2 Weeks in Belize

This February we went on what feels like a trip of a lifetime, although I sincerely hope that is isn't the last or only time I visit Belize.  I enjoyed it too much.

This year we were unable to take our usual road trip down to Baja Mexico for various reasons that include most of my kids returning to boring old public school and having a foster baby.  We really wanted to get away from the cold and needed to have a break from the stresses of normal life.   We could only be away for two weeks so spending two weeks driving somewhere was out of the question. 

My parents recently bought a home in Belize.  They are semi-retired and leave my husband to keep track of things on the farm while they are away for the winter.  So with some money scrimped and saved, lots of airmiles points, and cheap seats we flew our crew all the way to Belize.   Other than Aili, this was the first time our kids have flown.

We bought our tickets and planned our trip when we thought our foster baby would be leaving us by January.  Basically we thought we would need the distraction when the time came. When we realized that she would be staying with us longer, we hoped that she could come along with us since she's under two and can share a plane ticket.  We were unable to get the necessary paperwork for her to travel so we made arrangements for her to stay with friends (who recently completed their foster training and are waiting for their first placement).  We were nervous leaving her but in hindsight it worked out great for everyone involved.  She adjusted beautifully, and was well loved during those two weeks.  We were able to facetime with her while we were away, and I had made up a little laminated booklet with all our photos for her to keep and play with. 

It was an amazing trip.  For the first time we travelled as a family simply for the purpose of vacation.  Although visiting family and seeing their new house was part of it too. 

Hauling five kids around is never actually a "break", but a change of scenery is nearly the same thing.  It was restful, and peaceful.

It is such a small country that we were able to stay with my parents and yet do short day trips to all sorts of fun locations. 

The kids really enjoyed the Belize Zoo.

Tons of fresh fruit and orange juice with breakfast was one of my favorite things about Belize. 

We did some snorkelling with sharks and sting rays at Caye Caulker.

We climbed some Mayan Ruins.  These ones are Xunantunich. 

Cece and Elijah climbed up part way and then waited at the bottom with Grandma.  

It was scary having even the big kids up there!  

Skippy, impulsive, Silas was nearly giving me a heart attack.  It was so high and as you can see there was no railing...just a drop off. The view was incredible though. 

We spent a couple nights in a little cabin right on a beach in Placencia.  

It gave my parents a break from the noise and mess, and gave us some time at the ocean.  We soaked up sun until we were all thoroughly toasted. 

It was absolutely stunning.

The hotel let us use paddle boards and the kids played happily for two days.   As long as they weren't disrupting anyone else on the beach (even though it was virtually empty) we pretty much gave them free run of the place and a lot of independence to experience things. They played on the long dock, kayaked, paddle boarded, swam and snorkelled.  

Me and my camera at 5:30 am.  Yes, one of my kids woke me up that early while on vacation.  I did get to see the sun come up though. 

My parents front yard.  Its so great to see them so happy and active.  One thing about Belize and it's gorgeous climate is that you can practically live outside. Even the misquotes weren't nearly as bad as Saskatchewan in the summer.  I only saw a few of them in the evenings or if we were out hiking in the jungle. 

It's so easy and fun to be physically active there.  There's so much to do and the scenery is always beautiful. My Dad goes running every morning and he just completed a 4 day canoe race called Rute Maya, with two Guatemalan friends.  

I'm so happy for my parents to have this little farm (They have a turkey, goats, chickens, and fruit trees so I guess that qualifies) away from the farm.  It's perfect for them. 

 Poinsettia's growing outside! 

One of my parent's dogs had puppies.  

Silas and Roman helped Grandpa plant rows of orange trees. 

We hiked to a "blue hole" for a swim.

Behind Grandma and Grandpa's house is a small river.  The boys enjoyed playing there.  I was forced to get over my fears of slithering reptiles and jungle creatures and let them. 

After months of seeing nothing but snow I thoroughly enjoyed the flowers and plants. 

My pictures loaded out of order and all mixed up.

Here we are back up on Xunantunich. 

And on the beach in Placencia. 

To each his own. 

One morning we helped with some projects.  My folks have done a lot of minor renovations, and sprucing up of the place. 

Where my laundry goes to dry. 

Colour.  Wonderful colour.

 Roman's river catch.  He ate him for supper.  The lobster, not Roman.

"Look Dad, I have a moustache" 

I really enjoyed driving around (or rather sitting shot gun enjoying the scenery while my husband watch the pot holed road). Most of the houses are up on stilts like this one.  I fantasized about building my own little wooden stilt house. Because in my personal alternate reality we all move to Belize, clear a little spot in the jungle, (but also close to the beach) and build a tree house or a house on stilts.

Here is our first attempt at a GoPro video.  I wish all of you could come along for the ride, and experience Belize, but making a video for you to see is as close as I can get.  There was a few other little day adventures we went on that I only got video of and no photos.   Enjoy! 

We are so thankful that we were able to have this experience as a family, give our kids some great memories, experience another country and culture, and see more of God's beautiful creation.

The Other Mother

"Mommy, why didn't I grow in your tummy?"

Questions like that have the ability to stop the rotation of the earth for just a moment.  Tucked into the mundane business of an ordinary day comes a question that leaves you breathless and makes your mind spin for answers appropriate for an inquisitive little girl busy planning her fifth birthday party.

When we first decided to adopt our daughter someone asked us "Will you tell her she's adopted?"

That question left me dumbfounded and suppressing many sarcastic responses underneath a polite "yes, of course we will tell her".

The other option is that we could just keep it a big family secret, that everyone knows about, and hope she doesn't figure it out.  I mean the fact that she looks completely different than her parents could simply be genetic coincidence right? Or maybe we could sit her down on her 18th birthday and with long drawn sober faces explain that her life has been a fraud.  I knew we would tell her but I didn't know how.

Things have changed a bit in recent generations.

We knew this was new territory that we would need to navigate carefully but yet we had some time to figure it out as we moved forward.  That buffer zone of time elapsed very quickly.

I resolved early on to create an atmosphere before I needed to give explanations.

Our strategy was to lay a solid foundation of love and security.  A foundation strong enough to support all the hard things later on.  A foundation that will support questions about identity, belonging, and purpose.  The winds will come later in life, and may leave some marks, but the foundation will remain untouched.  We are her family.  She belongs.  She is loved unconditionally and eternally. She was beautifully created and her life has purpose.

  Even before she could talk I was giving her vocabulary.  I was building those stones into our family structure. Words like "adopted", "coming home", and "forever family" have become as common in our vernacular as words like "born"or "stop chewing with your mouth open".  We intentionally normalized adoption language and the concept of adoption long before our child could define those things.  Our motive for that is to strip those words of their power to shame, divide, or alienate.  It isn't her identity or a label and we aren't obnoxious about it.  It's just a part of our life and her story.

We have surrounded our foundation of security with an atmosphere of normalization.  Before she had any idea of what "adopted" meant, she recognized the word and associated it with being loved.  Being a multi-racial family has added another element to that atmosphere as we intentionally normalize and celebrate our unique qualities and the diversity within our own home.  From the children's books on our bookshelves to the wide variety of different shades and colouring of dolls in our home.  Our positive normal includes a lot of different.

She loves to hear the story of her "coming home" day and will sometimes ask "Mom, can you tell me about the day you got the phone call and came to get me".  I go on to describe all the inconsequential details about the day we got a phone call, quickly packed a diaper bag and drove into the big City.  We met a beautiful 1 month old baby girl with wavy black hair and gorgeous black eyes and we fell instantly in love.  The big sister and big brothers were so excited to meet her and we all loved her endlessly.  That's a summary of the story she has been hearing for the past few years. It's always a happy story that leaves a little girl snuggled up and content in her Mommy or Daddy's arms.

She also loves to look through pages of her baby book which showcases her first year in our family, as well as a handful of photos acquired by others before she came home. In that first page filled with photos I did not take I included a photo of a woman with wavy black hair and dark eyes holding a new baby in a social services office.  It is the only picture we have of the only visit that ever took place.  As I glued that picture into place, unsure of the wisdom behind my action, I trusted that it was right.  After all, this is her story not mine.  I am just the memory keeper.  I am the one that tucks away bits of information and gives dignity now to parts of the story that will hold many hard questions later.

Miss Cece knows this photo.  I've never gone into details, pointed it out, or tried to explain.  I follow a little girls lead.  She is smart though.  Almost too smart.  Lately we have begun to build some information structure on top our foundation and inside our atmosphere of normalized vocabulary.  Not too much too fast, but just enough to satisfy.  Nothing too heavy for a young heart to carry. Simple answers to potentially gut wrenching questions.

A word I have hesitated to use until just this week is "birth mother".  Maybe it creates some insecurity in my own heart.  Maybe I'm afraid that she won't understand and that doubts and fears will creep like rock crushing roots into our carefully laid foundation.

The other day my little girl was sitting on my lap and we were reading through a children's encyclopaedia describing all different body systems, and organs.  I turned the page and discovered a whole section on the development of a baby in the womb.  Both of us captivated, we read through each little bit and discussed the pictures of a baby growing bigger and bigger inside the safety of it's mothers womb.  It was both sweet and sad as I was reminded that I did not carry this one within the safety of my womb.  She belonged to the other Mother then.  Her first Mother.  Her birth Mom.

These photos sparked questions. Questions I hadn't planned to answer that day.  Questions about who's womb she grew in.  She pieced it together by herself and ran to find her baby book.  A quick reading time through a children's encyclopedia had turned into flipping through pages of her baby book and giving the woman with wavy black hair a name, and a title.  Birth Mother.  That's how important conversations happen with our children.  Sacred and profound moments tucked into the monotony of an ordinary day.

My dearest daughter:

You grew in her womb and then you came home and you grew in our arms.  Before our eyes you continue to grow and we love you more with each passing day. You have two Mother's.  Both are real. The woman who carried you in her womb will forever be connected to you.  There are things you share, and time you spent, that will remain between the two of you.  Regardless of circumstances and heartaches (and my wishes that I could rewrite certain chapters of the story), there is a certain dignity and honour in position.  I will always give that respect to your birth Mother, a woman I have never met in person.  I thank her for the gift of life she gave you, and us.

I am your Mommy.  Nothing will ever change that.  I am not a pretend mom or an artificial imitation of one.  We are family.  Real family.  We may not share genetics but we share our lives.  You are no less my own beloved child than if I had carried you in my womb. I remember the day we brought you home as one of the best days of my life.  I didn't know it then, but I was receiving a priceless gift. A tiny girl who would one day become my daughter.  A daughter who is delightful, joy filled, and a ray of sunshine.  A daughter who I am proud of and look forward to witnessing grow into a woman of character, strength, and secure confidence.


For a 5 year old little girl that's enough to chew on for now.  She is satisfied and content.

As the years go on, little by little, more details of her story will be unwrapped.  More questions will come and more answers will be carefully navigated.  Some questions will be left unanswered simply because I don't know. We will be there with her, and for her, as she someday decides what she wants to do with the information she has.

Rarely a day goes by that I do not think about my children's biological families.  I carry them in my heart and prayers.  I feel the weight of their loss, as well as my children's. Even though they do not know it, and I can't fully explain it or understand it, they are a part of our family too.

What I know breaks me to the core but I keep it tucked away as important pieces of a puzzle that she will someday be empowered to put together. The picture that it creates may have some very dark corners but I trust that it will be a beautiful display of redemption and God's grace.

That is how we tell our daughter she is adopted.

Happy Birthday Silas!

One thing about blogging that I love is memory keeping.  I began this blog when Silas was only a year old.  I can scroll back and reminisce through each of his Birthday's.  Which is especially nice if you have a memory like a sieve. 

My last "tummy baby" is eight years old.  

The years rush by so fast it leaves me breathless.  I really do love this age though.  There is a sweetness, and softness that happens when a boy is between the barbaric preschool years and the onset of adolescence.  It is a beautiful but brief window of opportunity to pour in and invest.  

A few more blinks and these last couple years of boyhood will be replaced with becoming a man.  

Every year Silas covers his ears when we sing "Happy Birthday".  It's just his thing.  I think I would miss it if he stopped. 

Once again we kept the party simple.  Just us.  We are enough to fill the room anyhow. 

We made the evening special with bags of popcorn, a family movie, corn dogs for supper and smores cake for dessert. 

Tomorrow after church he's going with a couple friends to a Trampoline gym for an hour.  

Aili is our resident baker.  She has gotten very good at baking but occasionally has a mishap that we have to chalk up to "live and learn".

Today we learned that when you make a very large cake, it also takes a longer time than expected to bake all the way through.  

I was away in the morning so wasn't around to quality control.  I knew it looked a little sunken in the middle but I didn't expect it to be mostly raw.  We did salvage the outside edge and everyone got a piece before it went in the garbage.  It kind of looks like pudding cake. 

Oh well.  Makes for a funny memory. 

Two new Lego sets and this guy is in a state of bliss.  

He's a Lego Junkie.  

Or maybe a Lego whiz kid.  He's crazy good at creating and building his own structures. 

This kid will disappear into his room with a new Lego set and a few minutes later he's got it built. 

I'm pretty sure it would take me hours...and I'd get distracted part way through and lose interest. 

He wants to be a Lego set designer when he grows up....that or live in my basement playing Legos wen he's 30. 

His obsession takes the guess work out of buying gifts anyway. 

I sure do love this kid.

More than that I really really like him.

Silas sees the silly in everything and has a quick sense of humour that keeps us laughing.  Although he has zero concept of "appropriate" and seems to have been born without a brain/ mouth filter. He is smart, focused, and curious.  He is such a sweet big brother with a huge heart for his little sisters.  In the past year or so a much softer more affectionate side of Silas has emerged and I'm loving it.  The preschooler who used to resist hugs (or touch of any kind) and didn't have much interest in snuggles is now constantly coming in for hugs, kissing his Mama on the cheek, and curling up next to me on the couch.  I'm more than happy to oblige.  I love the sweetness, compliance, and empathy that is beginning to emerge and grow.  

He's still quirky and slightly eccentric but I love that about him. 

As of now Silas is convinced that he would never want to get married but would much rather live alone with a pet turtle.   Somehow I can totally picture that.  Maybe a few bins of Legos thrown in there too.  

Happy Birthday Si-Fry!