Birth Mother's Day

Today is Birth Mother's Day.  

Baby Girl and Little Man call out "Mommy!" approximately 74 times an hour
to show a booboo they just discovered
to ask for help, or food, or water, or "up pease!"
to say something very important like "that man is mowing his lawn!" or "sometimes I call Otis a good puppy!" or "me NOT tired!" or "grandma has a garage at her house!"

Each time they call out "Mommy"
they mean me
and not Her

And when they see Her they call Her "mommy", too.  

And the truth is
I am their mommy
who wipes their tears
rocks them to sleep
encourages them to eat their vegetables
sits in the waiting room again and again and again and prays that the surgery will go well
comforts them when they are missing their brothers
lovingly corrects their mistakes
teaches them manners
gets hugs and kisses and "I love you!"s from two of the world's sweetest babies
makes mistakes every day but is doing her best

I am their mommy when someone does a double take at my shopping cart full of groceries and children and says, "are they all yours?!" 

and they are

and they aren't

And the truth is
She is their mommy
who carried them for 9 months in her belly and cried tears of joy when they were born
tried her hardest to keep them fed and clothed and safe
holds her arms wide as they run to her at their visit
cries as she straps them into my car when their visit is over
eagerly gives me her phone number so that she can talk to her babies
gets hugs and kisses and "I love you!"s from two of the world's sweetest babies

makes mistakes every day but is doing her best

And we're not that different, she and I

because we are both loved and cherished mommies

because we are both loved and cherished daughters of the King

because no sin is greater and no person less worthy of His love

So today I will treasure the two precious lives that She bore but that He has entrusted to me for this time
and at the same time I will pray for their "other Mommy"
because I am the one who gets to 
tuck them in

answer their questions

hear their sweet baby voices

watch them grow and learn and change

Because without Her

I would not be their mommy for now

Reflections

"J" left our home 2 weeks ago today, and I can say with certainty that we have NEVER felt loved more than we have in these last 14 days.  We had so many people send us messages, bring meals, offer a listening ear or a hug, and pray for our family.  It's incredible the blessing that you receive when you do something hard.

I didn't want "J" to leave.  When we started this process we were very secure in our decision to do foster care rather than straight adoption, but the moment they placed that sweet baby in my arms at the hospital, I felt a protectiveness over him that I did not expect.  In our conversations with people, Michael and I continued to maintain that the best place for "J" was with his family, but in my selfishness I truly believed that he was better off with us.  I prayed that God would take away these thoughts, and I prayed daily for his birth parents, but in my heart of hearts I continued to struggle with the fact that this was not my child.

The truth is, none of my children are "mine".  Not "J", and not Maya, Charlotte, or Milo.  They all belong to God, and we are given them to care for and raise for Him for as long as His plan allows.  Michael and I have known this since before Maya was born, and in our nightly prayers I always thank God for the privilege we have to raise these amazing children that He has given to us for this time.  Until "J" left, though, I don't think I truly understood how powerful that blessing really is.  To be a part of a child's life, whether they were given to you through birth, foster care, or adoption, is an unbelievable gift.

Although it is still hard for me to understand the brokenness of this world, I have seen small glimmers of what God was doing through our short time with "J".  This tiny baby impacted so many.  There are several families that were so moved by "J" that they are now considering becoming foster parents, even after seeing the hurt that comes with letting go.

In the car the other day, I was talking about "J" with the kids.  The mantra we've been using is that we're happy for him, but sad for us.  Charlotte asked me what that meant, so I told her that it's good that "J" gets to be with his family, but we can still be sad that we don't get to take care of him anymore.  She said, "does that mean we didn't love him enough?"  Oh, my.  Through tears I told her that, no, it means we loved him exactly like we were supposed to.

God is continuing to work in us, and we are standing with our arms and hearts and home wide open for whatever He has in store.

"Blessings" by Laura Story

We pray for blessings, we pray for peace

Comfort for family, protection while we sleep

We pray for healing, for prosperity

We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering

And all the while, You hear each spoken need

Yet love us way too much to give us lesser things

Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops

What if Your healing comes through tears

What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You're near

What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise?

We pray for wisdom, Your voice to hear

And we cry in anger when we cannot feel you near

We doubt your goodness, we doubt your love

As if each promise from Your Word is not enough

And all the while, You hear each desperate plea

And long that we'd have faith to believe

When friends betray us

When darkness seems to win, we know

That pain reminds this hearts,

That this is not, this is not our home.....

It's not our home

What if my greatest disappointments,

Or the aching of this life,

Is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can't satisfy.

What if trials of this life,

The rain, the storms, the hardest nights

Are your mercies in disguise?

When You Don't Know What God is Doing

I had a whole post typed out for my readers.  It contained way too many unimportant details, but writing it was cathartic.  The long and short of my post was this:

• licensing for foster care took much longer than we'd planned
• a precious newborn, "J", was placed with us in November
• Michael and I got super duper attached
• after 1 day's notice, "J" left on Friday to live with a family member
• we are feeling broken, incomplete

Now here's where I can write my heart, without all the boring-to-everyone-but-me details :)

"J" is gone, and we may never see him again, and the weight of that is heavy on me right now.  My heart is broken.  I try to tell myself that if I wasn't sad, I didn't love "J" in the way I should.  Foster care is not supposed to be easy, most of the kids go home, we are a temporary stop in their journey, we are blessed that we could be a part of his life for a short time, our home is now available for other children that need us, and on and on and on.  I truly, truly believe all that.  But right now?  Right now my heart is broken because I loved and I lost.  Right now I worry that "J" is not being taken care of in the way that *I* would take care of him.  Right now I look at our empty bouncy seat and the lone sock I can't bear to pick up from our closet floor and the bottles that I haven't put away and the car that doesn't have the right number of children packed into it.  I don't feel the weight of his warm body against my chest as he sleeps, and I can't kiss his soft curly hair.  I know that I will not be woken up by a baby tonight because there is no baby here.  I have a voicemail on my phone reminding me of an appointment that I will not be taking him to.  He is everywhere and he is nowhere.

And so it goes.

We will heal, and we will grow from this process.  I don't understand God's plan.  I don't understand the brokenness that allowed "J" to come into foster care to begin with.  I don't understand why he was allowed to be with us for 9 weeks and then moved suddenly out of our lives.  But (isn't there always a but?).  But.  I *do* understand that God is faithful.  He is using us, and he is using "J".  On the night "J" left, Michael and I received the sweetest email from my mother-in-law, and it reminded me of God's work in and through us.  We see over and over the impact "J" has had on our friends and family. This loss for us has shown us in a mighty way that we have an amazing network of support ~ we have received meals, phone calls, messages, Bible verses, and many, many prayers.

The pain has been surprising in its depth, and yet I find myself yearning to do this again.  I still truly believe that God is calling our family to serve Him in this way, and while that does not make this part of the process easier, it has helped me to focus on the bigger picture of our lives, rather than only on this chapter.  We may not know what is ahead, but looking back only proves to me that God's plan for us is more perfect than we could have ever imagined.

from "Through It All" by Andrae Crouch

I've had many tears and sorrows,

I've had questions for tomorrow,

there's been times I didn't know right from wrong.

But in every situation,

God gave me blessed consulation,

that my trials come to only make me strong.

I've been to lots of places,

I've seen a lot of faces,

there's been times I felt so all alone.

But in my lonely hours,

yes, those precious lonely hours,

Jesus lets me know that I was His own

I thank God for the mountains,

and I thank Him for the valleys,

I thank Him for the storms He brought me through.

For if I'd never had a problem,

I wouldn't know God could solve them,

I'd never know what faith in God could do

On Running, and Waiting, and God

Here's where I out myself as a crazy person...

God speaks to me when I'm running.  No, really, that is where I got the "let's adopt a baby from a country a billion miles away" idea.  When I brought it up to Michael I prefaced it with "I don't want you to say anything yet, but..." and every time we talked about how it didn't make sense and it was too much (financially, emotionally) all I could come back to was that God told me to do it.  Not in an I-read-a-Bible-verse-on-adoption way, either.  I felt God when I was running.  I mean, there were other things that lined up to create the perfect storm of this desire, but it all started when I was running.  I even wrote a message to some of my very dearest friends asking them to pray for me as I felt the Holy Spirit moving in me but I couldn't figure out what He was trying to say.  All I knew was that when I laced up my shoes and strapped on my ipod (full of praise and worship music, which I'm sure is the choice of runners everywhere!), I would be in communion with God.  It's my refuge in this stormy life of picking up legos (which *must* procreate as there is no other explanation) and driving kids to ballet and soccer and the doctor and story time and making dinner every.single.night (for real, could we please take a night off of eating?  and the inevitable cleaning that accompanies making food?).  It's my chance to do something for myself that recharges me physically and spiritually.  And it is where I ask God what he wants from me and where I try my hardest to listen.  As my feet hit the pavement, step after step, I feel closer to God than I ever have.

Running is also where I try to give praise back to God.  I turn off my music and offer my full attention to Him (don't mind the lady who is simultaneously crying and talking to herself...).  I "stand" in awe of His creation, both within me and around me.  After years of struggling with body image and weight, I have come to a place of appreciating the health and strength He has given me.

We are almost to our 1 month DTE-versary, and let me tell you, the waiting is HARD.  I know that it is harder for those who have been in the process longer than us, and especially those who have pictures of their children but just found out that they will not go to court until after the "rainy season" or those who are waiting on just one more clearance so they can finally, after months and months, bring their child home. But, knowing there are others who have been waiting longer or endured more than we have does not make the waiting any easier. Friends and family ask me if there are any updates, and it's all I can do to not break down right then and there because I know that there will be no updates for years.  I am usually an optimist, but I am trying to be realistic and let me tell you, realistic is not a fun thing to be when talking about international adoption. As I try to figure out a way to make the wait go more quickly, God gently reminds me that, for now, this is His plan.  I try to tell Him that I did not sign up for this 4-5 year wait.  I try to explain what *my* plan for our family is.  At times I am at peace with the wait, and other times (like this week) I am wracking my brain and the google for what I can do to speed it up.  And, as happens again and again, God speaks to my heart.  I barely have to be on the treadmill for a full minute before I feel that stirring in me.  Today it came in the form of a song on my Pandora station and a quote that I read on a friend's facebook wall (don't laugh, God uses modern technology ;)).

Ok God.  You're hilarious.  Of course I place value on this child and am willing to wait for this as long as it takes, just like I did with the children we have.  Michael and I are no strangers to waiting for God's timing when it comes to children, as we struggled with a year and a half of infertility before conceiving our 3 perfect children one right after the other.  The problem is that I'm 1 month in to this wait and I am weary.  So then He offers up this song (courtesy of the best movie ever, "The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn, Part 2") and it describes my heart and once again I am reduced to tears while running on a treadmill in the middle of the morning (stop staring at me gym-people!  it's totally normal to cry while you're running!). It was the "how can I love when I'm afraid to fall" and "I have died every day waiting for you" that did it, because that is how I feel.  I have heard too many stories of failed adoptions and country closures and bureaucratic slow-downs to feel secure in this adoption.  I feel broken inside both because I have a child out there whose face I have never seen and that I cannot protect, but that I love with all of my mama-heart, and because I know this child's story will involve, at the very least, the worst kind of tragedy I could have imagined as a child myself.  But as I say in pretty much every post ~ should be the theme of my blog ~ God's plan is bigger than my plan.  God's sovereignty is, well, sovereign.  I need to die to myself daily and cling to God.  Every moment brings me one step closer to His plan for our family, and as my header says, His Plan is My Hope.

Heart beats fastColors and promisesHow to be braveHow can I love when I'm afraid to fallBut watching you stand aloneAll of my doubt suddenly goes away somehowOne step closer

I have died everyday waiting for youDarling don't be afraid I have loved youFor a thousand yearsI'll love you for a thousand more

Time stands stillBeauty in all she isI will be braveI will not let anything take awayWhat's standing in front of meEvery breathEvery hour has come to thisOne step closer

I have died everyday waiting for youDarling don't be afraid I have loved youFor a thousand yearsI'll love you for a thousand more

And all along I believed I would find youTime has brought your heart to meI have loved you for a thousand yearsI'll love you for a thousand more

One step closerOne step closer

I have died everyday waiting for youDarling don't be afraid I have loved youFor a thousand yearsI'll love you for a thousand more

And all along I believed I would find youTime has brought your heart to meI have loved you for a thousand yearsI'll love you for a thousand more

Thinking of Africa

"Children born to another woman call me “Mom.” The magnitude of that tragedy and the depth of that privilege are not lost on me." -Jody Landers
(this quote showed up in my Facebook feed right after I had posted this blog; seems that I am not the only one thinking of birth mothers this Mother's Day)

Behind the beauty and joy and redemption and love of adoption, there is a dark, sad, ugly, painful truth.  Adoption is not the original plan for these children.  These children who have lost parents through disease and poverty and violence and every other misfortune you can think of.  It's easy to gloss over the pain and sadness when you think of the healing work that can be done when you bring a child into your home that otherwise would remain orphaned, but today, Mother's Day, I cannot help but think of the mothers on the other side of the world.  Mothers who experienced the joy and wonder of carrying a child in their womb and in their arms, only to have that joy taken away; diseases that could be cured or at least treated if only they lived in a different location, poverty so extreme that we can barely begin to understand, rape, shame, war.  We live in a fallen, sinful world, and this has never been more clear to me than when I began to try to understand how children, millions of children, are left without homes, without mothers.  This was not God's plan.  My heart is aching for our future child's first mother, and while I continuously pray for her, the sadness of what I know will happen is overwhelming.  I do not know her story, and it's possible that I never will, but what I do know is that it ends with a child, a beautiful, precious, amazing, perfectly created child.  A child who was born to her but will call me "Mama".  It is unfair.  I am so blessed, and look to the future with joy and anticipation as I wait for God to work, and yet I feel that I do not deserve such a precious gift.  But our God is a redeeming God, and while I may never understand why He will give this child to us and not her, I will forever be grateful for her sacrifice and will live my life in constant thankfulness for this mother who gave her child the most beautiful gift, life.

On this Mother's Day, while we remember our own mothers and friends who have children and those who long for both, I will also pray for the mother who gives up her child, whether her choice or not.  It is not the original plan, but I am so grateful to be a part of this mystery.