Tuesday, March 29, 2011
That's the Point
As I shifted positions under Sleeping Baby Girl, smoothing her soft hair over her forehead, the foster mother continued her story: "They tell me: 'Fostering must be so difficult--don't you get attached to those babies? Isn't it hard to let them go when it's time for them to leave?'" So I tell them, 'Well, yes, we do get attached.'"
"And that's the point," she told me during our visit last week. "How could you not get attached? You do.. and you're also given the grace to live with it."
Parenthood, I've already realized, comes in many forms. I have now learned that foster-parenting (and even in my case, hopeful-parenting) is no different. To be any sort of parent to a child is to be attached, to Love him, to want only good things for his life, and to make sacrifices for his well-being.
And folks, we are attached. We have given our hearts over to this Little Girl in a real and complete way. We have opened ourselves to the joy and love and happiness of knowing her while we can. But that also opens us to the terrifying uncertainty of our future relationship with her. It makes us especially vulnerable to the very real possibility of losing her.
"And that's the point," she told me during our visit last week. "How could you not get attached? You do.. and you're also given the grace to live with it."
Parenthood, I've already realized, comes in many forms. I have now learned that foster-parenting (and even in my case, hopeful-parenting) is no different. To be any sort of parent to a child is to be attached, to Love him, to want only good things for his life, and to make sacrifices for his well-being.
And folks, we are attached. We have given our hearts over to this Little Girl in a real and complete way. We have opened ourselves to the joy and love and happiness of knowing her while we can. But that also opens us to the terrifying uncertainty of our future relationship with her. It makes us especially vulnerable to the very real possibility of losing her.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Big Update
Excited to see a post title like that? I wish, more than most people could possibly know, that I was the bearer of better news than this.
This morning I learned that the birth father has, indeed, filed an objection to the adoption. So a court hearing is a certainty at this point, and the lawyer for our agency will try to get an idea of when the hearing might be scheduled, but it could take weeks, or even months to come up on the calendar.
I'm awash with a steady torrent of emotion, trying to come to terms with another indefinite period of waiting and uncertainty; trying to maintain my hope and faith that God has a plan and all we have to do is go along with it with as much grace as we can accept; trying to not feel irritated as everyone around me asks excitedly, "Have you heard anything yet?!" Salt in the wound, really, but it's not their fault.
It's no one's fault. That's the hardest part.
To all parents with babes-in-arms (or wombs): give them a kiss for me, and ask them to say a prayer for all children who need a forever-home. And for the frazzled hopeful-parents at the other end.
and we continue, on the way...
This morning I learned that the birth father has, indeed, filed an objection to the adoption. So a court hearing is a certainty at this point, and the lawyer for our agency will try to get an idea of when the hearing might be scheduled, but it could take weeks, or even months to come up on the calendar.
I'm awash with a steady torrent of emotion, trying to come to terms with another indefinite period of waiting and uncertainty; trying to maintain my hope and faith that God has a plan and all we have to do is go along with it with as much grace as we can accept; trying to not feel irritated as everyone around me asks excitedly, "Have you heard anything yet?!" Salt in the wound, really, but it's not their fault.
It's no one's fault. That's the hardest part.
To all parents with babes-in-arms (or wombs): give them a kiss for me, and ask them to say a prayer for all children who need a forever-home. And for the frazzled hopeful-parents at the other end.
and we continue, on the way...
Friday, March 18, 2011
Small Update..
Yesterday evening, much to my dismay, I found out from our agency worker that Monday is not quite the auspicious court date she thought it would be.
Instead of being the day when a judge hears the case as presented, it is, rather, the day when the agency's lawyer goes to the courthouse to check on the case, to see if the birth father has filed anything contesting the adoption. Somehow based on how that check goes, the actual hearing will be scheduled sometime within two weeks of Monday.
I don't know what will happen if the birth father hasn't filed anything, if the hearing will take place sooner or not. I don't know when, within the next two weeks, the hearing might be. And I don't know if this affects any sort of schedule for us (hopefully!) bringing the Babe home.
So to all of those who have so wonderfully kept us in your thoughts and prayers, do keep it up! We are in need of them especially this week, as we wait for more information.
God grant me patience...
Instead of being the day when a judge hears the case as presented, it is, rather, the day when the agency's lawyer goes to the courthouse to check on the case, to see if the birth father has filed anything contesting the adoption. Somehow based on how that check goes, the actual hearing will be scheduled sometime within two weeks of Monday.
I don't know what will happen if the birth father hasn't filed anything, if the hearing will take place sooner or not. I don't know when, within the next two weeks, the hearing might be. And I don't know if this affects any sort of schedule for us (hopefully!) bringing the Babe home.
So to all of those who have so wonderfully kept us in your thoughts and prayers, do keep it up! We are in need of them especially this week, as we wait for more information.
God grant me patience...
Thursday, March 17, 2011
We Remember
Today, two years ago, my family buried my mother.
In many ways, it was the hardest day of my life.
In other ways, it was most blessed. If only you could have seen how full the church was that day at her funeral, to hear my family and our Church singing of God's promise and Hope in the life she lived, the life we have left to live before we see her again. To be there with family and friends (and in-laws!) who traveled so far to join us in celebrating Momma's life--what a joy to have such a community. This is what Christians do for each other.
In many ways, it was the hardest day of my life.
In other ways, it was most blessed. If only you could have seen how full the church was that day at her funeral, to hear my family and our Church singing of God's promise and Hope in the life she lived, the life we have left to live before we see her again. To be there with family and friends (and in-laws!) who traveled so far to join us in celebrating Momma's life--what a joy to have such a community. This is what Christians do for each other.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Labor
I am overflowing. With excitement, anticipation, joy, anxiety, adrenaline. Sometimes tears. My body simply cannot contain the emotion that I am feeling.
I sometimes have to sit by myself--door closed at the office or in front of our icons at home, quietly breathing "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God. Have mercy on me... a sinner." Over and over again, just to get my heart rate back down to normal. Just to quiet my soul and feel the presence of God's Love. I know He is here with me. I know He has a plan and will give me strength to accept it. But I have to remind myself of that sometimes... sometimes when the my heart feels like it will burst at what it is experiencing.
To think that in one week, we could welcome into our home, for good, Our Little Girl. To imagine going to sleep with her at night and waking up with her in the morning, content to be lying in bed with us, gazing at her in wonder-full Love. My heart cannot sustain the anticipation.
I sometimes have to sit by myself--door closed at the office or in front of our icons at home, quietly breathing "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God. Have mercy on me... a sinner." Over and over again, just to get my heart rate back down to normal. Just to quiet my soul and feel the presence of God's Love. I know He is here with me. I know He has a plan and will give me strength to accept it. But I have to remind myself of that sometimes... sometimes when the my heart feels like it will burst at what it is experiencing.
To think that in one week, we could welcome into our home, for good, Our Little Girl. To imagine going to sleep with her at night and waking up with her in the morning, content to be lying in bed with us, gazing at her in wonder-full Love. My heart cannot sustain the anticipation.
Friday, March 11, 2011
2 Years?
Last year, I shared the story of my mother's death, and how we celebrated her life in remembrance. This year, unexpectedly, I am a strange mix of emotions: happy and sad; peaceful and unsettled.
I miss Momma more than I thought I could, and in ways I never expected. I miss talking to her about adoption, even though I never did speak with her about it, about becoming a parent in this way--it is so different from being pregnant. When I have dreams that I don't understand, I miss hearing her interpretation of them and what she thinks it means for my life. I miss listening to her tell stories; stories she made up or stories from her past, or from her family's past. She had a flare for story-telling.
Still, even now on the second anniversary of her death, I am giddy with excitement. Today, Taylor and I get to go visit our Little Girl--the court date is getting so close! All I can think about is whether or not we will have her home in two weeks.. in just 13 days.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Ash Wednesday
I was scrolling through my google reader this morning, and one of my college friends has posted this wonderfully apt poem on Death.
You should go read it! And if you like it, do let Margaret know :)
Isn't it great how we can experience so much more in life through the experience and urgings of our friends?
You should go read it! And if you like it, do let Margaret know :)
Isn't it great how we can experience so much more in life through the experience and urgings of our friends?
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
14 Days
In just two short weeks, we will know if we can take a Certain Baby Girl home. In 14 days, when we hear the result of the hearing, we will either get a rush of adrenaline (and tears, I'm sure) as we prepare our home and hearts for her... or we will prepare our hearts to say our final goodbyes.
When I was younger, in high school and college, Momma would always tell me to "claim" Good Things in Jesus' name. If I was worried about a looming test or an assignment or a difficult conversation I had to have, she would build me up with encouragement and Love to believe and trust in the Good Outcome we hoped for. "I claim this in Your name, Jesus, because this is my daughter and I have a right to pray for her."
And so, I have taken a leap of faith in this adoption case. I am clinging to my choice to believe that we will be able to take our Baby home. I choose to place my verbiage and my thoughts and my planning in the hands of God. I am plunging head-long into the churning emotional sea of Confidence without Assurance. I am confident we will have her soon, though I do not know for certain.
I choose to say "when we take her home" instead of "if." Not that I don't think "if" to myself sometimes, but when I say it out loud I try to have confidence. Each time "if" surfaces, I say a prayer: "Please, Lord. We want to be her parents."
When I was younger, in high school and college, Momma would always tell me to "claim" Good Things in Jesus' name. If I was worried about a looming test or an assignment or a difficult conversation I had to have, she would build me up with encouragement and Love to believe and trust in the Good Outcome we hoped for. "I claim this in Your name, Jesus, because this is my daughter and I have a right to pray for her."
And so, I have taken a leap of faith in this adoption case. I am clinging to my choice to believe that we will be able to take our Baby home. I choose to place my verbiage and my thoughts and my planning in the hands of God. I am plunging head-long into the churning emotional sea of Confidence without Assurance. I am confident we will have her soon, though I do not know for certain.
I choose to say "when we take her home" instead of "if." Not that I don't think "if" to myself sometimes, but when I say it out loud I try to have confidence. Each time "if" surfaces, I say a prayer: "Please, Lord. We want to be her parents."
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
3 Months
Our Little Girl is three months old today. She has already outgrown the hat I made for her. It was so big when she first wore it...
And as I think about having a three (nearly four) month old baby later this month, I find myself fighting against jealousy of all those parents who have had the chance to hold their babies the whole time. I think about all the nursing I've missed already, all the giggles and the growth. I even think about all the dirty diapers and stained favorite clothes and sleepless nights I've missed. She's changed so much since we met her and first whispered our hopes to bring her home someday.
I think about how our lives would be different now, if we'd had this baby for three months. Being able to know her and to see her first smile, to be able to make her laugh, take her to doctor's appointments, read her books, sing her songs. All the time.
But then I also think about the family we wouldn't know if we had our Girl already--our Baby's foster family. We are blessed that they do not live too far away from us and we are able to go up to see the Babe at least once a week. It's such a joy to know them, to have them in our lives, and in our Little Girl's life. They take such good care of her and want nothing but her happiness. They hope and pray that we are able to bring her home, forever. And they have opened their hearts to us in ways I never expected.
And as I think about having a three (nearly four) month old baby later this month, I find myself fighting against jealousy of all those parents who have had the chance to hold their babies the whole time. I think about all the nursing I've missed already, all the giggles and the growth. I even think about all the dirty diapers and stained favorite clothes and sleepless nights I've missed. She's changed so much since we met her and first whispered our hopes to bring her home someday.
I think about how our lives would be different now, if we'd had this baby for three months. Being able to know her and to see her first smile, to be able to make her laugh, take her to doctor's appointments, read her books, sing her songs. All the time.
But then I also think about the family we wouldn't know if we had our Girl already--our Baby's foster family. We are blessed that they do not live too far away from us and we are able to go up to see the Babe at least once a week. It's such a joy to know them, to have them in our lives, and in our Little Girl's life. They take such good care of her and want nothing but her happiness. They hope and pray that we are able to bring her home, forever. And they have opened their hearts to us in ways I never expected.
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