They Weren't The Only One's Abandoned

Now before I dig deep into this post, I need to say that I am very aware that this is going to probably offend some people. Please, try to read this with an open mind and most importantly an open heart. I also want to add that my parents are the best. I love them to bits and pieces and I admire them in so many ways. I am not writing this to point out their faults. I am writing this to educate and hopefully make you think about the adoptive family dynamic a little better. 

Yes, you read that right. My adopted brothers are not the only ones who have been abandoned. I am going to do something a bit cliche here, and add a definition of the word ‘abandoned’. 

Abandoned

/əˈband(ə)nd/

adjective

1. 1.
2. having been deserted or cast off.

Deserted or cast off. Have you ever felt this way? I mean really? I live in the United States of America. I do not come from a broken home. I have two wonderful and loving parents. I have a great job. I have a loving church family. I have an amazing boyfriend. From someone outside looking in...my life is perfect. But is it really? HA! No. It’s not. While I acknowledge my blessings and am beyond grateful and thankful for all the Lord has given to me, I do not have a perfect life. 

When I first met Sam and Alto back in 2010, I knew. I just knew. I knew that over the course of a good chunk of time, they were going to consume our lives. Is that a bad thing? No. Not at all. I just knew life was going to get crazy. When we started the adoption process I was just starting 7th grade. It was my first year in an online school and I had my morning job and jump rope practice in the afternoons. It was good. It was easy. It was fun. It was safe. Then the paperwork came, then the home studies, then the fees, then more paperwork, then interviews then ...then...then ...life was no longer about me. Life was crazy. So much was out of our control. My mom and dad were stressed out, and I usually left them alone. I couldn’t imagine what they were going through. They were creating a brand new life, and it was complicated and hard.

Remember, I had met Sam and Alto previously and had gone to visit a few times before they came home. Let me tell you something. If you are thinking about adopting, or you have adopted and have biological children, please listen to me very carefully and with an open heart. When Sam and Alto finally came home, after two and a half years, IT WAS HORRIBLE! No amount of books that I read or blogs that I read or people that I had talked to could ever have prepared me for what came next. Yes, there was a one to two week honeymoon period, but none of that was real, so I am not even going to talk about it. 

As a biological sibling, my life was no longer on anyone's radar. I don’t say this to victimize myself at all. Not even in the slightest. I say this to inform and let you in on the inner workings of my mind and honestly help you understand how A LOT of biological siblings feel. I was the oldest. I was the “mature” one. I was the one that all of my siblings, biological and adopted, trusted. My mom was busy training my new brothers on how to be a part of a real family and help them adequately work through their trauma; my dad was doing his best to focus his efforts on helping my mom and understanding what he needed to do to help her with the boys. They were stressed beyond belief and, as the oldest, it left me with my biological siblings. I have never been surrounded by so many people in my life. My family was bigger. Everyone and their dog came by to meet “the boys”. The neighbors, whom never really talked to us before, brought our family dinner. People from church asked to take “the boys” out to the park or to ice cream. You know what I could have used? Ice cream. I really could have used some ice cream. Because even though ice cream is such a small thing, it would have meant that someone cared about me and my well-being, and my sanity, and how I was doing with all of this. But since I had been raised in a wonderful Godly, happy, healthy household, no one bothered to check in on me or any of us biological siblings. Here I was surrounded by so many people, yet I have never felt so alone and abandoned in my entire life. I wasn’t a high maintenance person, but I still needed attention. Time passed on and I was 15. 15! I was getting my drivers permit and going through puberty, and starting at a public high school, and going to competitions for jump rope, and I didn’t understand my math homework, and my church friends were not talking to me, and….I was 15. 

If you all know anything about the enneagram, I am a 2. If you don’t know anything about it...educate yourself. I have never invested into something that has changed my life more than this simple test (besides my faith, of course). I am a 2. I am a helper. I look for others needs and I do everything in my power to fill them. I saw my mom stressed and busy, so I rubbed her tense shoulders all the time and listened to her struggles. I saw my dad kind of push me away because I was going through puberty and it was ‘awkward’, so I learned even more about football so we could bond over it. Not only that but I did my best to make sure the house was clean most afternoons, because I knew that made him happy. I felt so alone. I didn’t want to give my problems to my mom. I didn’t really want to talk to my dad either. They both just had so much going on, and their problems were big and real, I felt like my petty little issues weren’t worth their time. If there is one thing that I can say to adoptive parents, please MAKE time for your biological children. The success of their futures relies on you taking the time to just talk to them. Talk to them and listen to their ‘little’ problems. Just a few short minutes can even mean the world to them.
When I was 17 (almost 18) I started dating. My boyfriend, he was great. I finally had a real friend. Someone loyal. Someone dedicated to making me feel special. Someone who took time for me. Someone who listened. Someone I could talk to. Someone I could listen to. It was just...someone. That may make it seem so insignificant, but he was so special to me because he was someone who genuinely cared about me and wanted to know about what was happening in my life. It was long distance, and it was hard. One month after we started dating he left for 3 months. Not like went on a business trip left, no. He left into the mountains with absolutely no form of communicating for almost 3 consecutive months. Sure, I got a call here and there, but overall, I was once again, alone. So I wrote letters and spent a lot of time in the trees and mountains, and with my friends from high school. I had to search my heart and soul to write to him. That's when I realized that the way I was handling the adoption was not healthy, so I wrote to him about it. I am pretty sure there are letters that he’s still never seen. It wasn’t even that I wanted him to know everything. It was more like at the time, he was my person. I talked to him about everything, and he wasn’t there, so I wrote him letters. Through those letters I expressed my feelings about everything. My hurt, my pain, my sorrow, my joy, my struggles. Soon those letters became prayers. Prayers to the Lord for strength, understanding, and the courage to ask for what I needed. Then those prayers became opportunities. Then those opportunities became people. Well, honestly, a person. My mom. Yes, I loved my boyfriend, and confided a lot in him, but my mom had the expertise and the unconditional love that I needed to heal from my aching. So I opened up. It was hard. I started talking to her a lot more than usual. I asked for her time. I asked for her help. I asked for her advice. I asked, I was vulnerable and it was hard. Oh my goodness let me tell you. It was hard. I can guarantee you that there no two people on this planet that are more opposite of each other than my mom and I. But she helped me. She helped me through some pretty nasty times in my life. I opened up to her about my relationship, my struggles, my hurt, and ultimately my abandonment. Folks, let me tell you. I have not worked harder to maintain a relationship with anyone than I have with my mom. She. Is. Extraordinary.  

Through the next few months, I graduated high school and went to college. I ended things with my boyfriend, at that time (spoiler alert, we got back together) but I was healing. It was amazing. It was good. My mom had helped me be stronger and overall a better person. She stepped in and challenged me to be better, yet always loving me unconditionally. Now to fast forward to now. I have just gone through the worst 2 years of my life. My trust had been broken, I broke off my engagement (to a different man), I worked too many jobs and signed up for too many things, a lot of the people I thought were lifelong friends, vanished. My best friend was murdered. My brother fell away from the church.  I had to confront and deal with some garbage in my past. Even though it has been hard, I am strong. I have Christ. Frankly, that’s all I need, but I have a wonderful mother who has supported and loved me every step of the way, even when I thought she didn’t care. These past two years were horrific. It was awful. I don’t wish years like that on my worst enemy. BUT even through this terror, I had hope, love, and comfort. I don’t live with my family anymore, but they are nearby. I had a super cool cat named Kevin who weirdly got me through some tough times. Most importantly, I had Christ. I had my mom and I never felt alone. I am found in Christ and I am so thankful for all the things that he has given and taken from me. He is the Lord of Lords and the King of Kings and I would never had made it through any of this without Him. 

So parents, and biological siblings. Love each other. Be open and honest with each other. Talk. Even if it doesn’t seem like much, just talk. Even if it hurts like none other. Even if you think they are going to shut you out forever and think you're a terrible person, just talk. It’s so important to just keep the communication channels open!

People in the church. The adopted siblings get more than enough attention. Ask the biological ones out to ice cream, or better yet ...ask the parents out. Be their person. Don’t try to give them advice...just listen to their crazy stories and struggles and BELIEVE them. Believe them because they are true. I can guarantee you they need some real friends. Trust them. The parents are going to look crazy to you, but trust that they truly know what is best. Just be their person.

To all. Love. Just love. It has the power to heal. Heal everything and anything. Just love unconditionally, just like Christ loved us. 

1Corinthians 16:14 

Yes....its hard. Very hard.

May 14, 2018



*Disclaimer* I wrote this blog for my mom's blog 2 years ago, but thought it would be a good start to my own.  

 Hi, I’m Aubrey. My mom has probably mentioned me in her blogs one or two times. I want the world to know the truth about adoption from the eyes of someone from the inside. For starters I am the oldest of now 6 children. I was home schooled for the first 15 years of my life, and then started attending Mountain Crest High School. After attending my junior and senior year, I graduated and am now attending Utah State University majoring in Communication Studies with a minor in Entrepreneurship and Health Systems.            

I was twelve. I stepped off the plane. I took in the smells. I looked at the people. I looked at the island. I looked back in the plane and realized that there was no turning around for the next two weeks. I was excited but nervous. My mom held my hand all through the airport. Scratch that, she didn’t just hold it, she squeezed everything out of it so much so that it was purple by the time we reached the truck. The air was dingy and dirty but I took it all in. I was kind of in culture shock, but I was always up for a new adventure so I loved it. We arrived at the orphanage for the very first time and I was immediately greeted by all the small children wanting to touch my beach blonde hair and hold my hand. I was excited to make so many new friends; but one little boy stood out to me from the very beginning. Sam, my now brother, stood out to me the very first moment I stepped into that orphanage. He wasn’t rushing us to see if we had candy. He was sitting on a rock making a kite next to a big tree. I thought it was odd he didn’t immediately run up to us like all the other kids, but I shrugged it off and continued to play with the little children. After a few hours I came down from the missionary dorms and saw him making a kite. Not the same one, but he was still sitting there starting over from scratch. Naturally I was curious because he had just finished a kite...why on earth would he be making a new one? I walked over and sat next to him. He smiled at me and continued to work. I asked him about his kite and why he was making a new one. (He spoke English really well and I was impressed) I will never forget what he said to me then. “I gave it to my friend over there. He broke it, so I’m making him a new one so he can play with it with all of us boys.” I looked over at the boy he was pointing at and the boy had some sort of disability. Malnourished at birth, I believe. Sam didn’t look at him like he was disabled and didn’t talk about him like he was either. He just kept making him kites so he didn’t feel left out. He didn’t give him special attention because he was disabled, but loved him equal to everyone else. In his eyes they were equal. The rest of the time I was there, he and I became inseparable pals. Little did I know that the boy who just touched my heart would become one of my worst nightmares and best buddies all at the same time. No one can teach someone the lessons in life that Sam has taught me...and he’s only 12.

When my mom and dad first decided to adopt I was so excited, but in all honesty I was disappointed with their choice of child. As awful as that may sound...just hear me out. I wanted Sam. I didn’t really know Alto or connect with him but I knew that I loved Sam and I wanted him in my life forever. Long story short, you already know we decided to adopt them both, and I can’t imagine my life without Alto. I love that little boy to pieces. He’s adorable, sweet, hilarious, caring and just overall one of the greatest brothers any girl could ask for. But I’m not going to talk much about Alto. This story is MUCH much more about my journey with Sam.

Of course when we brought them home it was all rainbows and roses. Just like any relationship, we were in the “honeymoon” phase. They were grateful and obedient. They did their chores and we all got along. For a solid two days, everything was perfect and I thought there was no way anything could go wrong. I laugh now at that ignorant girl who thought it would be that easy. I laugh even harder at the fact that I thought I knew everything and it would be so easy to be nice and love them. Love. Stop. Now say it slowly. LOVE. That is a word that deserves to be categorized with all the other horrifying four letter words, sometimes. It puts up a false front, it looks easy, but its all a lie. Do I believe in real, true love? Of course! I believe in love more than anyone ever could! But its still the easiest word to say but the hardest to follow through with. I never truly appreciated nor understood the true gravity of that four lettered word. Honestly, I still don’t and I don’t think I ever will. Anyway. We’ll get back to that, but on with my story.

After our two days of Paradise, everything fell apart. Tantrums were thrown. By biological and adopted children alike. Punches were thrown, hurtful words were said pencils were stabbed into chins...yeah...that is a real thing that happened. I remember one day, a couple weeks into them being home, my mom was down stairs and I went up to my room to fold some laundry and happened to find Sam just sitting behind my door. He scared me, caught me off guard. He was visibly upset. So I closed my door and sat next to him. We just sat there in silence for a sold 20 minutes. If you know Sam, you know he is the farthest thing from a quiet person. He doesn’t just sit there in quiet; but there we were. Sitting behind my door in complete and utter silence. No matter how hard things in our family have been and no matter how mean Sam and I can be to each other, we still seem to have this natural mutual bond between us. After a few minutes I put my arm around him and then he broke. Everything broke. As he cried in my arms, I couldn’t even imagine what was going through his head. This precious boy was afraid this was going to happen again. He has always been afraid to get seriously close to people, especially my mom. It scares him. The most unusual thing though, he has never been afraid of me. He hasn’t ever been afraid of getting close to me. Yeah, I’ve hurt him. Many many times...but he’s always still so trusting and loving towards me; in his own way of course. Ever since that day I decided that no matter how hard things got I would always love this little boy. THAT IS THE TOUGHEST THING I HAVE EVER COMMITTED TO DO. He is a hard person to love. He does anything to get you to hate him, so the challenge there lies in seeing beneath everything and CHOOSING to love him despite what he does, says, or the way he acts. Every day is hard and many days I fail. Many more than I am willing to admit.

This little boy who made a kite for the disabled boy, is my brother. That isn’t ever going to change. Loving that boy makes me appreciate everything that Christ has done for me so much more that I could ever imagine. Sam is easily the hardest person to love that I have ever met. And for an 18 year old, I have met a lot of people. He tests and tries it every single day and every day I either prove or fail that love. To Christ, I am a "Sam". I test His unconditional love every single day. I hurt Him, I fail Him, and I sometimes fail to love Him.....but He loves me despite all that. Scratch that. He doesn’t just love me....He CHOOSES to love me. He doesn’t HAVE too, he isn’t OBLIGATED too, He isn’t FORCED too, but he CHOOSES to love me! This example to me make me want to CHOOSE to love Sam more and more. It’s hard, but I know no matter what, I love that boy more than he will ever know. Love means that you never stop...no matter what. Even if you are the hardest person in the world to love...Christ loves you, me and Sam. He will never stop loving us all. He will never stop loving me. He will never stop loving my Sam. And through His love, I will not ever stop CHOOSING to love my Sam...no matter what.