The Longest Night

Two nights stick in my mind as almost unending. The first was a long time ago, my last night as an Ohio resident, in fact. The other was within the last 8 years. We (3 girls) were on an eventful trip to Lake Powell. By eventful, I mean things like using (and emptying) a miniature port-a-potty; navigating a houseboat parking lot in the dark with our boat; learning to drive the boat and whomping down when we hit a houseboat's wake.

Girls in their early 20s are adventurous. We thought it would be so cool to sleep on the shores of Lake Powell. Imagine, pulling your boat up on the shore for the night in a secluded cove and going to sleep (hahahaha) with the gentle sound of water lapping at the water's edge. As the sun gently peaked over the horizon, we would be awakened to a peaceful morning.

So I settled into the sand for my first (and last, I think) night on the beach. First, it was cold. We didn't have enough clothes. And the ol' wind kicked up a mite so sand blew in our faces all.night.long. I think we even took turns sleeping in the middle because it lent some shelter from the wind. It was a long night.  Each minute ticked by so slowly. In the morning, we were bleary-eyed, sand-blasted, frozen, and well, we had looked better. Actually, I'm not sure I've ever looked worse.

We looked so bad that, when one of my traveling companions heard that we were adopting, she said, "If you show that picture to anyone I'm pretty sure you won't be approved to adopt any children."

Oh, did you want to see it? I found it on a scrapbook page and thought it would be funny to share. This is the better picture; I can't find the really bad one, but use your imagination. I promise it was terrible. See below.

Admittedly, that story was a long way to get to my point. That face, the face I thought I wouldn't see again for awhile, looks back at me every morning. See, Baby J sleeps all day and he's up most of the night. What really surprises me is that I'm okay with the eye bags and scratchy eyes and my general mental fogginess. We've already had him two weeks and it's gone by so quickly. I'm sure I'll get exhausted soon, but, for now, we're enjoying him...at any time of day.

The black blob is a friend who did not grant me permission to share her face :).

Life changes and diaper changes

Bryan's manly hands! Edit: Bryan thinks I'm odd for having this caption, but I didn't want anyone to think these hairy, vein-y hands were mine :).

It didn't take long for Baby J to wriggle his way into our hearts.

We've had him home for a little over 48 hours. During that time, we gone through more formula, diapers and outfits than we ever thought possible.

Here's what we've learned so far:

1. Even though newborns sleep 16-20 hours a day, we've discovered he sleeps 18 hours when the sun's up. You can do the math :).
2. To every action, there is always an equal and opposite reaction (i.e. when we feed him a bottle, we immediately have to change his diaper).
3. He loves to be warm and clothed.
4. He is precious and perfect.
5. He makes funny expressions and sometimes he even smiles.
6. It's easier than we thought to know when to feed him, change him, or hold him.
7. We are spoiled to have a great support system who gives us food, clothes, and many offers to help!
8. We don't know how to compare our feelings about him to a child that we carried for 9 months and shares our blood and DNA. But the way we feel...well, we don't know how we could love him any more.
9. And I'm just beginning to know that I was wrong (Bryan says that people who share my maiden name sometimes have a hard time admitting they're wrong - raise your hand if you agree!). But I was heartbreakingly wrong about this one. In the hearts of Baby J's biological parents, there is a Baby J shaped hole. How could I have thought they wouldn't love him just as much as we do? We are so happy to have him, but our hearts feel the anguish of his other parents, too. Each day, I learn something else that tells me why it's so hard on them. If we do get to keep him, I will be able to assure Baby J that his birthparents loved him without question.

That's all for now! Bryan is on baby duty tonight, so I might get some sleep.

One Rainy April Morning

As I struggled to fall asleep, I prayed for the baby and his parents. The next morning, I heard that the baby had been born.
I wanted to see him, so I checked with both parents. They said it was okay.
Bryan said, "I can't go, I just can't see him."
So I drove alone. And I held him on a rainy April morning. He was precious, but I was content to leave.
Things did not go as I expected them to go though.
As I stood quietly, I saw lots of love in his family and I felt lots of pain for them. I realized that love is more than just providing for your child, it's more than a stable environment. Frankly, I saw a deep love and anguish that cuts deeply in my heart. I can't explain it.
Like I said, things were different than I expected. Through another up and down day, Bryan and I were bewildered. We were faced with more decisions and what should we do? What should you do when any action will hurt someone?
In the morning, I begged God to just show me He cared. I know He cares about me, but did He care about this situation? Did He really? And if He really did, could He please show us what to do?
And suddenly, I knew God would show me in a very clear way what we should do in the sermons of the day.
If I told you that God brought an amazing sermon to us, would you be surprised? I tried to keep the tears from falling, because God said to me, "Keep trying. Don't give up on this baby. It may not be exactly what you wanted. You may have concerns, but this is not about you."
Bryan and I felt the same. We didn't know what would happen; we only knew we had to try.
At 5pm today, we brought Jayden home. He is in our home through foster care. Only God know how long he will be here.
Even though we are happy to have him here (and overwhelmed, who are we kidding?), we are so sad for his birth family.  Please pray for them if you can.
We promised them that we would love him and care for him. And we want to enjoy every minute because it may not last.

We tried.

We did our best, we did everything within our control, we submitted the outcome to God, but the answer is that one parent wants to keep the baby.

We have an odd mix of relief, disappointment, sadness, and happiness. We wish only the best for the child and his family.

Though He slay me

When I say we've been stressed, I know there are people who have suffered (and still suffer) so much more than we have. My heart bleeds for them. This story is not one of "how-we-have-the-worst-situation" because that's not us. We have been amazingly and wonderful blessed.

But I picked up a calendar last week and started going through the first weeks of 2012. There have been some really hard things. Thankfully, someone shared the verse from Job: Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.

Last week, I took back all my thoughts that adoption was a beautiful thing. It was stripped down to its nakedness and revealed that adoption results from pain, sin, the questions that will forever remain unanswered (why did I get the good things out of life? I don't deserve them more than that person, etc.), and on and on. It seemed to show the stark inequality in the world, that life really is not fair and that, frankly, sometimes people have so many things against them, how can they ever get out of the hole and have dreams of their own future?

Last night, we had dinner with part of baby A's family. We were "interviewed" by them and it was a good experience. On the way home, I thought to myself, "Yes, adoption does reveal the gritty, realistic details of life. But, while it may not be beautiful in and of itself, it seems redemptive somehow. That a couple with no children to love might be given one. And a family who isn't sure they can provide for a child they love might have a place to send him." 

So while it seems too real to be beautiful, with God's perfect wisdom, it seems right.

We still don't know what the family will decide, but they said they would let us know on Monday.

No matter what happens now, we're okay with it, because...Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.

Helpless, but not Hopeless

"I'm stressed," Bryan said, as he handed me an empty package of Girl Scout Thin Mint cookies.

"You ate them all?"

I can't believe he ate my cookies. He doesn't even like sweets! But cookies aside, we have been stressed.

The last two weeks have been filled with bewilderment, anxiety, stress, uncertainty and more. Basically, the facts are that this baby will probably be born and go home with someone else. We knew this was a risk going into this, so it's not really a surprise...although the craziness has been a bit more crazy than we expected.

So here's where we are: by next week, we should know whether we will have a son soon (although the way things have gone, it ain't over til it's over). In some ways, I feel we do have a child. His sonogram is sitting on our desk. But in many other ways, he's not ours.

It's hard to think about his future, but we're really trying to trust God. Yes, it's stressful, but I think we're doing fairly well. We're helpless, but not hopeless. You can't really be hopeless when your trust is in God, right?

I will post as soon as I hear an answer one way or another.

Rollercoaster

I've never liked rollercoasters. Never. Even as a teenager when most kids like plunging suddenly, flipping upside down and whipping around corners at breakneck speeds. Not me.

But we're on one now - wow, are we ever. Without putting too many details in so public a place, I've been up since 2:30 this morning, sorting through baby clothes, sweeping, cleaning the bathroom, washing dishes and sorting laundry.

Today I've heard the baby's heartbeat, and I hope I can see him on a sonogram later.

But will we ever get to hold him?