On the Night You were Born {Happy 9th Birthday, Son}

20150912_170003On the night you were born, I left my office with a bit of despair in my heart.  You don’t know this, but Daddy and I had said “yes” to another baby that day.  We waited, and waited, but the phone did not ring.  Later in the day, the call I received was one that told me that the little baby boy we were excited to welcome into our hearts and home would not be coming.

I was devastated.  I knew that this was a part of foster parenting, but I so wanted to wrap that little one in my arms that night.  I packed up the baby stuff I had collected, put it aside, and then went to sleep with what felt like the weight of the world on me.  I cried tears that seemed to have been held in for so many years, and I pleaded to the Lord.  I prayed.  I begged.

With sorrow and a tint of faith-stained prayer, I said,  “Father, just give me a chance to be a Mommy to a baby, even if only for a little while.  I just want to hold a baby in my arms, and feel that incredible emotion of Motherhood.  I want this, Lord.  I need this.”

On the night you were born, I cried myself to sleep.

On the night you were born, your birth mother held you in her arms while I truly wondered what my future would look like.  As she was delivering your precious little soul into this world, I was starting to question if the heartbreak of loving and potentially losing a child through fostering was worth it.

As she was giving you your name, I was feeling this nameless, faceless emptiness. As she whispered her love to you, I whispered my grief to our Father in Heaven.

On the night you were born, two mothers:  one with child, one without, felt very intense, yet different emotions.  One felt the incredible measure of love, while the other felt a deeper degree of faith.

Two days after the night you were born, you entered my life.  An unexpected phone call, quick decision, and sudden rush to the hospital resulted in my eyes viewing a beautiful, innocent, and so deeply cherished little boy.  When I first saw you, my breath was taken away.  You were, and still are, so incredible in my eyes.

Throughout fostering you, I held onto the truth that the Lord had delivered my pleadings on the night you were born.  Daddy and I did not know how long we would call you “ours”.  We wanted so much for your birth mother to work it all out, but we also feared the thought of a life without you.

We grew to care for your birth mother, deeply.  Through much prayer, we came to realize that the journey we were on was not about us, but about you.  What a gift this was.

Here we are, nine years later, and I still marvel at the makings of our story that began on the night you were born.  Words will never be able to fully explain just how much you mean to us.  Only the Lord Himself knows the language my heart cannot deliver.

On the night you were born, while I was laboring with grief, and your birth mother was laboring in hope, two mothers, and a whole host of angels were rejoicing in the scripting of the magnificent creation of you.

Nine years ago, on the night you were born, while I was meddling in the deepest pit of sorrow, and your birth mother was visiting the joys of love and concern, the Lord knew the narrative of life that was unfolding.  This knowledge, Son, is the very reason why my soul is captivated by the wonder of you, and the richness of a faithful God.

Happy 9th Birthday, Son.  Love you, forever.

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