a little bit of hope, joy, love, grace, life and all things in between infertility
The Gift of Life
I didn’t give you the gift of life,
But in my heart I know.
The love I feel is deep and real,
As if it had been so.For us to have each other
Is like a dream come true!
No, I didn’t give you
The gift of life,
Life gave me the gift of you.— Unknown
This is probably one of the most well-known poems about adoption. It is simplistic,yet, speaks great truth in just a few words. Have a wonderful day!
I just wanted to say a quick thank you to Andrew for writing a post about me, my adoption story, and my blog. You can check it out here.
While you are at it, take a stroll around his blog!
Standing in line at the grocery store, I glanced over at the latest tabloid newspapers. As usual, they were spreading gossip about celebrities and others. I try not to put much effort into noticing these magazines. I see them not benefiting our society at all.
This time however, my eye caught one the latest headlines and I was somewhat stunned by what it said. A celebrity couple was splattered all over the covers with statements about how they are heading for a multi-million dollar divorce. According to the reports, the couple is divorcing because he “snapped” and stated “You can’t give me kids!”
When I read this, I thought “Oh no…no…no…no…they just didn’t go there!” Sure these magazines and tabloid papers stoop to pretty low levels and truly do not care whose lives they ruin by their false statements, invasion of privacy, and exaggerated facts, but this one really got to me. How disgustingly low of them to print something like this. Here are a few reasons I find this to be just simply awful:
I know that the entire article may be false and completely without merit. Their marriage may be fine and infertility may not even be an issue. I really do not keep up with celebrity news as it is, but I could not help but feel bad for the wife. The insensitivity of it really bothered me. What if they are struggling with infertility? What if she is insecure right now about their marriage? It would be extremely painful to see one’s hardship splattered all over the papers for the rest of us to read about.
To be honest, I really thought long and hard about writing this post. A part of me feels like I too am benefiting from what was said as it gave me a topic to write about. However, the words I read on the front cover of the tabloid that day stayed with me for several days later. I actually went back to the store and snapped off a quick picture with my phone as I knew there might end up being a post about it brewing inside my thoughts.
Maybe that part of me that still lingers back in the days of growing up infertile feels the need to speak out and be a voice for others. I don’t know…I really never found my own voice about being barren throughout my adolescence and young adulthood, so now, it feels good to find my voice and to use it — sort of like a protective instinct over the matters of all things infertile.
The saying “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” is just wishful thinking (in my opinion). Words hurt. Words can be used as instruments of healing or instruments of hate. Words can be magical and speak vibrancy into so many things, but words can also drain the color. Words – whether true or not – can cut right into the heart of the pain someone is going through. It saddens me when the pain of others is turned into profit.
What is your opinion about this? Did you see the headline? I’m curious!!
The first night I started this blog, I had no idea really what the heck I was doing. I just felt the urge to write. It started when I began to journal about my hysterectomy a few years ago. I guess I held so much in over the past 25+ years that once I started writing, there was not an end in sight. I do not want to stop. Writing is therapeutic, and each time I write, I learn from it. I am pretty sure most bloggers can relate to this.
I know I am not the best writer and often make grammatical mistakes, but writing is not about perfection anyway (at least in my opinion). Writing, like life, has moments of grit, sorrow, heroism, and laughter. Writing has given voice to the imperfections of my life and to the yearning to be understood in the world. Writing releases the words my heart wants to say.
I have to be honest, I really did not spend a lot of time coming up with my blog name. Growing up knowing I would not be able to have biological children caused me to think of my barren self as being cursed. I do not mean cursed in the witch-crafty, voodoo kind of way necessarily; although I wondered that from time to time soon after it happened. For whatever reason, I felt that I was intentionally blocked from having a “normal” life. Of course, now that I am an adult, I do not know of anyone who has had a “normal” life.
Adding children to my life has given me a taste of living a life outside of my own. Parenting children continues to bring meaning and sense to life and the things that have happened. But, the meaning behind my blog name is more than just about the children. I walked a long and difficult road to see the Lord for who He is in my life. I was void (barren) of listening to His will, reading His word, and leaning on His hope. I did not see a purpose for what happened. I could not see the light at the end of the tunnel…until I saw the Light that is Him.
The Lord was calling me back to Him long before I even gave a thought about becoming a foster/adoptive parent. My blog name obviously represents the blessings that come from children. If my life ended up without children, there would have been sadness of course. I know that. However, I also know that life in Christ is a life worth living and for that I am truly blessed.
“Caroline, I learned raising you with all of your health problems that you can’t borrow trouble.”
The quote above is from a conversation today with my mom about my son’s health. A routine trip to the urgent care to make sure that bronchitis or pneumonia had not declared itself in my son’s lungs turned into a six-hour ordeal involving multiple breathing treatments and more doctor’s appointments and testing to come. I’ll know more this week and am really trying to not borrow trouble, but I’m also really good at it. If it was a salaried talent, I would be a “zillionairre” by now!
I admit there is hypocrisy with me in this area. I just wrote a post about not allowing life’s distractions (Distractions, Distractions) to get in the way of keeping focus on the Lord, and here I am just a few days later getting distracted by the “what if’s”, “why now’s”, and tomorrow’s worries that may or may not even come to fruition. I will suggest to others to not fret over what may or may not be a problem. I’ll quote scripture and encourage others to pray, but often I do not take my own advice as well as I would like to admit.
I do not believe that the Lord wants us to fret over situations. We are to cast all of our cares onto Him in good faith knowing that He has already declared the victories in our lives. The walk on this Earth is hard. Our money runs out, our relationships lay in ruins, and our bodies break-down; yet, He never changes.
HE.NEVER.CHANGES
While my mom told me not to borrow trouble, she also suggested to be prepared. Learn about possible conditions, think through scenarios, and be open to the possibility that health matters can become serious. She knows this first hand from raising me. You can learn a little bit more about her in my post titled Mother’s Resilience that I wrote on Mother’s Day. She has always told me to “trust my gut and intuition” when it comes to my children. I feel that this gift is one the Lord has given to women. That ability proved invaluable when she was raising me. Her persistence and determination to get answers played a big role in saving my life during my illness.
So for now, I am going to walk in faith trusting the instinct the Lord has granted me with my children and trusting Him to work out the details. I am going to put as much effort as I can to focus on the hope that comes from the Lord instead of the hap-hazards of being human. Regardless of the outcome, I have comfort knowing that the Lord already has tomorrow’s troubles in His Heavenly Hands.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
– Jeremiah 29:11
“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief…and unspeakable love.” -Washington Irving
Gosh, I love this quote. I L.O.V.E. it. Each time my eyes skim over it and I soak it in, it causes me to stop whatever I am doing. I think about the tears shed worldwide on a daily basis. I think about the tears that have been poured out of the deepest sorrow and joy throughout generations upon generations of humans.
I think about myself curling up in a fetal position sobbing from every pore of my being while mourning the loss of not being able to have a biological child. I truly mourned this. Those tears held within them my secrets, my grief, and my pain. Those tears shed were not in vain. I earned each one. I deserved to let go of each one. Those tears were for the girl I once was, and the mother I thought I would never be.
I also think about the tears of joy that have navigated their way down the landscape of my face. They too spoke volumes of resilience, thankfulness, and complete understanding. Those tears released the power of love held within. They too held their place of importance in the history of my life. They too were for the little girl I once was, and the mother I was discovering myself to be.
I remember hearing the “sniffles” behind me at our adoption hearings. I quickly looked around and saw family, friends, and even some child welfare professionals with tears rolling down their cheeks. Each tear was a message of hope and hard work. Each one represented the efforts made to keep my children safe, to help their birth parents, and to give them the permanent family they deserved. The Judge stopped the court proceedings during my son’s adoption and gave me a moment to gather my tears back up. He told me that he had seen many tears of sadness throughout his court room experience, and it was good to see tears of joy.
On a vastly more important level…the most important of all, I think about the tears that flowed down the faces of those who witnessed the crucifixion and death of Christ. I think about those who must have had tears of awe-filled joy at realizing His resurrection. The message of unspeakable love, unselfish love, and saving love that those tears gave is still heard and felt today. At times, I am caught off guard during worship at church. I find myself singing a song, staring at the Cross, and wiping away the droplets that resemble the overwhelming magnitude of my Savior’s grace and love for me.
I think I love this quote so much because it reminds me of the purpose and the purity behind each tear that falls from our eyes. The voice held within our tears speaks so much more compared to the words that may or may not leave our mouths. There is a sacredness there, and it should never be underestimated.
Don’t hold your tears hostage. Don’t stifle their meaning. Your tears may be speaking for you. Allow them to. Your tears may be speaking to you. Listen to them.
Last night we had the privilege of spending the evening around a bonfire in the country. Hot dogs, roasted marshmallows, the sound of crackling wood, a gorgeous full moon, the chatter of folks, and gleeful screams of children playing in the field next to us made up our evening. Fires are so good at catching one’s eye. I sat and stared for a long time at the majestic wisps of flames as they flickered their way up to the heavens.
With the scent of fall in the air and the comfort of a blanket over me, my thoughts immediately went to the reason why we were all out there under the stars. Out of the eighteen or so children present last night, around thirteen of them were adopted out of foster care. Let me say that again….13 out of 18 or so children present last night were adopted out of foster care. Most of the children were siblings of some sort, but not all. A handful of families adopted the siblings. Honestly, it was kind of nice to be at an event where my children were not a minority. Usually when we go to “get-togethers”, or anywhere in general, my kids are typically the only ones adopted; especially out of protective services.
There is something comforting when being around fellow parents who have experienced the journey of being a foster parent and adopting. We are able to swap stories of our experiences and compare notes. We can relate to the challenges sometimes experienced when raising children with histories of abuse, neglect, prenatal exposure, or separation from family of origin. We can also talk about resources that may come in handy if future issues should arise.
Last night, I took a moment to look out in the field at the children playing. The image of glow sticks in hands, glow-in-the-dark balloons bouncing up and down, and the sounds of laughing children running freely through the field filled my mind and my heart with gratefulness. I thought about how their young lives were interrupted by the ways of the world and the poor choices of their birth parents. I thought about the losses every single one of them has endured already in life. I thought about the adults around the fire who took them in. I thought about the opportunities they have because of permanency in their lives.
I thought about how they get to have a childhood free of abuse. I also thought about how lucky we are to be a part of this. Adoption out of foster care is not a second best choice. It is not reserved for only those who cannot afford private adoption. It is not just for couples who are unable to have biological children. It is a blessing to parent a child whose beginning to life automatically put him or her in the category of the “least of these”.
It is a blessing to meet other adults whose lives have also been impacted by the decision to become foster parents. We are all connected in some way to each other by the children playing in the field. We are all a part of something bigger, something more eternal, and something better planned for these children.
As I watched the fire burn and looked around, thankfulness filled my heart. We were all brought together by the one true God who brings light into dark places, hope into hopeless situations, and love into the lives of all of us.
Photo taken by Sarah Carter (http://sarahcarter.is/)
“Every child born into the world is a new thought of God; an ever-fresh and radiant possibility.”
-Kate Douglas Wiggin
This is the quote we used for our daughter’s adoption announcement back in 2010. We picked it because it reminded us that despite our daughter’s not-so-lucky start to life, and despite basically being abandoned; her life is one of hope and possibility. She is a gift from the Lord, and He has wonderful things in store for her.
I wanted to share it to remind fellow parents, parents-to-be, or those struggling to become parents that we all have lives of radiant possibility. Our children or future children also have the opportunities to live lives of radiance. Despite what we are going through or have been through, we have the ability to live the kind of life that breathes love.
The Lord knew His plan for our daughter. He scripted her tiny little life right into our home. He knows His plan for us. All of us were on His mind when He was on the cross, and we are on His mind today.
I hope this blesses you and lifts you up during your struggles. I hope you see your life as being one with God-given radiance, hope, and possibility!
Have you ever been in a situation that you thought was somewhat insignificant, but ended up finding out that it was quite significant to someone else? I have, and I would like to share it with you.
At the age of twenty, the doctor discovered a Dermoid cyst on my left ovary. My left ovary had barely escaped the bacterial invasion that caused my hysterectomy at age eleven. It was somewhat risky to leave the ovary in my body because of the rapid pace the bacterial infection was spreading, but the doctors decided it was worth the risk.
This ovary became the one thing in my mind that “kept” me female. I know that is quite ridiculous now to say that, but I was so young when all of this nonsense happened. Even at the age of twenty, I struggled with making sense of my “female-hood”. By the time the cyst was found, it was too late. My survivor ovary could not survive any longer. The decision was made to remove it.
The surgery was scheduled to happen on my 20th birthday. Yes,I lost an ovary on my 20th birthday! Before I go any further though, I should explain that I am not exactly a great candidate for laparoscopic surgery. Let’s just say that my insides are a little jumbled around and there is a tremendous amount of scar tissue. All of my major surgeries have been done the “old-fashioned way”; meaning, cutting right down the middle of my abdomen. This surgery to remove my ovary was not any different, so naturally there was a lot of prep work that had to occur before the surgery.
I was admitted to the hospital in the evening and stayed up most of the night before my surgery talking with my roommate. She had her gall bladder removed and was in a great deal of pain. I could not see her as the curtain was pulled the entire time. We were both on pain medication, but talked about our medical histories and thoughts about life in general. Of course, my medical history was a little more colorful than hers. The next morning, she was gone before I got a chance to see her.
About three years later, when walking out of a college class with another student, the topic of my surgery came up. I do not even know why the surgery came up, except maybe to explain my absence from classes. Partly through my explanation of what all had happened, she stopped dead in her tracks, turned to face me, grabbed my arms, and said, “Caroline, You are the one.”
She went on to explain that her very good friend had her gall bladder removed and was feeling depressed and sorry for herself. A young woman was admitted to the bed beside her. Her friend shared that this young woman had been through so much and was still trying to be positive about health and life. She never got the chance to see what this person looked like, but strongly felt the young lady was put in her room for a reason, and that reason was to help bring her out of the self-loathing slump she had been in.
That young woman was me. I do not take credit for any of this. I really do not even remember my exact words said to her or what all I may have shared. Instead, I believe that the Lord placed me there at the right time and in the right circumstance to bring comfort to someone else. The credit belongs to Him.
I decided to share this because of the potential impact all of us can make in the lives of others. What may seem as insignificant events or simple conversations might just end up being exactly the things that someone needs to hear or witness. We are all witnesses of a loving Heavenly Father. He is able to use all of us to share hope, love, and our lives in a way that will glorify Him and help raise up humanity.
So, next time you think that conversation you had with the person standing behind you in the grocery line did not mean anything, think again. You never know how the Lord will use your words to lay out His action to reach someone else.
May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer. – Psalm 19:14
I just wanted to give a quick shout out to Learning My Path Towards God for nominating me for the One Lovely Blog Award. I appreciate it very much! The blog is an honest and insightful portrayal of one’s walk towards God. It is a great blog and I highly recommend that you check it out. Thank you again for acknowledging my blog!
I am going to skip out on nominating blogs (I know…I’m not playing by the rules). Instead I want to say that it is an encouragement to see so many people sharing their lives through the written word. I have been amused by the stories of parents trying to navigate the world of toddlers and/or teenagers. I have been reminded of my own blessed life when reading stories of those who are literally starving. I have been challenged to do more when reading blogs from missionaries who are across the world or in their own backyards. My eyes have been delighted by amazing works of photography. I have shared in the pain when reading how infertility is affecting so many. I have been presented with issues to ponder and refine in my own walk with the Lord. I have also been reminded of the greatness of our Heavenly Father.
Thank you to all who write their lives out and share their talents.
May God bless each of you!
BARREN TO BLESSED 