Tag: siblings

Silver Linings

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On this FPIES journey with our littlest Osling, the clouds can be overbearing and the silver linings scarce. Through the anxiety, analyzing, waiting, watching, documenting, traveling, prepping and planning so much is missed in day to day enjoyment.

We worry about L’s health but we also worry about our girls. Are they getting enough of us? Are they sacrificing too much because of his medical limitations? Are we missing out on moments with them, despite our best efforts, because of the all-consuming beast that is FPIES?

When we take a minute to slow down, to watch the sibling relationship that has developed since L was born, we realize how much empathy, compassion, awareness and understanding K and A have gained on this journey.

While we seek to raise awareness outside of our family, we are confronted with the harsh reality of ignorance from many. Ignorance of food allergies in general, lack of concern with learning and quite honestly, hostility surrounding changing their actions to keep others safe. While we see so much darkness in the world while dealing with our son’s condition, we are surrounded by so much light from our girls.

Who knew that at just 4 years old, A could successfully list all 13 trigger foods and all 14 safe foods L has, as well as what is on our list to trial next. Who knew that at 9 years old, K would know about cross-contamination, hidden ingredients and the danger of non-food items for L. With each diaper A asks, “is that a sick poop mom or a happy poop? Do you need your phone to take a picture for the doctor?”.

Although I wish that they didn’t have to worry about their brother’s health, I am so proud of their awareness and devotion to keeping him safe. I hope and pray that this commitment to their brother expands to others they meet throughout their lives.

That they learn about all sorts of differences, abilities, challenges, and strengths and seek to help others around them rise.

That they realize that equality and equity are different. Equity doesn’t mean that everyone gets the exact same thing, but instead that each person receives the assistance they need to create an even playing field.

That they internalize that different abilities does not mean less capabilities.

That they find ways to help others the way they help their brother.

That they are willing to make sacrifices to their convenience, for the safety and well being of others.

It’s true that FPIES has taken a lot from our family, but I choose to see all of the blessings it has opened our eyes to, all of the lessons we have learned. Those small changes our family has had to make in an effort to adapt to this new and confusing life, have set the stage for life lessons for our children. For that I am grateful.

Not being able to eat in the living room seems like a small inconvenience but it teaches them not to eat in situations where others suffer from allergies or to make substitutions in the food they chose. They are learning to make sacrifices now to help others. To empathize with those who already feel left out and have challenges to deal with themselves.

Celebrating new passed foods seems like small wins now, but that will translate to seeing each individual’s accomplishments and celebrating just as loudly for others as they do for themselves.

Keeping a watchful eye for crumbs that pose threats to their little L, will transform into looking out for others in their lives and an innate willingness to jump into action when needed.

Understanding that some foods are strictly for L and are not to be shared because his diet is so limited and frankly expensive, will eventually manifest as an understanding that giving help and necessary accommodations to those who need it is not favoritism. Instead, they recognize that having those foods for him is just as necessary as the cabinets filled with food for them. Keeping things “fair” means he gets specialized food and they celebrate that with us.

Recognizing that attention spent on their brother is not attention lost from them. As they grow this will reconfigure into seeing that their strength and ability is not lessened by helping others. Small sacrifices are in fact part of being strong and independent.

Making sacrifices when L is fighting through a reaction and having to adjust all previous plans, will become an understanding of invisible illnesses and disabilities. Understanding that sometimes, we have to adjust to support and be there for those who need us most.

I pray that these lessons follow them. That small seeds have been planted and will flourish over the years. I pray that we can continue to support our little L and become stronger as a family unit while recognizing every fleck of silver lining this journey has brought us. I pray that our daughters look back on this journey with appreciation for the early life lessons they have learned while recognizing that we always tried our hardest to give each of them what they needed. But most of all, I pray that this sibling bond, forged through years of bickering, and laughter, never falters and that they learn to help and rely on one another for the rest of their lives.

To learn more about FPIES and follow our little warrior’s story, check out his Facebook page Living La Vida Lucca: https://www.facebook.com/Living-La-Vida-Lucca-2369903016563479/?tn-str=k*F

Follow the Osling Chronicles on Instagram @osling_chronicles for all of our little Oslings’ latest adventures

Cracks Filled With Gold

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I recently came across a Japanese tradition in which cracks in broken pottery are filled with gold to repair them. Instead of tossing aside broken dishes, they are celebrated for their unique cracks, a representation of their individual journeys. Instead of discarding them for being different, they are embraced and seen as beautiful. Wouldn’t the world be a much better place if we took this view with our neighbors? Not just those who were adopted, but all of our children. Wouldn’t the world be a better place if they were accepted, flaws and all? If they were appreciated for their differences and their journeys.

Over the past seven years of raising our oldest daughter, we have worked incredibly hard to help her celebrate her differences and embrace the uniqueness of her adoption. The glistening gold that fills those cracks is made up of hours of research and thousands of dollars on specialty therapists to help our daughter process the loss and joy that is her story.

While we celebrate the fact that we found our missing piece, and we try our hardest to instill that mentality in our daughter, the immense loss of losing her birth family isn’t lost on us. Despite being only 10 years old she has had to learn how to come to peace with inner turmoil and conflicting emotions that even I, as an adult, have difficulty processing. She has cried on my lap countless times as she tells me she wishes her birth mom “didn’t have a sad heart” and could keep her. How she wishes she didn’t have to be adopted. In those moments my heart aches for her. As much as I couldn’t fathom a world where she isn’t part of our family, I wish she didn’t have to experience any of the trauma from her past.

Each time she tells me these things, in a complete state of devastation and grief, she feels bad. She feels like she is hurting me, betraying me. She apologizes and says she doesn’t want to go back to her birth family and she wants to stay with us and she loves us and we are her family. Those cracks run deep, almost causing her to shatter into a million pieces.

How could she possibly feel all of these opposing emotions? We tell her that all of these feelings are okay. We tell her not to apologize, we are here to talk openly about everything. We put on a brave face and rock her, soothe her, comfort her, reassure her….and then when we get a few seconds to ourselves, we fall apart.

We grieve for the life she lost.

We grieve for the scars abandonment has left on her.

We grieve for her having to face a world where “different” isn’t always seen as equal.

We grieve for the questions that only grow as she matures.

We grieve for the hurt in her eyes as she watches others say how much her younger siblings look alike.

We grieve as she searches desperately to find some piece of herself in her father and me.

We grieve that she has had to experience cracks at all, and lost some childhood innocence in the process.

Despite all of the turmoil going on in her head, she manages to show pride in her differences. She shows strength. She shows immense empathy. She shows compassion for others. She shows maturity beyond her years, after all, she has had to conquer mature topics at such a young age. Despite how well she seems to grasp her history, with each stage of mental development she needs to reprocess her story on a new, deeper level.

Recently, this has meant identifying with songs that focus on being a “misfit” or “outcast”. She says that the songs describe her because she is the one who is different from the family. With her long golden hair and bright blue eyes, her features don’t match the rest of our family’s brown eyes and dark hair. We focus on the similarities between her and her siblings, how much she has a fire in her like her father. We focus on how advanced she is in math and science just like her dad and how she has the same taste in music as me. She says that she is Panamanian, French Canadian and Italian just like her siblings are. She takes pride in family history, culture, food, music and traditions.

Then she heads to school.

She is told that she isn’t those nationalities because she doesn’t share our DNA.

She is told that we aren’t her “real parents” and her siblings aren’t her “real siblings”.

She is told that she wasn’t wanted by her birth family and that is why we took her.

She is told that she doesn’t belong.

You see, I don’t think that *most* of these kids are trying to be hurtful. I don’t expect them to understand. I think, that they have been taught that so much of who they are is based on DNA, that DNA and blood defines them and their family. I don’t think most of their parents would encourage this thought process if they knew the potential it had to hurt others like my sweet girl. However, most families don’t realize the important conversations they should be having with their kids that they are missing.

Many families don’t teach their kids that families come in all different types. From two dads or moms. Single parents. Living with grandparents. Adoption. Foster Care. Divorced. Separated. Half siblings. Full siblings. Or siblings that share no blood at all. Families come in infinite configurations and it is time to have those open conversations.

Let’s teach our children that not every child grows in their mommy’s bellies. Some grow in their mommy’s hearts.

Let’s teach our children that different does not mean less.

Let’s teach our children that not understanding a family unit does not mean they should look down on it.

Let’s teach our children that adopted children were wanted. They were chosen. They were the missing piece a family was desperately searching for.

Let’s teach our children that adopted children are with their “real family”. They may have a birth family, but the family who loves them, provides for them, fights for them, cheers for them every day…that is their REAL family.

Let’s teach our children that not every adopted family looks the same. There are open adoptions on great terms, closed adoptions and so many more. No single type is better than others and all of them present unique benefits and challenges.

Let’s teach our children that it is okay to ask questions, but take no for an answer if the subject is too personal. I know our girl LOVES educating others on adoption. She loves sharing how unique and special it is that her family is different. However, she doesn’t like to go into details of why her situation is the way it is. She doesn’t like to share the trauma and that is why I won’t share those details here either; it is her story to tell.

She will gladly explain that her siblings are her “real siblings”. They fight with and for each other. They love each other deeply. They play together and know every little detail about each other. They share cherished memories of childhood.

She will explain how we are her “real parents”. We love her unconditionally. We cheer her on. We are always honest. We discipline her. We give her chores. We provide financially, physically and emotionally.

She will explain how yes, she doesn’t share our nationalities by blood but she shares the love of the culture. She listens to stories from our family histories, her family histories. She dances to Spanish music with her dad. She is learning the family meatball and sauce recipe from me that has been passed down for generations. She knows our traditions like our Sicilian seafood feast on Christmas Eve. She appreciates the languages, the foods, the music, the history. She is as much a muddled mix of cultures as our other children.

When I look at her face, I don’t see myself as a child. I don’t see dark hair and dark eyes, but I see so much more. I see her soul. I see the strength, determination, intelligence, curiosity, passion, fire, empathy, compassion, morals, sass, work ethic, sense of humor, strong will, thick-hardheadedness, and quick wit that is very much a mixture of her father and me.

So I beg you, have these conversations with your children. I can promise you they won’t be as difficult as you may think. In fact, I can promise you they will be far easier than it is for parents like me, who must attempt to put the pieces back together after their child has been shattered by hurtful comments. As we attempt to use gold to mend their broken hearts and help them see their unique beauty.

We seek to raise our daughter with peace and acceptance from her past, and my biggest wish for her is that she is able to hold onto that when the world tries to take it away. I pray that she is able to remember each and every crack and appreciate the beauty and journey that they represent.

“Not flesh of my flesh, nor bone of my bone, but still miraculously my own. Never forget for a single minute, you didn’t grow under my heart but in it.”
– Fleur Conkling Heyliger