Tuesday, November 29, 2011

2 weeks... and loosing count

It's hard to believe how quickly time is flying now that our sweet M and B are home. They've only been home for 10 days, yet they are fitting into our family beautifully. That's not to say that it's been an easy road, but it HAS been beautiful.

Just to recap a bit... I know that I've shared with a few of you our experience in Ethiopia when we went back to get our kids after Embassy FINALLY cleared us, but have yet to blog about it... so here goes.

We arrived in Ethiopia on Tuesday morning, Nov. 15th. After dropping our luggage and brushing our teeth, we headed over to the Transition Home to see our littles and take them to be with us... forever. Okay, gonna be honest here: I had HIGH expectations. I did. I know that I shouldn't have, but I did. I didn't have any expectations on our first trip, as it was there first time meeting us... and other than a few care pkgs, they really didn't know us. But for THIS trip, my expectations were high... like in the sky-high.

Now, let me explain. They were high because we had sent NUMEROUS care pkgs., videos of us talking to them (thanks Vermes and Marshalls), pictures etc. between July -when we met them- and November when it was time to bring them home. AND, they had clearly bonded to us well when we were there in July. So, I just assumed that when they saw us there, that time would slow down, the music would begin to play, the angels would sing and we would run to each other in slow motion with open arms and tears streaming down our faces. um... okay. so I was a little off base. What can I say, I'm a dreamer.

Well, here's how it REALLY went down. B was still at the older Transition Home, so he would be coming through the front gate. M was getting her pants changed, so she would be coming through the front door on the famous porch (any of you that have adopted through AWAA know that famous porch). How were we supposed to greet both of them coming from 2 different areas??? Did we stand at the gate waiting for B?? or at the porch waiting for M?? and what about pictures. How could we possibly get the best angle and pictures if our back was to B... or to M as they were coming out to us. Yes, I know, pretty ridiculous the things that went through my head. But this was BIG, people. It needed to be captured on film! Don't forget the singing angels!

Thankfully our dear friends, Aaron and Nichole Marshall were there and were kind enough to wait to bring their boy out so that they could take video and pictures of our "gotcha day".

Back to my expectations... the pictures pretty much speak for themselves, but I'll add commentary just in case you need it.

Here we are... waiting... dreaming... expecting those angels to sing.

M came out first. There were no singing angels, except in my head... that stopped the minute I heard M screaming and running the other direction to avoid me! The only tears were her tears streaming down her face out of sheer panic and fear. Yeah. It actually could've been comical, if I wasn't soo heartbroken. Not comical - the fact that she was terrified, but the fact that I had such grandiose ideas of how it would play out.

B came in and he seemed happy, yet a bit overwhelmed so he just ran around... then was thrilled to see that we brought him a backpack loaded with treats/toys. He was in heaven.

And still M continued to cry. Scream really. The thing is: our agency has an AWESOME group of nannies that cared for our kids. They have an incredible bunch of travel guides (Yonas, Eyob and T) as well as one kick butt driver (Dawitt) that the kids absolutely adored. They know these guys well. They bonded with them and the nannies over the months that they were in their care. It was HARD for them to say goodbye.

Things got better once we left the Transition Home... well, a little better. M stopped crying... as long as Jeff was holding her, and I wasn't. Seriously. She was bonding with him, and pretty much punishing me. Again, comical, yet clearly her heart was aching. and although it wasn't about me... it's NEVER been about me, inadvertently it ended up affecting me... I had stored up soo much love for these two precious kiddos, and couldn't wait to draw them in. and well, one in particular was kicking me to the curb.

This was honestly crushing to my heart... and it was such an intense look into M's wounded heart. It broke me. I was sad... for her, for me for us. I gave her space... for 2 days.

At the end of the two very long days, Jeff said, "it's time... she needs to know that you're her mom. that you're never leaving." So... I put on the handy dandy sling and slipped her in... for 8 hours I wore her on me.

It was the BEST thing EVER. She started to show signs of at least tolerating me. Then signs of liking me. YES! There was hope!

Jeff just kept reassuring me, "we just need to get home. Once we get home it will be so much better." Well, as usual, he was right. It did get so much better.

Each day gets better and better. I am in love with these two cuties, as much as if I had them naturally... they have grown in my heart over the last several months and they are a beautiful addition to our family.

Our bio kids have been amazing with them... hugging on them, loving them. It's as if they've always been a part of our family.

I am reminded daily of God's faithfulness to us. Through this journey I've seen just a glimpse of what it must look like to our Father when we are grafted into His family. Sometimes we kick and fight Him, yet He holds us through it all... loving us unconditionally. It's a beautiful thing.

I feel honored to be chosen to walk this journey. I'm the one being blessed. M and B are enriching our lives more than we ever could've imagined... and we are changing in ways that are beautiful. I never want to go back to the way things were.

I am happy to say that after only 2 weeks, M and B call me Mommy and Jeff Ababa (daddy).
 They let me comfort them when they are hurt and giggle when I snuggle them. I am one blessed mama. They are bonding well. We are making strides... as a family.

I love seeing how adoption is bringing our family closer together. Forever. Psalm 68:6  God sets the lonely in families...

Monday, November 14, 2011


As we wait to board our plane carrying us from DC to Addis Ababa, my mind is swirling with thoughts of joy, hope, eagerness, excitement... as well as feeling nervous, humbled, scatterbrained and giddy. We would be remiss if we didn't take a moment to thank you, our friends and family, and even complete strangers for all of the various ways that you've been supportive to us over the last 18months, when we began this journey.

I think it has finally started to sink in that we are on our way to get our children!! and bring them home with us. When we first saw the sweet faces of M and B back in May, I had no idea how grand my love for them would be. Of course, I knew that it would grow, but I didn't realize the fierceness to which it would grow. It is just a glimpse of how very much my God must love me. It's incredibly humbling to say the least.

I realize that once we get in country, I will have VERY little time to update as our hands will be full of two little brown eyed beauties, but I DID want to take a quick minute to say THANK YOU!

We began this journey with a seed that was planted in Jeff's heart, lots of enthusiasm, and little funding to make it happen.

Thank you for stepping up to the plate in soo many different ways... words of encouragement, an ear to listen, prayers and more prayers, as well as soo many that have give to us financially to make this happen.

We knew that if this truly was a calling that God had ordained, that He would have to provide... and He did.

Thank you!

We realize that our journey is really just beginning, as we will have our own "after the airport" experience... so PLEASE continue to pray. If you feel led, please call and encourage us. send us a quick note. All of these things mean soo very much to us.

God is soo very faithful! Thank you for being a part of our journey!

Sunday, November 13, 2011

a time to fly and a time to bond...

Hey there friends and family,

Katie and I are really excited with nervous anticipation as we look to bring B and M home. Although it has been heart wrenching at times, we are eager to reach the next chapter of the process, and we are nearly there.

We wanted to share with you a couple of things related to how life will be "after the airport" as they say. It involves something quite important in the adoption process. It is called attachment. We've poured over books, blogs and counseled friends and others on how we should create an environment of attachment for B and M and this is our plan. We are asking that you pray along side us and respect the decision we've made in bonding with them in these early stages. 

What is attachment?
Attachment is the process of having adopted children bond to the family unit.

Why attachment?
Attachment is a critical step in the adoption process. Without clear attachment, adopted children especially, are left with an unclear picture of where their security, trust and affection lie. This stage is an important part of ensuring they understand who their parents and siblings are and that we will be there for them...forever.

What is our attachment plan?
  • TIMELINE: For the first 4-6 weeks, We will not be welcoming any visitors into our home at this time - family or otherwise - and we will not be going out much. Exceptions will be made for doctor appointments we have scheduled for them and/or other important events. This may sound drastic, however, they need to understand that WE are their parents...it can be very confusing to a child who has had different people coming in and out of their lives to understand having many visitors over....even as biological children require a common routine and environment, adopted children need time to understand what their new routine and environment involves to a much greater degree.  After this initial phase, we are truly praying that the bonding process will be well established and we can begin the moving back to "normalcy". We are unsure of what that looks like, however, it will most likely involve limited trips out, having friends over for lunch, etc. But we really believe that the more we can have them at home, in familiar surroundings with their parents and siblings the better. We believe this may take anywhere from 3-6 months. Ultimately we will take our cues from them and adjust accordingly.
  • COMMUNICATION: We are also requesting that if you would like to get in contact with us, that you send email. We will be focusing all of our attention on being with our kids. ALL of them. We also feel it is very important to have B and M attach and bond with their siblings. This will involve creating activities they all can be involved in and interact with one another in a healthy positive way. 
  • VISITORS: As we stated above, we are kindly requesting no visitors for the first 4-6 weeks after our return. Trust us when we say that this will probably more painful for us than for you. However, there are many things that we will be working on that will require our full attention. Language: B and M have very limited English vocabulary. It will be important for us to being the process of educating them on specific words that will help them communicate with us, and us to them. Bonding: We will be the only people that will hug on, play with, and comfort our new family members. This does not mean that you won't ever get to connect with them in this way, but again, it is important that WE are seen as their primary caregivers...their Mom and Dad. We are praying that during the last couple of weeks of this bonding period, we will see great gains and possibly begin to introduce family and friends sooner than we expect.

What does this mean to you?
We have read a lot of material and read lots of stories of families and the attachment of their adopted children. There are often many deep seeded issues that need resolved in the hearts minds and spirits of these precious children. It is our plan to ensure these needs are met and will take the appropriate amount of time to ensure it does. We are simply asking for your understanding and more importantly, your continued prayers.

You all have played a vital role in bringing B and M home, and know that you're support will continue. We are so thankful for our friends and family. 

If you are so inclined, we would greatly appreciate meal support upon our return...because you know, jet lag can be awesome. With six children.  Please visit the Take Them a Meal website for more information.

God bless!

If you have any questions, let us know. We are more than happy to answer them.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

How to be the Village by Jen Hatmaker

 This post is actually written by Jen Hatmaker, who happens to be an incredible writer, storyteller. You can view her blog here.

 If you've ever wondered what to say to us through this LONG adoption journey, what to say now, or after we bring our kids home, please read this.
Sometimes being ever-so-slightly in the public eye is rough. With a mouth and discernment problem like mine, you can imagine. I basically offer my life on the altar of criticism daily, then douse the sacrifice with plenty of fuel to make disparagement a lay-up.

For instance, Brandon and I attended a Halloween party last weekend with the theme “Heroes and Super villains.” Our friends came in such costumes as Captain America and the Joker and Kim Possible. They were all very polished and adorable. We came as washed-up, possibly strung out Superman and Supergirl complete with ripped fishnets, smeared makeup, and pistol tattoo drawn with Sharpie. We may or may not have had unlit cigarettes dangling from the corners of our mouths.

These choices are often met with disapproval from the watching masses, as you might well guess. I know you wish I would only dress up as Little Bo Peep or Mary Mother of Jesus, but Brandon and I are very, very silly and immature, and I’ve been trying to tell you people this for some time.

But usually I am grateful for the connection to the greater world, if only through social media and the miracle of emails (plus embarrassing transparency). For example, just a few days ago, I received this email:
Our good friends just returned from Ethiopia last night with their two little boys. Ok, they've had their "airport" moment and we were right there with them. What are some things we can do now to support them in the "real life" journey without overstepping our boundaries? Thank you so much for your transparency and honesty. Everyone can benefit when you share from your heart.

I was so moved by this email. Having benefited from a community that practically smothered us with support throughout our adoption journey, I am so grateful for all the other good friends out there, loving their people and asking how to help. Since reading this email, I’ve been marinating on her question, and I’ve decided to write this Field Guide to Supporting Adoptive Families. (And it will be brief because I will try to remember that this is a blog and not a manuscript and the rules of blogging include succinctness, so that is exactly how I’ll proceed today, except for the exact opposite of all that.)

Let’s break this down into two categories:

Supporting Families Before the Airport

Your friends are adopting. They’re in the middle of dossiers and home studies, and most of them are somewhere in the middle of Waiting Purgatory. Please let me explain something about WP: It sucks in every way. Oh sure, we try to make it sound better than it feels by using phrases like “We’re trusting in God’s plan” and “God is refining me” and “Sovereignty trumps my feelings” and crazy bidness like that. But we are crying and aching and getting angry and going bonkers when you’re not watching. It’s hard. It hurts. It feels like an eternity even though you can see that it is not. It is harder for us to see that, because many of us have pictures on our refrigerators of these beautiful darlings stuck in an orphanage somewhere while we’re bogged down in bureaucracy and delays.

How can you help? By not saying or doing these things:

1. “God’s timing is perfect!” (Could also insert: “This is all God’s plan!” “God is in charge!”) As exactly true as this may be, when you say it to a waiting parent, we want to scratch your eyebrows off and make you eat them with a spoon. Any trite answer that minimizes the struggle is as welcomed as a sack of dirty diapers. You are voicing something we probably already believe while not acknowledging that we are hurting and that somewhere a child is going to bed without a mother again. Please never say this again. Thank you.

2. “Are you going to have your own kids?” (Also in this category: “You’ll probably get pregnant the minute your adoption clears!” “Since this is so hard, why don’t you just try to have your own kids?” “Well, at least you have your own kids.”) The subtle message here is: You can always have legitimate biological kids if this thing tanks. It places adoption in the Back-up Plan Category,
where it does not belong for us. When we flew to Ethiopia with our first travel group from our agency, out of 8 couples, we were the only parents with biological kids. The other 7 couples chose adoption first. Several of them were on birth control. Adoption counts as real parenting, and if you believe stuff Jesus said, it might even be closer to the heart of God than regular old procreation. (Not to mention the couples that grieved through infertility already. So when you say, “Are you going to have your own kids?” to a woman who tried for eight years, then don’t be surprised if she pulls your beating heart out like Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.)

3. For those of you in Christian community, it is extremely frustrating to hear: “Don’t give up on God!” or “Don’t lose faith!” It implies that we are one nanosecond away from tossing our entire belief system in the compost pile because we are acting sad or discouraged. It’s condescending and misses the crux of our emotions. I can assure you, at no point in our story did we think about kicking Jesus to the curb,
but we still get to cry tears and feel our feelings, folks. Jesus did. And I’m pretty sure he went to heaven when he died.

4. We’re happy to field your questions about becoming a transracial family or adopting a child of another race, but please don’t use this moment to trot out your bigotry. (Cluelessness is a different thing, and we try to shrug that off. Like when someone asked about our Ethiopian kids, “Will they be black?” Aw, sweet little dum-dum.) The most hurtful thing we heard during our wait was from a black pastor who said, “Whatever you do, don’t change their last name to Hatmaker, because they are NOT Hatmakers. They’ll never be Hatmakers. They are African.”
What the??? I wonder if he’d launch the same grenade if we adopted white kids from Russia? If you’d like to know what we’re learning about raising children of another race or ask respectful, legitimate questions, by all means, do so. We care about this and take it seriously, and we realize we will traverse racial landmines with our family. You don’t need to point out that we are adopting black kids and we are, in fact, white. We’ve actually already thought of that.

5. Saying nothing is the opposite bad. I realize with blogs like this one, you can get skittish on how to talk to a crazed adopting Mama without getting under her paper-thin skin or inadvertently offending her. I get it. (We try hard not to act so hypersensitive. Just imagine that we are paper-pregnant with similar hormones surging through our bodies making us cry at Subaru commercials just like the 7-month preggo sitting next to us. And look at all this weight we’ve gained.
See?) But acting like we’re not adopting or struggling or waiting or hoping or grieving is not helpful either. If I was pregnant with a baby in my belly, and no one ever asked how I was feeling or how much longer or is his nursery ready or can we plan a shower, I would have to audition new friend candidates immediately.

Here’s what we would love to hear Before the Airport:

1. Just kind, normal words of encouragement. Not the kind that assume we are one breath away from atheism. Not the kind that attempt to minimize the difficulties and tidy it all up with catchphrases.
We don’t actually need for you to fix our wait. We just want you to be our friend and acknowledge that the process is hard and you care about us while we’re hurting. That is GOLD. I was once having lunch with my friend Lynde when AWAA called with more bad news about Ben’s case, and I laid my head down on the table in the middle of Galaxy CafĂ© and bawled. Having no idea what to do with such a hot mess, she just cried with me. Thank you for being perfect that day, Lynde.

2. Your questions are welcomed! We don’t mind telling you about the court system in Ethiopia or the in-country requirements in Nicaragua or the rules of the foster system. We’re glad to talk about adoption, and we’re thankful you care. I assure you we didn’t enter adoption lightly, so sharing details of this HUGE PIECE OF OUR LIVES is cathartic. Plus, we want you to know more because we’re all secretly hoping you’ll adopt later. (This is not true.) (Yes it is.)

3. When you say you’re praying for us and our waiting children, and you actually really are, not only does that soothe our troubled souls, but according to Scripture, it activates the heavens. So pray on, dear friends. Pray on. That is always the right thing to say. And please actually do it. We need people to stand in the gap for us when we are too tired and discouraged to keep praying the same words another day.

4. If you can, please become telepathic to determine which days we want to talk about adoption and which days we’d rather you just show up on our doorstep with fresh figs from the Farmer’s Market (thanks, Katie) or kidnap us away in the middle of the day to go see
Bridesmaids. Sometimes we need you to make us laugh and remember what it feels like to be carefree for a few hours. If you’re not sure which day we’re having, just pre-buy movie tickets and show up with the figs, and when we answer the door, hold them all up and ask, “Would you like to talk for an hour uninterrupted about waiting for a court date?” We’ll respond to whichever one fits.

Supporting Families After the Airport

You went to the airport. The baby came down the escalator to cheers and balloons. The long adoption journey is over and your friends are home with their new baby / toddler / twins / siblings / teenager. Everyone is happy. Maybe Fox News even came out and filmed the big moment and “your friend” babbled like an idiot and didn’t say one constructive word about adoption and also she looked really sweaty during her interview. (Really? That happened to me too. Weird.)

How can you help? By not saying or doing these things:

1. I mean this nicely, but don’t come over for awhile. Most of us are going to hole up in our homes with our little tribe and attempt to create a stable routine without a lot of moving parts. This is not because we hate you; it’s because we are trying to establish the concept of “home” with our newbies, and lots of strangers coming and going makes them super nervous and unsure, especially strangers who are talking crazy language to them and trying to touch their hair.

2. Please do not touch, hug, kiss, or use physical affection with our kids for a few months. We absolutely know your intentions are good, but attachment is super tricky with abandoned kids, and they have had many caregivers, so when multiple adults (including extended family) continue to touch and hold them in their new environment, they become confused about who to bond with. This actually delays healthy attachment egregiously. It also teaches them that any adult or stranger can touch them without their permission, and believe me, many adoptive families are working HARD to undo the damage already done by this position. Thank you so much for respecting these physical boundaries.

3. For the next few months, do not assume the transition is easy. For 95% of us, it so is not. And this isn’t because our family is dysfunctional or our kids are lemons, but because
this phase is so very hard on everyone. I can’t tell you how difficult it was to constantly hear: “You must be so happy!” and “Is life just so awesome now that they’re here??” and “Your family seems just perfect now!” I wanted that to be true so deeply, but I had no idea how to tell you that our home was actually a Trauma Center. (I did this in a passive aggressive way by writing this blog, which was more like “An Open Letter to Everyone Who Knows Us and Keeps Asking Us How Happy We Are.”) Starting with the right posture with your friends – this is hard right now – will totally help you become a safe friend to confide in / break down in front of / draw strength from.

4. Do not act shocked if we tell you how hard the early stages are. Do not assume adoption was a mistake. Do not worry we have ruined our lives. Do not talk behind our backs about how terribly we’re doing and how you’re worried that we are suicidal. Do not ask thinly veiled questions implying that we are obviously doing something very, very wrong. Do not say things like, “I was so afraid it was going to be like this” or “Our other friends didn’t seem to have these issues at all.” Just let us struggle. Be our friends in the mess of it. We’ll get better.

5. If we’ve adopted older kids, please do not ask them if they “love America so much” or are “so happy to live in Texas.” It’s this simple: adoption is born from horrible loss. In an ideal world, there would be no adoption, because our children would be with their birth families, the way God intended. I’ll not win any points here, but I bristle when people say, “Our adopted child was chosen for us by God before the beginning of time.” No he wasn’t. He was destined for his birth family. God did not create these kids to belong to us. He didn’t decide that they should be born into poverty or disease or abandonment or abuse and despair aaaaaaaall so they could finally make it into our homes, where God intended them to be. No. We are a very distant Plan B. Children are meant for their birth families, same as my biological kids were meant for mine. Adoption is one possible answer to a very real tragedy… after it has already happened, not before as the impetus for abandonment. There is genuine grief and sorrow when your biological family is disrupted by death and poverty, and our kids have endured all this and more. So when you ask my 8-year-old if he is thrilled to be in Texas, please understand that he is not. He misses his country, his language, his food, his family. Our kids came to us in the throes of grief, as well they should. Please don’t make them smile and lie to you about how happy they are to be here.

6. Please do not disappear. If I thought the waiting stage was hard, it does not even hold the barest candle to what comes after the airport.
Not. The. Barest. Candle. Never have I felt so isolated and petrified. Never have I been so overwhelmed and exhausted. We need you after the airport way more than we ever needed you before. I know you’re scared of us, what with our dirty hair and wild eyes and mystery children we’re keeping behind closed doors so they don’t freak out more than they already have, but please find ways to stick around. Call. Email. Check in. Post on our Facebook walls. Send us funny cards. Keep this behavior up for longer than six days.

Here’s what we would love to hear or experience After the Airport:

1. Cook for your friends. Put together a meal calendar and recruit every person who even remotely cares about them. We didn’t cook dinners for one solid month, and folks, that may have single handedly saved my sanity. There simply are not words to describe how exhausting and overwhelming those first few weeks are, not to mention the lovely jetlag everyone came home with. And if your friends adopted domestically right up the street, this is all still true, minus the jetlag.

2. If we have them, offer to take our biological kids for an adventure or sleepover. Please believe me: their lives just got WHACKED OUT, and they need a break, but their parents can’t give them one because they are 1.) cleaning up pee and poop all day, 2.) holding screaming children, 3.) spending all their time at doctors’ offices, and 4.) falling asleep in their clothes at 8:15pm. Plus, they are in lockdown mode with the recently adopted, trying to shield them from the trauma that is Walmart.

3. Thank you for getting excited with us over our little victories. I realize it sounds like a very small deal when we tell you our kindergartener is now staying in the same room as the dog, but if you could’ve seen the epic level of freakoutedness this dog caused her for three weeks, you would understand that
this is really something. When you encourage us over our incremental progress, it helps. You remind us that we ARE moving forward and these little moments are worth celebrating. If we come to you spazzing out, please remind us where we were a month ago. Force us to acknowledge their gains. Be a cheerleader for the healing process.

4. Come over one night after our kids are asleep and sit with us on our porch. Let me tell you: we are all lonely in those early weeks. We are home, home, home, home, home. Good-bye, date nights. Good-bye, GNO’s. Good-bye, spontaneous anything. Good-bye, church. Good-bye, big public outings. Good-bye, community group. Good-bye, nightlife. So please bring some community to our doorstep. Bring friendship back into our lives. Bring adult conversation and laughter. And bring an expensive bottle of wine.

5. If the shoe fits, tell adopting families how their story is affecting yours. If God has moved in you over the course of our adoption, whether before the airport or after, if you’ve made a change or a decision, if somewhere deep inside a fire was lit, tell us, because it is spiritual water on dry souls. There is nothing more encouraging than finding out God is using our families for greater kingdom work, beautiful things we would never know or see. We gather the holy moments in our hands every day, praying for eyes to see God’s presence, his purposes realized in our story. When you put more holy moments in our hands to meditate on, we are drawn deeper into the Jesus who led us here.

Here’s one last thing: As you watch us struggle and celebrate and cry and flail, we also want you to know that adoption is beautiful, and a thousand times we’ve looked at each other and said, “What if we would’ve said no?” God invited us into something monumental and lovely, and we would’ve missed endless moments of glory had we walked away. We need you during these difficult months of waiting and transitioning, but we also hope you see that we serve a faithful God who heals and actually sets the lonely in families, just like He said He would. And even through the tears and tantrums (ours), we look at our children and marvel that God counted us worthy to raise them. We are humbled. We’ve been gifted with a very holy task, and when you help us rise to the occasion, you have an inheritance in their story; your name will be counted in their legacy.

Because that day you brought us pulled pork tacos was the exact day I needed to skip dinner prep and hold my son on the couch for an hour, talking about Africa and beginning to bind up his emotional wounds. When you kidnapped me for two hours and took me to breakfast, I was at the very, very, absolute end that morning, but I came home renewed, able to greet my children after school with fresh love and patience. When you loved on my big kids and offered them sanctuary for a night, you kept the family rhythm in sync at the end of a hard week.

Thank you for being the village. You are so important.

Adoptive friends, what can you add? What has been helpful or hurtful? How has your community helped you raise your children? What do friends and family need to hear?