by Heather Avis
In contrast, we know little about Truly’s birth family, and pieces of what we do know could, in fact, harm her. We have found we need to be careful in how we address Truly’s need for connection to where she came from. When she asked about her birth mother for the first time, we were age-appropriately honest, and this means leaving out some of the facts, at least for now, to protect our daughter.
Another area in which we work hard is that of race awareness. Both Josh and I grew up in a small, predominantly white mountain town. My predominantly white high school pointed me toward a predominantly white college, and we ended up living the first half of our marriage in a predominantly white town. When we began our adoption journey, I knew it was likely we would receive a child who was not white. When Macyn came home, although her skin color matched my own, I made sure she had dolls of every skin tone and books reflecting racial diversity.
When we got the call about a “Guatemalan baby” and soon learned she was both Guatemalan and African American, we made some drastic changes to our life habits. After Truly had been with us for only a few months, we started driving more than an hour each way to attend a church with children, men, and women who looked like her. After about a year of this, we decided to move from our comfortable, mostly white community to a much more racially diverse neighborhood. We needed to make sure there would be women in Truly’s life who look like her, because the day will come when she says to me, “Mom, you just don’t get it.” I want to be able to say to her, “Honey, you’re right; go talk to Auntie Tiana about that.”
It’s important to Josh and me that our children grow up with a strong identity. We believe our children will forever adore the people who gave them life, so we want them to be able to do so out in the open, where we can join them in the adoration, thus doing away with any of the shame waiting to pounce. We also hope to one day gather more information about Truly’s birth mother so she can hold those missing pieces with both of her hands. But in the meantime, as she sees us celebrate her siblings’ birth families, we can openly talk about her birth mother, and she can ask me questions without any guilt or shame because she sees how much love I have for birth parents.
I cannot begin to count the hours I have spent in doctor’s offices and hospital waiting rooms and at physical therapy, occupational therapy, oral-motor therapy, and speech therapy appointments. Josh and I strongly believe we are responsible to provide Macyn and August with all the services they need to live with Down syndrome at their fullest potential. This is something we committed to when we decided to adopt them. Since Macyn came home to be ours, we’ve had anywhere from two to eight hours of therapy a week. This doesn’t include the time on the phone to secure these appointments, nor does it include the hours in the car driving to and from these appointments.
We live in a society that puts pressure on all of us to acquire and maintain some sort of acceptability. Whether my children with Down syndrome should have to strive to be “acceptable” in anyone’s eyes is not the point here. (I’ll save that topic for my next book.) The fact is, my children who have Down syndrome have to work hard at what comes naturally to you, me, and our typical kids. I believe providing them with therapy gives them the best chance to succeed at these tasks.
Being intentional is often uncomfortable. But this is something we signed up for. For every yes that each of my children represent, there is an equally important no to our comfort. And having said those three yeses, we feel so lucky. Lucky, because every time we find ourselves waist-deep in discomfort, we also find ourselves leaning on God, experiencing his comfort and peace.
I’ve been up since three forty-five this morning. It’s not quite eight at night now, but I’m ready to find my way into my comfy pj’s and nestle under my flannel sheets. It’s almost Christmas. We woke up before the sun to get a head start on the 484 miles of road that leads to a town called Chico, where we will be with my husband’s family to celebrate the birth of Jesus and bask in the wonder of all things Christmas. As I write this, I am sitting in a cozy living room, looking at the brightly lit Christmas tree covered in an array of shiny ornaments. I’m so very tired.
I have decided my three scrumptious children are to blame for my fatigue. I’m pretty sure I’ve been tired for the past seven years. Writing this book has been a gift, an opportunity to reflect on those years that marked the birth of our family. As I do so, I can see why I am exhausted. Not once before having children did I imagine how much of myself would be required when my three munchkins entered my life.
As I write this, Macyn, Truly, and August are sound asleep downstairs. (Actually, there is a good chance Truly is wide-awake, trying to think of another excuse to get out of bed.) As they peacefully dream in their cozy beds, I can feel my heart being pulled toward theirs, beating in tandem.
Tonight, like every night, before I head to bed, I will check on each one of them, pulling their covers up to their chins and kissing each of those button noses, praying a prayer of thanksgiving, protection, and grace over each of their sleeping bodies. I will crawl into my bed knowing that one, two, or all three of them will be up before the sun comes up. I expect that tomorrow I will prepare three meals, referee disagreements, point out all the messes they made and now should clean up, participate in and DJ dance parties, wipe bottoms, spot August as he climbs up and down the stairs at least a hundred times, talk Macyn through the dozens of situations she finds too difficult, repeat myself because no one seems to listen, color with Truly, dance some more, jump on the trampoline, hand out ice packs because someone is going to fall or bonk their head, implement therapy, and schedule some kind of doctor’s appointment. If I’m lucky, I’ll take a shower.
This is the life of a mother. It is the life of any mother of a child or children who have special needs. But somehow, at the end of every long and full day, I find that though I am tired, I am not worn-out. I am tired but not spent. I am tired but always full, because my joy is so much bigger than my exhaustion. There is always so much joy.
About two years ago, I had just finished tucking the kids in bed. I poured myself a glass of wine, grabbed my phone, planted myself on my couch, and started scrolling through our Instagram account, @macymakesmyday. I stumbled upon a comment thread that stopped me in my tracks.
“@annyhoang you should follow this account.”
She replied, “I already do! This family is a huge reason we’re adopting Ruthie.”
Wait, what does this mean? I wondered, and I began to click on links to try to find out what exactly this person meant. I finally found a way to leave @annyhoang a message.
Hi, my name is Heather and I read a comment you posted on our Instagram account @macymakesmyday. You said something about adopting a little girl named Ruthie. I wonder if you could tell me more.
The woman, Ann, responded right away.
Hi, Heather. So great hearing from you. My husband and I are actually in China right now, picking up our adopted daughter. Her name is Ruthie, she’s five years old, and she has Down syndrome. You and your family were our inspiration for adopting a child with Down syndrome.
I held my phone in my hands and read and reread her message. And I cried. I couldn’t even believe it. I was floored to know our little story unfolding in our neck of the woods was reaching far beyond us and grabbing hold of the life of another little girl who has Down syndrome—a little girl who had been waiting in an orphanage in China for a family to call her own.
Eight years ago, God shined a light into my wilderness, and Josh and I stepped off our path of easy, normal, and nice to go after it. He took our muddied clothes, tired souls, and broken hearts, and from our humble offerings created a crazy masterpiece. He took our meager yes and used it to stir up hearts and change lives.
There is absolutely no way to know the ripple effect we create when we say yes to God’s seemingly terrifying invitation. Ann’s story is just one of dozens I’ve been told by soon-to-be moms and dads who are in the process of adopting a child with Down syndrome and
were encouraged by what they’ve seen in our family. Numerous women have contacted me to say that Macyn and August have given them hope for their baby newly diagnosed with Down syndrome.
I don’t share this to say, “Hey, look at what we’ve done over here with our lives.” The truth is, I’m average at best. But I serve a grand God, and I’ve been lucky enough to answer when he calls. He does the rest.
When we adopted Macyn, we had no intention of doing so as a way to be encouraging to others. As we stepped toward her and Truly and August, we had no one on our minds but our little family unit and our God. As we threw our yes pebble in the stagnant and murky waters of our lives, we did not think about the ripples the pebble would create.
I believe that at some point in our lives each of us has the opportunity to leave our comfortable path and head into the wilderness. Each of us will at some point hold a “yes pebble” in our hands. My hope and prayer for all of us is that we will be willing to toss those pebbles into the murky waters and get our fancy shoes dirty in the mud. My hope is that as we say yes, the ripples of our decisions will begin to form wonderful waves. Waves, my friends, cannot be ignored.
I wake up every day excited and a tiny bit terrified as I look forward to hearing God’s call. Upon first glance at my rambunctious children, the ones jumping on my bed, ready for the day before the sun has come up, I’m reminded of just how lucky I am to be in this place and in this time. I think about how lucky all of us are when we finally allow God to gently push us toward the places where he’s waiting to be discovered. Not a whole lot of us choose to leave that path of easy, normal, and nice, the one covered in rose petals and lined with solar-powered lamps. But for those of us who do, we really and truly are the lucky few.
Acknowledgments
I have crossed paths with many people who have been an enormous encouragement and whose expertise, love, and prayers have helped bring this book to fruition. Honestly? I can hardly believe I get to write down this epic list:
Lisa Gungor, August’s future mother-in-law (there, I’ve said it; it’s official)—thanks for inviting me to the Holy Land, for without that invitation, there’s a good chance this book would not exist.
Emily Vogeltanz, Ally Falon, Betsy Miller, Lisa Gungor, Shauna Niequist, Tamara Wytsma, and Vickie Reddy—who knew that all those hours on a bus in the Holy Land could knit such sweet friendships? Thank you for being an encouragement in my life.
Rachel Hollis—for your friendship and expertise, and for pouring me a glass of wine at just the right moments. I love you, girl!
Don and Betsy Miller—for your generosity, humble hearts, and expert advice.
Ann Voskamp and Shauna Niequist—thank you for short notes sent to important people. Pretty sure this book is on bookshelves because of those.
My agent, Lisa Jackson—friend, you saw this book before I ever imagined it could be. Thank you for your constant belief in me, your adoration for my family, and your desire to see this story God has given me in the pages of a book.
My editor Erin Healy—for hearing my voice and making it sing. You have taught me so much. Thank you.
Carolyn McCready and all the folks at Zondervan—thank you for seeing the potential in me, for seeing God’s goodness in this story, and for working so hard to help me share it with the masses.
Courtney and Tuna (@tunameltsmyheart)—remember that time you told me I should start an Instagram account? Good idea!
The @macymakesmyday community—you bless my socks off daily with your kindness, love, and support. Let’s continue to join our voices as we Shout Their Worth.
My friends in the Down syndrome community—what an honor and a privilege it is to know you, to learn from you, and to do life alongside you (even if for some, it’s only through social media)! Our hearts and lives are bound by an extra chromosome, which is a gift we do not take lightly.
My children’s birth families—this is my story because of you. Thank you for your loving sacrifice.
Katie and Danny, Joy and Kyle, Brandon and Michelle, Jen and Rey, Christine and Dave—you have been my loudest and most consistent cheerleaders with every word I’ve written in this book. God brought you into my life to do life with at the exact moment I would need you most. Thank you for your never-ending support, love, and prayers. Let’s continue to always toast the small things and the big. I love you all.
My village—Lindsey, Cynthia, Erika, Kelly, and Laura—your friendship has filled my cup time and time again. Let’s do life together forever, yeah?
Jay and Steve, my mother-in-love and father-in-love—for your never-ending positivity, and for always being available to help with the kids. I love you so very much!
My parents—Josh, the kids, and I would be nothing without your constant support and saturating love. Thank you for joining us as we grip the life God has called us to. I cannot love you more.
My sisters and best friends, Hana and Harmony—you are my pillars. Thank you for standing strong when my strength gave out and for always believing in this crazy plan that God had for my life.
My husband, Josh—babe, look at the photo on the cover of this book! Can you even believe this is where we’ve landed? Thank you for adventuring with me. There is not another person on this earth I would have wanted to walk down this path with. Yours is the only hand I wanted to hold as we walked the miles to get us to this place. Can’t wait to see what God has in store for us as we walk one million more. You have my heart!
And finally and forever, Jesus—thank you, Jesus, for rocking my world. Thank you for equipping me to say yes to your best plan for my life, even though it seemed so dang scary at first. Your goodness knows no bounds.
Recommended Resources
My greatest resources have always been the people whose paths cross mine. I listen to their stories and ask questions about their experiences. I also highly recommend a good ol’ Google search for adoption networks in your area. The following websites are ones I frequent:
Club 21, clubtwentyone.org—a learning and resource center for individuals with Down syndrome
National Down Syndrome Society, ndss.org—an advocacy group promoting the value, acceptance, and inclusion of individuals with Down syndrome
National Down Syndrome Adoption Network, ndsan.org—a free service providing information and support to families who are making adoption plans or seeking to adopt a child with Down syndrome
Rage Against the Minivan, rageagainsttheminivan.com—insights into transracial adoption and parenting, with links to many helpful resources for adoptive families
About the Author
Heather Avis is wife to her handsome and hardworking man, Josh, and mother to the adorable Macyn, Truly, and August. After working as an education specialist, she found herself as a full-time stay-at-home mom when she and her husband adopted their first daughter, Macyn, in 2008. Shortly thereafter, in 2011, they adopted their second daughter, Truly. And in 2013, their son, August, was born and came home to be theirs. Heather currently resides in Southern California, where between oatmeal making, diaper changing, and dance parties she is using her hit Instagram account @macymakesmyday to share the awesomeness of all things Down syndrome and adoption. She cares fiercely for the underdog and believes God’s goodness and beauty are found in the most unexpected places.
* Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest Classic Edition (Grand Rapids: Discovery House, 2011), October 11.