I Wonder

As I've discussed in a couple of my recent posts, I've taken part in some lively debates in recent weeks.  Anytime I end up in one of these, whether I'm the one who started the discussion or I've stumbled into it after several people have taken sides and voiced their opinions, I have the same gut reaction: I have to find the common ground!

I still explore my beliefs on the subject and take a position, but for the sake of a fruitful debate, my heart wants to find the point where we all agree.  If I manage to find it, I try to view both points from the perspective of the common point.  Sometimes, I'll even go to the point of explaining both points from that common perspective in the hopes that both sides will experience empathy toward each other.  In my best-case-scenario, we would end up with a win-win situation, where each person can edify the other's beliefs, or even reach a comprimise.

Too often, debates don't ever reach this point.  It breaks my heart when this happens, especially when debates end so badly that grudges are held. Recently, I've been disappointed by the result of debates more often than not.

Like many of my other gut instincts, I've experienced this need to find common ground for many years, but I haven't been able to define it.  A few days ago, a large aspect of this was defined for me.

I've said it before, but I'll say it again.  I am extremely lucky to be brought up the way I was.  My parents were and are strong Christians, and they raised my brother and I to always learn and grow in all aspects of our life.  Right now, I can see 2 major benefits of my upbringing.

First, I seem to have pretty good instincts.  Because of the principals that were ingrained into me by my parents, and because of the relationship with the Holy Spirit that I was taught to nurture, I have learned to be confident in these instincts.  I don't say this to brag, especially because this isn't anything I created in myself, or through any of my own efforts.  But I've noticed that when I instinctively know what is right and wrong, and when I pray through the journey of acting on these instincts, they take me somewhere better than where I was.  It helps me to trust that I'm on the right track, even when I can't see all of the road signs

Second, I'm not alone in my identity as a Dawson.  I have an older brother who is a lot like me.  We have different jobs and different hobbies, but we have this amazing connection.  When we sit in a room and discuss something we're both interested in, I feel this synergy.  We have the same principals and the same moral code, so similar that I haven't experienced this close a connection with anyone else, and we have the same way of wondering about the unknowns in our world.

Since I'm the younger brother, he always operated at a maturity level higher than mine.  Of course, this gap gets smaller as we get older, but the differences between us have also become more defined.  He went to college for a ministry degree, studying scripture and doctrines to get to the root of the issues of faith we all struggle with.  He will admit before anyone that he doesn't have it all figured out, but he has this vocabulary, this way of expressing himself that exceeds anything I have within me.

A few days ago, he defined some of my instincts in one of his own posts.  He defined our sense of wonder in the world.  He defined this ingrained desire to explore the unknown, to find answers, to see the world through new eyes.  He defined what I feel when I explore, whether it's a mountain trail or a political road fraught with potholes.

This wonder is an amazing part of my character that The Creator set up in me, and that my parents brought out in me.  I've learned that this is why my heart breaks when people refuse to look at the world through someone else's eyes, or chooses to assert their opinions instead of asking questions of others.  I want my sense of wonder to rub off on someone, the way it was rubbed off on me.  I want people to experience the childlike joy found in a spirit of curiosity.

I'll leave you with a quote from my brother's post, which sums up my thoughts better than I ever could:

"Jesus said something I've not been able to get out of my head for a few years now: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven" (Matthew 18:3). I don't think "become like little children" means going back to a day when someone else zips your jacket and wipes your nose. I think Jesus has something else in mind. When I look at [my daughter], I see so many things I've lost as I've grown up. Now, I can't help but think as I watch her everyday: What if reclaiming our childlike wonder is the true foundation of life under Christ?"

I wonder...

Always moving forward,

Tyler

P.S.: The full blog post referenced today can be found at http://aaroniswondering.blogspot.com/2013/04/introduction-big-blue-chairs.html

Husbandry

I was married to my best friend on May 27, 2006.

At the time, I was only 20 years old and she was 19.  Although we were young, our 6 year dating relationship felt like an eternity.  We spent years talking about marriage, and the months before the wedding included advice from friends and family as well as premarital counseling with our mentor who was to marry us.  We did a lot of planning, set out our expectations, and tried to figure out what marriage would be like.  Finally, I got to practice being a husband.

The first year wasn't all that difficult.  Yes, we had to learn to share a space, divvy out chores, and set boundaries in our new home, but none of that was too difficult.  We didn't agree on everything, but we hardly ever argued.  I was a little spoiled by that first year, because this made it easy to be a husband.

In years since, we've encountered challenges like finding a new church home, transitioning from college to a career lifestyle, and buying a home.  With big discussions comes the potential for big disagreement.  I've learned something through this, possibly more important than any other lesson I've learned as a husband.  I learned that relationships are made and broken in the midst of conflict.

Think about it.  When you get along with someone, share hobbies, and enjoy each other's company, the friendship/marriage/etc. feels easy.  You're both happy with the give and take, and you don't want to change a thing.  But throw a hot topic into the mix.  All of a sudden, there's potential for hurt feelings or worse.  You find yourself tip-toeing through a minefield, cautions of every word and gesture, hoping you don't cause offense.

Katie and I learned a lot about each other through these big decisions, because we both make these decisions differently.  We had to learn not only how to understand what the other wanted, but also how to speak their language.  Should I ask about her gut feeling, or should I bring up the pros and cons?  Are finances more important than benefits right now?  Do we want to live close to work or close to friends and family?

This was the second big lesson I learned about being a husband.  I learned that I always have to try to speak the language of my wife.  Sometimes this means I avoid a sticky subject when it doesn't need to be discussed.  Other times it means I should listen quietly and empathetically instead of trying to give advice.

Speaking her language is my best way of loving her.  It makes me think about her wants and needs, not just my own.  It helps me to communicate my thoughts and feelings more clearly.  It just plan helps us communicate better, and don't they say that communication is what a marriage is all about?

Whatever your methods, being a husband is all about trying to be a better husband today than you were yesterday.

Always moving forward,

Tyler

Cancer Sucks - Part 2

Last time I wrote about this topic, I had some questions asking if everything was ok.  At the time, it was.  If you read the earlier post, you know that almost 4 years ago my dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer.  At the time he was diagnosed (June 2009), they already called it Stage IV, which is the worst it gets.

If you're like me, you've probably heard "stage IV cancer" in a negative context and just assumed it was bad.  What it really means is that the cancer has spread.  Stage I is a minor occurrence of cancer in a specific part of the body.  For prostate cancer it's in the prostate, for breast cancer it's in the breast, etc.  Stage II is when it starts to advance within the localized area, and there's some distinction in the type of advancement that moves it into stage III.

By the time you get to stage IV, the cancer has spread outside of the original spot.  You'll hear these called "mets," because the cancer has "metastasized" to other parts of the body.  The bad part about this is you can't contain the disease anymore.  With stage I-III, you may have the option of surgically removing the affected part of the body, or directing radiation toward the small section of cancerous cells, but with stage IV those treatments almost entirely lose their effectiveness.

Once the cancer spreads, there's nothing holding it to one spot anymore.  With my dad (and I assume with most prostate cancer patients), the mets went to the bones.  CT scans (or bone scans) would find mets that showed up as dark spots on the bones, and the number and size of these spots would help the doctors gauge how well the treatments are working.

The treatments are the most difficult part, as I discussed in the earlier post.  With the cancer not contained, the strongest treatment option is some form of chemo.  In the first year they tried a hormone therapy, because prostate cancer is known to feed on testosterone.  Limit the testosterone, limit the amount of fuel the disease can build from.  It was great in that it had minimal side effects (at least compared to other cancer treatments), but it didn't work for long.

After about a year and a half of taking it slow, the chemo started.  First every 3 weeks for about 8 months.  Things got much better, and stayed that way for a good, long time.  We got to stop worrying as much about the disease, and the treatments turned to trying things like short bouts of radiation on the most symptomatic areas.  But this also came to an end.

In the fall, he went back to chemo.  Again, it was every 3 weeks.  This was a different formula that they hoped would make a more long-term impact on the disease, but after 8 treatments it had basically stopped working.

And this has been the last month of our lives.  The chemo has stopped working.  Radiation might give some symptom relief, but the likely side effects are just as bad as the symptoms they're trying to relieve.  There are other kinds of chemo, but after 2 long tries with chemo they need to try something else.  And that something else just isn't out there yet.  Last week, the tests came back that the cancer hasn't just stopped shrinking, it's still progressing.  Just weeks after ending chemo, it's hitting harder than ever.

Because of all of this, last weekend was one of the toughest my family has experienced.  What started with a trip back home to hear the full story quickly progressed into discussions to prepare for end-of-life care and making sure my mom will be taken care of when he's gone.  Our usual Sunday tradition of going to my parents' church (where I grew up) was filled with weepy hugs as the news spread.  Even a piece of amazing news on the adoption account (to be detailed in a later post) was tear-filled in light of the emotions of the weekend.

Now, I hardly know what to do with myself.  My brother and I agreed to do everything we can to help our mom be as ready as possible, and we both want to spend as much time with dad as we can.  But every discussion gets harder, not easier.  Even in sharing the news with a close friend, I could hardly get the words out.  When I talk to anyone about this I have this overwhelming urge to tell them how great a man he is, and how much I've appreciated the life he has lived.  Yet, every time those thoughts come out, I feel like I'm already attending his funeral.

The one thing I want to say about my dad today is how amazing he is through this process.  Since the diagnosis, he has always absorbed as much of the negative stuff as he can, and just showed love and respect to the family and friends who care about him.  Even now, he talks down his symptoms as if they're no big deal, all the while chatting with family and letting his grandkids play in his lap.  I know many people tend to shut down in his position, but I don't think he's ever going to stop treating us all with the love and respect that he has always shown.  That's the kind of strength I will always admire.

So, with regard to my work and day-to-day life in the next few weeks or months, I might be a little unavailable. I'm going to try not to be, but I already find myself drifting and losing focus, and I'm sorry about that.  Don't feel bad for talking to me about the responsibilities I'm ignoring, because I probably just need the reminder to get going again.  And if you don't know what to say to me, a hand on the shoulder says more than enough.

I know it's going to get harder before it gets easier, but maybe someday it won't hurt so much.

Always moving forward,

Tyler

Discipline Part 2

Since my last post on discipline, I've picked up a couple of parenting books.  My favorite so far (out of my limited library) is Parenting with Love & Logic, by Foster Cline & Jim Fay.

As the title suggests, the authors believe that a parent should provide 2 important things to their children above all other: Love and Logic.  The Love part is about making your children feel loved unconditionally, and the Logic part is about helping them learn to be responsible and learn to make good choices.

One of my favorite sections so far discusses "praise" vs. "encouragement."  Like many topics within the book, Love and Logic are found to be closely related within this section.  When discussing praise vs. encouragement, you find that while praise can helpfully support good behavior and successes, it can also pigeon-hole the kid and communicate pseudo-harmful undertones.

For instance, let's say you want to recognize that your kid did his writing homework.  You could praise him by saying "you did a good job on your homework!"  Harmless at a glance, right?  Maybe, but there are a lot of scenarios in which this wouldn't help.  What if he didn't do a good job, but by your response makes him think it's good enough?  Overusing this could promote laziness.  What if he thinks he didn't do a good job?  You could sound patronizing and slowly lose his trust.  What if he knows he did great work?  You've communicated that maybe he can't judge good work for himself, so it encourages him to look to others for his value.

This is the nature of praise.  I don't think there's anything wrong with occasional praise, but by making a pattern of praise over encouragement you could unintentionally instill negative values when you only wanted to help.  And by voicing your positive judgements about him, you slowly take away his need to judge himself.

Encouragement is subtly different.  In the same scenario, you could say "I see you finished your writing assignment!"  By just saying you noticed, you've left your kid open to tell you about it.  Does he think a good job?  Does he need help?  Did he learn something interesting?  Opportunities like this allow him to make decisions and judgements about himself by himself.  Even more, it opens up opportunities to love, like reinforcing his positive view of himself, giving help when he asks for it, or even just having a conversation about something he cares about.

In the ongoing theme of Parenting with Love & Logic, the discussion of praise vs. encouragement is all about giving your kids opportunities to think and make choices for themselves (within reason), all the while showing them love in what they do and being prepared to help them navigate the consequences.

In the early years it could be letting them choose whether to put on their coat or carry it with them on a cold day (as the parent, you know they'll be ready to put it on well before their lips turn blue).  As they approach the teenage years, it could involve the kid managing his own homework schedule before the rigors of AP classes add to the difficulty (a couple of bad grades in 4th grade never hurt anyone).  By the time they're in high school, driving, and thinking about moving off to college, they've developed such a firm understanding of decisions and cosequences that you're comfortable letting them drive, go out with friends, and date.

Of course each of these choices has its own set of potential consequences.  The biggest difficulty in the Love & Logic method is hedging your protective instincts as a parent to help your child grow into a responsible adult.  You may already understand the consequences, but your kid has a lot to learn about them.

Always moving forward,

Tyler

Thoughts on Discipline

When I was filling out my home study questionnaire, I had to answer some questions about discipline practices in parenting. I've always had some vague thoughts about this, but for this questionnaire I had to flesh them out a bit. I'll admit right now that I am probably the least qualified person in the world to give advice on this topic (considering I have no experience as a parent yet), so these are just my thoughts on the subject and things I want to try to incorporate into my parenting.

I have to start with my thoughts on “discipline” as it is used most commonly, and I promise I'll step off of my soap box after this paragraph. Let's face it, “discipline” usually means “punishment.” While I know this perspective isn't shared by all parents, it's all too common. Discipline comes out of the word Disciple, meaning someone who follows a person or a set of ideals fully. If you want to discipline your child, you shouldn't focus on the punishment, but how to get them to understand the set if ideals you want them to follow. Punishment is only a small part of the discipline equation, and it shouldn't be overused.

Stepping down now.

When I thought about disciplining children the other day, one of my oldest pet peeves came to mind: I always hate when people consistently give instruction without explaining any of their reasons for giving the instruction. In a business, you should all be working toward the same goals, so why not get your goals in line before giving the instructions? In a family, you should all be working to keep a household running and helping the kids to learn and grow as they should, so why not follow the same principals here?

This is probably where most parents start, but what about those times where you've had this talk 3 times already, and they still break the rules? This is where most parenting styles diverge. Many will follow some of the more proven methods, like spanking or grounding. Others will yell a bit. My preference? Make it a teaching moment.

What I mean is that spankings don't necessarily make a kid think twice before stealing, and sending them to their room doesn't necessarily make them stop lying. Parents do these things because kids don't like them, and we hope that the negative experience of the punishment will connect with that thing they did in their memory. And I'm not saying there shouldn't be a punishment, but if you picked a punishment that naturally arises from the crime, wouldn't that make the punishment more meaningful?

One great example I turn to came from a scene TV show, although I'm sure they weren't the first to try it. When the kid abused the privacy of their room, do you know what the parents did? They took her bedroom door. It sent a very direct message that “we provided you with this privacy out of kindness. You don't need it, and if you use it improperly, it gets taken away.” There's also been a story going viral on Facebook about a mother's 18 rules for her 13-year-old's new iPhone, where the rules clearly state that the phone is owned by the parents and can be taken back at any time if it isn't used responsibly.

These got me thinking about other “relevant” punishments. What if the kid steals? Maybe the parents could “steal” toys from the kid to show how it hurts when you're stolen from. What if the kid won't tell you the truth? Maybe he parents could stop sharing unnecessary information with them, so they know what it feels like when they're not trusted. What if they never finish their healthy dinner before going for dessert? Maybe the parents could let them engorge themselves on sweets and feel the stomachache that comes along with it (I know this works for me every December).

Point being, I can clearly remember the things I did as a kid that weren't corrected when I was spanked or grounded, and as I grew up I pinpointed the reason they didn't work: I knew what I was being punished for, but I never saw the natural consequences. My goal is to find a way to help my kids learn from their experiences, just like I try to learn from mine.

Now, all that's left is the big question of parenting: will it work with my kids? I guess we'll see!

Always moving forward,

Tyler

The Big Decisions

I haven't decided how much I want to direct these posts to my adoption journey yet, but there's no denying it's a huge part of my life.  Besides, there aren't a lot of male perspectives out there about infertility or adoption.  I hope my readers don't mind my occasional push of adoption related info.

Last weekend, I spent a lot of time filling out our Home Study Questionnaire.  This is basically several pages of questions that help you bring out your family experiences, family expectations, household changes, and any other issues that will psychologically affect your bringing an adopted baby into your home.  Since we already had the demographic information out of the way from the application, this one cuts straight into what makes you tick.

When we met with the agency last February, someone asked how long the paperwork usually takes to fill out, specifically the HSQ as it is the most intensive.  The answer was "I can't really put a time on it, but I've never known someone to fill it out all in one sitting."  Yikes!  This document starts as a 7 page list of questions without spaces left for answers.  There's a sentence at the very top of the first page explaining that "one or two word answers are not acceptable."  I haven't even read the specific questions I'll have to answer, but already it doesn't look easy.

Now that we're to that point in our application, I woke up Saturday thinking about it.  It was just me and the dogs awake in the house, so I pulled up a fresh copy and started typing.  First section: Motivation.  Who initiated discussions about adoption?  Why do you want to adopt?  How long have you been considering adoption?  So far so good.  Pretty easy questions to answer.

Second section: Feelings about yourself, your parents, and your childhood.  My first thought "yeah, I had good parents and a good childhood!"  Then I read the questions.  Tell me about your mother/father (personality, faith, relationships, etc.).  How did they support you as a child?  How did they nurture you as a child?  What would you change about your childhood?  How did they handle sex ed?

Holy cow, people, back up a couple of steps!  Here I am on a leisurely Saturday morning, sitting in my favorite chair, trying to achieve some sort of relaxed state while trying to decide "how I want my children to view sex?"

Somewhere down the line I remembered why I was answering these questions.  It's not just to appease the agency, or to go through the motions.  I'm answering these questions because they are important.  I remembered that we're talking about a child that is going to be born into a family who hasn't thought about these questions, who would raise a child that many would consider "deprived."  And that child is going to be placed in a home like mine.

Through this, I realized another difference in biological families vs. adoptive families.  Biological families can be started for a million different reasons, at a million different times, into a million different circumstances.  There are so many great parents in the world, but sometimes families are started too soon by accident.  Sometimes people think they're ready today, but maybe their circumstances change, or maybe they just haven't fully understood the responsibility involved.  And once the ball gets rolling, you know you have less than 9 months to get your life in order.

With adoption, the child is given yet another gift: that their parents spent years preparing for them.  Their parents spent countless hours thinking about the hard questions and the big decisions to come up with the best possible answers.  Their parents even spent years putting huge amounts of savings aside, not just so that they could afford the agency fees, but also so that they can get their income to what it needs to be and practice their hand at tight budgeting.  Their parents gave every ounce of hope toward that baby, so that when it arrives, it's the most exciting thing on the planet to them.

I don't know if this was by design or by accident, but I think the adoptive community got this one right.  Remind me to thank them for making me think about the big decisions.

Always moving forward,

Tyler

My Pre-Adoption Journey

About 4 years ago, my wife and I decided to start a family. It felt like a big decision at the time, even though that initial conversation was over almost as soon as it started. We went through the usual waiting, going through pregnancy tests every month thinking “maybe this is the day!” The first few months were disappointing, but it didn't take long before they felt devastating.

As you might expect, my wife took the disappointment a little harder than I did at first. She probably still does. And I, with my overly optimistic and always hopeful attitude, tried to always spin the situation toward the positive. This went on, until my wife started to use the word Infertility. I still remember how this threw me for a loop. I kept telling her (and myself) that we just need to wait a little bit longer. Anytime we tested, I still thought “maybe this is the day!”

After a year or more, we started seriously discussing the possibility of infertility. Katie started scheduling tests with her doctor, and we hoped for the best. As the test results came, each one arrived with the bittersweet realization that we still didn't know why we weren't pregnant yet. Next, it was my turn. It didn't take long before we had a little bit of our answer: something was wrong.

After verifying the results and narrowing down the diagnosis, we scheduled a procedure. I needed a minor surgery that had about a 2/3 chance of fixing our fertility problems. The surgery went through without a hitch, but there was still that 1/3 chance that it wouldn't change things. With each of the 3 month, 6 month, and 9 month follow-up tests, we hoped for the best, but we didn't get the results we wanted.

The next step (in the medical route) would be IVF-ICSI, a procedure that would directly fertilize a few eggs, and use medications to try to come out with the best possible circumstances to result in a pregnancy. It was expensive, and there were no guarantees. In the best case scenario, we would pay $15-20k for a single attempt that would hopefully result in a healthy pregnancy. Worst case, we would try this a several times without ever reaching the result we were looking for.

This discussion became very real before my final (9 months post-surgery) follow-up with the fertility doctor. What we thought we wanted more than anything was to have a baby resulting from a healthy pregnancy, but we knew the potential consequences involved if we were to put ourselves through the emotional battleground of IVF.

Until then, I had resisted the other methods of starting a family. Partly, I was still hopeful that we could get pregnant on our own someday, without having to deal with IVF or anything besides the “natural” route. But I think I was also influenced by the stigma that goes along with raising a child that doesn't carry your genes. I want to assign some fault to the adoption practices of the 1960's through 1980's, but when it comes down to it, I just felt like I would be raising someone else's baby.

In anticipation of my final follow-up testing, we had the “what if” discussion. When it came down to brass tacks, we were sitting in the car half way through the 5 hour drive to my parents' house for Thanksgiving last year. We asked the question, and we prayed. Suddenly, the word “adoption” didn't seem so foreign. Suddenly the idea of standing in the gap for a child as their parent felt … well, it felt right! To both of us.

3 months later, we had finished researching local adoption agencies and chose our favorite, determining that we would need to save $22,000 to afford the agency and legal fees associated with our planned adoption. 1 month after this, I was offered a closer to home, higher paying job so that we could start our Adoption Savings Account. Another 3 months later, my wife was promoted at her part time job, doubling her pay. Another 4 months, and my company bumped the minimum salary for my job, giving us even more money to put into the adoption account. And as the Christmas holidays have come and gone, we have been gifted over $4,500 from friends and family ($1,100 given anonymously), all deposited into the adoption account. We've received 4 different baby gifts this Christmas, showing us just how much support we have from our families in this journey. We've even been able to watch my cousin take care of her 6-week old adopted boy, while we imagine coming home with our baby next Christmas.

Today, we have submitted our application to the agency. I would say that all we have left to do is pray, but I think we'll probably spend the next 5 months scheduling meetings and home study appointments, putting together a nursery, coordinating pre-adoption baby showers, and putting the final touches to the savings account before fees are due. And every day, we'll be hoping and praying for the pregnant girl who is hoping and praying for us to come along.

Always moving forward,

Tyler