It's been one year since you looked at me....

If they say -
Why,
why,
Tell 'em that is human nature
Why,
Why,
Does he do me that way
If they say -
Why,
Why,
Tell 'em that is human nature
Why,
Why,
Does he do me that way


I can’t believe a year ago today Layla and I entered into our “arranged marriage.” A government worker in Vietnam placed us together based on my request for a healthy baby girl under one. And right under the gun of Vietnam, once again, closing their doors to American adoptions, I received my official referral letter in which I was matched with a bouncing seven-month-old. Okay, those first pictures of her, she definitely wasn’t bouncing, but she was a baby.

I ordered Numero Uno pizza and wings for my co-workers to celebrate my referral. I showed Layla’s picture to friends and loved ones, but it all seemed a bit surreal. Even when I was in Vietnam, it still seemed unbelievable. I can only image how it all seemed to a certain eleven-month-old baby girl. While I had knowledge of her, had an idea of height and weight, knew how her health was, had pictures of her, she probably knew nothing of me. Then on December 28, 2008, her routine and that of the other kids in the orphanage was interrupted by a visit by three families. Suddenly she was thrust into the arms of a stranger, who sang to her a song about something killing something. She cried. In retrospect, “It’s Killing Me” should not have been the introductory DC Talk song I sang to her. No wonder she cried. My bad. After an hour with me, the stranger, surrounded by other strangers we disappeared and back to the regular routine- - the routine she had known for the last eleven months.

With the odd occurrence behind her, she went to sleep not knowing that was the last time she would sleep in that crib. It was the last time her nanny would put her to sleep. The last time she would fall asleep next to the baby who slept next to her. After a nice hearty breakfast, I’m sure it surprised her to see the strangers back and this time after being handed to stranger #1. Talk commenced around her in a language she was unfamiliar with and a language she knew well, then we were off. She was getting into a van with the strangers, leaving behind the only home she knew. The only family she remembered. The only bed she had ever slept in, possibly. A little more than an hour after leaving home, she was legally tied to stranger #1 for all time. How strange to be tied to someone for forever after only knowing them for a grand total of two hours. And thus began our “arranged marriage,” over a week in Vietnam we started to feel each other out, get to know each other’s quirks and ticks. And then coming home, she had to say goodbye to strangers #2 and #3, also known as Nancy and Lisa, and the boy, she knew who was now being called by some unfamiliar name, Benjamin. And she had to say goodbye to strangers #4 and #5, Barbara and Michael, and her friend/family member, James. So many goodbyes in such a short period of time.

Then upon touching down at home, we had to relearn each other again in this new playing field filled with other children, jobs, loved ones, church, and all the other busy things that come with life in LA and being part of the Herrington family.

It’s been an amazing year and the word “amazing” doesn’t even begin to describe it. Layla is incredible. Simply put, she’s brilliant, funny, beautiful, strong willed, fearless. I look at her, then look at her sister, and for the first time I see a future- - a future of me and two girls turned young women, who think their way is the best way, yet in two completely different ways. Rowan is fall to the ground, I’m not moving, stubborn. Complete with diva screams and emotional, heartfelt tears. While Layla is a hold her breath to her lips turn blue kinda girl. I never envisioned a future with Jory where we butted heads or really ever gave thought to our future, and still don’t have a vision other than my academic and sports dreams for him. Thank God he was my first because I look at his sisters when they are being stubborn and strong willed and I think, if they had been my first I would have only had one.

But maybe Layla’s strong willed spirit is what helped her get through all the changes that has come her way in her less than two years of life. As I was mailing out this year’s Christmas picture I looked at my girls and Jory in their Ao Dais and I couldn’t believe how much they changed, particularly Layla. I compared the Christmas picture to the first picture I received of her and wow! I will say that while Layla is not rocking a Tyra Banks’ fivehead (Thank God!), bangs have definitely have become our friend and will remain our friend until mommy no longer has say over hairstyles, so say till college.

The nannies had carefully written up Layla’s schedule for me, included what she ate for lunch, what type of formula she drank. Part of me thinks the schedule was just a lie, but I know it wasn’t. There’s no way they could have allowed ten babies and toddlers to be on different schedules, yet I’ve never met a kid who so quickly ditched their schedule. Maybe this goes back to Layla’s ability to adapt quickly to changes, but you think she could have maintained some of her old schedule. Yes, we were sight seeing and going to various appointments, but her Ergo was comfortable she could have slept on schedule in it. But no.

And there was some myth that she went to bed at 8:30. In what universe did that happen? I remember reading she had a 1AM feeding and said, will break her of that. Ha! Ha! The joke was on me. I don’t think I’ve gotten more than two nights at a time of Layla sleeping through the night. And she’s been home a year. A year. Rowan came home sleeping through the night. And Jory, thanks to his Aunt Mona’s firm words to me, was sleeping through the night by five months. Gosh, it pays to be the baby.

In the immortal words of Snoop, “Da game is to be sold not to be told.” My baby could make a mint (Cha Ching!!) off of selling the game. The game where even though for eleven months she was dressed every day, yet she comes home and can’t even lift her arms up to take off her shirt or onesie, doesn’t know how to stand to put on her pants, or to lift her feet to put her socks or shoes on. I understand there are delays, but a delay in the one function that you do everyday?

Now she tries to pull everything on thinking they are pants. She loves sticking her feet out for her socks and shoes to be put on. She can take off socks and hide them faster than a speeding bullet. Yet pretends she has no idea how to put socks back on. She happily lifts her arms to put her onesie on. Or she does when she wants to get dressed. If she’s not in the dressing mood, those arms stay glued to the front of her body.

For a baby who came home only eating Vietnamese baby formula and rice soup, it flabbergasts me how she’s inherited her sister’s love of food. There isn’t a food, Layla has met that she doesn’t like or rather love. A drink for that matter either. She could have just eaten and she sees you with food and the next thing you hear, “Wan some?” And she’s not happy with a taste or a bite. She wants to help you eat the rest of your food. And heaven forbid you have something to drink, you have to pry the cup out of her hands.

When Layla came home she wasn’t saying any words, including Vietnamese ones, but now she can talk and talk. She can be quite bossy at times. And she wields those words like a sword.

Me: “Layla, let’s go to bed.”

Layla: “Bathroom! Bathroom!”

Me: “Do you really have to go to the bathroom?”

Layla: “Bathroom! Bathhhhrooom!”

I pull down her pants and take off her diaper and two seconds before her tush even touches her potty, I hear, “All done!”

So now when bathroom is said. I respond with, “Layla, look at mommy, do you really have to go to the bathroom?”

“Bathroom!”

“Then take off your pants and diaper.”

That command either yields a quick compliance or her stepping away from me while putting her hands in front of her pants in fear that I might actually pull them off and make her sit on the potty.

“Bathroom” is yelled, never said quietly, early in the mornings, during church, at the mall, bedtime, and naptime. It’s the new favorite word after, “Want some juice,” which is usually said and sometimes said very loudly in a whiny, sleepy tone.

And the most perfect times to sing “ABC” are while on the potty, while in church, and during prayers. Although someone can put their finger to their lips and go, “Shhh;” they seemingly have no idea what this same gesture means when the
“ABC” song is sang at inappropriate times.

Jory woke up content. He made a little cry to let me know he was up and that was it. Sasha would wake up with a smile on her face. Rowan woke up with her thumb in her mouth and the other hand twirling her hair. Layla.

Layla: “I wan some orange juice.”

Me: “Good Morning, Layla.”

Layla: “Orange juice,” said with increased volume.

Me: “Did you sleep well?”

Layla: “Juuiiccee.”

Me: “Please.”

Layla: “Juice, please,” complete with the sign for please.

After some orange juice, milk or apple juice, then my happy camper appears.

“Hi!” is said pleasantly. Hugs and kisses are given out.

During the last year, we’ve gone from a baby who wouldn’t hold her Oma’s hand during morning prayer nor would she allow Oma to hold her hand. If Oma took her hand she would try and snatch it back quickly and then hide it. And now she willing gives her hand to Oma and says, “Amen!” at the end, louder than both Jory and Rowan, if they are awake.

Me: “Layla, pick up the doll and put it in the toy box.”

Layla: “Night night,” which is promptly followed by her laying down wherever she is, on the floor, leaning over the table, on the sofa.

Me: “Layla, come here.”

Layla: “Night night,” and she lies down. AND SCENE.

Was the purpose of learning words to get out of doing things you don’t want to do? Seemingly the answer is yes.

When she first started doing this I was surprised, I’m not sure why. I was once told that babies are the ultimate manipulators. They are like the Talamasca, they are there and always watching.

I’ll just combine Jory’s gotcha day in with Layla’s since his is on the 30th. In the five years, I’ve been blessed to parent I’ve learned a lot about myself. I’ve learned a lot about what I really want for my kids. I have to get to the root of what is truly important to me. Things I never thought I would do, I’m doing. Never thought I would adopt from foster care. Been there, done that, survived that, and have the t-shirt to prove it.

Homeschooling. Yep, we’re embarking on that journey. I thought Dee Dee, and you know I love you, but I thought you were insane for homeschooling when I first met you. To be completely honest, I feared the girls were going to be backward hicks. I did. I remember shaking my head and thinking I’ll never be like that when you spoke of your parenting choices. Now that I have kids, oh wise sister, I have learned a lot from you and I’m still learning. I won’t even get into the school choices in LA. Or the sadly outrageous cost to send a child to a Baptist or Lutheran school. Contemplating school had me truly praying about what was most important. It made me feel like I was really a parent. I was deciding the educational future of my son. My first. My baby boy. I have no more then in this moment missed Shane. Wishing I had a strong, Christian partner to navigate these waters with. But it is, what it is. And God answered my prayers. The most important thing for Jory is to learn about God, while learning what a past present participle is. So here we go off into a world that three months ago I would have laughed if you had said, what about homeschooling Jory.

Rearing children has opened my truly to the importance of accountability. I’ve been blessed to have sisters in my life like, Carol, Emily, Dee Dee, Ekua, Deedee, Cindy, Sarah, Sara, to name a few that just call me on that not so good stuff that I’m doing. Sometimes it’s just a simple email that says, “Yash.” And I’m convicted. Or my new favorite is from Ro, who will simply ask, “Do you know Jesus as your personal Savior?” Oh snap! Hearing that just lays me out. For those of us who are believers, I wonder why accountability is so hard. We are all walking this narrow path together, yet somehow we think accountability is synonymous with judging. The two are not the same thing. Sometimes my thinking or my plans are going wayward and I don’t even quite realize it and in those times I need a reality check. I need someone who says, “Yash,” to make me stop and think about what I’m saying or doing.

The first time I heard a believer say, they weren’t open to adopting children of certain races, I was- - shocked, dismayed, appalled. I know adoption is a gift, which not everyone has. I know some are called to adopt special needs children or children from other countries. But to hear a believer who is adopted domestically say they can only adopt black children or they can adopt white or Hispanic children, but not any other race- - stuns me.

How can we fellowship, worship God, and have communion with our brothers and sisters of a different race, yet then turn around and say, but I wouldn’t want someone who looks like you to call me mom or dad? How can we sing, “Jesus loves the little children/All the children of the world/They are red, yellow, black and white/They are precious in His sight/Jesus loves the little children of the world;” yet choose which of these precious children, who were made by our Creator, we would be willing to adopt based on melanin?

It would be easy to quote Bret Butler on My Name Is Earl and say, “Don’t you dare judge me,” but what about accountability amongst the believers when we hear things like this? When we hear, I would adopt a Hispanic child, but there are no Hispanics in my area so it wouldn’t be fair to him or her. We are our children’s first and most important role model. I can still hear and see the commercial of yesterday where dad confront his teen about the drugs he found in the boy’s room.

Dad: “Where did you get this? Where did you learn this?”

Teen: “I learned it by watching you, Dad. I learned it by watching you.”

Are we going to stand before God and explain that we would have adopted the Asian girl, but we didn’t know any Asian people, didn’t have any Asian role models for her, and we thought growing up with an Asian family or surrounded by Asians was more important than being reared in a God fearing home?

I truly believed when I began my road to parenthood that God would never give me more than I could handle. There are some things He has allowed to happen that I could have done without, but I’m still standing and stronger for it. Accountability can sometimes be a tough thing to do, but it’s a necessary one.

Five years have gone by in a flash on an eye. This past year has gone by super fast. This time last year, Layla and I barely knew each other and now I can’t believe I didn’t always know this funny, brilliant girl. I look at her and think Jory was once this small. Once this tiny and now he does homework, learns sight words, tries to use logic to get my “no” to turn into a “yes.” That last one still makes me laugh. My first baby is old enough to try and get me to change my mind.

Over the past few years, a wise, older, older, older, let’s just say she saw the Wright brothers test their first plane, friend who I affectionately call Pidge has said it doesn’t bother her or hurt her feelings that she didn’t see her daughter’s first step or hear her son’s first word because she had other firsts with them. Pre-Layla I don’t know if I truly got that. Maybe even a part of me thought she was deluding herself when I thought about seeing Jory’s first tooth come in, hearing him call me Ash instead of mommy, a word he could say, watching a little over a year-old Rowan take her first steps. But now I get it.

When I cradle Layla in my arms, which I can only do when I’m tickling her or she’s almost asleep, I don’t wonder or miss what it would have been like if I had been able to hold her like this when she was two-months-old or two-days-old. When I watch her sleeping, I don’t imagine what it would have been like to see a smaller version of her lovely face sleeping. I was there for her first word and her first tooth. I was there when she had a bite of American made mashed potatoes at KFC. I was there the first time she smiled at Lisa. It wasn’t her first smile, but it was the first smile I saw and it was great. It was just as great as the first time Jory smiled, and Sasha smiled.

And while we only had less than thirty days she had never seen before she turned one, ever day after that was still like a first day because she hadn’t been my daughter the previous year. It wasn’t her first Valentine’s Day, but in a way it was because it was her first with us and let’s be honest, I’m thinking Hallmark hasn’t made inroads into Vietnam with the whole card and gift thing for V-Day. Her first St. Patty’s Day. Her first Good Friday, Easter…And just her first June 1st, another day nothing special except this June 1st she had a mommy, a sister, a brother, an Oma, and a host of family and friends who loved her dearly.

Though when she knocks five years off her Oma’s life with her breath holding thing, I do wonder if I had been there for those days when she fed every four hours, would she hold her breath when she’s really upset? Would she stomp her feet when she gets extremely frustrated? I would like to think no, but other days I think, yep, she’d still be doing that stuff. And things like, Layla finally deciding to call me Mommy a few weeks ago instead of Mama, which she had been calling me for months, even though I refer to myself as Mommy and Jory and Rowan call me Mommy, I realize my little girl from the moment the egg and sperm met the willfulness was there.

Layla has come a loooonnnnngggg way in this past year. In the beginning, I couldn’t even look at the milestone charts for children her age because she lagged behind and now….When I told her doctor about her holding her breath to her lips turn blue, her wonderful doctor printed out an article entitled “breath holding spell,” told me not to react at all when she does it because it reinforces the behavior, and then gleefully said, “She’s all caught up with her age group.” Yeah, I’ll be sure to tell that in the exact same tone to Layla’s Oma next time Layla holds her breath. Right before her Oma passes out from fear.

Thank you all for taking this journey with me. Some from my talks about adoption, others from where I started the process, and others who joined me when I wrote that first email on that gimpy computer in Taipei. Thank you. Thank you for the support, the comments, the love, and the prayers. Thank you!! And in case you hadn’t notice, which I’m not sure anyone did since no one said anything, but since June 29 I’ve used songs sang by MJ in my updates.

In the words of that famous commercial, “Layla, you’ve come a long way, baby.” I love you, Koala Bear!



Been up and down been almost crushed to the ground
But somehow I still come out with my crown
Sometimes my hills seem unbearable
But Lord don't move my mountain I'm believin in your miracle
I've never seen the righteous forsaken
I'd never have made it without you

My joy, my peace, my happiness
My hope, my strength, my deliverance
Ain't no stoppin my praise, my diligence
My life I've dedicated cause I made it with you
I made it with you
Nobody but you
I made it with you