthwhile, valuable, purposeful.

Thank you, Lord, for bringing her to us.

Hard earned love

I gave an update on Polly recently. Now I'd like to update on Ms. Evangeline Marchenko.

Good news to report! Evie and I are finally in that gooey love you usually have with a newborn. She's been home eighteen months. I honestly wasn't sure if it was going to come.

I see her smile and I can't help but smile back. Throughout the day we seek each other out. This is a big deal. Before, it seemed like when she sought me I wasn't willing or able and when I sought her she wasn't willing or able. We kept missing each other. And we were frustrated with each other. At times we both felt rejected. Most of the time we both felt lost.

Now she comes to me and puts her arms up for me to take her. Most of the time when she wants me, I can't think of anything better than spending some time loving on my girl. She loves for me to swing her around. She loves for me to sing songs. She takes my hands in hers. She plays with toys. She seeks me out when she gets hurt.

It's been a long time coming. I can't say exactly what we did to cultivate this love. I mean, we did stuff. We've done brushing and holding and joint compressions. We go to attachment therapy. But I'm still not sure when I actually started to love her. I just did. And I thank God that it came.

I love her. I love her little heart shaped face. I love the sparkle in her eye. I lover her strong little Ukrainian gymnast body. I love that her eyebrows meet in the middle creating one long uni-brow.

Evangeline has not progressed much cognitively since she came home in August of 2009. She is just now starting to show an interest in toys. She still, mostly doesn't communicate. And I'm not sure if she ever will. But her emotional growth is substantial. She cries for her sisters. She says 'Mama' and 'Papa.'

I think she is starting to believe she is home. What more could a mother want?

Our love is hard earned.

Adopting isn't magical. It's difficult. A child comes home with you after months of dossier prep and in our case, extensive money and international travel. We know she's home in theory. Only she doesn't know that because she has never known what home is. And secretly, our hearts don't feel like it's the right child. Because all of sudden the reality of the child you dreamt about is here. And she acts differently than you thought she would. She smells different than your other kids. When she falls down she wants her crib instead of you. It hurts. And most of the time, it's painful.

But I just wanted to put down on paper tonight that it is worth it. It is oh, so worth it.

Our love is hard earned. But the reward is that much greater because of it.

I am over the moon for Evangeline. Our family couldn't imagine life without her. We are so glad that God orchestrated her being in our family. We got her!

Hard earned love is the best.

Radio Interview

I am doing a radio interview on parenting children with special needs this Thursday, December 16th at 7pm central on WSTC 1400 and WNLK 1350 on a program called Let's Talk! with Bianca Tyler out of Fairfield county, Connecticut. Thanks to my friend Becky Mills Daye for the hook up!

Click here for more information about the show.

I will also be talking about international adoption and my memoir.

It's going to be live. I'm a tad scared.

Creating Space

Evangeline and I are doing so much better.

Case in point: tonight Sergei is at a party with Elaina and Zoya. Polly and Evie are fed and changed, ready for bed. They are playing and watching Caillou. Evie just stopped what she was doing, came over and climbed up on my lap and gave me a huge hug.

I can't tell you how that makes me feel. Well, that's not entirely true. If you've read Pocket Lint this last year than you know that our bonding has been difficult.

Today someone who just completed an international adoption wrote that she's been home for three weeks and she still feels like she is babysitting someone else's kid.

I know that feeling.

I felt that for quite a while when Evie came home. Adopting her was supposed to happen. In theory I knew it wasn't only a correct response to God to adopt Evangeline because he adopted me, but I also knew that specifically for us, the Marchenko family, this was his will.

That's why it was so hard when I didn't feel much for Evie after she came home.

I know, I was naive. I had no clue what it meant to adopt. I had no idea what it would do to both my heart and Evie's. Both our lives were turned upside down.

About a month ago Evangeline and I started attachment therapy at the Erickson Institute here in Chicago.

Honestly, most Mondays I don't want to go. It's a hassle every week to get there. All we do is sit in a room and play for an hour once we are there.

I pull out all my tricks; Itsy Bitsy Spider, peek a boo, all the things I know Evie likes. I know she'll respond. And the therapist sits next to us with a serious, curious look on her face, watching my every move. I catch myself daydreaming, 'she's probably judging me. She probably is a mother. She probably has a perfect relationship with her kid. And she's one of those ladies who doesn't need to wear make-up to be beautiful. Hmph.'

I tickle, I laugh, I make Evie giggle by hanging her up side down.

I am kind of faking. We never last a whole hour playing at home, not with three other sisters around, homework, housework, writing, and Polly's arms wrapped around both me and Evie, eagerly wanting to join in whatever game I've initiated. And I get tired playing. But what am I going to do? There's a chick sitting there watching us. It's not like I can check facebook on my cell.

But something magical happens when Evie and I go to therapy. We play. The therapist and I talk. We say our goodbye when the hour is done. I hold Evie's hand and guide her out of the office and down the hall. I press the down button on the elevator and Evie looks around wide-eyed. We walk slowly outside to the car. Evie loves the commotion of downtown Chicago. I stare at the reflection on the building. It's just the two of us, together, walking.

Magic doesn't happen in the little room with green walls and brightly colored blocks and baby dolls. The magic is in finding childcare for the other three kids and maneuvering our day so that Evie and I can slip away, walk while holding hands, play a bit without Polly on top of us. I get a little time to focus on Evie.

That's where the magic is: in creating space.

It took both of us a while to create space in our hearts for each other. And I'm not saying that everything is easy and sweet. We both still struggle as we mold together.

But a space has been cleared out in our lives for one another.

And it is being cultivated through the every day, usual things we do. It's cultivated by taking two hours out every Monday to go downtown to play.

We create space.

That's all the magic I need.

The Cornish family and their amazing adoption story

My friend Meredith and her husband Michael have put together a video chronicling their adoption process. This family puts their yes on the table for God. They take seriously the Biblical mandate to care of widows and orphans.

I met Meredith through on-line Down syndrome support sites and later she was instrumental in her work with Reece's Rainbow in helping us bring Evangeline home.

Check out this video. Pray for these guys. Give towards their financial needs if you can.

Also, 'Wesley' in their video is a little guy from Evie's groupa in her baby house. When we were there last summer we were able to get information and pictures of three kids with special needs to Reece's Rainbow.

The other two children are already adopted and home with loving families. It's Wesley's turn next. Makes me want to cry.
What a story.

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Evangeline

Here are five things about Evie:

1) Evie has some emerging new skills: 1) putting things 'in,' 2) and seeking out toys to play with.
2) She finds Sergei and I repeatedly throughout the day for hugs and cuddles . Yay!
3) She loves getting on the school bus in the morning for school.
4) Evie hated baths when she came home from Ukraine. Then she started liking them and then, wham, hated them again. Now, she is tolerating baths again. It's cyclical.
5) She loves her big sisters. When Zoya and Elaina come home from school she's all hugs and smiles!

Vote for Andrea Roberts of Reece's Rainbow in People Magazine

Vote for Andrea Roberts from Reece's Rainbow at People Magazine as your Reader's Choice Hero.

Vote as many times as you want until October 8. The $10,000 Grand Prize Winner will be revealed in a future People Magazine.

Click here for more information about Reece's Rainbow.

What a way to help more kids with Down syndrome find forever families!

And an easy way to support Down syndrome Awareness month.

Her Mother?

Last year, in a Ukrainian court room, a stern looking judge had Sergei and I rise. "Mrs. Marchenko, do you think you can be a good mother to this child?"

All I had to do was say yes. 'Da,' in Russian.

Instead, I burst into tears.

The judge's face softened. "Sit down, woman. The answer is in your tears."

I slowly sat down and tried to hush my sobs in an attempt to catch a few understandable words in Ukrainian. The court room business continued and a little girl abandoned at birth by her parents because of her diagnosis of Down syndrome officially became Evangeline Sergeyevna Marchenko.

Today, I sat in a observation room at The Erickson Institute, holding Evie after playing with her while a woman watched us. She took notes.

We've started evaluations at Erickson for Evie to see if they can help us determine if she is on the Autism spectrum or if what she does, stuff like eating dirt and rocking, is left over from being orphaned in Ukraine.

The thing is, after her tonsils came out and her ear tubes were put in two weeks ago, we've seen drastic changes in our daughter. She seeks me out throughout the day now. When I pick her up she smiles. She wraps her chunky little arms around my neck and squeezes.

I love it, don't get me wrong. But it scares the hell out of me too. Because I'm afraid I'll wake up tomorrow and she'll be back in her own world again.

Today in the evaluation she waved 'hi.' And then she said "hi." She interacted with toys. Simply put, she was on. Sergei and I looked at one another in amazement.

If these skills would have emerged a few weeks ago, I would not have made the appointment to have her evaluated.

I kept talking to the social worker about how Evie was, even a month ago, compared to today. She asked me to give her five adjectives that describe my relationship with Evangeline now and how I would describe what it was like in the beginning with her.

It took me a while to answer. I struggled to get words out. I muddled around. Finally I give her the allotted ten words she expected. I have no clue what I said tonight because it was so emotional. The words were so different.

"So, do you feel like her mother now?" The woman with the clipboard asked, blinking, her face a dead pan.

And I started to cry, again. Just like I did a year ago in that Ukrainian court room.

"Yes. I am her mother. I feel it."

I cried not because I was sitting in an observation room having my daughter evaluated for a dual diagnosis. I cried not because at three and a half Evangeline is still non-verbal or because she only eats pureed baby food.

I cried because she has come so far. I saw that plainly today.

I cried because today I realized that I'm the one who has farther to go.

There but for the grace of God go I.

The Grinch's heart grew two times that day

Every Who down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot, but the Grinch, who lived just north of Whoville - did not. The Grinch hated Christmas - the whole Christmas season. Now, please don't ask why; no one quite knows the reason. It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight. Or it could be that his head wasn't screwed on just right. But I think that the most likely reason of all may have been that his heart was two sizes too small.

My kids and I love How the Grinch stole Christmas. The girls like it because the whole idea of Whoville is fun and fabulous. The colors are bright. People in Whoville are happy and good.

But me? I like the Grinch.

At times, we all have a bit of the Grinch in us.

Evangeline's been home a year. Her anniversary, July 25th, the day we landed on American soil, has come and gone.

I started a montage, pictures documenting her year. I'll finish it and post it here and on facebook and friends and family will comment and ooh and ahh and talk about how much Evie has grown. "Her hair is so long!" "She is so pretty!"

And it's true. Her hair is like corn silk. She's beautiful. Her face is shaped like a heart.

But if I were to document her first year, honestly, the pictures would be very different.

There would be pictures of me crying on Sergei's shoulder. "I can't do this. She's not who I expected her to be."

There would be a picture of Evangeline with a huge knot in the middle of her forehead from hitting her head repeatedly on the bars of her crib.

There would be pictures of me with scratches on my face from trying to hug her. Probably another snap shot of me with my back to her, or a picture of my face bright red and sweating from anger over her rejection.

But who wants to watch a montage like that?

Pictures of hope would be thrown in though. There have been some beautiful moments of bonding with Evie. The night I stayed with her in the hospital after her tonsillectomy was monumental for our relationship. I really felt like her mother, lying next to her in the hospital bed, kissing her brow, praying for the pain to go away. It was a much needed mommy badge.

Sometimes I feel like the Grinch mother of the adoption world. My heart, at times, is just too small to love her properly.

But last night, Evie stayed up later than the other children. I sat on the floor with her, pulled out a few toys that she has shown mild interest in and invited her to play. And she came over to me, sat down and interacted with the toys. She banged two plastic rings together and was mesmerized by Polly's glow worm (Who could blame her? I think the glow worm is hands down the coolest lovey. I might start sleeping with one). None of this in and of itself is amazing.

The amazing things were her eyes and my heart.

Evie kept eye contact almost the whole time. And I saw her. I looked into her eyes and saw my daughter. The little girl who is mostly closed off to the world. She's so delicate. She's been through so much. She is created in the image of God.

My heart split open. I could taste my salty tears.

I have to cling to these times. They are like email from God. It's his urging to keep going, that this was his plan for Evie to be my daughter. Just like Elaina, and Zoya and Polly... God's design was for me to be Evangeline's mother from the beginning of time.

We played for about a half hour, a banner amount of time in Evie's world. At one point she rested on me; laid her hand gently on my leg, her palm opened up to heaven.

And like the Grinch, my heart grew two times that day.

Now I know some of you will say, "Gillian, stop putting yourself down. You are doing great. You don't give yourself enough credit!" I get you. But please understand. The real beauty is in the actual journey, the bumpy ride, the up and down-ness of this path. Our relationship is growing through the hard times. I don't believe I would experience this kind of joy otherwise.

Happy one year anniversary to my beautiful fourth daughter.

You are changing my world.

You are an instrument of God.

You are changing me.

Three Years

We moved to Chicago three years ago fourth of July weekend. This is a picture of the girls that year. Don't they look little?

I'm surprised to still be in the same place. At Thanksgiving I marveled at the crisp deep red leaves outside my window on the Japanese Elm. At Christmas we added more lights, stringing them around the door frames and on top of the bookshelf. I knew where everything should go; the stocking nails were still there from last year. And then the birthdays, Sergei, me, Zoya, Polly, all one after another shooting me out to Target every other week for presents or supplies like a little metal ball in a pin ball machine. The end of our string of birthdays welcomed spring and now here we are smack dab in the middle of summer.

Fourth of July.

Polly (with my help) waved around her first sparkler tonight.

Three years ago Sergei and I were here on our own. We spent the weekend scrubbing down the kitchen and bathroom with bleach in ninety degree weather while Elaina, Zoya and Polly played in Grandma's back yard in Michigan.

Tonight we visited with neighbors in the alley (city life) and watched dads light up smoke bombs and fireworks and sparklers. I met a new mom, Ana.

"How long have you lived here?" She asked.

"Three years."

Three years. It's been a heavy three years; difficult ministry at first, kids acclimating to new surroundings, adoption paperwork, seven weeks in Ukraine, Evie's continued adjustment, Polly's stroke, Moyamoya diagnosis, two brain surgeries.

And yet through it all we've made this house a home, again, as we always do whenever we move. As a family we've never lived anywhere longer than three years. Sergei and I have moved eight times in twelve years.

All things considered, God landed us in a pretty good spot.

And I think we may actually break our three year rule and stay here in Chicago a bit longer. Which sounds nice, and settled.

Just what I need.

Twelve Years!

Today's our wedding Anniversary.
Sergei and I have been married twelve years! This morning when I woke up it was dark outside, a storm was heading our way. Twelve years ago on our wedding day I woke up to a terrible storm and within a couple hours tornado sirens. Our whole wedding was planed outdoors; the ceremony and the reception. Everything blew away and family and friends scrambled to regroup and start over.

By 10am the sky cleared and the ceremony was quickly set up again back outdoors. I walked down the aisle to marry Sergei with the sun shinning brightly. God rolled away the clouds. Lovely. We said our vows in Russian and it wasn't until I lived in Ukraine for three years that I really understood all the words to my commitment to to Sergei.

Everything that could go wrong on a wedding day did. My family still talks about that day, all the things they didn't even tell us about so as not to worry us. We were obliviously happy after the tornado rolled through, laughing and enjoying our guests, stopping off at a rest stop on our way to our honeymoon destination to make out, because, well, we could.

Our married life has seen eight moves in twelve years, an ectopic pregnancy, three live births three different ways; an epidural, natural water birth and c-section, the shock of Polly's diagnosis of Down syndrome and then just earlier this year Moyamoya; being missionairies in Kiev, adopting Evangeline and pastoring two churches.

For fear of sounding extremely hokey, I'll abstain from providing the usual cliches regarding my marriage (you know, my best friend, love of my live, etc..).

But I will say it's been good.

Really good.

Happy Anniversary buddy!

Spring cleaning in June

Thank you for all the kind, identifying comments you left on my last post. Writing about my challenges with Evangeline was more than cathartic. It kind of drop kicked me back into my advocacy hat. I've contacted The Erickson Institute here in Chicago and have an appointment with a developmental pediatrician there to talk about Evangeline. After that intake we will probably start a process of evaluations to see if there is another diagnosis in Evangeline's future (possibly autism) and to see how we can help her more in general. I'm excited. Well, that's an understatement. Every time I think about people helping our family, like about going to Erickson, I tear up.

I'm still knee deep in summer and winter clothes exchanges and have become slightly addicted to selling things on Craigslist. A lot of things have also gone to Good Will. And I am even thinking about cleaning out the refrigerator. This is serious business.

Sergei's mom comes next week for a month visit from Ukraine.

And next week is the last week of school.

Also, we have a new therapy helper, a special education college major coming for four hours a week to work with Evie and Polly over the summer. I realized there is a need for reinforcements around here in the therapy department.

I'm scared of July 25th

I'm scared of a date on a calendar; July 25th.

The reason that date scares me is because it's the date that Elaina, Evangeline and I came home from Ukraine last summer after spending seven weeks there finalizing Evie's adoption. I thought that by our first year anniversary home with Evangeline we would be well bonded, in love, and that Evie would be a different child and I would be a different mother. I was talking to a dear, honest friend who is also an adoptive mother the other night on the phone. She was telling me that her mantra in her head at first was, 'Let's just get through this first year. If we get through this first year it will have to be better."

Crap.

June is almost here which means July is right around the corner and between acclimating to four children and Polly's strokes and surgeries for Moyamoya, Evangeline and I have done nothing more than a dance of two steps forward and one step back.

I realized I haven't even taken pictures of her nor the other girls recently. A part of me wants to get through this time and forget about it. I don't want pictures reminding me of the pain and struggle we've gone through in order to mold into a family of six. Most days there is still a tinge of grief.

Sometimes I am at a loss on how to love her.

Oh, we have good days... good weeks even. But overall, this whole experience has
been difficult. Really difficult. Not-what-I-expected difficult. Evie is not who I expected her to be but more importantly, I'm not who I expected I would be as an adoptive mom.

We see light in Evie's eyes. Sergei and I find ourselves watching Evie do funny things or make cute faces and we laugh. "I'm so glad she's ours", we tell each other. She's mesmerizing.

But other times, the times she eats the mop and dives for a pile of dirt on the playground and cries when I pick her up to rock her, scratching my face in order to get away, rocking herself into a stupor, I find myself frustrated, at a loss, convinced I am failing miserably. Surely, another woman could do better than me.

So many other friends who adopted at the same time are doing well.

And it makes me mad.

So, I'm scared of July 25th.

Because although we've come a long way we have a long way to go.

The switch will flip some day, right?. Evie and I will love one another better, more often, in more tangible ways. But the interim hurts. Rejections sucks. Evie and I take turns rejecting each other. And the underlying nagging pain is this: I'm the mother... I should not feel like rejecting my child.

There, I said it.

This relationship with my fourth daughter has brought a new dimension to my relationship with God. It's poignant. It's not wasted.

I am thankful for invisible fishing lure line, taunt, strong, connecting me to Jesus.

And tomorrow I'm going to try again. I'm going to pray for love and patience and therapy strategies and creative ways to engage Evie. We're going to visit a developmental therapist to see what else Evie is dealing with besides Down syndrome (I suspect she is somewhere on the Autism spectrum as well) and see what other help we can receive. I'm going to interview more therapy helpers, students who major in special education. We want someone to work with Evie and Polly for a few hours a week this summer because when I think about doing it on my own I get dizzy.

So I've admitted these things (things I can't say out loud to anyone but somehow I can write it here). I'm going to look my four girls in the eye tomorrow morning, assure them and myself of my love and more importantly of God's love and then make oatmeal and toast for breakfast.

Another day.

Tonight as Polly fell asleep she kept asking me to kiss a boo boo on her elbow.

If only everything could be fixed with a kiss...

(Note: I welcome comments... more than welcome, I actually crave validation and I know that's another issue... but anyway, if you are inclined to comment that I'm a good mom and not to worry, things will get better, thanks, but that's not really the kind of validation I seek. God bless...)

Sibshops

Today I attended a workshop called 'Sibshops' conducted by Don Meyer, a hilarious communicator dedicated to a people group that is largely overlooked; siblings of kids and adults with special needs.

I sat in a room of close to 100 people and thought about Elaina and Zoya. I listened to adult siblings talk about the challenges and triumphs of having brothers and sisters with special needs. One sister cried, saying this was the first time she has connected with other siblings in her position. She is 28 years old.

It felt good to think about my two older girls, to write down tips that can help them in their unique roles.

Polly and Evie get a lot of attention by default. But Elaina and Zoya have needs too.

I found a sibshop that meets near us in Chicago today at the workshop. Elaina and Zoya will be able to go to a group once a month, play games, have fun and connect with other kids who have siblings with Down syndrome and Autism and Cerebral Palsy etc...

After our tumultuous year: bringing Evangeline home through international adoption from Ukraine and Polly's stroke and diagnosis of Moyamoya and subsequent brain surgeries I'm the first to tell you that there were many days that Elaina and Zoya were not on my radar screen. And as a mom that makes me feel like dirt.

I'm thankful that life has slowed down enough and God has pointed out to me the needs of my two older girls. They need attention, affirmation, security, experience.

This weekend Polly and Evie went to spend the night with my mom and dad in Michigan. Sergei and I took Elaina and Zoya out to eat and tonight we went to a show Elaina was performing in at school sans toddlers. Tomorrow the girls get to participate in their very own sibshop.

What a gift to focus on these dear girls for a few days.

It's filling my soul as much as it's filling theirs. It's imperative to remember there were four lives forever changed with the birth of Polly and the addition of Evie. The experience can make us rich or poor.

I hope I can help it to be rich for our family.

Mother's Day always puts me in a funk

Top ten reasons why Mother's Day puts me in a funk every year...

10) I usually have to figure out flowers for the kids to give their mothers at church which doesn't seem fair.

9) I have to buy my mom a gift (I am terrible at picking out gifts so that stresses me out). And this year I wanted to get her something good because her mom died a month ago and she is grieving.

8) All my mommy friends don't seem to have butts the size of Texas, like me.

7) Around Mother's Day I usually have a freak out session on my kids because of self imposed stress, wondering if I'm a good enough mother.

6) I have to face the fact that I'm a 35 year old mother of four. Ouch.

5) Is Mother's Day always on Sunday? It feels like it is. Holidays and Sundays running together are hard.

4) I grieve for friends and family who wanted a baby this year and didn't get one.

3) (*new this year) I think about Evangeline's birth mother and it makes me sad. Sad that she didn't want Evie or sad that she did... I can't explain but it's not black and white. I know that giving up Evie had to break her heart.

2) I think about all the motherless children in the world and feel badly that some days I fantasize about going to work full-time in an effort to get away from my kids.

1) I'm afraid that someone is going to out me...that I'm not really mother material.

The good news is I'm slowly getting out of my funk, hugging my kids, and moving on to obsess about something else.

Mother's Day Montage

Make photo slide shows at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Help Bring Freddie Home!

I want to help my friend Lyndi bring home Freddie! We're trying to reach 1,000 people who have $10.00. Do YOU have $10.00? We do!

Lyndi and I were in Ukraine last summer together completing adoptions. She's a great mom and I am so excited they are adding to their family again.

Freddie is in Eastern Europe right now waiting for the Shupps to come get him. Their paperwork is done and on its way but now they need to finish raising the funds! SO they figure if 1,000 people donate $10.00, they'll reach their fundraising goal. And with Internet networking, that doesn't seem TOO hard... of course if everyone donated $20.00, that would only be 500 people! Hmmm...

ANYWAY, go check out Lyndi's blog and pray about donating to help complete their family... they're waiting for Freddie to come home!

(and thanks to Renee, because, well, I stole mostly all her text for this post:). It's for a good cause, though, right?.

Atlantoaxial Instability

It looks like we have another diagnosis for a Marchenko girl. This time it's for Evangeline.

She has Atlantoaxial Instability (also known ass AAI).

12-15% of children with Down syndrome have this gap in between vertebrae; sometimes it means no bouncy houses or gymnastics. Rarely it means spinal surgery.

As far as I know right now Evangeline has a 5mm gap between her C1 and C2 vertebrae. We have an appointment scheduled with Polly's neurosurgeon next Wednesday to find out what that means for Evie.

You know, there are some people whose children never even break an arm.

I know, strange to think.

I'll keep you updated.

On a brighter side, Evangeline has started to wave hello and bye bye (also saying "ba ba"). She seems much more comfortable in our family and has even started to interact with toys a bit. Today I kept pressing a baby's stomach. The baby would say "Mama" and Evie would fall apart giggling.

So great to see.

It's hard to believe this little girl in the picture at the top has been home for eight months.

Love is blossoming.

Snow storms and grace

Today we spent a lazy Saturday at home.

I read, Sergei made pancakes, we all slept in until nearly eight o'clock. The girls played upstairs. There was a lot of commotion in their play. They made a book store and then later, an orphanage. I took stock, realizing that my children have been changed by God's stirring in our hearts to adopt Evangeline.

At some point Elaina and Zoya took a bubble bath by candlelight in their bathing suits. Oh yea, we're fancy.

In the midst of it all Polly's glasses were lost, which is almost comical if they weren't so expensive; my attempt at making her look less like she has special needs (incidentally, we are finding more and more that she does not, indeed, have special needs) and we had just gotten them replaced under warranty.

Polly and I took a nap for an hour in the afternoon. I fell asleep feeling privileged to be her mother, marveling at all the lessons this little soul has taught me. Her birthday is in a couple weeks. I cannot fathom how far we've come in four years. Her birth is a painful memory. And yet, daily, she holds out her hands to us and offers joy. It's like texting with Jesus.

I went to Nohea Cafe on Roscoe for an hour to write and got so excited that it's a cafe run by Christians. I have this bad habit of deciding people are going to be my best friends without giving them the chance to get to know me.

Sergei fed all four girls dinner in my absence. I am blessed to have him as my husband. Seriously.

My brother's birthday is today. I've been thinking about him and a time in my childhood when he watched me after school. It was when my family lived in a small town in Michigan; it seemed like half of the town was family, but looking back, now I know that everyone was family. Justin would make us a frozen pizza and he'd split it down the middle and we'd each eat half (back when I could eat half of a frozen pizza without consequence). We'd watch The Munsters and he'd try to coax me into playing with a friend so he could meet up with his high school cronies. My brother is funny and kind. He makes people feel at ease and I've always looked up to him. Intuitively, I know he is a good father. When I was little he would use me as weights; I'd be his dumbbell and he'd lift me up over my head ten times. When I'm around him, still till this day, I feel safe.

It snowed today in Chicago, after a week of temperatures upwards of 50 degrees. Waking up this morning, the snow blanketing our neighborhood was a disappointment. Before I knew it, our little family of six hunkered down for our last winter hurrah. I revelled in being inside for one more day, watching my children imagine a new world in the playroom. Our cocoon was happy, safe, healthy. For today, at least.

Don't be mistaken, I'm ready for spring. The flip flops are staying out. But today, surprisingly, was sweet.

Tonight after dinner I did my in-home walking video. I walked 3 miles with Leslie Sansone, feeling middle-aged. Evie loves the walking videos. She dances and jives; it's worth it to see her get so excited about the beat. There's a point in the video where we do kick backs, with our arms raised, "Hallelujah." After the birth of Polly, my brother advised me to buy a double cheeseburger from McDonald's without fries, if I really wanted to lose weight.

Elaina watched me well into mile two. "You've been exercising a lot more recently", she noted.

"I just want to be healthy," I lied. I don't want to tell my nine year old daughter who is probably smarter than I am that I desperately still, four years later, would like to lose my baby weight. And I only eat a double cheeseburger with fries like twice a year.

I feel like our family has really gotten a day off today... I don't know if Sergei would agree as he manned the children more than I did.

But it felt nice.

And at the end of the day, after the walking video and Zoya's turn at Bible story time (another gripping account of Jonah and the whale); after three out of four children were tucked into bed, I rocked Evangeline to sleep, totally enthralled with her. We've really started to connect lately.

"I hope it lasts forever," I say to myself as I sip a glass of Chardonnay.

And I am excited about church tomorrow morning; honored that God gave me the grace to believe His gospel and that each week, while sitting at Christian Fellowship Church, a place where immortals merge and focus their attention on the Almighty for two hours, I am fed and stupefied. Where does my husband come up with this stuff? Why does God love me?

And the answer comes: Grace.

Tomorrow is World Down Syndrome Awareness Day. Elaina and Zoya both have plans to do presentations for their class on Monday to honor their sisters. To them, there is no difference; adopted or not. To them, their sisters are not disabled; they are simply Polly and Evie.

I, myself, am almost brought to tears to think about the level of awareness God has brought to our Marchenko lives.

I give Jesus all the glory, realizing that some people who read this will think I am absolutely mad.

All I can say is I'm thankful, that my belief is outside of myself, something that was handed to me by grace. I'm a fish who grabbed the bait.