{"id":9763,"date":"2026-01-02T15:25:57","date_gmt":"2026-01-02T15:25:57","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/?p=9763"},"modified":"2026-01-02T15:25:57","modified_gmt":"2026-01-02T15:25:57","slug":"i-heard-her-whisper-this-isnt-a-movie-this-is-your-life-now-they-dont-have-our-last-name-we-just-are-woman-adopts-8-after-feeling","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/?p=9763","title":{"rendered":"\u2018I heard her whisper, \u2018This isn\u2019t a movie\u2026 this is your life now.\u2019 They don\u2019t have our last name, we just ARE.\u2019: Woman adopts 8 after feeling \u2019magnetically, divinely drawn\u2019"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u201cI became a mom at the age of 16, even if I didn\u2019t know it yet. In fact, I didn\u2019t find out for another 18 years. My husband and I had known of each other since Mrs. Nancy\u2019s 5-year-old Sunday School class, but all I really remember from this time is I earned a chocolate pie for knowing all the books of the Bible and my future husband did not get a pie. By age 17, we were glued together and planning to have a big, adoptive family (including boy\/girl twins) all agreed to in the middle of a hockey game, where important future plans usually take place.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t have predicted the details, of course. Other than the boy\/girl twins, apparently. They arrived only a few years into our marriage via domestic adoption, after the birth of our first and only biological child. (She was the one we never saw coming!) They grew us in every way and catapulted us into a life of gained perspective. 5 years later, our lens widened even more when our Ukrainian beauty found her way to us. Then our son born in China, who we\u2019d raced to as he needed urgent medical care for survival. Finally, our tiny girl who had only recently arrived, our sixth and presumably our last. She was our second daughter with Down syndrome and our fifth with exceptional needs.<\/p>\n

We were knee-deep in a life of PT, OT, ST, play therapy, blood transfusions, surgeries\u2026 focused on growing bodies and trust and relationships. Our hands were full, our hearts were full, and our appointment book was out of control. So I didn\u2019t understand why God was sending me to Haiti on a \u2018mission trip\u2019 in the middle of it all. I had learned to lean away from \u2018voluntourism\u2019 and the saviorism I\u2019d ignorantly participated in, instead becoming an advocate of investing in and empowering natives. But I\u2019m an even bigger advocate of radical faith and obedience when God speaks\u2026 so I went. Radical obedience is all I know and, when it comes down to it, all I want.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Living it out loud is what led to this crazy, beautiful life, and now it was leading us toward two more girls\u2026 or young women, rather. Almost fully grown. Sappy but true, we were magnetically, divinely drawn toward each other in the first instant. I found out later they immediately prayed, \u2018Please speak French, please speak French\u2026\u2019 under their breath. (I could only count to ten, and only thanks to Hamilton.) They\u2019d lived entire lives already, a life so different from ours, but we quickly became each other\u2019s\u2014whatever it was going to look like. Because they were over the legal age, there was no way to make it official. We just ARE, because this is what we decided. Together.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

For a couple of years, we did our best to participate in their lives while living worlds apart. We never imagined God\u2019s next ask would be to drop everything and move our entire family to their third world country. We never imagined the girls would hurriedly leave everything they\u2019d known and move in, too\u2014this home now foreign to both of us. And when my husband and three kids were stateside for medical care, we never imagined a global pandemic would keep our family apart for 7 months\u2026 or that we would never all be in the same country for more than a couple of weeks after.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

To state the obvious: adding two young adults to your family is a lot different than little ones. They have well-established habits, opinions, goals, triggers, and coping skills. They have people in their life who are our people now, too. There\u2019s the hard and gritty work of creating a space that\u2019s safe, bringing everything to the table, and figuring out what to carry forward, what to adapt, and what to leave behind\u2014on our end and theirs. Preparing them for adulthood when they didn\u2019t really get a childhood is complex and new to all of us. They need to know about life skills, budgets, sex, and social issues. But they also \u2018need\u2019 to know how to play hide-and-seek, the feeling of jumping into a swimming pool, and what it feels like to open a gift chosen just for you.<\/p>\n

We learned to make Haitian legume and they learned to make Nashville hot chicken. We learned to dance Koompa and they learned to two-step. Together, we learned deeper meanings of grace and patience. We take turns on who does the teaching. There\u2019s so much joy in seeing them experience things for the first time with childlike glee but also grown-up appreciation. It\u2019s precious in a whole new way. Moments most would consider commonplace become extraordinary, accompanied by squeals of delight when viewed with fresh eyes. Teaching our oldest to make pie at Thanksgiving, I heard her whisper, \u2018This isn\u2019t a movie\u2026 this is your life now.\u2019<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

The other uses a planner to timestamp her recent memories:<\/p>\n

January 11: We watch \u2018I Love Lucy,\u2019 \u2018Vitameatavegamin\u2019 favorite so far.<\/p>\n

October 31: Mama put apples in a bucket of water. Had to get it out with my teeth. No hands! All my hair wet! I drop the apple I laugh too hard.<\/p>\n

December 24: Tonight I sleep under the stars with my brothers and sisters all together. We sing songs in the night and laugh and throw pillows. I will never forget this, my first Christmas.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

This is my favorite part\u2014seeing all of the humans entrusted to our care, born in all corners of the world, choosing to be siblings. Not just living in the same space parented by the same adults, but sharing life and hopes and germs and treasured things. We\u2019ve learned so much about parenting the little ones by learning to parent the big ones. Life together has given all of us the opportunity to combine languages, cultures, traditions, and now futures in some beautifully unexpected ways. The eight of them have taught us what it looks like to truly live. In the middle of messy and hard and boatloads of feelings, we fight for peace\u2026 and we\u2019re feisty little suckers. \u2018No matter what\u2019 isn\u2019t just a sweet family motto, it\u2019s love in action.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\u2018I\u2019m different,\u2019 she said. \u2018How?\u2019 I responded. English was still new for her and my Kreyol was basic at best. Our verbal exchanges at the time remained simple but hopeful. \u2018My heart\u2026 it\u2019s\u2026 bigger,\u2019 as she sunk into my lap, my arms wrapped all the way around her waist and we exhaled. Our oldest and youngest, our bookends, had become inseparable\u2026 only to now be separated indefinitely. For 16 months, we worked to be together, to create magic in whatever way we could in the midst of the chaos and unknowns that come with life in Haiti (or anywhere, it seems). Our lease was up on our island home, two of our children needed more intense medical attention than was available, and it was the safest option for the family as a whole.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

So, my husband and our five youngest are now back in the United States. Obtaining U.S. visas is notoriously difficult for Haitians, even more so with COVID considerations. At first glance, it doesn\u2019t look like our daughters will qualify. We aren\u2019t listed on their birth certificates. There\u2019s no adoption decree. They don\u2019t share our last name, except where they\u2019ve doodled it in daydreams. On paper, we can\u2019t \u2018prove\u2019 we\u2019re family, making the process even more daunting\u2014if not impossible.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

But it\u2019s our shoulders they cry on when hurts rise to the surface, our hands praying over them, and our necks they squeezed after their baptisms. They want Mama to braid their hair, comfort bad dreams, watch rom-coms, and binge cookies. Daddy makes them feel safe, teaches them to fight, and shows them how to find the funniest videos on YouTube. The bigger sisters share clothes, inside jokes, and secrets after dark. The little ones steal personal items and space and always kiss without asking. Brothers ask silly\/inappropriate questions and make sure life doesn\u2019t ever get boring. I can\u2019t imagine us being any more family than this.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

While we are grateful for video calls, my flesh is beyond desperate to have our family together, hug all my children at once, and yell at them to clean their rooms. I want to sleep next to my husband for the first time since New Year\u2019s, complain about his snoring, and nag him to fix the oven or something. I have to remind myself not to make an idol of our family and want them MORE than I want Jesus. It\u2019s radical faith that got us here and radical faith that will bring us back together. We\u2019ve learned to remain confident in His plan, even if we don\u2019t know it yet.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cI became a mom at the age of 16, even if I didn\u2019t know it yet. In fact, I didn\u2019t find out for another 18<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":9777,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9763","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9763","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=9763"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9763\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9778,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9763\/revisions\/9778"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/9777"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=9763"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=9763"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=9763"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}