tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63280752664302805192024-03-13T11:09:19.034-07:00living life wildly!Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.comBlogger147125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-41440200280189155442013-11-18T08:40:00.004-08:002013-11-18T08:42:26.079-08:00dinovember* <br />
<span style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; line-height: 31px;">it's </span><span style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; line-height: 31px;">hilarious</span><span style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; line-height: 31px;"> and funny and so so creative. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi2J4uwEaaqCfDVoNgJ1lZWLoiv0cGqSw4dpK-K7avKD3H_jnFOcfBG_B309R2Khz0Mj0Okw30lWmASrFpan_HcGmn2PJ2Mm0PbBXsktPzhDUcIurIHwfpygMBsRMk6wY3Wdq2kcje6HAS/s1600/20131117_214500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi2J4uwEaaqCfDVoNgJ1lZWLoiv0cGqSw4dpK-K7avKD3H_jnFOcfBG_B309R2Khz0Mj0Okw30lWmASrFpan_HcGmn2PJ2Mm0PbBXsktPzhDUcIurIHwfpygMBsRMk6wY3Wdq2kcje6HAS/s640/20131117_214500.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<i>the animals was hungry and went for some oats. crocodile dived in head first</i></div>
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<i>and dog even rolled in the oats... </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE_pN0-z7XRy1nVoUsPB0_JSFItpvRGK-kXfmMvpFGV25dTCrSfh1Nwd91mLUWYFl66FCihId__LtbX9E5lgX5nu0b1GgSqPBnFolGDyjBqvjgpELrrCgCJAai3Hpa57CILhX4Vo8HkpOI/s1600/20131118_231603.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE_pN0-z7XRy1nVoUsPB0_JSFItpvRGK-kXfmMvpFGV25dTCrSfh1Nwd91mLUWYFl66FCihId__LtbX9E5lgX5nu0b1GgSqPBnFolGDyjBqvjgpELrrCgCJAai3Hpa57CILhX4Vo8HkpOI/s640/20131118_231603.JPG" width="360" /></a></div>
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<i style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; line-height: 31px;">his dino friends had to help him.... the animals are playing</i></div>
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<i style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span style="line-height: 31px;">with some xmas decorations and even broke one snow globe! gasp!!! </span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="line-height: 31px;">i started last night. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="line-height: 31px;">kellen saw it this morning. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="line-height: 31px;">our conversation went something like this: </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="line-height: 31px;">him: 'awww mom, i know you did it'</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="line-height: 31px;">me: 'no kellen, why would i do it? i cleaned up last night and went to bed'. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="line-height: 31px;">him: 'mom, you did it. (giggling). you have that funny voice. i can hear it in your voice'. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="line-height: 31px;">me: (trying not to burst out laughing) 'kellen! i will never do something like this. look at the mess and now i have to clean it up?'! </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="line-height: 31px;">him: giggling and smiling... 'ok mom, you did not do this but i know you did it'. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="line-height: 31px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="line-height: 31px;">today he came to me and said:</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="line-height: 31px;">him: 'mom, can you do the animal thing again tonight?' </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="line-height: 31px;">me: 'what animal thing?" </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="line-height: 31px;">him: 'you know... with the oats. oops, you didn't do it. can you please tell the animals to come out again tonight?'</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="line-height: 31px;">me: 'where must i find the animals? i don't know what to do? why don't you tell them?' </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="line-height: 31px;">him: (giggling) 'ok mom, i know it wasn't you, but just tell them to come out again'. </span></span><br />
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<br />
<figure name="2b51" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; line-height: 31px; margin: 0px 0px 26px; outline: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="font-size: 22px; margin: auto;"><span style="font-size: small;">i'm joining in the creativity of </span><a href="https://medium.com/thoughts-on-creativity/6f4cb1886d41" style="font-size: medium;">Refe Tuma</a><span style="font-size: small;"> and their Dinovember.</span></span></figure><figure name="2b51" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #333332; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Cambria, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; line-height: 31px; margin: 0px 0px 26px; outline: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="font-size: 22px; margin: auto;"><img data-action-value="1*itvZBBGsRJ5OG-J4kNyRRQ.jpeg" data-action="zoom" data-height="960" data-id="1010493446747" data-width="960" height="700" src="https://d233eq3e3p3cv0.cloudfront.net/fit/c/800/800/1*itvZBBGsRJ5OG-J4kNyRRQ.jpeg" style="background-color: #f2f2f0; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: -webkit-zoom-in; display: block; margin: auto; max-width: 100%;" width="700" /></span><figcaption class="image-caption" data-image-id="1010493446747" style="-webkit-nbsp-mode: normal; color: #666665; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic; left: -172px; line-height: 1.4; margin-top: 0px; outline: 0px; position: absolute; text-align: right; top: 0px; width: 150px; z-index: 300;">“Can we still have that cereal for breakfast, Daddy?”</figcaption><div style="font-size: 22px;">
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<div class="notes-source-hasnotes" name="56fd" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
<i><a href="https://medium.com/thoughts-on-creativity/6f4cb1886d41">Why do we do this? Because in the age of iPads and Netflix, we don’t want our kids to lose their sense of wonder and imagination. In a time when the answers to all the world’s questions are a web-search away, we want our kids to experience a little mystery. All it takes is some time and energy, creativity, and a few plastic dinosaurs.</a></i></div>
<div class="notes-source-hasnotes" name="657d" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
<i><a href="https://medium.com/thoughts-on-creativity/6f4cb1886d41">Childhood is fleeting, so let’s make sure it’s fun while it lasts.</a></i></div>
<div class="notes-source-hasnotes" name="657d" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
call the dinosaurs and let the magic happen!!! </div>
<div class="notes-source-hasnotes" name="657d" style="margin-bottom: 30px;">
keep the 'wonder' alive! :-) xx</div>
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Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-47588601987724051672013-11-15T21:34:00.001-08:002013-11-15T21:45:18.089-08:00silliness & nap time*<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/K8lcX54vhng" width="480"></iframe><br />
<br />
every afternoon, monday to friday, i pick her up from her play school. we usually have fresh watermelon on the floor in the kitchen, talking about her morning. then we go up to our bedroom for nap time. <br />
<br />
for the first 2 years of her little life of 29 and a half months, she preferred to sleep in her cot, without anybody touching her or sitting with her. at the beginning of this year, we decided to start putting her in our bed for story time, cuddles and some giggles before going to sleep. (we've been doing this with kellen since he came to live with us).<br />
<br />
this little video above is a perfect example of....<br />
<br />
pure joy!<br />
full hearts!<br />
happiness!<br />
silliness!<br />
<br />
<i>what love can do</i>. persistence and keep on trying. routines staying the same to accommodate our children. keep on touching and cuddling and kissing them. hug them tightly even if they don't like it. when they pull back or roll away, stretch your leg out and touch their feet, put your arm out, and stroke their back.. even if they push away again, don't get up. stay there. it hurst, but keep on trying.<br />
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(in the adoption circles the professionals talk about <i>reactive attachment disorder (RAD)</i>... you can read more about that <a href="http://www.helpguide.org/mental/parenting_bonding_reactive_attachment_disorder.htm">here</a>. )<br />
<br />
today, this last 2 weeks, she has been asking 'mama arm lie'. which in our books are huge steps for her. she falls asleep with her head on my arm, sometimes my shoulder and it is the most amazing feeling. her wanting to be close to me. her wanting to touch her mama before she falls asleep. pure m a g i c .<br />
<br />
i told some new friends yesterday that if we stay in the moment, right here, right now, and concentrate on what is really important <i>now</i>, we will be happy. happiness will come out in the form of giggles and joy and full hearts and little girls who is trying everything not to sleep, entertaining their mama's.Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-56987218864915945912013-11-14T08:09:00.000-08:002013-11-14T08:09:10.697-08:00a joy*<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh8VyZ8DENCkNPVtBE0JPr4m-PHDJQqz96BrF9me0Kpcw3Kk8D-rFO_7afSEF4c1ly9pzPXyRirudwcuhlBp2ftERKMHfaBAxDamL7Nljk2QwjcdNdYBLdMZbcEuNpCuO7Nw9Y7cloL1Y9/s1600/IMG_7633.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh8VyZ8DENCkNPVtBE0JPr4m-PHDJQqz96BrF9me0Kpcw3Kk8D-rFO_7afSEF4c1ly9pzPXyRirudwcuhlBp2ftERKMHfaBAxDamL7Nljk2QwjcdNdYBLdMZbcEuNpCuO7Nw9Y7cloL1Y9/s640/IMG_7633.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">“When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy.”</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"> </span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">
― <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/875661.Rumi" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">Rumi</a></div>
</span>Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-40706159394474017232013-10-13T11:10:00.001-07:002013-10-13T11:20:04.943-07:00she prays for us too*<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqPKSJvGsIuELafTQQDNFSy3_ZD_a0MhA0XF7qxjvK3pkNAJ-qAOnprDJoKKgsPIFqXfUGLh8NfQWb5dR6khF0blrvTZ6bUrgdUpBNzlfSVBKVsCFwOff4Q7tWSDDjB_2r3L0OiQgNe43g/s1600/IMG_6865.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqPKSJvGsIuELafTQQDNFSy3_ZD_a0MhA0XF7qxjvK3pkNAJ-qAOnprDJoKKgsPIFqXfUGLh8NfQWb5dR6khF0blrvTZ6bUrgdUpBNzlfSVBKVsCFwOff4Q7tWSDDjB_2r3L0OiQgNe43g/s640/IMG_6865.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
the friday evening our social worker phoned us to ask when we can pick her up, i just came back from a two hour massage.<br />
<br />
a two hour massage, where, when i went to lie down, i cried.<br />
<br />
i cried to God. about us not being able to '<i>just get another child'.</i> i didn't care if we did not get pregnant, why couldn't people who want to adopt children, not 'just get a child'. (i know about all the legal things. trust me, i do). but this night, i wondered and asked God and wanted to know why <i>we</i> could not <i>just get another child</i>. this not knowing. the hoping and trusting and wanting to believe, but you don't know how long you can still 'hold on'. it's endless. it breaks your heart. every moment you have to hold on and cling to the promise that your baby is on her/his way, every new morning you get up, you hold on some more, but your heart breaks a little bit more too.<br />
<br />
it usually takes me about 20 minutes to relax into the massage...<br />
i remember crying, praying...<br />
and then total surrender.<br />
<br />
<i>total surrender</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
i remember telling Him that i cannot do this anymore. i cannot hold on and believe that our baby is on his/her way. i'm tired.<br />
<br />
i remember thinking '<i>i don't know what to do anymore, i surrender. totally and wholeheartedly, i surrender. He must do what He wants to do</i>. i can't do this anymore'.<br />
<br />
i closed my eyes and relaxed into the massage, with an indescribable sadness lingering within.<br />
<br />
2,5 hours later she phoned. and she asked: '<i>when can you be back in south africa to pick up your little girl?'</i><br />
<br />
just like that. today i can say just like that. returning to the waiting, especially now, being within the waiting again, it's heart wrenching. it's playing with your emotions daily, trying to stay in the present and make each moment count with the people around you. <br />
<br />
but<br />
<br />
you do hold onto that <i>hope</i>.<br />
you <i>trust.</i> big time. not just because you need Him. you trust because He is the truth, the way.<br />
you <i>believe </i>that He has big plans for your life.<br />
you know that He wants only good things for your life and<br />
you <i>feel </i>your other children is out there, waiting for you.<br />
<br />
you can feel it.<br />
<br />
we prayed for years for our little girl too. in october 2010 i wrote a letter to 'our beautiful baby' under a tree in the shade, not even knowing that she was on her way. already growing in her birth mama's tummy.<br />
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but <i>i could feel her in my heart</i>.<br />
<br />
she won't go to sleep at night before we did not pray. and it is <i>kneeling-down-on-your-knees, hands-together-praying. </i><br />
<br />
she prays:<br />
'................ (insert mumbles of sounds here)... pappa'<br />
'.................(insert mumbles of sounds here)...mamma'<br />
'.................(insert mumbles of sounds here)...boeta'<br />
'..................(insert mumbles of sounds here)...whobin' (robin)<br />
'..................(inserts mumbles of sounds here)...ferris.....timo.....nana (her best friends and their mama)<br />
AAAAAAAAAAAA-men!<br />
<br />
<br />Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-77321843475925487832013-10-11T08:56:00.001-07:002013-10-11T08:56:58.965-07:00blessed*<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMYPlXD64EIHjz1TBio4pPGTJYFnbruVnIKRV2xCkfGmIIngBUOUt1xvHfmdxF-r5480FzmIDQMtiZxGG8c8ShMUiyJRFklBTJsIB5UrWd4YhpwjJbxYjVd3hSESI0YZJx2o8NvSXBZFCw/s1600/20130805_215325.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMYPlXD64EIHjz1TBio4pPGTJYFnbruVnIKRV2xCkfGmIIngBUOUt1xvHfmdxF-r5480FzmIDQMtiZxGG8c8ShMUiyJRFklBTJsIB5UrWd4YhpwjJbxYjVd3hSESI0YZJx2o8NvSXBZFCw/s640/20130805_215325.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
a few nights ago, while putting him to bed, he turned around, threw his arms around me and said:<br />
<i>'thank you mama, thank you that you were the first mama that prayed for me</i>'. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNg2IlOFmjxzuRhv6qk7iEsnQCiMODvb9Urtq-7CVWaZVnmQOilUo-5UUEGm6oTso4LDPmNw481ngiQaJB1JibCTI5eB6u2qSgu4A2BHFrMMAfDyzc4uH9Rpd4msLAJdnozwlCUwGsEXMC/s1600/IMG_5145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNg2IlOFmjxzuRhv6qk7iEsnQCiMODvb9Urtq-7CVWaZVnmQOilUo-5UUEGm6oTso4LDPmNw481ngiQaJB1JibCTI5eB6u2qSgu4A2BHFrMMAfDyzc4uH9Rpd4msLAJdnozwlCUwGsEXMC/s640/IMG_5145.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />
last night he prayed: '<i>thank you God, that you chose the perfect mommy and daddy to be parents for me'</i>. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_GY-ULlclWugMLicNlDKHVw4sKN3oMoTPh4wFWty3ts_mYViiX-KTC1bUTSQbTx6J48lqNZLFRG_75A3ZPAVpPAtcGBeeyN1E1bgwL2d7AXATqECktem9ZQf08eIrXWYQDbBcHuK2L0Xm/s1600/IMG_4880.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_GY-ULlclWugMLicNlDKHVw4sKN3oMoTPh4wFWty3ts_mYViiX-KTC1bUTSQbTx6J48lqNZLFRG_75A3ZPAVpPAtcGBeeyN1E1bgwL2d7AXATqECktem9ZQf08eIrXWYQDbBcHuK2L0Xm/s640/IMG_4880.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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it can be by chance that he prayed the above... but having prayed for this little boy for 8 years, made his prayer exceptionally special. it was moments of deep breaths, reminding one self, to be quiet and to cherish that moment... grasping the prayer with both my hands into my heart where the love i have for this boy, is deep and fierce.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid_v__9Tk_xECH8IrbnWWeWLAaacRQZUpgvlexTFINKm-dYdDeC-yvWQcMVoMmCSAKBHraJt6F6hCtLJk37uIwYR6Z9MB8G8nd-8ytOYQ_uQCYzXz9p3IB_K_s7FmDXMYZq5HvL3ch-5VZ/s1600/IMG_4205.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid_v__9Tk_xECH8IrbnWWeWLAaacRQZUpgvlexTFINKm-dYdDeC-yvWQcMVoMmCSAKBHraJt6F6hCtLJk37uIwYR6Z9MB8G8nd-8ytOYQ_uQCYzXz9p3IB_K_s7FmDXMYZq5HvL3ch-5VZ/s640/IMG_4205.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
he gets me. his daddy will some days look at me, then at him, shake his head and say: "he is just like you, are you sure we adopted him?".<br />
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he is soft and kind and silly and fun. he loves to cuddle and is always touching me with his foot or hand. he will take my hand in public and hold on tight, 'to never let me go'.<br />
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he gets irritated and frustrated when he is tired. he loves to sleep and always has a teddy or two or three with him in bed.<br />
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he is currently into sports. want to take golf lessons, because 'he wants to master all the different types of sport so that he can be really good'. <br />
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the day he was born, a friend came to me and told me: 'your son was born last night. i had a dream that your names was engraved on his forehead'. i thought... yes right. we are moving to the uk, i don't really care. <br />
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but i kept on praying. for our children. to come home.<br />
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18 months later, on a monday afternoon at 5, my phone rang, the same friend asked me if i was sitting and asked if we can adopt him, as he is going to be placed for adoption.<br />
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i prayed for him. every single day for 8 years, i prayed for him. <br />
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now he is praying for me xx<br />
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<br />Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-881721294840302022013-10-07T07:21:00.001-07:002013-10-07T07:22:04.199-07:00where have I been?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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my first born went to year 2. we were both a bit apprehensive and scared for the changes and the new things, but he was brave and willing to take on the new challenges.<br />
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this little muffet started a new school and LOVES it. amazing what a difference experienced teachers make to your child's life. </div>
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i am so in love with that little lips..the way she pulls her mouth when she concentrates... adorable. </div>
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she loves play dough and trying new things... </div>
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Robin Hood went to school... he was quite the man :-) </div>
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(for bookweek)</div>
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superman and papa smurf was there too. </div>
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(this is Kellen's principal and department head of his school - i love the teachers) </div>
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his new class and everyone was game for some fun in book week </div>
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the year 8 children came down to their class to read with them... </div>
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i still cannot believe that my son can read.... amazing</div>
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we helped Kellen's teacher to decorate the front of their class for the book week door competition... </div>
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and we won! </div>
Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-82781519763954172642013-08-31T08:56:00.002-07:002013-08-31T08:57:30.760-07:00you can climb every mountain*<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>kellen half-way up the mountain in the Quiver forest just outside Nieuwoudtville </i></span></div>
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kellen: "i'm going to run up the mountain". </div>
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dad: "no, you can't go now. we can come back another day. grandma and grandpa is waiting in the car. we have to take them into consideration as well." </div>
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kellen: "<i>but dad! this is what traveling is all about. running up mountains, looking for treasures, exploring and seeing and finding new things. it's the first time we are here and i have to try everything at least once!" (with an exclamation mark) </i></div>
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me: "yes, you are right. run, i will wait for you. you can climb every mountain." </div>
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Gosh! i love this boy. and one day when he starts traveling by himself, i will stand at the airport, waving goodbye, swallowing my tears, but boy will i be proud! </div>
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** <i>read this beautiful written piece on <a href="http://goinswriter.com/travel-young/">traveling young </a> by Jeff Goins</i></div>
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Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-86721224333913430962013-08-28T08:14:00.001-07:002013-08-28T08:15:52.059-07:00smiling big*<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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our hearts are full... </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwkHizqCN4ROEBFTpurdU0cOf0HQL0auGzar7bJxcvwuVJWlchfU4m0dKCgkM4dzBN7ZM8UlqOGwf9MYZpZzdfsJBabYc7h6534WxlF2t6MqOs1W7wWtOlXr6hcrfyNS_vWxT5FZ-xXGYs/s1600/IMG_4059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwkHizqCN4ROEBFTpurdU0cOf0HQL0auGzar7bJxcvwuVJWlchfU4m0dKCgkM4dzBN7ZM8UlqOGwf9MYZpZzdfsJBabYc7h6534WxlF2t6MqOs1W7wWtOlXr6hcrfyNS_vWxT5FZ-xXGYs/s640/IMG_4059.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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we spent 4 weeks with cousins + godchildren + sisters + brothers + fathers + mothers = family.</div>
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it was loud and busy and real and funny and a few fights and lots of laughter.</div>
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loads of memories.</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH3CYClo6kW55APgQiBAek0Fank194BUJAerEc5T59Aol6uMS4xQxCO5O_qiXr-YiMYdvwwmdIpZ4t3ltdUJDQ9r5g4glhIdIycKMVpFwPRfAIvxKIZ5AjgS7-Y7fCaVHti6Avgw18mEi6/s1600/IMG_4054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH3CYClo6kW55APgQiBAek0Fank194BUJAerEc5T59Aol6uMS4xQxCO5O_qiXr-YiMYdvwwmdIpZ4t3ltdUJDQ9r5g4glhIdIycKMVpFwPRfAIvxKIZ5AjgS7-Y7fCaVHti6Avgw18mEi6/s1600/IMG_4054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH3CYClo6kW55APgQiBAek0Fank194BUJAerEc5T59Aol6uMS4xQxCO5O_qiXr-YiMYdvwwmdIpZ4t3ltdUJDQ9r5g4glhIdIycKMVpFwPRfAIvxKIZ5AjgS7-Y7fCaVHti6Avgw18mEi6/s640/IMG_4054.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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we went to the seaside, open planes of the knersvlakte and the beautiful winelands.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3hBrJo7MPDMs3IxjKg77iNbM2_RdUh7tG-GaR_Ie5-8G-ubgyjH7LG_tCp_0lOhHvHdPzISBAAL2XQu1ZbDuwW2NUpOwu571jWhOopYveTdImQOTTBedndYVRWu9BYpZ30rnhDaS-Wfem/s1600/IMG_4303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3hBrJo7MPDMs3IxjKg77iNbM2_RdUh7tG-GaR_Ie5-8G-ubgyjH7LG_tCp_0lOhHvHdPzISBAAL2XQu1ZbDuwW2NUpOwu571jWhOopYveTdImQOTTBedndYVRWu9BYpZ30rnhDaS-Wfem/s640/IMG_4303.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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we spent all our time with grandparents, cousins and friends. </div>
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trying to get as close as possible to them without another cousin jumping in between. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI0DEp9H3hco8egkbDtFFZxk2p1QbH7JoaHV_tvoWjanXOXkCfw9c9Y-K72k1vWdWPILQ1tFU31LLyArG-orisTSadFbpZAQFo-MOb-6kZ-WM_STQwbsw3SMyUtRvkxsUqENszn4iwADUb/s1600/IMG_4080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI0DEp9H3hco8egkbDtFFZxk2p1QbH7JoaHV_tvoWjanXOXkCfw9c9Y-K72k1vWdWPILQ1tFU31LLyArG-orisTSadFbpZAQFo-MOb-6kZ-WM_STQwbsw3SMyUtRvkxsUqENszn4iwADUb/s640/IMG_4080.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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smiling from ear to ear, sleeping off the jet lag, unpacking and smiling,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
remembering every moment in our country. </div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><i>“Sometimes," he sighed, "I think the things I remember are more real than the things I see. ” </i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">― </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/614.Arthur_Golden" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">Arthur Golden</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">, </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1558965" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">Memoirs of a Geisha</a></i></div>
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<br />Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-27837094862152355882013-08-18T11:52:00.001-07:002013-08-18T11:56:29.530-07:00cousins*<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaIhL84c5nFu_iuZINVVN_zSryA29t-jl5ACW6v0N40db8V-3q3m11BaiFaEszRieern6XEg_5NIQQXZk5yoSSUnFToRieylPSlikckM_y-lpmQ7a7qH2GWBymJt0T4DnojU29zlkEFi6T/s1600/IMG_3740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaIhL84c5nFu_iuZINVVN_zSryA29t-jl5ACW6v0N40db8V-3q3m11BaiFaEszRieern6XEg_5NIQQXZk5yoSSUnFToRieylPSlikckM_y-lpmQ7a7qH2GWBymJt0T4DnojU29zlkEFi6T/s640/IMG_3740.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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one of the few moments of standing still... in silence...just hearing the wind blowing around us... </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpxy4hNidf1D-mYjqGMa8-0hpTcdlbXpQwKmVeY1_0wXrhKH8bwtlU7tPmfXOd0hHu6eZtvHLqKi0H3-KYB6frO7ARJCpWGEb4c6mOV0kLPVw0jwrizc2NlkaXbtMLKaNOt8xxuuJBhrbg/s1600/IMG_3630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpxy4hNidf1D-mYjqGMa8-0hpTcdlbXpQwKmVeY1_0wXrhKH8bwtlU7tPmfXOd0hHu6eZtvHLqKi0H3-KYB6frO7ARJCpWGEb4c6mOV0kLPVw0jwrizc2NlkaXbtMLKaNOt8xxuuJBhrbg/s640/IMG_3630.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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these four have been busy and loud and awake! and alive! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipd2ww0UC3oIcOM2r9nfNsABd8g10UvduzQuDRQc6buk6zhXaoL3B6mY7NkGvtCbokWM6cDWbgGcBAPPcgnFGyykyGh48XwXxrib8-idnduBID5_nYD2Ng4rcUg4IXI1ajDeSUCKTUbbZ8/s1600/IMG_3659.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipd2ww0UC3oIcOM2r9nfNsABd8g10UvduzQuDRQc6buk6zhXaoL3B6mY7NkGvtCbokWM6cDWbgGcBAPPcgnFGyykyGh48XwXxrib8-idnduBID5_nYD2Ng4rcUg4IXI1ajDeSUCKTUbbZ8/s640/IMG_3659.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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we may (or may not) have given them a little something to stand against the wall and smile...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXScZxPBtuVjNIX8JbQwC9YikCINhUXEdwHNwpPhlf-4UL-vm57bF-0Sd61Ux7DUAdErE9PA2FoBouW4lQCZmdKxzFkyBMTaALjO5Wx9D5Equk4IuoGbsHkPD1dDIuOYNbooeHrK70PSRO/s1600/IMG_3721.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXScZxPBtuVjNIX8JbQwC9YikCINhUXEdwHNwpPhlf-4UL-vm57bF-0Sd61Ux7DUAdErE9PA2FoBouW4lQCZmdKxzFkyBMTaALjO5Wx9D5Equk4IuoGbsHkPD1dDIuOYNbooeHrK70PSRO/s640/IMG_3721.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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but the suspense and eagerness to get up and run? </div>
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they are on the go all the time.</div>
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in this moment i'm sitting in the bathroom with my laptop.</div>
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i locked the door. </div>
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all the kids (6 in total), in the lounge with the family... </div>
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the silence in here, truly is golden. </div>
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breath... </div>
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ok...</div>
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ready to enter the madhouse </div>
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of love and laughter! </div>
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no place like home with the family! </div>
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<br />Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-76869466583389175452013-08-01T05:46:00.001-07:002013-08-01T05:46:56.115-07:00inspired*<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA2hkqjhQ_n7pdU7-gFKoXiOAL_6xx8Qt6EFQOCeKIPDJgX7JV5NeTHsg2FBw3vU1MMPavx8ZTchv04i55jl5cOpNj_KB5SddrgDOJbEsSU5RYHm8MArw1gnDke2XzzNit8biOpVrA9M6Q/s1600/IMG_1584.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA2hkqjhQ_n7pdU7-gFKoXiOAL_6xx8Qt6EFQOCeKIPDJgX7JV5NeTHsg2FBw3vU1MMPavx8ZTchv04i55jl5cOpNj_KB5SddrgDOJbEsSU5RYHm8MArw1gnDke2XzzNit8biOpVrA9M6Q/s640/IMG_1584.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeyC_QGXM91SA9Ej3ExhOYuNzYd0wRxQ2SznNgFEghZUms9GGlNldOEUl0gD92bMuRbX-91Aa7KpDGDouNQ_CpXXLVkLfh2UazwN3crOFObfm1sx6XPGiDlSdqal1SdZfIjJ_eNANGWx66/s1600/IMG_1611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeyC_QGXM91SA9Ej3ExhOYuNzYd0wRxQ2SznNgFEghZUms9GGlNldOEUl0gD92bMuRbX-91Aa7KpDGDouNQ_CpXXLVkLfh2UazwN3crOFObfm1sx6XPGiDlSdqal1SdZfIjJ_eNANGWx66/s640/IMG_1611.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />
i am inspired by the wonder and awe of our children... their fascination to learn and know everything about anything... i'm inspired by the love for my country... the boldness and longing to do something meaningful with ones' life. i'm inspired by<a href="http://maggiedoyne.squarespace.com/journal/2013/7/28/maggie-and-kopila-valley-featured-in-huffposts-global-mother.html"> maggie </a>and how she is changing the world one child at a time... my brain is spinning with ideas of how i too, can change life, one child at a time...Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-3588297594082192132013-07-29T23:12:00.000-07:002013-07-29T23:12:03.618-07:00hOmE*<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc5FHurfug1qzKN77cL7Ybju6Wa2U0em-GfmCH2NXgmzKXWR_mVJx6mumYc6QVfz9RUs-2o70XnAOUfkoHflpQtw8qZDq03u6yL19OGdh4zFo4zEXvZCUjBOvFAA_kPKn2ixvWuwzb7Wgw/s1600/P3225652.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc5FHurfug1qzKN77cL7Ybju6Wa2U0em-GfmCH2NXgmzKXWR_mVJx6mumYc6QVfz9RUs-2o70XnAOUfkoHflpQtw8qZDq03u6yL19OGdh4zFo4zEXvZCUjBOvFAA_kPKn2ixvWuwzb7Wgw/s640/P3225652.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
we are visiting south africa for four whole weeks.<br />
<br />
it means... family, cousins, cold cold weather!!!, winter clothes, dogs, grandma's and grandpa's, giggles and lots of laughter... it also means babies getting up at dawn = jetlag :-) and friends and my mom's house (feeling so close to her) and just being here. it means sick babies and puppy dogs and good good food. it means pro nutro every morning and family dinners at night, it means midnight chats with my sister-in-law talking about our 'exercise programs'..hehe... love love love being home.<br />
<br />
there surely is no place like home.<br />
<br />
hearts are full, full, full xxLynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-37101686392197005442013-07-25T06:10:00.002-07:002013-07-25T06:12:48.991-07:00truth* (of infertility) the truth is...<br />
<br />
i don't want to write about all the sad things of my heart.<br />
<br />
right in the beginning i thought my blog is going to be about our amazing and beautiful and blessed life. i did a writing course and realised again that my best writing, and the writing you want to read, is the truth of my heart. the posts, where i write from my heart, where i open it up, where i don't think about it, and just write what comes from my heart, those are the posts that you want to read.<br />
<br />
blogging is a funny thing. I thought that people want to read about happiness and good things and dreams coming true, which i believe to be true too. right now, i guess it's the heart of the matter, it is the truth that needs to be told.<br />
<br />
i'm writing about this, because i know how grateful i felt when i stumbled upon a blog 7 years ago of a beautiful girl who could not have her own children too... i thought i was over all the infertility stuff and have moved on, but the more i read, the more the feelings re-surfaced and i realised i did not have the words to say what i was feeling. and here, here is someone who knows exactly what i'm going through.<br />
<br />
i felt held and loved and not alone. i felt 'normal' within the abnormalities of this journey. someone, a million miles away, knew how i felt.<br />
<br />
i felt seen.<br />
<br />
accepted.<br />
<br />
loved.<br />
<br />
she gave me hope.<br />
<br />
i'm quite a 'what-you-see-is-what-you-get' type of girl - very honest. not always the best combo, but i'm all about showing up and being real. <br />
<br />
(if these post are too heavy or personal for you, this is maybe not the blog for you to read). <br />
<br />
i hope that my words will make you, who truly need this, feel as if you are not alone either. that what you are feeling is real. i hope you feel 'normal' within all this sadness, but above all, i hope you find<br />
H O P E in my words, because at the end there is always always hope!<br />
<br />
H O P E and T R U S T.<br />
<br />
i would love to hear your story... please email me at lynnemalan@gmail.com.<br />
<br />
the truth of infertility is that your story matter.<br />
<br />
it's ok to feel what you feel.<br />
<br />
you are normal.<br />
<br />
this all sucks right now, but in the end, when you hold that little baby in your arms, it was all worth it!<br />
<br />
please share... and know that you are not alone.<br />
<br />
Lin xx<br />
<br />
<i>* soaking up this beautiful life for the next 4 weeks! will be back in September</i><br />
<br />
<br />Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-88660623102789199832013-07-21T08:55:00.000-07:002013-07-21T08:58:54.745-07:00this is for you who are still waiting...we are waiting too.<br />
<br />
we are waiting for our other children.<br />
<br />
it's endless.<br />
<br />
you don't know anything.<br />
<br />
it could happen tomorrow, next month, next year, 2 years from now...or never.<br />
<br />
the '<i>is it going to happen at all'</i> enters one's mind so often...daily... while you wait with every little thing in your heart for your child... you pray, you think positive thoughts, you hope and trust. you stay grateful for the life and children you already have. you try not to feel guilty for wanting more children (when there are so many couples who are still waiting for their first child).<br />
<br />
you believe that the plan that God has for your family goes beyond anything you have ever thought... you believe that the plan He has for your family is huge and beautiful and <i>many kids full</i> and happy and healthy and <i>soon</i>. you believe it will be soon, '<i>at exactly the right time for your family'</i>.<br />
<br />
you trust.<br />
<br />
and pray.<br />
<br />
and trust again.<br />
<br />
you live <i>in</i> trust.<br />
<br />
you hold to every promise God made in the Bible and you trust in the big big plan He has for you.<br />
<br />
thinking back about our life before our kids...how 'we' decided we are going to go on with our lives without children... 'because we choose to do so'...just to have that little bit control in your hands...you made that choice...<br />
<br />
and today, with 2 children in our hearts and our hearts waiting in anticipation and patience and trust for our other children.. we cannot imagine our life without children. we, him and i, were put on this earth to parent these children... i know it in my heart.<br />
<br />
wanting to have control in the situation is natural and normal.<br />
<br />
let it go.<br />
<br />
it takes too much energy. energy you can use to pray your children home. energy that you can use to let go and trust that He knows.<br />
<br />
surrender.<br />
<br />
surrender into trust.<br />
<br />
surrender into God.<br />
<br />
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">“God had brought me to my knees and made me acknowledge my own nothingness, and out of that knowledge I had been reborn. I was no longer the centre of my life and therefore I could see God in everything.” </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">― </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/102487.Bede_Griffiths" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">Bede Griffiths</a></i><br />
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it will happen xx<br />
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* sending you who are still waiting the biggest and softest, 'i understand' hug... i know how scared you are, i know how much you doubt this truth, i know. <br />
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i also know it does happen, and you are loved and wanted and waiting... and yes, you are a mama, you are trusting, because it can happen for you too.Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-51712035944118031602013-07-12T08:39:00.002-07:002013-07-12T08:41:45.890-07:00crazy, happy get-togethers* (dreams coming true) <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">“I realized these were all the snapshots which our children would look at someday with wonder, thinking their parents had lived smooth, well-ordered lives and got up in the morning to walk proudly on the sidewalks of life, never dreaming the raggedy madness and riot of our actual lives..."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">― </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1742.Jack_Kerouac" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">Jack Kerouac</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1701188" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">On the Road</a></span></i><br />
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(christina & Michelle...this is for you! xx)<br />
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i've dreamed of this madness...of kids running around, noise, lots of it, in reality something that sounds like chaos, but it's such happiness!!! being with these people was crazy and loud and funny and not funny and tiring and exhilarating... it was kids crying and kids fighting and laughter that ended in tears, kids saying they are hungry and mom's looking at each other...silence... 'no, not serious', continuing the same conversation for the 10th time. it was a dream coming true.<br />
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i thrive and come alive with many kids around me... my heart expands and fills up all at once... it's crazy and bizarre...<br />
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it's hard too. and challenging. and 'i-don't-know-what-i'm-doing' hard, it's guessing and trusting and believing that you are teaching them the right things. it's repeating and reminding and smiling and praying for patience... reminding yourself in their moment of overwhelm 'be the parent, be the parent'... don't over-react'... breath out... hard i tell you. to get that balance right... it's hard.<br />
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but i would not change one thing.... except having more kids :-)<br />
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everything. all of this. it's magic.<br />
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<i> <span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">“the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.”</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"> </span></i><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">― </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1742.Jack_Kerouac" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">Jack Kerouac</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1701188" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">On the Road</a></span></i><br />
*dear christina & michelle,<br />
thank you for being 'mad' with me and allowing me to be mad with you :-)<br />
thanks for making me burn with desire to be the best mom for my kids!<br />
you inspire me xxLynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-28149125353930832672013-07-10T06:09:00.003-07:002013-07-10T06:12:43.278-07:00End of school year... only 2 more days! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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t w o days. 2 days until we have long summer holidays!</div>
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i am counting down the days until this school year ends. </div>
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i'm not making any appointments/dates for the first 2 weeks. </div>
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in this house we are going to go under the radar... sleep late, stay in pajamas all day, sort out the toys, eat whatever we feel like. paint. mess. bake cookies. order pizza. </div>
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tonite, all i can think of is sleep. lots of it. not having to get up. wake up, have tea and getting back into bed. napping. movies. swimming. no reading. just being. </div>
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not.doing.anything. not even talking. </div>
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with 2 kids? </div>
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you bet. </div>
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(insert loud laugh) xx</div>
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(who am i kidding?) </div>
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but that's the idea :-) </div>
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Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-73680843365915920502013-07-01T06:01:00.000-07:002013-07-01T06:01:30.017-07:00infertility blues* <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
since i can remember i wanted many children... then we realised it was not 'just going to happen' and in between the infertility treatment and wondering what the future holds and the many people who always asks 'when are you going to start with a family', i used to joke and say we want 10 children. yes, you read correctly, T E N ! :-) </div>
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during one such conversation a friend ask me 'what does your husband think about that?' and i thought oh! i must most probably ask him. To which he answered: '<i>i will settle for 5'.</i> (yes! i have the most amazing husband). </div>
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after our unsuccessful infertility treatments, we decided 'what must be will be' and moved to the UK with the idea of not having children at all and if it happens for us, it happens. We were quite naive. thinking we are over all the grief and totally on the other side of it. The 2 years in the UK was our grieving period for not being able to have our own children. Everything about those 2 years was sad and depressing. but it was also the way God prepared us for our children. </div>
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Fast forward 5 years and we are living in Malaysia with 2 beautiful, healthy, funny and caring children. We decided to adopt here in Malaysia and so the process began. The possibility of adding to our family and expanding in the one thing we know to be true... our love for our children and each other... again, to expand on that love and love even more, when you think you don't know how you can even love them more, and then it happens and your heart explodes with love and even more possibility. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7gTDDVfaX0OqE4Tc9hzDyE9m8stYtt1_fuhGFsyfRBdzKUE7QHZVIWv_QTy9zpIyXsADLaGadWt0o0MAV3ADvl5NSDEc7urWMKJO0K-at0IdXh5Px8H-YyeyW-JNNtfWNoP4jGcQ0NCj8/s1600/IMG_0601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7gTDDVfaX0OqE4Tc9hzDyE9m8stYtt1_fuhGFsyfRBdzKUE7QHZVIWv_QTy9zpIyXsADLaGadWt0o0MAV3ADvl5NSDEc7urWMKJO0K-at0IdXh5Px8H-YyeyW-JNNtfWNoP4jGcQ0NCj8/s640/IMG_0601.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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friday night i had 3 little brothers here at our place for a sleep over and it did not help. it confirmed to me (again) that my heart has the capacity to love more children... the feeling i got when i took this photo?... i felt like i was in heaven... 10 little feet running around through the house, the noise, the giggles... e x p a n d i n g heart! </div>
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yesterday we met with a contact to adopt here in malaysia. during the conversation some things did not make sense and the story did not add up, so we stood up and walked out. my heart not broken, but sad, because today we could have had a little baby girl in our arms. (unfortunately here in malaysia trafficking is huge and as potential adoptive parents you have to be extra careful when meeting people). </div>
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we talked about it. about God and answers and not understanding. then my husband said 'you ask for an answer from God, He gives one and then you are not happy with His answer'. (shall i roll my eyes? smile? cry? ) how does one know what is the right thing to do? how do you know if this was really illegal or who knows, maybe they are legal, you don't know. you trust the feeling in your gut... </div>
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trust. faith. for me it always ends in faith. knowing that God has our best interest at heart, that He is waiting for the right time, arranging the meeting of our next child to be absolutely perfect... </div>
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He knows. i know He knows. </div>
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having faith and trust in God, knowing in your heart that He is busy working with your life plan, having 2 beautiful and healthy children, does not take away the 'falling into the rabbit hole' of wanting to have your own children. it's not so much wanting to be pregnant, having my husband's children... it's more of '<i>i wish it was as easy for us as for other people, </i>to decide to have more children, get pregnant and give birth'... until you decide to have another child... and you get pregnant and your carry the baby and you give birth again, and have another miracle in your hands'... </div>
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whenever we talk about more children, starting the process of adopting again, there is always a time where i wish i was like other woman...able to carry and have our own children, because then we don't have to think and try to understand what the plan is that God has for our life, or to think about... oh my goodness... there's a million questions when you adopt... but primary wondering when your baby is going to come, when the timing is right, when this is going to happen... is it going to be a little boy or girl... oh my goodness... stay calm, be objective. don't hope. or hope. be positive but don't expect too much. i hope they are not part of a scam and having to be extra careful when meeting people, having to trust your gut and your first instincts. wondering when you are going to get 'the call', trusting and letting go... </div>
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it's always a case of trusting and letting go... </div>
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i guess it's normal for one to linger in the in between of infertility blues and possibility... trying to make sense of this journey, of the meaning of all that life brings to you and i would think most importantly, how we decide to act/react on everything happening with you... </div>
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it's a crazy and whirlwind ride, but that moment when you get the call, and this is it, your baby is here, you can get ready to collect your baby... every moment was worth it. </div>
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thinking about my son and daughter... we would go through that 9 years of infertility treatment again and again to be right here where we are now, in the midst of being blessed over and over again.</div>
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Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-4668928472850620172013-06-16T06:53:00.000-07:002013-06-16T06:53:01.119-07:00the most amazing daddy*<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-hA7IAmaSQqaK8ZvHM1HmsaWKJsFQWB3XGlbl46LqFMrpvtwpFXv0HH0ECzaQOagcbKiog76FCW9G2p627uWlN9cPIKemwD062y1jQwdRjiSXAJgeCrwYKOMxmqTBQlNKTRtsuHuL0VI6/s1600/IMG_1228.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-hA7IAmaSQqaK8ZvHM1HmsaWKJsFQWB3XGlbl46LqFMrpvtwpFXv0HH0ECzaQOagcbKiog76FCW9G2p627uWlN9cPIKemwD062y1jQwdRjiSXAJgeCrwYKOMxmqTBQlNKTRtsuHuL0VI6/s640/IMG_1228.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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happy father's day to the most amazing daddy we know xx</div>
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<br />Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-4000063422190024822013-06-08T01:35:00.000-07:002013-06-08T01:35:49.653-07:00dear birth mom, i've had you on my mind*<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
dear birth mom of this beautiful little girl, </div>
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i've had you on my mind since the week before her birth day. i've been wondering about you...where you are, what you are doing, if you are thinking about her, about us. having you in my thoughts all the time. </div>
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usually i try not to think about you too much, because 'we want to move on with our life' have a 'normal' life, not always thinking about <i>adoption</i>, but it is impossible. every milestone this little one achieve, i think of you. whenever she has a melt down, i think of you... wondering if you would have giggled with me looking at this scene unfolding in front of us. i think of you when she laughs and run and turn around and look at me and laughs some more... and i have an instant feeling of gratitude in my heart for you... that you were born to birth this beautiful girl into our lives. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCW-ug6GrlcVIdcd6etsUZ23Jz_MjTXJ7TlNu3XiCOG0nP6TTOrWV5ARYzijqrRkIeJrHk2n2iYUOU_w84ABSwspH-aA7plqjCXabAHXAGBgoZxh5W99dLxWR5luxvlCU0f7b7Yy_sIkuw/s1600/IMG00570-20110607-1551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCW-ug6GrlcVIdcd6etsUZ23Jz_MjTXJ7TlNu3XiCOG0nP6TTOrWV5ARYzijqrRkIeJrHk2n2iYUOU_w84ABSwspH-aA7plqjCXabAHXAGBgoZxh5W99dLxWR5luxvlCU0f7b7Yy_sIkuw/s640/IMG00570-20110607-1551.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>the very first photo taken of her when she arrived at the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/breathoflifeSA">Breath of Life</a> house</i></span></div>
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thank you so much for giving birth in a hospital. she was taken to the breath of life house where she was loved and cuddled for 3 months before she came home. the people at this house is amazing. when we picked her up, she had a suitcase full of clothes, a box with the clothes she is wearing in the photo, a book with photos in and her little life story of the first 3 months of her life. they also gave us a book filled with letters from everyone who looked after, held, prayed and played with her. we felt so blessed to have something of the first 3 months of her life. </div>
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two nights ago i started her birth photo book and got the photos on the cd out that we received in the box. i've never looked at them. about 70 photos of the first moments of her life that was recorded on film. her first recorded bath, women holding her and feeding her in the middle of the night, her laying next to two other little babies who came to the home with her.. who i think of so often. i went down stairs to show these photos to her daddy and we both sat on the couch, looking at the photos, tears streaming down our faces...no words. just sadness for the beginning of her life in the way it began. she needed to be held and loved from the very first moment she came into this world. i want to believe that you too loved her from that very moment... that you would give anything to see her grow up and be the best of who she is. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikQBbeqQNGtDiTjJ_w6eYlWBMPe1keMZiCvXNICoBb08LfdBzZSN5L_NWozry-7fTJvsVH89aIsfU4E1ui78glAz2b2KXjjdJyxHpQVYJJixnST6Tlf1NXqyLp8aNZvWzn3AKX5N9hsMSN/s1600/IMG_3716.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikQBbeqQNGtDiTjJ_w6eYlWBMPe1keMZiCvXNICoBb08LfdBzZSN5L_NWozry-7fTJvsVH89aIsfU4E1ui78glAz2b2KXjjdJyxHpQVYJJixnST6Tlf1NXqyLp8aNZvWzn3AKX5N9hsMSN/s640/IMG_3716.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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she has this routine in the morning when she wakes up to call either 'mama' or 'pappa'. we will pick her up and put her in bed with us. she immediately takes her daddy's phone to watch the video's on it of her when she was baby. it's so sweet, she mimics everything the baby is doing in the video and then she giggles.<br />
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a few days ago she kept on asking and showing to something in one of the videos. she was laying under a little blanket that she got as a gift. i've kept the blanket and gave it to her. the joy of receiving that blanket is indescribable. when she have a nap or goes to bed at night, her first words are 'bers'. (short for blanket in afrikaans). <br />
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i captured this photo of her this morning. i saw this one and a deep sadness settled in my heart. her eyes, the way she was holding the blanket...but more the look in her eyes... reminded me of her story. of you giving birth to her, you choosing a closed adoption. her going to a house of safety. her being loved and comforted by strangers who has now become family, and her coming home. <br />
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i guess with adoption there is always the bittersweet moments. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcaC73dRz5gp2j-Nc17E-5VgsfVZvFGY9Ka2Ql5Ab3_z2jrKtbr_Z70fi-mgN6OqgcM63AgTIvrwNcLzLTl8zqSInr8cvwcbNAdfU5mkvf9wwb92mqo3uX29zsebZA4EY2_-nhFVgO12eL/s1600/IMG_9673.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcaC73dRz5gp2j-Nc17E-5VgsfVZvFGY9Ka2Ql5Ab3_z2jrKtbr_Z70fi-mgN6OqgcM63AgTIvrwNcLzLTl8zqSInr8cvwcbNAdfU5mkvf9wwb92mqo3uX29zsebZA4EY2_-nhFVgO12eL/s640/IMG_9673.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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and then...<br />
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then i look at this face every.single.morning and i thank God for her. i thank God for choosing us to parent her and raise her. i thank God for her health and the joy that comes forth from her every big and small gesture. i thank God for her spirit, that is resilient and strong, for her confidence and that she knows how to show love. i thank God every single day for this little human being and that she did come to earth, because she is going to change the world.<br />
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thank you Birth mama, for birthing this gift into the world!<br />
<br />Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-9460637694520624072013-05-31T09:23:00.002-07:002013-05-31T09:23:32.232-07:00the birthday girl*<br />
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a very special little girl turned 2 years old 2 days ago... </div>
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we woke her up to put her in our bed, turned on all the lights</div>
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she started clapping while we were singing happy birthday to her...</div>
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waiting patiently, or rather impatiently...she just wanted to blow out the candles</div>
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we celebrate with doughnuts, 6:30am. </div>
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she is obsessed with blowing bubbles these days, she instantly knew she got bubbles...</div>
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while she took her afternoon nap, I bought 20 helium balloons and put it </div>
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around her cot for when she wake up</div>
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i opened all the curtains, took loads of photos, nearly fell off the bed, but she did not wake up. </div>
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I had to leave to pick Kellen up. I took all the balloons and hid them in the one bathroom, </div>
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because I wanted to see her face when she sees all the balloons. </div>
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balloons + bubbles = happy girl</div>
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when we got back kellen kept her busy while I put the balloons back into her room... </div>
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and took position in to take photos of her excitement... </div>
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and there is joy! seeing her room filled with balloons, running to 'catch' all of them together</div>
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sweetness and love...there was lots of that too... </div>
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giggles and laughter... add some joy and her daddy to that mix and you get</div>
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an absolute satisfied little girl with balloons</div>
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i don't know who was more excited about blowing out the candles... </div>
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he was such a great big brother...trying to stop her (so that i can take photos) </div>
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(where i actually had to light the candles 3 times because she was too fast) </div>
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she clapping and dancing because we are singing (again) happy birthday to her... </div>
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let's blow... no wait! </div>
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one....two..... </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj90BrNFohHBzZFdOBwwvD7Asa7I5Nq-mkB9wxPoTfMesnIDCl6NhrnQQj_0zsyCq_AN2eyMpo1P_hpfdzvDM4tS3h_Tv7LfdpCJ5F49RNMBS9hu0z5dtwCpF7OppfM9FEqX9aLgYoSZNJ1/s1600/IMG_3458.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj90BrNFohHBzZFdOBwwvD7Asa7I5Nq-mkB9wxPoTfMesnIDCl6NhrnQQj_0zsyCq_AN2eyMpo1P_hpfdzvDM4tS3h_Tv7LfdpCJ5F49RNMBS9hu0z5dtwCpF7OppfM9FEqX9aLgYoSZNJ1/s640/IMG_3458.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
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three! </div>
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and she is so proud of herself. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM0fDtVJC7kGpIVyG41NT9oa-qEb8-d2_3Pw1i4l2PenDCRrvJ-XrgbIhRg54qCySbGydl44bsx5CGZiRXmpmp2BKzu85k9ooriGr7BD11einj9NUV14ZnhfOkleophdyJ3lKvOp614nMB/s1600/IMG_3459.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM0fDtVJC7kGpIVyG41NT9oa-qEb8-d2_3Pw1i4l2PenDCRrvJ-XrgbIhRg54qCySbGydl44bsx5CGZiRXmpmp2BKzu85k9ooriGr7BD11einj9NUV14ZnhfOkleophdyJ3lKvOp614nMB/s640/IMG_3459.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">“<i>But how will I eat cake if my head is over there, and my hands are over here?” </i></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">― </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/844555.Marie_Antoinette" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">Marie Antoinette</a></div>
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i'll just dive in! </div>
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happy birthday beautiful girl! </div>
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we love you to the moon and back xx</div>
<br />Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-24953637063024467152013-05-28T22:34:00.003-07:002013-05-28T22:34:45.198-07:00dear birth mama of this gorgeous little girl* <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
dear birth mama, </div>
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i wish i could sit across from you today to look you into your eyes, to touch your hand and thank you from the bottom of my heart. to thank you for giving me this opportunity to mother this little girl into her life. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-bhFSIss4m2_N9ZhznFmFJCDNGxSFVuXccXIRMcchUQYnx5ikjFbYDrkTodc2FJ3EHie1P3R5boZ1XQC74-Lr6UuwWIx0kGR3ogKd-Z1AX6O3nYiM6mBOL7j_pA4wCPvrwIcwnPQOvEig/s1600/IMG_9361.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-bhFSIss4m2_N9ZhznFmFJCDNGxSFVuXccXIRMcchUQYnx5ikjFbYDrkTodc2FJ3EHie1P3R5boZ1XQC74-Lr6UuwWIx0kGR3ogKd-Z1AX6O3nYiM6mBOL7j_pA4wCPvrwIcwnPQOvEig/s640/IMG_9361.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
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i wish i could thank you for carrying her for 9 months, thank you for taking good care of yourself so that we today, have a healthy, well-developed little spunky (<span class="df" role="text" style="font-family: Baskerville; text-indent: -1em;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">courageous and determined<span class="gp tg_df">:</span></span></span><span class="eg" role="text" style="font-family: Baskerville; text-indent: -1em;"><span class="gp tg_eg" d:priority="2">) </span></span>girl. i wish i could thank you for caring enough to have her at a hospital and for making the decision to have her adopted. </div>
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i wish i could speak with you and hear your story... who you are and what makes your heart flutter... i wish i could hear the dreams you had/have for her. i wish i could see the 'connection between you and her... the traits that you and she share... i wish i could give that too to her one day. to be able to know the woman who carried her and brought her into the world. </div>
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i wish i had photos of you and her. i know somewhere there must have been, if just for a moment, so much love for this little girl of yours... i wish i could show that love to her... </div>
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i wish i knew that you were ok. i wish you could tell me that you pray for her too. that you think of her every moment of every day. i wish i could hear how you dream of her and what those dreams are you have for her. </div>
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i wish i could send you photos of her swinging...that is her most favorite thing to do these last few weeks. we go to the park, she runs to the swing singing weeeeeeeee.... then she looks at me and say 'push' with a smile that melts my heart. </div>
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i wish i could show you how she plays with her dolls. how she naturally comforts her 'bebe', feed them and kisses them. i wish i could show you how she speaks with them... telling them little stories which always ends in her cuddling them. </div>
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i wish you could see how much she adores her brother... how when she opens her eyes in the morning, she looks around, stretch and calls 'boeta'. then she runs to our room, calling 'pappa pappa', looking at me with that beautiful smile of hers. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIImjqbx5vPJQp_kTVV_oYnFvdXmEFr0obSoiDCDX_nIi7DuiKAwb7cToAO3cnxkDO0AzgDuWA0nCOjVbmRayLNswj6S1ycTwxT8hTr8uGuFvhfxbW5PhDe-VYbdMzEOV2CLQg1o6ct8v/s1600/P5266923.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIImjqbx5vPJQp_kTVV_oYnFvdXmEFr0obSoiDCDX_nIi7DuiKAwb7cToAO3cnxkDO0AzgDuWA0nCOjVbmRayLNswj6S1ycTwxT8hTr8uGuFvhfxbW5PhDe-VYbdMzEOV2CLQg1o6ct8v/s640/P5266923.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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i wish you could see how strong and courageous she is. how daring and wild. how she easily warms up to people and how stubborn she can be to get her way. i wish you could see how much she enjoys playing in the water. she never used to love sand, and the past few months when she sees the sea, she calls me and say 'sea, jump'. i wish you could see how she sits for minutes and look at every little shell on the beach.. how she picks it up and calls mama, look! that smile of adoration of realising she just got a treasure... pure joy! </div>
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i feel blessed and overwhelmed all at once. i'm thankful that you chose her name. that you gave her a name that she can carry with pride. i'm thankful that she will know about her first mama one day. i'm thankful that she is healthy and alert. i'm thankful that she is determined and strong-willed, thankful that she knows what she wants. i'm thankful that she believes in herself, that she is daring and wild. i'm thankful that she loves easily and is loved by so many. i'm thankful that she will be carrier of love, that she will change our world with her being. </div>
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she has changed our world the moment we heard '<i>when can you pick up your daughter'.</i> </div>
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i'm thankful for you. </div>
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thank you for carrying and birthing this little wonder into the world! </div>
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happiest of birth days to you Bella, we love you to the moon and back xx</div>
</div>
Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-43883679419968305312013-05-12T10:43:00.002-07:002013-05-12T10:50:29.919-07:00this is for YOU who are still waiting and trying to be called 'mama'*<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-size: 21px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">dear You-who-are-waiting-to-be-called-a-mama, </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3yGx7i_e3ncpqZFqw2IbIdytWeVKz6AfVY9zu3IrT8Ud6Z2-hXGNF0VyfOzMqADw7d5-6_KbGkjdQDxKzKsS-Jn-aJsAeJ53Y_wOoptkPI17XAYx7gbhyHGSTnKFQbn8tO0yVLrhmZhx2/s1600/sing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3yGx7i_e3ncpqZFqw2IbIdytWeVKz6AfVY9zu3IrT8Ud6Z2-hXGNF0VyfOzMqADw7d5-6_KbGkjdQDxKzKsS-Jn-aJsAeJ53Y_wOoptkPI17XAYx7gbhyHGSTnKFQbn8tO0yVLrhmZhx2/s640/sing.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the empty
feeling of not being able to get pregnant. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the fear of '<i>will
it ever happen'</i>. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the constant
thoughts of 'maybe this month'.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the continues trying and making it fun part. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the not
knowing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about it being not fun anymore. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the '<i>what
if i never get pregnant'</i>. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the dreams
that he and you talk about until the wee hours of the night. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the names
that you have already chosen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the talks you
have about whose lips and eyes your baby is going to have. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the giggles
of what you want your baby to be like. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the hope you
have for your baby's future.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the room that
you have already set up in your mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the million
times you walked into a baby store to just look... look at what you will buy '<i>if'</i>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the friend
you know for 'whose baby you can buy this'.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the overwhelm
& tears when you stand with your friends' baby's gift in your arms, wanting
with everything in you to buy it for YOUR baby...<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know how you throw the
clothes down, tears streaming down your face, and run out of the shop.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know how this happens
more than once. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the hope of
treatment, ivf, icsi, clomid, you name it...about all the options. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about donors and
surrogates. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about all the advise family and friends so freely give. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
and do i know about the '<i>just wait until you don't think about it, and before you know it, you will be pregnant'</i>. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the invasive
procedures of (in)fertility treatment. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know all about '<i>hope'</i>.
the 'gift' of a baby at the end of the emotional roller coaster. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know of the 25% success
rate with these procedures and all i see on the walls are the photos of the
babies that were born within that 25%.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i also know about the
unknown. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the fear when
you go for your first implant. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the support
group number on the wall and the thinking '<i>i'm not that desperate'</i>. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the not
knowing what to expect. <o:p></o:p></div>
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i know about the shyness
of putting on the gown and going into a room full of strangers.<o:p></o:p></div>
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i know about acting as if
this is no big deal. <o:p></o:p></div>
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i know about the knowing
that you have absolute no idea what to expect. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know how scared you
are. <o:p></o:p></div>
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i know how unfair this
is. <o:p></o:p></div>
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i know how angry you
are. <o:p></o:p></div>
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i know about every single
time you speak with God and how you want to curse Him for making you <i>one of
them</i>. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the endless injections and medicine. </div>
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i know about the keeping it together emotionally. </div>
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i know about your husband trying everything to 'take care' of you just in case you fall apart. </div>
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i know about the fear of every injection. </div>
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i know about the thoughts of '<i>i can do this, we are going to have a baby, this is nothing - thoughts'</i>. </div>
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i know about getting up at 7am to go to your neighbor (who is a nurse), to give you said injection. </div>
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i know about smiling and being brave, where all you want to do is cry! </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know about the waiting. </div>
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i know about the devastation of dreams shattered when you hear '<i>your test is negative</i>'.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>sweet one who is already a mama in her heart, </i></div>
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<br /></div>
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i also know about adoption and miracles and '<i>meant to be</i>'. </div>
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i know about the perfect time. </div>
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i know about God being in control of our life plan. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
i know what it is to be called 'mama'. </div>
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<br /></div>
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i know how sad one feels on mother's day when you've been trying every.thing.to.get.pregnant.and.it.is.not.happening. </div>
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i know how you are pretending that special days like today don't upset you. </div>
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i know how you concentrate on your own mom and shrug your own motherhood off as if a fleeting thought. </div>
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i know how you think about motherhood every.single.minute.of.every.day.</div>
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<br /></div>
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this series of 'i know letters' is written for you. </div>
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in honor of you. </div>
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<span style="font-size: 21px;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimAhNGwv1MXRdmfrALOpAYKEPtYQ5yOFRNX24HqlkjWwiYMIJ6vAdvqFlVwld3XpPdk1I5wm1ydxulxXUMPcgApXsfzwffA4ZcdhQoUshGepehqHw80vIrpP9oq3MUrUF7cXbo_LUARp7s/s1600/IMG_9000.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimAhNGwv1MXRdmfrALOpAYKEPtYQ5yOFRNX24HqlkjWwiYMIJ6vAdvqFlVwld3XpPdk1I5wm1ydxulxXUMPcgApXsfzwffA4ZcdhQoUshGepehqHw80vIrpP9oq3MUrUF7cXbo_LUARp7s/s640/IMG_9000.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>mothers'day, may 2013</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>bella, me & kellen</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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this can be your story too. </div>
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<span style="font-size: 21px;"><br /></span></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">“Sorrow prepares you for joy. It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place. It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow. Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their place.”</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"> </span></i></div>
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">― </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/875661.Rumi" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">Rumi</a></i><br />
<!--EndFragment-->Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-48246110532574482832013-05-10T17:36:00.001-07:002013-05-11T06:17:18.865-07:00dear mom of an adopted child*<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-YE4ZxNGN4TK-YK4HvAYzJPI7OIVUUs5SGTdNtzm5LwAyDAqCYppc_jxq5h2nfiLAcJQ61IxJG9832S4LllOozmKgDUMC12NiHM8_XmgCostLc3AqHM70nbwIfm00UtwRNFzSfbe6U99Q/s1600/DSC00014+-+Version+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-YE4ZxNGN4TK-YK4HvAYzJPI7OIVUUs5SGTdNtzm5LwAyDAqCYppc_jxq5h2nfiLAcJQ61IxJG9832S4LllOozmKgDUMC12NiHM8_XmgCostLc3AqHM70nbwIfm00UtwRNFzSfbe6U99Q/s640/DSC00014+-+Version+2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">the 1st time i saw and held our baby girl, cape town international airport, 25/08/2011</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtawKTDUEVjqJR_crSVXTVmNRaFzm2dckN7WD8BqDGRmNZ2ZCUpzSnw2Xk04aqxpCcG0jV4fsPI8Lyp1RUxH09cGo74b_UpqRBjF9hQOifaC-zds91kVbDXK-6z594tc6E2-a1P0CYZSqX/s1600/IMG00018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtawKTDUEVjqJR_crSVXTVmNRaFzm2dckN7WD8BqDGRmNZ2ZCUpzSnw2Xk04aqxpCcG0jV4fsPI8Lyp1RUxH09cGo74b_UpqRBjF9hQOifaC-zds91kVbDXK-6z594tc6E2-a1P0CYZSqX/s640/IMG00018.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">1st time meeting and holding our son, kellen, 14/07/2008</span></i></div>
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It is rare to find a written piece of work that touch your heart on so many levels, you want to shout out to the world 'read this! read this! this is how we feel'. So whether you are an adoptive mom or a birth giving mom, we are all blessed, blessed to be called 'mom'. This touching piece of writing was written by <a href="http://www.kathylynnharris.com/blog/">Kathy Lynn Harris.</a> </div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>Dear Mom of an Adopted Child,</i><br />
<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>I met you in adoption education class. I met you at the agency. I met you at my son’s school. I met you online. I met you on purpose. I met you by accident.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>It doesn’t matter. The thing is, I knew you right away. I recognize the fierce determination. The grit. The fight. Because everything about what you have was a decision, and nothing about what you have was easy. You are the kind of woman who Makes.Things.Happen. After all, you made this happen, this family you have.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Maybe you prayed for it. Maybe you had to convince a partner it was the right thing. Maybe you did it alone. Maybe people told you to just be happy with what you had before. Maybe someone told you it simply wasn’t in God’s plans for you to have a child, this child whose hair you now brush lightly from his face. Maybe someone warned you about what happened to their cousin’s neighbor’s friend. Maybe you ignored them.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Maybe you planned for it for years. Maybe an opportunity dropped into your lap. Maybe you depleted your life-savings for it. Maybe it was not your first choice. But maybe it was.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Regardless, I know you. And I see how you hold on so tight. Sometimes too tight. Because that’s what we do, isn’t it?</i></div>
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<i>I know about all those books you read back then. The ones everyone reads about sleep patterns and cloth versus disposable, yes, but the extra ones, too. About dealing with attachment disorders, breast milk banks, babies born addicted to alcohol, cocaine, meth. About cognitive delays, language deficiencies. About counseling support services, tax and insurance issues, open adoption pros and cons, legal rights.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>I know about the fingerprinting, the background checks, the credit reports, the interviews, the references. I know about the classes, so many classes. I know the frustration of the never-ending paperwork. The hours of going over finances, of having garage sales and bake sales and whatever-it-takes sales to raise money to afford it all.</i></div>
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<i>I know how you never lost sight of what you wanted.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>I know about the match call, the soaring of everything inside you to cloud-height, even higher. And then the tucking of that away because, well, these things fall through, you know.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Maybe you told your mother, a few close friends. Maybe you shouted it to the world. Maybe you allowed yourself to decorate a baby’s room, buy a car seat. Maybe you bought a soft blanket, just that one blanket, and held it to your cheek every night.</i></div>
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<i>I know about your home visits. I know about your knuckles, cracked and bleeding, from cleaning every square inch of your home the night before. I know about you burning the coffee cake and trying to fix your mascara before the social worker rang the doorbell.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>And I know about the followup visits, when you hadn’t slept in three weeks because the baby had colic. I know how you wanted so badly to show that you had it all together, even though you were back to working more-than-full-time, maybe without maternity leave, without the family and casseroles and welcome-home balloons and plants.</i></div>
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<i>And I’ve seen you in foreign countries, strange lands, staying in dirty hotels, taking weeks away from work, struggling to understand what’s being promised and what’s not. Struggling to offer your love to a little one who is unsettled and afraid. Waiting, wishing, greeting, loving, flying, nesting, coming home.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>I’ve seen you down the street at the hospital when a baby was born, trying to figure out where you belong in the scene that’s emerging. I’ve seen your face as you hear a nurse whisper to the birthmother that she doesn’t have to go through with this. I’ve seen you trying so hard to give this birthmother all of your respect and patience and compassion in those moments—while you bite your lip and close your eyes, not knowing if she will change her mind, if this has all been a dream coming to an abrupt end in a sterile environment. Not knowing if this is your time. Not knowing so much.</i></div>
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<i>I’ve seen you look down into a newborn infant’s eyes, wondering if he’s really yours, wondering if you can quiet your mind and good sense long enough to give yourself over completely.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>And then, to have the child in your arms, at home, that first night. His little fingers curled around yours. His warm heart beating against yours.</i></div>
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<i>I know that bliss. The perfect, guarded, hopeful bliss.</i></div>
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<i>I also know about you on adoption day. The nerves that morning, the judge, the formality, the relief, the joy. The letting out of a breath maybe you didn’t even know you were holding for months. Months.</i></div>
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<i>I’ve seen you meet your child’s birthparents and grandparents weeks or years down the road. I’ve seen you share your child with strangers who have his nose, his smile … people who love him because he’s one of them. I’ve seen you hold him in the evenings after those visits, when he’s shaken and confused and really just wants a stuffed animal and to rest his head on your shoulder.</i></div>
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<i>I’ve seen you worry when your child brings home a family tree project from school. Or a request to bring in photos of him and his dad, so that the class can compare traits that are passed down, like blue eyes or square chins. I know you worry, because you can protect your child from a lot of things — but you can’t protect him from being different in a world so intent on celebrating sameness.</i></div>
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<i>I’ve seen you at the doctor’s office, filling out medical histories, leaving blanks, question marks, hoping the little blanks don’t turn into big problems later on.</i></div>
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<i>I’ve seen you answer all of the tough questions, the questions that have to do with why, and love, and how much, and where, and who, and how come, mama? How come?</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>I’ve seen you wonder how you’ll react the first time you hear the dreaded, “You’re not my real mom.” And I’ve seen you smile softly in the face of that question, remaining calm and loving, until you lock yourself in the bathroom and muffle your soft cries with the sound of the shower.</i></div>
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<i>I’ve seen you cringe just a little when someone says your child is lucky to have you. Because you know with all your being it is the other way around.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>But most of all, I want you to know that I’ve seen you look into your child’s eyes. And while you will never see a reflection of your own eyes there, you see something that’s just as powerful: A reflection of your complete and unstoppable love for this person who grew in the midst of your tears and laughter, and who, if torn from you, would be like losing yourself.</i></div>
Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-14071302495732173482013-05-06T09:15:00.004-07:002013-05-06T09:17:00.932-07:00monday magic*<h3 style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; margin: 8px 0px 14px; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmv_LHUB1SY7nf-IPvoFHofXZYEFz7TgnpNcop-C9brpeLeE6vpEsRM7vJXPftiwxgfOXV3Wij-LW25W57DDjzQal0pgOtzb_yXsL9gJXqvxmU6KL6P2Zc7tczsjCJ9x8YFNQYfmhdHyzs/s1600/86694361546369866_cPAuauqV_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmv_LHUB1SY7nf-IPvoFHofXZYEFz7TgnpNcop-C9brpeLeE6vpEsRM7vJXPftiwxgfOXV3Wij-LW25W57DDjzQal0pgOtzb_yXsL9gJXqvxmU6KL6P2Zc7tczsjCJ9x8YFNQYfmhdHyzs/s640/86694361546369866_cPAuauqV_c.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>
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we are all put together with huge, big hearts. (hopefully) we will fill it with beautiful, inspiring things, things that make you feel alive... </div>
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here are some '<i>monday magic'</i> that makes my heart beat faster...</div>
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one of my <a href="http://planetsark.com/">most loved authors</a>, because of her, i'm writing.</div>
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photographers? wanna-be photographers? mama at home photographer? meet (and register) to <a href="http://www.thedefineschool.com/">join this amazing group of people to light your fire</a>.</div>
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<a href="http://www.superherolife.com/">she</a> tells it like it is, with one sentence that hit the nail on the head... and she is funky and cute. </div>
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<a href="http://www.nieniedialogues.blogspot.com/">the bravest</a> of them all. you should read her <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1401341799/ref=s9_simh_gw_p14_d0_i1?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=center-2&pf_rd_r=15MF54Q9VC47H16J7WKY&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=1389517282&pf_rd_i=507846">book</a>. </div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i style="font-weight: normal;">Your heart is the size of an ocean. </i></span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i style="font-weight: normal;">Go find yourself in its hidden depths. </i></span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i style="font-weight: normal;">~ Rumi</i></span></h3>
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Sweet dreaming xx</div>
Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-26784933910686663572013-05-03T07:57:00.000-07:002013-05-03T07:58:56.267-07:00bonding through adoption* the power of touch*<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
when bella came to live with us, she was nearly 3 months old. she lived with the most amazing people in a safe house in the eastern cape, where she was loved until she came to us. we did not know about her life, her birth, until 6 days before we picked her up. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ekwG2J9I2dk74he1x-zkG6LwM09Yi5CNjsisgF_LqEuWMJUxffeS45gOIp_jzqrZvbV0pZXC3sSWB0kGh0jG6ii9kQlZNDNJzZFjUVQ4aXSDYA7mXzjAoNMIlOoth241xuLug0PrbnBN/s1600/IMG_4549.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ekwG2J9I2dk74he1x-zkG6LwM09Yi5CNjsisgF_LqEuWMJUxffeS45gOIp_jzqrZvbV0pZXC3sSWB0kGh0jG6ii9kQlZNDNJzZFjUVQ4aXSDYA7mXzjAoNMIlOoth241xuLug0PrbnBN/s640/IMG_4549.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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bella was such a good baby. slept continuously. i remember wanting to wake her up so that i could hold her...hehe... i tried for 3 months to rock her to sleep with no success. she would wriggle and cry and try to push me away, as soon as i put her in the cot, she would fall asleep. (which, according to all the baby books, is perfect). but as an adoptive mama, who have never had a little baby, you want to hold your baby...you want her to want to fall asleep in your arms.... </div>
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i surrendered and counted my blessings and many a day sat next to her cot, watching her sleep...wishing for the day that she will fall asleep in my arms. </div>
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about 5 months ago, we started to put bella with us in our bed just before bedtime. we would all read a story together, sing some songs, talk about our day and then it usually is the big cuddle. we've respected bella's need for no touch/space, also knowing how important it is to keep on touching her, continuously trying to cuddle. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjphEUE05cWnCFYB3vhAwVAOpP7hdsSNino_t9ptsDXU5nQAvR37Mp7DCRkgBEWOO9p9T1Y2LTZDlWIR9nyJnnJZTP7xbUvfBDX-7-qv6LcDbKOgq4JjYjCIqIr3xVYvtW7mN2S1jYrJx-J/s1600/IMG_1201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjphEUE05cWnCFYB3vhAwVAOpP7hdsSNino_t9ptsDXU5nQAvR37Mp7DCRkgBEWOO9p9T1Y2LTZDlWIR9nyJnnJZTP7xbUvfBDX-7-qv6LcDbKOgq4JjYjCIqIr3xVYvtW7mN2S1jYrJx-J/s640/IMG_1201.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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during her afternoon nap she will go lie right on the other side of the bed. i've tried to keep contact, whether it is my fingers playing with her hair, my toes touching her toes, my arm on her arm... i would keep on touching, skin to skin, so that she can feel my presence, until she would shake my arm/foot off.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiGU8zuAcqzPS0K1JolGUsoqtrbAmdRXSrMmUfUChnhVZVp8JUZxCZPi0ORXlbQmK-8mSxZG3dYfj3J0cS5GxfAq_lLgiZkuwW7w8fSrJLu_siVTLa23t7PR-p8qC76hB5mzChXUiYWGs/s1600/IMG_1397.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiGU8zuAcqzPS0K1JolGUsoqtrbAmdRXSrMmUfUChnhVZVp8JUZxCZPi0ORXlbQmK-8mSxZG3dYfj3J0cS5GxfAq_lLgiZkuwW7w8fSrJLu_siVTLa23t7PR-p8qC76hB5mzChXUiYWGs/s640/IMG_1397.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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about 2 weeks ago she was quite unsettled and tried to lie as far as possible away from me. should she have moved any further, she would have fallen off the bed. this particular day, just after witnessing and taking this photo, my heart was literally breaking. i just want to hold her and love her. she refused any contact at all, started crying when i touched her, even with my toes.<br />
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i decided to let it go, lay down on my back and closed my eyes. prayed that she will soften this resistance for love.<br />
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i must have fallen asleep. when i opened my eyes a few minutes later, this was my view... my heart was beating faster and tears instantly ran down my cheeks.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvblKQ8QHLKLgYXeCuLeNwQ8N_6x-rjiebQaShZNXRSw0cKDjAhGVIkSUi5cDIvTzdceJwiTtVS_TaPqkf3O3ciO18pJ5IWhHTSM2orKNo16Y2ZE9IHJLdGnwz6MG4QTcRQyOTSM7yyQd3/s1600/IMG_1641.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvblKQ8QHLKLgYXeCuLeNwQ8N_6x-rjiebQaShZNXRSw0cKDjAhGVIkSUi5cDIvTzdceJwiTtVS_TaPqkf3O3ciO18pJ5IWhHTSM2orKNo16Y2ZE9IHJLdGnwz6MG4QTcRQyOTSM7yyQd3/s640/IMG_1641.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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the following week, i decided to ignore her, not even trying to touch her in any way and lay on my back with my eyes closed. a few minutes later, she came to me and was laying like this... it's magical... you don't want to move... or breath... you want to pause that moment for ever and re-live how she came to cuddle on your shoulder.<br />
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i've been pushing my luck with her the last 2 months. i can feel her energy when we go lie down and this specific day i just moved closer and closer... ended right here and she looked at me, turned the other way and fell asleep.<br />
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it is the most magical moments of all. being so close, without her resisting my love.<br />
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there are still days when i have to give her her space. but you keep on trying. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdAic1fiTVHgsSpYxylq2-DaFnpUF-vXtXsSKpQ2zszRfiNczFn2YYdLB7diAYeGkX5ZBQ1dbEl_NuLx63ULgKWcVfHevFKAx_os_Z0GE9EnMQ42m1KTDVD0JWDAwVJPfJkJlRpMLuecFS/s1600/IMG_1833.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdAic1fiTVHgsSpYxylq2-DaFnpUF-vXtXsSKpQ2zszRfiNczFn2YYdLB7diAYeGkX5ZBQ1dbEl_NuLx63ULgKWcVfHevFKAx_os_Z0GE9EnMQ42m1KTDVD0JWDAwVJPfJkJlRpMLuecFS/s640/IMG_1833.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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kellen is our cuddler galore. he is always laying with one leg over both of us and touching our face. although he is her hero, the cuddling thing, even with him, is sometimes too much for her.<br />
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i was talking with someone about this on which they replied and said that there were so many negative emotions surrounding her birth mom being pregnant with her, <i>she is still protecting herself</i>. <br />
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when i told them that she fell asleep in my arms, someone replied: aawww... she is allowing in all the love, <i>she can now love you fully and let you love her fully back</i>.<br />
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how true the above is, i will never know. but i would never have thought that it would take nearly 2 years for us to get bella to cuddle with us before she falls asleep. kellen came to live with us when he was 18 months old and grew up with a granddad that held him and tickled him constantly. kellen slept with him in his bed and from the beginning he wanted to lie with us in bed. i would have never imagined, having a baby from 3 months old, being able to cuddle with her will only happen 2 years later.<br />
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there are no words to describe the joy and love these two bring into our lives. adoption has so many layers of thoughts and feelings, experiences and not knowings. <br />
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<i>"Touching is a beautiful, connecting, survival-oriented, </i></div>
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<i>heart-opening act, </i><i>and we need to do more of it. </i></div>
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<i>In touching each other with love, we are really touching God'. </i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> (The Power of Touch, Phyllis K. Davis, PH.D.)</span></i></div>
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Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6328075266430280519.post-24032245253040437232013-05-01T08:48:00.002-07:002013-05-01T08:48:59.445-07:00my superpower*<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7B9dfBNpKWocuKxtro5-4sXkLCj6g_xW8yXP_fM4ynInh8qH4benoEYCJAx1m-khDQXTwKRLbz7CFsrKC9D7BCd3Nh52G4iFRd31ZhxDcTMyQLhB7YUpGrMXwooxZuQEhgsldwFrjXYMS/s1600/i+teach,+what's+your+superpower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7B9dfBNpKWocuKxtro5-4sXkLCj6g_xW8yXP_fM4ynInh8qH4benoEYCJAx1m-khDQXTwKRLbz7CFsrKC9D7BCd3Nh52G4iFRd31ZhxDcTMyQLhB7YUpGrMXwooxZuQEhgsldwFrjXYMS/s640/i+teach,+what's+your+superpower.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />Lynnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04080903900475050178noreply@blogger.com0