Ramblings from a sleep-deprived mother

It is now 1:23 a.m. and I'm up. I can't sleep. I'm nervous and excited and overwhelmed with . . . details. What items have I not bought/packed? What details have I overlooked? Why didn't I put my feet to the fire sooner to have everything done/organized/cleaned?

Mary began with a stuffy nose yesterday that turned to a cough and fever. Mary never runs fever - I can count the number of times on one hand. My sister and brother-in-law will be here from Alabama today to begin the transfer process of the girls and have a short visit. True, he's a doctor and she's a nurse but I'd rather be the caregiver if she doesn't snap right out of it.

Julia who is usually restless at night (she'll scream in her sleep regularly) is actually calm for the moment. The windows are up again and I'm listening to the night sounds and comforted.

I'm concerned for our sons. First and foremost I feel that they are in a wonderful orphanage. I think it can get hectic at times but I feel they are safe and fed/clothed/housed with love and care. They have been there since the beginning of the year and I have watched as especially Abel has gone from the "deer in the headlights" look about him to curious for electronics (always seems intrigued with the adoptive parents' camera, usually on the couch with them or standing beside the chair). He's crept from almost always being in the shadows of group pictures and usually not looking at the camera to first cautious glances, the first hint of a smile playing on that handsome, solemn face, to our first grin, and recently to him beaming first with a toddler girl being picked up by her Dad and just this week with him on a couch with two apparently good buddies. I realize that he especially has been transformed by this refuge and he has found "home" for over half of this year at what we simply refer to as an orphanage. He has forged friendships/brotherhood bonds.

I guess I'm feeling nostalgic because I reflect back on how I felt when I moved from Memphis, TN to Wisconsin. I didn't notice the Midwestern accent (unless they spoke more like they did in the movie Fargo) but the people here sure did notice mine! Some were nice and said how much they enjoyed the way I talked. Some ridiculed. Some just commented that I was not FROM here (some still do). I moved here to marry and Marty was so excited to point out my new surroundings. We explored his old stomping grounds, schools, houses where he had lived and each place was surrounded by stories and I could envision what life was like for him growing up. It was so welcoming and yet at the same time I felt unbalanced because I couldn't share with him on the same level. My roots were far away and I couldn't reciprocate. I LOVE being here and all the changes and looked forward to embracing it but . . . wished I could share all my haunts and weave my history into his life as well.

After a few weeks I realized something else. I had quit looking at people's faces in public. I guess I had been scanning crowds unconsciously looking for a familiar face and was daunted at times by the realization that I wasn't about to run into a childhood chum or former schoolmate, coworker, neighbor, or former church member. I was an outsider and although this new life was thrilling and warm and exciting I also felt a little disjointed. And I was 42!

So, I'm thinking I guess more especially of Abel with his being older and I envision him more the caretaker of his little brother. And although I feel he will have a good live/home/surroundings etc. as a Phillipson I wonder how overwhelmed he's going to feel. I'm not talking simply about a change of accents and feeling like he can't share his life history with me, but a WHOLE DIFFERENT society. A different language. A whole new cuisine (if you can call my ability to prepare food that). He's going to be uprooted from his friends. In the orphanage where he has been living with his friends and sharing sleeping quarters (and maybe even bed itself) for 24/7 for the last half year a friend becomes family pretty fast. Shoot, I think of my sister-in-law that I MET for the first time when she began dating Marty's brother last year around Halloween and how she became my sister/friend so quickly (way before the marriage). We didn't live together. We didn't spend hours and hours together cavorting and such - imagine that . . . she prefered Mike to me! But how we bonded!

I simply ask for prayers for our newest family members. I pray that I can be sensitive to how traumatic this change may be in our sons' lives. Change is hard.

I don't want to get caught up in the idea that since we are providing home/family/love/materialism unfamiliar to these guys that it is instantly good and a natural order of process to be embraced without looking back. I want to be a nurturing mother that allows them to grieve and its difficult to know how to best soothe them or anticipate what is best when you don't know them - their personalities - their idiosyncracies - where their buttons are or as Dr. Phil would say . . . what their currency is.

Maybe it didn't help that yesterday as we were preparing for the trip we watched our first meeting with Julia still on the movie camera. 09/03/07!! Wow. She was so upset.

And I look at her now and laugh. She views the video and chatters away and I think she may recognize herself, but maybe not. And this child could not be any more MINE. We were giggling with a friend last night over a temper outburst from Julia. Marty was teasing that she got that sense of flair from me and we both agreed that this very strong-willed girl is very much like me. Marty and Mary are more similar in traits.

And I'm amazed and humbled at how this happens and wonder how you can't just see God's hands fashioning this. And I know that no matter what bumps and such that my sons and I will find our footing and begin to build our relationship much in the same way as we did with Julia. I have faith we will learn but just want to stay focused on looking to God to guide us and not beating myself up or becoming too overwhelmed when it seems that it may be taking a loooong time to find our way to family.

All change, even GOOD changes are a struggle.