Open arms, open hearts
[Editor’s note: One of our latest initiatives is to enlist others to tell their stories (or tell a friend’s or family member’s story), and we believe these excerpts, written by our good friend Brianna Heldt, are a great start! Brianna and her husband, Kevin, are followers of Jesus who happen to have five children and two more kids on the way (via adoption). They have a wonderful heart for children in general, for children with special needs and for living an authentic faith. To read more of their story or just to follow Brianna’s passionate, down-to-earth posts, visit her blog.]
(Blog entry from October 12, 2010)
Brianna Heldt with her son Yosef.
FINALLY have some really, really, really exciting news to share about our [latest] adoption!!!
But first some backstory. 
Because the exciting part of the story simply wouldn’t be complete without a big-picture understanding of where we have been.
In a nutshell, God has led us down a twisty, turny, upside down and inside out sort of path over the past several months. We have felt confused, frustrated, uncertain and directionless. Mostly directionless. It is hard having God slam a door shut, with not even a small inkling of what to do next.
We began the adoption process this time around to bring home two specific children, whom we had met in 2006. They’d been waiting so long for a family, and quite frankly, time was (and is) running out. These children are older than our kids, and both are HIV+. Our decision to adopt these children was not something that we ever expected. When God began quietly speaking to my heart about this possibility, I brushed it off. Ignored it. Assumed it was just too crazy and that it was not something we could do. We assumed we would eventually adopt children with medical needs, including HIV, but hadn’t anticipated moving forward with the adoption of older children.
I DID commit to praying for these kids, however, that they would find a family. I just didn’t see how it could possibly be us…even though the idea kept nagging me in the back of my mind.
And yet months later, during a discussion about adoption, Kevin said he didn’t see how he could return to Ethiopia and NOT bring home these particular children. Whom we’d met and prayed for all these years. I was shocked. Floored. I’d never, ever, ever mentioned to him about my prayers, or about how God had stirred my heart…
So the prayers and discernment and seeking of counsel began. We spoke to many people who have walked the difficult road of parenting older children who come from trauma. There are some seriously wise mamas out there and I am so grateful for their insights, wisdom and support that I received during that time. We prayed and felt that the Lord confirmed that, yes, we were to move forward and begin another adoption. We felt certain that this is what we were called to do. Crazy? Sure. But sometimes God likes crazy.
We chose an agency to do our home study and began getting our paperwork in order…I felt nervous, and a little afraid, but at peace with the fact that God had us on this path for a reason…
I suppose that it was around this time that I became aware of the work Reece’s Rainbow does. And fell in love with this blog. (I seriously canNOT get enough.) And fell head-over-heels-crazy-in-love with “chromosomally enhanced” kiddos. Children born with Down syndrome. I began learning about the plight these children face.
In the United States, all but 8 percent will be aborted…
In Eastern Europe and parts of Asia, they are moved from the orphanage to an asylum at age four…and generally end up dying there.
In Africa, there are simply very few, if any, services available for these children, and resources and medical care are limited.
And on it goes.
Kevin and Brianna next to the Tiber River in Rome.
My heart felt touched, and moved, and broken for these precious little ones. Kevin’s, too. We found ourselves drawn to this small corner of the adoption world, but of course knew that if we ever did adopt again after bringing home our two older children, it would not be for many, many years. Still, I found myself reading blogs and articles about Down syndrome.
It was in May [2010] when I received the phone call saying we could not, in fact, move forward with the adoption of the two children we’d been pursuing. I was devastated. Totally sad. Shocked. And the reason WHY we could no longer bring them home was the worst part. Some things had come to light indicating that it would not be a safe placement for our family. Even if we’d WANTED to move forward, our agency would not have allowed it…Even now when I think about it I feel so incredibly sad for these two children…and what they have faced…and what they will surely continue to face…
Our feelings about the whole mess have always been hard to describe. They still are. We felt really sad…but not as much for us…more so for these girls, who are victims of a hard world that you and I probably have no concept of. Will they ever have a family? I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. Time is running out. And in addition to all of those heavy thoughts, we felt confused…
So where did all of that leave us? Mid-homestudy, several thousand dollars in, and no CLUE what we were supposed to be doing. We’d always anticipated adopting waiting children with HIV, but due to some circumstances out of our control (that had nothing to do with HIV itself), that now seemed unlikely. This was hard, too…something that we’d felt so passionate about for the past five years became another dream lost.
And I hated that.
Brianna meeting her sons Binian and Yosef for the first time.
I know, I know. This may seem really silly to you. But honestly, when we were in Ethiopia in 2006, we swore we’d be back. We’d be back to adopt kids who’d been born with a stigma- and shame-inducing status [HIV] that shouldn’t matter as much as it does in Africa. Kids who at that time weren’t considered adoptable. But things were changing. We have lots of friends in real life that we see on a regular basis who are raising children born with HIV. There is such a community of these adoptive families in the Denver metro area. It’s nothing short of amazing. We have access to a top-notch pediatric HIV clinic where my friend is a nurse. I’d even joined the Community Advisory Board at the clinic where I attend meetings every other month or so. I’m a volunteer with From HIV to Home. We felt ready, equipped, prepared to parent HIV+ children. And we’ve felt that this was inevitable, for years now.
So needless to say, Kevin and I were forced to take a good, long hard look at our motivation for adopting and at what this whole process was about. We made the decision to take a break and catch our breath, to process all that had happened and changed…
And we didn’t discuss adoption with each other all that often anymore. It was sort of this latent stress in our lives. ”What are we going to end up doing?” one of us would ask the other every so often. ”I have NO idea” was the standard response. Really we were just exhausted–weary of the tragic situation currently happening in Ethiopia with these girls, tired of not knowing where we were heading, sick of being in process but not being that excited about it because we had NO desire to sit on a list, waiting for the referral of a child who had lots of families lined up for them. But what need could our family meet?
Little by little though we inched closer to being done with our homestudy. I made it known to our placing agency that we were open to kids with pretty much any and all medical needs, though all the while my heart still felt drawn to children with Down syndrome. But you just don’t see it that often among orphans in Ethiopia.
Sooooooo…I was shocked when I received an email from our agency asking if we were interested in seeing the file of a baby girl, T., who’d been waiting for a family (she’d had one lined up at one point, but they fell through.) This little girl was overall pretty healthy. Nothing too earth shattering in her file. And she’d been born with Down syndrome. She was BEAUTIFUL. Huge brown eyes, chubby cheeks, thick curly hair.
Total no-brainer. We emailed back and said we were interested.
The Heldt kids during a trip last fall to Elitch's amusement park in Denver.
Even though we’d been approved for two children, we couldn’t sit around and wait for another child to come into care who met our specifications. This sweet baby girl needed a home and a family who could move on it quickly. So we adjusted our expectations yet again and started growing accustomed to the idea of bringing home just one little one this time.
Until our agency emailed again, some number of days later. ANOTHER little girl with Down syndrome, M., who they’d believed would NEVER be adoptable, 3-ish (probably older) years old with a big grin and sweet eyes, had suddenly, pretty much miraculously, had her paperwork issues resolved. After many months of waiting, with little hope of having a family, she could now be referred to adoptive parents.
And we began praying like crazy. One vs. two. We’d initially PLANNED to bring home two children, but these were YOUNG children living with developmental delays, potential heart defects, and the general unknowns that come with adoption. What was God wanting for our family, for these girls? I’d totally wrapped my head around just bringing home one baby. I’d convinced myself it made so much more sense for our already-large-ish family. We wouldn’t have to buy a bigger van. Logistically much simpler. Lots and lots of reasons why one child is preferrable to two.
But.
We serve an amazing, huge, sometimes (usually? always?) surprising God. He shod us, over time, that He wanted us to say yes to loving and parenting this precious little one as well. (She is so stinking cute that it wasn’t hard from an emotional standpoint to say yes. ) He showed us that He is in the details. That this will probably be our last adoption, Ethiopian or otherwise, for the next many years (if not ever–though we will NEVER say “never” when it comes to adoption. Or biological children for that matter.)…So. Today we mail off their placement agreements. And now we wait for everything to go to Ethiopia and will eventually be assigned a court date, for which we will travel.
I’ve so loved the past few months of praying about and researching Down syndrome. We’ve read books, watched documentaries, talked to families parenting these sweet little ones. I feel ready–as ready as one can–and am so anxious to get our girls HOME!
And, yes, I’m nervous too. I can’t predict how things will go, what health issues may arise (both girls are said to be healthy, but who really knows? We could have two children needing heart surgery in our future), what our therapy schedule will look like or how it will be meeting these various needs.
I DO know that our kids are SO.VERY.EXCITED. to meet their new sisters. We told them the news Saturday night. Sat them down and announced it. They got to see photos on the laptop and even a short video we have of one of the girls. They are over the moon thrilled. Every last one of ‘em. The dinner table that night was a flurry of excitement and questions and chatter over where they would sleep, when they’ll come home, and the many hugs they will get.
My heart is so full.
God is good.
I’m sure people will have questions. And opinions. I know we are taking on a lot, and I assure you these decisions were NOT made lightly. It’s been a months-long process of discerning God’s will and evaluating our family’s strengths, weaknesses and capabilities. I look forward to exploring various aspects of this adoption and decision-making in the coming weeks here on my blog. I will quickly just say that I think having an empty nest is overrated and that the love and joy that comes with parenting a child far outweighs any of the potential challenges. This is true of my biological children, of my adopted children, and will be true of my adopted children with medical needs.
Historically, people with Down syndrome have been misunderstood and underestimated. And thanks to a whole host of un-ideal circumstances, including a medical community that continues to perpetuate these myths, this will most likely continue.
The Heldts four oldest kids get ready for school.
The truth though is that these girls will most likely grow up just like my other children…they will play games, go to school, most likely learn to read and write and sing and dance. They’ll laugh and cry and yes, disobey. They will however go at their own pace. There may be things they CAN’T do. They will face prejudice and social stigma.
Maybe they will live with us as adults.
And that’s okay…
So that is our story, or at least the latest in a series of chapters in our story. I cannot, sadly, share photos or names of our girls on my blog until we’ve gone to Ethiopia and passed court. Bummer, I know. But they are cutie pies, I assure you!
And they’ve been waiting, and it’s high-time they have a family. We are that family. I feel so incredibly blessed. And…more than a little nervous too…
And so we are bringing them home.
(Blog entry from November 4, 2010)
I am so excited to share with you some more about how we made the decision to move forward with the adoption of our two little sweeties, each born with an extra chromosome.
…I remember the night I first found Adeye’s beautiful blog. She wrote about what was happening in Ukraine as she worked to bring home two sweet little girls, and I was transfixed. One thing led to another and I began browsing through the Reece’s Rainbow website, wishing I was some sort of adoption superhero so I could adopt each and every one of those sweet babes.
WARNING: Don’t go there unless you want your heart ripped out of your chest. Really. So.much.preciousness (I seriously want to cuddle all of those cute kiddos!) and yet so much sadness, because time is running out for these children. Who are so desperately loved by God…How His heart must ache…
In terms of making a decision for our family, our questions ultimately boiled down to this practicality: what would daily life look like parenting a child with Down syndrome?…
It became apparent…that daily life with a child born with Down syndrome is just that…daily life. Here’s a campaign called “More Alike Than Different” and I think that sums it up quite nicely. Children with Down syndrome play and attend school and have fun and get angry just like the rest of us. They meet their milestones, but oftentimes later. They often need special services (speech or physical therapy for example) to help them meet those milestones. They are mainstreamed in classrooms and graduate high school and attend college and get jobs. And oftentimes get married. We became convinced that the rhythms of daily life with a child with Down syndrome are really not much different than what we’re already doing…
Eventually we came to the seemingly natural conclusion that Down syndrome was indeed something that we were open to. Not because we’re anything special, but because God is incredibly faithful. He made these children. They are precious in his sight. We have the resources (which really just amount to a home equity line of credit, love, and trust in a God so much bigger than any of it) to do something, and, well, we’re doing it. Some days with more trust than others…
I guess I just really want people to know. That THERE ARE KIDS NEEDING HOMES RIGHT THIS MOMENT. We can all do SOMEthing. We HAVE to do something. Our girlies happened to land at a transition home where they receive love and food and even some therapies. And it’s run by a quality agency that wants these girls to find a family. But many of the little ones listed on Reece’s Rainbow are not generally so fortunate.
…I want to speak up for these children. And we can all play a part.
For now I’ll simply say that I feel blessed beyond words that my part involves receiving two sweet new daughters. How lucky am I?
(Blog entry from June 2, 2011)
This spring Kevin and Brianna went before the Ethiopian courts to process the adoptions of their two newest daughters, T. and M. While they were there in Ethiopia, they visited Nazret, where two of their boys were born. They took this snapshot on their way to Nazret.
So I just wrote a really whiny blogpost about how frustrated I am that our adoption is, yet again, stalled.
This time on account of yet another document the Ethiopian government has decided they want to see.
This in spite of the fact that the paperwork is complete, their birthmothers appeared in court stating they want the girls adopted, and of course the fact that we already travelled [to Ethiopia] for court and had the judge tell us it all looked good.
Deep breath.
But, I’m not gonna post it. Because I HATE whining and you probably do too. So I’ll spare us all and keep that post safely tucked away in “drafts”.
Instead I will simply share that this process has been incredibly difficult. It is hard waiting for our sweet little ones to come home, especially now that we’ve met them and hugged them and told them that we’re their new mommy and daddy. So many ups and downs along the way and still no end in sight. The not knowing is the most difficult part, I think.
The thing is, I’m just so very anxious to be mama to two new beautiful daughters. Our family is so blessed to KNOW these girls, much less have them in our home. I’m so looking forward to making up their beds, filling a dresser and closet with their clothes, and setting them a place at our table. (Nesting, anyone?) But I’m waiting. Because I have no clue how long it will be at this point, and I’m a little bit fed up with the whole thing.
I do find myself increasingly grateful that our girls found their way to the transition home of an adoption agency that works hard to find families for harder-to-place children. That they are not sitting and sitting in a facility where no one will come for them, or a place where they might have faced severe neglect and abuse on account of the fact that they were born with Down syndrome.
Kevin took this picture at Layla House orphanage in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.
And when I look at the photo my husband took at Layla House [at right], it reminds me that in the meantime, while we all wait, Jesus is there. Jesus is looking after my girls and Jesus is just as anxious as we are to have them home and in a family. God is near to the oppressed, and the orphan, and while there will always be earthly broken systems, political corruption, and hurting people, God remains good. And, like it says, Jesus is love.
So that is the latest. More waiting, and more anxious by the moment to bring our sweet girls home.
(Blog entry from June 15, 2011)
If you’ve been around [this blog] for awhile, then you know that I don’t usually write much about current events–and my subsequent opinions. Not that I don’t HAVE thoughts on assorted matters of our day, but I generally reserve my passionate discourse, frantic hand-waving (how is it even possible to talk without using your hands?!), and high-pitched fervor for a few close friends…and for Kevin. Mostly for Kevin. He’s used to it.
But I did want to address this. Because it so beyond wrong on so many levels. And it’s about so much more than this specific church and this specific family. And somehow it all relates to the journey I’ve been on for the past few years.
In a nutshell, a family attended an Easter church service with their son, who has Cerebral Palsy. At one point in the service, he made some noise. And they were immediately ushered out and told they had to watch the remainder of the service from the lobby. In a statement to the media the church said they are committed to providing a distraction-free service for all.
I’m sure my thoughts on this are apparent. Obviously my heart hurts for this family, and for any family, who experiences discrimination and judgment because a child (or adult) is deemed by society to be unique in some way.
And of course it has an extra sting to it for me personally because I’m in the midst of adopting two children with Down syndrome.
…Maybe we’ll be asked by an usher to leave someplace, too. I feel like we’ve already seen a very small glimpse of it just on account of having five children–because we didn’t get the memo that you’re only supposed to have two children, spaced a minimum of two years apart, before your husband gets a vasectomy, or you get an IUD, or something like that. For some reason, our (silent, since we rarely discuss it with others) decision to remain open to life makes people super-duper uncomfortable. And occasionally, it makes them prone to act out and say something heartless or rude. In front of my kids. While we’re trying to buy groceries or check out books at the library.
So yeah, I’m fighting mad on behalf of this family and their precious son. On behalf of the many people living a life that doesn’t fit into the polished veneer of a mold that our society expects of them.
Yet there is another component of this issue that is part of the root problem in my opinion…When did religion and the worship of God become about me, me, and more me? Who decided that the lights, hip venue, loud “rock” band, booming childrens’ ministry, and “relevant” five-point sermon by a middle-aged-guy-with-a-goatee are the way to knowing and experiencing Jesus?
…Because on some level, so much of church in our modern times has become yet another place to be entertained, and to draw people in with our marketing and gimmicks and “look, we’re cool too!” and “look, we have loud music and shiny brochures and we all kinda look alike and talk alike and read the same books, and we don’t want ________ around because that really detracts from our uber-relevant message and ultimate goal of getting as many people as we can into the seats.” Whew.
Now we can insert children, the developmentally delayed, the poor or homeless, or a twelve-year-old boy who happens to have Cerebral Palsy in that blank. But the underlying message is still the same.
What are we even doing?
And so I’ve thought a lot in recent years about the seeming arbitrary-ish-ness present in much of religion.
Is it okay for a Christian to think about that? Is it okay to question why we worship the way we do, or why we believe the things we believe? Beyond being okay, is it beneficial?…
I can’t help but think about our recent trip to Rome, about the amazing basilicas we visited and about the woman we saw practicing Eucharistic Adoration at Saint Mary Major. Again, scandalous to some, but there was such beauty and peace in her humble, reverent prayer and devotion to her Lord Jesus. It was her and Jesus, hanging out.
And later, as we stood on the bridge overlooking the Tiber River beneath us, I thought about how without Jesus, without the virtue of charity (or love) being put into practice, Christian religion really is kind of arbitrary. And maybe it’s easy to lose sight of that Jesus and that love when there is so much noise and showmanship standing in the way…
And now you know why I usually just reserve my long-winded opinions and frantic hand-talking for my husband. He’s stuck with me.
If you’ve enjoyed these excerpts, you can stay up-to-date with the progress of the Heldt family’s latest adoptions, as well as Brianna’s passionate thoughts on life, faith and parenting, on her blog.
