Category: infertility

Adoption is Not for the Faint of Heart {let’s get real}

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November is National Adoption Month and I LOVE it. Do you want to know why? Because it dedicates a lot of attention to the need for adoption and the diverse stories of adoption that are out there in the world.

What we usually see during this month are wonderful images of adoptive families smiling for the camera. What we don’t see are the tears, hardships, and struggles of adoptive families. I think it is only fair that if we set aside a month of celebrating adoption, we should also include conversations about all that encompasses it; not just the smiley, cute, feel-good moments.

Here is the truth: As an adoptive family (and I don’t mind that label), we are very normal in our basic rigmarole of the day. However, our days probably look a little different from other families. There are moments when we don’t have the right words, we recognize that genetics is a mightily powerful thing, and we wonder “will this get better?” There are times when one of our kids says, “You’re not even my real mom!”, “I bet you wish you didn’t adopt me.”, or “Why couldn’t I stay with my birth mom?” These things, my friends, are not what we often see or hear about during National Adoption Month.

So, let’s get real. Adoption absolutely changed all our lives. It made me a mother. It made my husband a father. It gave our kids permanency and the opportunity to grow up without the threat of abuse and neglect. However, adoption is certainly not for the faint of heart.

It hurts when your child tells you or asks you the things mentioned above. It is heartbreaking when you don’t know or have answers to questions that doctors are asking. It is alarming when you think about whether your kids will have anger about being adopted as they grow up. It takes a whole lot of energy and patience to handle the issues that come up during the day. It stings when you are rejected or verbally abused or disregarded by the very child that you would give your life for. Like I said, adoption is not for the faint of heart.

Before you go and wonder about the state of parenthood for me, let me explain that I fully believe in the blessing of my kiddos. I adore them. I cherish them. I love them to the moon and back and know that God fully weaved our family together, but I also strive to be authentic about our journey. If I were to tell you that everything is peachy all the time and we are all so in love with each other all the time, I would be a liar.

If you are considering adoption, I want you to know that it is truly a miracle in life. You will recognize a humbling love that is freely given. I also want you to know that there will be moments and days that it doesn’t feel good. You will shed plenty of tears in the corner of your room.

You will pretend that you are having the best of days while knowing the distress that occurred just moments before. You will discover some truths about yourself, and you may not like them. You will feel the vulnerability of others and it will hurt.

Let’s get real.  Adoption is not for the faint of heart, and therefore I know it is an absolute blessing to be a mother through adoption.

 

 

 

 

 

Children Are Worth It

 

Bailey Family 2015-3b&w
Photo Credit:  Freedom Photography

 

I just can’t even tell you how much I love these kids. There are not enough words in my somewhat limited vocabulary that express how rich, deep, authentic and pure my love is for them. They came into my life without expectations. I didn’t care what race or gender they were, or what their histories consisted of. No expectations, just hopeful anticipation.

It took me a while (like twenty-five years since the age that barrenness interrupted my life) to hold a baby and feel that smothering, warm and wonderful feeling of motherhood. Sure, I was a foster mother. Sure, my first baby could have left. Oh, but that feeling…that moment when your soul is completely eclipsed by a love that has not been felt before.

There are moments when I forget that huge mountain of barrenness that once blocked my path. In my frustrations with busyness, struggles with strong-willed children, and just plumb tiredness, I forget how far and how hard the uphill walk was to motherhood.

But…when I look at my children now, I can declare,

“That mountain was thrown into the sea!

That mountain crumbled!

That mountain is no more.

That mountain has been conquered, and praise God for that!”

Honestly, I do not miss the mountain, but I appreciate it. I recognize that barrenness caused immense pain. I fully understand that illness created physical, emotional, and spiritual angst. I know the body is far more vulnerable than the soul.

Infertility and barrenness are hard. Adoption and foster parenting are hard. Raising kids with extra needs is hard. However, all of the “hardness” of it melts away when you realize that your children (however they come to you) are meant to be yours. Don’t give up, friends.

Children are worth it.

 

Family Whose Video Went Viral Shares Their Story {Adoption.com Article}

Have you seen it?  There’s a video of a couple meeting their adoptive newborn son for the first time floating around on Facebook, and boy, it is quite moving.  After watching it, I reached out to the adoptive agency the family worked with, and asked if I could contact them for an interview for an article on Adoption.com.

The family agreed, and the link below is for the article.  I absolutely loved hearing the backstory to the emotional and loving video.  It confirmed to me what I have always known.  Behind every story of adoption, there is loss, fortitude, hope, and love.  

Take just a moment to read it:

Family Whose Placement Video Went Viral Shares Their Story

Blessings,

Caroline

this is a picture of adoption

Bailey Family 2015-28.jpg
Photo credit:  http://freedom-photography.com/

Here is a recent picture of my children.

This is a picture of three lives brought together through difficult circumstances.

This is a picture of children who found themselves caught up in some of the despair of the world.

But…

This is also a picture of hope, and of love.

This is a picture of the answered prayers of many.

This is a picture of life.

This is a picture of adoption.

Momma-in-Waiting {Part 5}

Dear Momma-in-Waiting,

It is that time of year again, isn’t it?  Images of happy children during the holidays are flooding your social media threads, but you are still waiting, aren’t you?  You are trying, with every ounce of your soul, to make the world seem simple, but you are in the most complicated battle of your life.  Appointments, tests, needles, counseling, hope, disappointment, prayer, tears, anger, confusion, frustration, and countless moments of utter heartbreak all seem to color the path to which you walk.  For some of you, there are no needles, no appointments, no tests, and no tangible sense of hope.  Barrenness has settled in and made you its home.

You are a Momma-in-Waiting, and the world seems to be passing you by.

You hear others speak about their babies.  You view their first pictures with Santa, and watch videos of them singing Christmas songs.  They are all growing, aren’t they?  They are learning new words, discovering the excitement of first steps, and giving their Momma’s an array of challenges on a daily basis.  Yet, there you sit.  Listening, smiling, even laughing at some moments, and looking upon their babies with a longing that is only matched by your own determination to get through this season of your life.

You wonder, “When will it be my turn?  When will I hear first words, see first steps, and be challenged day in and day out?  When will I get to experience a Christmas flooded with the laughter of children?  When will I no longer be a Momma-in-Waiting?“

You are dwelling in that seemingly lonely place.  This time of year is especially hard, isn’t it?  The holidays, New Year’s Resolutions, fresh starts, and images of children splattered across almost every single piece of media only seems to remind you of what you long for…

a child…

your child…

your blessed answer to prayer.

Dear Momma-in-Waiting,

When your friends are trying to avoid pregnancy, you are screaming for it.  When your friends are complaining about pregnancy, you turn your ears away.  Your heart sinks in a bit, and you just want to silence their words.

It took me many long years to meander my way through the thickness of barrenness.  It seemed an even longer journey to until my number was called and I knew that I would be a mother, forever….when adoption called my name.

It’s not easy.  You know that all too well.  It is not understood.  Nothing seems to be anymore.  Infertility is truly one of the unexplored territories in the human existence.  The ones who travel through it understand, but the ones who do not, really have no clue.

Even after adoption and the gift of three children, I still find myself thinking back to my surgery.  Sometimes, I still wonder what my birth children would have been like, or look like.  I wonder if they would have had resembled my grandmother, or had the dimple of my husband’s chin.

If there are a few words of comfort that I can offer (and I’m a woman of many words, so this will be hard for me) it is, do not stop praying.  Do not stop seeking the ends (whatever they are) to meet your goal.

If, at the end of all the medical trials, you are told your only hope for motherhood is to adopt, it is okay to grieve this.  It is okay to cry fountains of tears over barrenness.  I know I have.

It is okay to get angry, question why you are battling this stupid war taking place in your body, and wonder if the very Lord you have staked your eternity in has forgotten about the life you are living on Earth.

Dear Momma-in-Waiting,

One day when things seem to make more sense, you will look back on this time in your life, look up to the heavens, and say, “I get it now.”  You will be able to share your Christmas pictures, wait until the kiddos are asleep to put out gifts, and plan for months how you are going to surprise them during the holidays.

One day, you will wake up on Christmas morning to the sweet excitement of…

a child…

your child…

your blessed answer to prayer.

 

5 Things I Want You to Know About Adopting After Infertility {Adoption.com article}

I recently wrote an article for Adoption.com regarding five things that are important to know about adoption after the struggle of infertility.  It is valuable to recognize that infertility is truly a life-long process, and there are moments (even after parenthood enters your life) that will catch you off guard.

Adoption of children and the blessing of parenting absolutely fills the void of childlessness, but the impact of infertility on one’s life may never fully go away.  

“Adoption is full of immense joy, but it also has poignant moments when one’s heart is pulled into pieces, and reminders of infertility and barrenness will intertwine with this.”

To read the article, click here:  5 Things I Want You to Know About Adopting After Infertility

Blessings,

Caroline

This Mountain {It is Well}

20150910_113703I tend to over think things at times, and often find metaphors in unlikely places, things, and activities.  In September, we had our roof replaced.  Our roof was very worn by the years, and in desperate need of attention. As the laborers started to scrape off the worn and damaged shingles of our roof, I noticed how loud it was.

Piece by piece, shingle by shingle, the old roof disappeared leaving the bare exterior below.  The act of removing the roof was a nuisance and disrupted our morning routine, but I reminded myself of the new roof that we have to look forward to.

As I left our home and headed out of the house, I looked into the dumpster and saw this pile of what was once our old roof.  I thought about the “skin” of old wounds, troubled times, and heart-breaking circumstances that we have all had to rid ourselves of.  It is painful to permanently remove the war-torn parts of us, and it is a challenge to dig out the crud and waste of the remnants of our despairs.

We scrape.

We rip.

We weep.

We toil until, piece-by-piece, the wound is gone and in its place, newness is revealed.

Before I snapped the picture of the mountain of old shingles, I shared the song “It is Well” by Bethel Music on my blog’s Facebook page.  The song is so incredibly moving.  Every time I hear it, I pause for a bit and soak up the full measure of God’s faithfulness.  There is a particular section of the song that tends to both remind me of what I’ve been through, but also infuse my soul with the truth and promise of God’s grace:

“Far be it from me to not believe,
Even when my eyes can’t see.

And this mountain that’s in front of me,
Will be thrown into the midst of the sea.”

This mountain….my mountain….YOUR mountain…whatever it is, will be moved.  It will be tossed out of your vision.  It will no longer block the beauty that yearns to be revealed.  God’s faithfulness and sovereignty is a promise for all of us.

Like the old shingles of my roof that have faced many storms, our past hurts, if tended to, honored, and eventually removed, not only reveal the softness of what is within us, but can also become a foundation for what is to come.

Do not allow your history to determine your future, but do not deny that history, either.  Our histories, hurts, and heartbreak are each part of the symphony of our lives, and are a part of who we are.

After all of the dust has settled from a life interrupted by illness, challenges, and loss, my heart continues to sing:

“Far be it from me to not believe,
Even when my eyes can’t see.

And this mountain that’s in front of me,
Will be thrown into the midst of the sea.”

To listen to this amazing song, click here:  It is Well Bethel Music

Do Not Fear {in the midst of barrenness}

During a sermon at church a few months ago, my pastor told the audience that he had met someone during the week who is really close to “giving up on God”.  When he asked her why, she said, “infertility.”  She then went on to say that she questions why God would allow infertility in her life.

When he said the word “Infertility”, I felt a chill of sorts run through me.  I stiffened up a bit, and wondered if any eyes were looking at me.  The more I listened to him, the more I was reminded that not only is infertility an emotional and physical battle, it is also a spiritual battle.

What is it about that word that makes me still feel so uncomfortable?  I suspect that it feels like a label of sorts.  My efforts in earlier life to understand what all barrenness encompasses was dreadfully challenging.  People who have been diagnosed as infertile understand that it is more than just a diagnosis.  It is an uninvited guest in their lives.  It is consuming, and holds power.  It sweeps the rug from under their feet.  It becomes their new normal.  And, it is painful; woefully painful.

I recall feeling that God must surely have thought I would make a horrible mother.  I also remember questioning, with sorrowful confusion, about why I was left out of the incredible gift of pregnancy and birthing a child.  I used to think, “I only have one life here on Earth, and I am missing out on one of the most beautiful endeavors that a woman experiences.  Why would God allow this?”

Growing up in the midst of barrenness taught me so many lessons about life.  It also tried to form a wedge (and succeeded for a while) between me and the loving Father that I had come to store my faith in as a child.  I truly feel infertility is one of the most misunderstood, all-consuming, complex, and spiritually challenging experiences that one faces in life.

As I sit here on the other side of life without kids, I now know that barrenness is just a technical part of who I am.  It is just a blip on the radar of what my life really is.

Medically speaking, I am barren, but spiritually speaking, I am now far from it.

The adoption of my children and the path that led me to them drew me closer to the Lord, not away from Him.  It took many years to get me here, though.

If you know someone who is experiencing infertility, pray for them.

  • Pray for clarity in their situation.  
  • Pray for fortitude as they face so many unknowns.
  • Pray for them to see, feel, and hear God in the midst of their distress.
  • Pray for their sweet spirits; may they not be dampened by their despair. 
  • Pray for a miracle – I still believe in them.

If you are experiencing infertility, my hope and prayer is that one day it will all make sense, and that you will look upon it like a distant memory of your life.  I do not know if adoption is the right choice you should make, but I do know that is it your choice and your right to decide if and when you are going to jump into adoption.

Adoption of my children definitely fulfilled my life-long quest for an answer and happy ending to barrenness.  I no longer grieve.  Instead, I find delight in the story that was written for me, and for the incredible, emotional journey that carried me to my children, and to a deeper understanding of our Savior.

Friends, I wish the same for you.

So do not fear, for I am with you;
    do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
    I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

-Isaiah 41:10

However Motherhood Comes

Infertility offers nothing, adoption gives everything.

Infertility dispenses despair, adoption dispels it.

Infertility breeds confusion, adoption grows clarity.

Infertility is lifeless, adoption is life-giving.

Infertility seems hopeless, adoption is full of hope.

Infertility gives the impression that one is not deserving of children, but adoption reminds us that we are very-much deserving of parenthood. The two are polar opposites, but when they collide, one’s world opens up to the enriching, beautiful, and life-affirming gift of children.

Friends, if you are meandering your way through the warfare of infertility and barrenness, do not give up. Choosing to pursue adoption is your decision, no one else’s. However, from this barren one’s experience, I encourage you to consider adoption. I’m so thankful that I did, and that the Lord delivered my heart’s fervent wish to experience this gift of parenthood (even on the hard days).

“However motherhood comes to you, it’s a miracle.” -Valerie Harper

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child {letter #6}

Dear Foster Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

You drove away the other day, didn’t you? You packed up your car with a year or two worth of memories of the child you have loved on, held on for one last time, kissed goodbye, and drove away.

You just wanted to turn the car around. You wanted to grab that little one, and hold on. You needed to feel that sweet embrace one last time, but you could not. As the miles began to separate you from the child you have called your own, the tears began to flow.  You held them in.  Brave warrior.  You held them in.

Now as the silence is thickening the air around you, the tears just seem so desperate to escape. Each tear carries a memory, doesn’t it?  The first time you saw the stranger’s child, that moment when you had a “breakthrough”, the silly laughs in the morning, the transformation you started to see in the birth mother, and the sound of a Judge’s voice determining that the child needed to return to the stranger whose child you have loved – are all just a glimpse of the lifespan of fostering that little soul.

To say it isn’t fair is an understatement, right? After all, you have been there to pick up the pieces of this broken child. You have worried night after night wondering if the child could get a few hours of sleep without calling out or having bad dreams. You mended that little wounded soul when there was a setback. It was you who watered, fed, and enriched this precious child’s roots with love, stability, and maybe just a bit of hope for the future.

Dear Foster Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

You had to drive away, didn’t you? I cannot imagine. I don’t want to. You did all of this while listening to the opinions of others who just don’t get it. It’s okay to be heartbroken. It’s okay to be angry.  It really is.

However, dear Foster Momma, those pieces of your soul that you gave away to the child you said goodbye to will carry on. They will carry on in the prayers you taught him or her to say.  They will carry on in the ability you taught to cope with surroundings, and the roots that you have toiled to establish. They will live through each success the child has, and in every heart-moment to come.

It will take a while for you to heal.  After all, no one has ever said that foster parenting is easy.  It is so hard.  You have delved right into the despair of generational abuse and neglect, drug abuse, chronic poverty, and misguided souls.

In every way, you are a missionary.

Dear Foster Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

I find myself thinking of you, a lot.  I want you to know that there is nothing greater than pouring yourself into a child….even if only for a little while.  You may have had to drive away, but at least, you were there. You were present in every moment. You dried each tear.  You voiced your concerns, and praised progress. And, after all was said and done, you had to let go.  Through your faith, you have stood tall, and because of your faith, you will carry on.

Nothing will ever take away what an incredible blessing…a miracle, really…that you have been in this child’s life.

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. -2 Timothy 4:7