The Swinging Pendulum That Is Our Life
written by Linda McGee
It is March of 2000, and we are joining six other families at O’Hare airport in Chicago. We are on an adventure together and we are so happy to have sojourners. The travel itinerary we share is robust, but our agendas are very personal and individual.
Each of us are adding to our family. Each of us have room in our hearts and our homes for one little girl between thirteen and eighteen months old who is currently living in the Jiu Jiang Province of China. We are being brave together.
There are couples adopting their first child, couples adopting their second, single moms traveling with parents or friends, and then Tom and me. We have nine- and seven-year-old daughters, and a four-year-old son at home. However, we also have the call on our hearts for at least one more child, and it feels like our next child is already here, somewhere in the world, needing a ready-built family.
Nine months of paperwork plus nine months of waiting for a child referral, and off we go with our travel group! Initially, it feels like we are on vacation traveling without the kids. Twenty-hour flight… ugh? Nope. Twenty-hour nap… ahhhhhh.
Chloe comes to us as a thirteen pound thirteen-month-old. She is the youngest of the seven babies and one of the five that comes from an orphanage rather than a foster home. She is bright eyed, cheerful, and quickly and easily receives and shares love and connection. For two weeks, we travel China as a group, sightseeing and securing documents to bring our daughters home. All of us together sharing what we have. Helping each other as needed. We are not alone.
When we arrive back at O’Hare, we are met by a throng of family and friends at the gate. (Remember 24 years ago when you could meet people at their gate?) Aunts, uncles, grandparents, great aunts, cousins, friends, and Chloe’s three older siblings all eagerly gather to welcome us home and meet little Chloe. We are not alone. With a growing family, it never occurs to me that we would ever, ever feel alone again.
And so, life goes. Until it doesn’t. As experienced parents, we know how to resource neighbors, friends, and family as we navigate new ages and stages and various challenges that come along. We have support that directs us to the early intervention program where Chloe receives occupational, speech, and physical therapy to help her overcome some minor delays from living in the orphanage.
We meet with our travel group to celebrate the girls’ receiving US citizenship. We start attending birthday parties. Chloe goes to preschool and has a best friend her same age, Natalie, living across the street. But when kindergarten comes, she doesn’t seem ready. She attends kindergarten at a nearby private school and then kindergarten again in the public school. By first grade, Chloe has her first IEP. I think of it as the year that starts the journey of the “new dream”.
Chloe has an intellectual disability that allows her to attend public schools; however, by junior high and high school, she is in a mostly contained classroom. She receives her certificate of completion when she is eighteen and then can stay in a high school program off site until age 22. From there she qualifies for a vocational program at a local junior college which she completes at age 24. IEP after IEP, I feel all the things… grateful, overwhelmed, and sad.
I was grateful for the people who were trying to understand and support Chloe and Tom and me. I was overwhelmed with the responsibility of doing our best for her, and then I would feel sad… more than just a little sad… that things were so hard for Chloe.
And here’s the thing, even with all these circles of support, when it comes to Chloe, I often feel alone. I don’t have the experience of raising a child as unique as she is. I can see that sometimes she feels alone too.
There seems to be a rhythm in life for Chloe. Sort of a pendulum swinging left to right. A high swing to the left finds her in a place where the community is there for her and us. In high school, she is invited with others to stand with the cheerleaders during games and just cheer along. For school dances, we parents buy dresses and suits, bring potluck dinners, meet at someone’s home and are delighted to see our kids’ “peers” dress up and join in. Eating, taking pictures, celebrating the day. Some go on to the dance with their friends. Others just come to the house. It feels “normal.” It feels good.
Then the pendulum swings high to the right. Family, friends, church members and neighbors see you and see Chloe and they celebrate everything about her. They know her and they are there for you as you navigate where she fits in. They include her. They love her.
But what not everyone sees is that between those highs are the lows. The truth is that she does not get invited to the “real” parties and doesn’t know why. She’s afraid to play a game with the family because she can’t follow the rules, the conversation, the math. People her age know something’s up, but they can’t see what it is just by looking at her.
She senses her dreams are different than her siblings. She senses she can’t just do everything she imagines.
“Do I have to have babies Mom? Would you help me with them?”
“Do you think I’ll get married? Would you help us make dinner?”
“Mom, I’ll never understand ‘right turn on red’, so I don’t want to drive. Ever.”
She tries to be a bagger at the grocery store, but it’s a lonely job for a social girl. Five-hour shifts are too long for her. And she’s not very good at it. So, we let her quit this job after six weeks because, after all, this is her life. Her dreams do matter.
So many kind people in her life have grown up and moved along into their next phase and stage. Even her siblings and their spouses are now out of state. Chloe doesn’t have all the skills to keep in touch and, frankly, maybe her parents don’t either sometimes. We three are quite the trio, but we know her world should be bigger. We need to continue to encourage her to dream and experience life fully. She’s got a lot of years to go! We don’t often know what to do next.
And then, once again, the pendulum swings high to the left when a local non-profit sourcing housing for adults with disabilities decides to put on a theater production. Chloe loves performing and gets a part. They meet once a week for eight months. When that ends, there’s a week where I’m feeling lost and concerned. We literally have no plan.
One day Chloe asks me about pursuing her dream job as a hostess at Chili’s. She’s put in her application before with no response. But it’s a good exercise. We’ll do that. One week later she is hired! She works three to four hour shifts three days per week. By the end of the second week, our driveway chalk diagrams of the restaurant pay off and she knows the table numbers. By the end of this second month, not only does she like the job, but they like her! For now, she has a community. Her world is a little bigger. Her dream is a reality. Which means mine is too.
An interesting side note is that at the core of a pendulum is a solid and strong base. A base that pivots as the pendulum swings high to the left, high to the right, and through those lows. You, my friend, are that solid and strong base; and so am I. There is community around us; family who loves us; opportunities we don’t know about; opportunities we could help create. Sometimes we feel alone, but then “whoosh” a little momentum starts the swing back into community, and we can breathe again.
For me, there’s no bigger honor than being asked to be Chloe’s mom. If God didn’t think I could handle it, He wouldn’t have asked. Same for you, my friend! Same for you.
Linda McGee has been married to her high school sweetheart for 39 years. She has four children, the youngest of which was adopted at age one from China. She also is “far away” grandma to two delightful granddaughters with a grandson on the way!
Her days and weeks are filled with navigating opportunities and obstacles in order to help meet the needs of her 25-year-old daughter with intellectual disabilities. She is grateful for the community she has in the western suburbs of Chicago which has offered much support and guidance.
Her career has been as a Human Resources consultant and a freelance writer published with Zondervan, Big Idea, and other Christian publishers. She recently was invited to take a painting class with her sister and has found in it a new outlet for relaxation and expression.
