Category: motherhood

Well With My Soul

“When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, It is well, it is well, with my soul.”  

These lyrics are part of a classic Christian hymn by Horatio G. Spafford (1873). Mr. Spafford wrote this following a series of tragic events in his life that included losing his entire investments in the Great Chicago fire, and the sudden deaths of his four young daughters in an accident at sea.  His despair put into words has brought comfort to generations of Christians.  Out of one man’s tragedy, a song was written that continues to this day to bless people and bless the Lord.

This song has been on my mind for a several weeks.  We typically sing contemporary songs at church; however last Sunday, the worship minister closed the service out with It Is Well with My Soul.  I stood there and smiled at the Lord’s perfect timing in everything.

Years ago when singing this song, I did not always believe, find solace, or live out the words coming out of my mouth.  I was “well” with my job, education, husband, parents, friendships, etc; but I was not “well” with infertility.  The sorrow I felt was deep as if it came from the inside of my bones out to the rest of my body; the kind of sorrow that literally aches.  There is a line in the song Absence of Fear by singer/songwriter Jewel that goes “This vessel is haunted, it creaks and moans.”  That is how I felt.  I was living in a haunted vessel.  My body creaked from the hardship that it had endured, and it moaned for what could have been.

Since my foster parenting experience and the adoption of my children, I have been completely overwhelmed with the sense of peace with all that has happened.  It is difficult sometimes to put into words as there are not enough to describe how nothing else can replace the peace-maker that He is.  His peace does surpass all understanding.

It is an experience that begins with the full acknowledgement of who He is in our lives and what we choose to believe about Him.  Is He a father?  Is He a maker?  Does He offer His love freely to us or do we have to earn it?  Does He truly plan our lives with purpose far beyond our imaginations or understanding? I once questioned these things and wondered how a father, maker, love-giver, and planner could, or better yet would allow pain and loss in His children’s lives.  My earthly human instinct is to protect my children and prevent pain in their lives, so the vision of God allowing tragedy to happen has been a struggle for me to wrap my head  and my heart around.

However, full acknowledgement of who I am in Him has led to further understanding of the dark times.  The revelation of God in my life and how He has planned it has only brought me closer to Him.  I look at my situation now and see His Hand working in all of it.  Total acceptance of my infertility has been possible because of Him, not me.

I wonder sometimes if peace amongst each other could be a possibility if everyone were able to truly say “it is well”.  It is usually not the violent act, illness, or ruined relationship that lingers on in our hearts and minds.  It is the bitterness and resentment caused by these things that stain us.  It is our expression of whatever is ailing us that can cause great strife.

I am so thankful to be able to live life without resentment about infertility.  I am so thankful to know that I am His.  The song It Is Well with My Soul has a deeper meaning for me now.  My singing it is an act of saying to the Lord “whatever Your will is, I accept it and trust you”. 

My writing and speaking about infertility is a testament to the Lord’s faithfulness.  Whenever I am able to share just a bit of my testimony, it affirms me that the Lord can take tragic situations and turn them into ones that will bless others.  Thank you Lord for carrying me along the path where I can not only sing, but shout, it is truly well with my soul.

Where is your treasure?

(photograph by Sarah Carter – http://www.sarahcarterphoto.com)

A friend recently told me that when she and her husband started telling people they are taking foster parent classes, they were met with responses that were both surprising and disheartening.  People have said things like “why don’t you just have your own baby?”, or “why would you do that?”  Unfortunately, the majority of these statements have come from fellow believers in Christ.

It seems this appears to be quite common even in the Christian community, or at least perhaps in our area of the country.  Thankfully, my husband and I did not deal with this as much because people knew we were infertile and that we wanted the opportunity to be parents and hopefully adopt.  But, my friend and her husband have biological children, and could have more if they chose to.  They have felt called for a while now by the Lord to minister to little ones through foster care.

After our conversation, my heart was a little unsettled.  The Lord kept saying to me “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also”-Luke 12:34.  After pondering on this, the thought entered my mind that while we are truly blessed in America, where is our heart?  In my opinion, it seems that it is in worldly things.  We treasure our actors and celebrities. We lift them up on pedestals and award them.  Yet, do they reflect our hearts?

We fight so hard with each other over our political opinions and opponents.  Our different views in policies and our abilities to express them are an integral part of our freedoms, but do they really reflect where our hearts should be?  We strive for big cars, bigger houses, and small waistlines, but still, are these the things that we treasure?

It would be a lie to say that I don’t enjoy going to movies, voting, or admiring nice cars or homes.  It would also be not truthful if I never worried about what the scale said.  But, I hope these things never reflect where my treasures really are.

It breaks my heart that in this country of opportunity where fellow Christians can walk freely without persecution, we overlook what is truly important.  The Lord has called us to minister to ALL people.  This includes the politicians we don’t agree with.  This includes the actors or actresses that we may find “weird”.  This especially includes children who have fallen into the foster care system.

I have worked in child welfare for eleven years now and have seen so many horrible and vile acts against children.  I have witnessed foster families get their hearts broken time and time again.  I have watched birth parents lose their battles with addictions, and ultimately lose their children.  Sadly, I have seen social workers become hardened to their hopes that they can change the world.

I still believe that one person can make a huge difference in the lives of children.  I choose to believe that people can change, but they need willing participants to walk along them in their battles.  Sometimes, it seems that we want children to grow up in safe homes, or want adults to change, but fail to recognize our responsibilities in these things.

We might say “I believe in Christ and love Him mightily”; yet, we turn our backs on the things that take us out of our comfortable “God bubble”.  Christ surely was taken out of His comfort zone.  He could have decided not to follow His Father’s calling.  He could have walked away, but He chose not to.

If we want the staggering statistics of abuse and neglect of children to end, we too must not walk away.  Foster care and being involved in child welfare issues will certainly take us out of our comfort zones.  It will definitely break our hearts at times.  However, our involvement in children’s lives and doing what God has called us to do is a reflection of where our treasure should be.

I saw a poster one time that said this “You have never looked into the eyes of anyone who does not matter to God”.  I have decided to recite this to myself daily as a reminder of the incredible responsibility and calling as a Christian to love people, especially those that can be overlooked by society.  My hope is that my treasure and my heart will always be focused on the One who is worth treasuring, and on the children He desperately loves.

He Chose Love

My husband and I are celebrating our anniversary this weekend, and I am so thankful for him. We have been married for eleven years. As an adolescent and young adult, I once believed that marriage is something I would never get to have due to my barrenness. I am very lucky to have found someone who has accepted everything about me; the good, the bad, and the infertility.

I do not know what it would be like to be married to someone who is infertile. My husband does though. He knew before we were married that if he decided to take this ride of life with me then he would never have biological children. He has assured me that it did not matter to him when we were first got engaged and it does not matter to him now.

He has had to learn by nature of experience and witness that infertility is not just about babies, or actually NOT having babies. It is an emotional and spiritual challenge as well. He has spent an equal amount of time assuring me that I am just as much female than I have spent doubting myself or comparing myself to others. He has also been silent about the topic when I needed him to be.

He never wanted to fix my situation. He and I know he could not do that anyway. Instead, he wanted to understand it and allow whatever was meant to happen in our lives to happen. My husband has seen my grief. He has heard my cries and watched as I have wiped away tears. Still yet, he never once made me feel as though he has regretted our marriage, or the fact that he would never have a biological child.

Instead, he has embraced my barrenness while holding on to me. Trust me; there has been a lot of baggage left over from the years of strife. Even now as adoptive parents, we know we face issues that our friends who have biological children do not deal with. Yet again, there he is just going along with the flow. He chose this.

I have typically thought that infertility, foster care, and adoption were written for MY life. However, my life experiences have helped shape my husband’s journey. God wrote this for his life just as much as He did for mine. I have often said that when I lay sickly in the hospital as a child God knew the plans He had for me. The whole truth though is that the Lord also knew the plans He had for my husband.

This story is not just mine. It is his as well. Fatherhood is special to him and I am thankful that adoption has given him the chance to be a daddy. My husband’s Heavenly Father has greatly enriched his life, filled in the gaps, and placed him exactly where he needs to be in order to be the best dad he can. He has also blessed my husband with a genuine sense of empathy and compassion for others.

My husband was a fantastic foster dad. He attended meetings when he could, went to court hearings, supported case workers, and loved on the children. He got up in the middle of the night to feed them when they were newborns. He changed diapers, prepared bottles, and played with them before tucking them in at night.

I know fostering was hard on him as it was on me, but I also believe that his desire to be a dad was strong enough to keep him going through all of the ups and downs that fostering brings. There were many times when he would tear up at the thought of losing the children – although, we both knew going into it that the goal was reunification. He approached it all with an open heart and mind.

My husband was so compassionate to my son’s birth mother. He embraced her. He engaged her in supportive conversations, and never once made her feel less than human. This, of course, is one the many things that I found to be so wonderful about him. My son’s birth mother told me one time that she was so glad he was an involved dad because she wanted her son to have a daddy who would do things with him.  It was just awesome to witness him ministering in his own way to her. It reminded me over and over how truly blessed I am, and how blessed our children are.

When my husband chose to ask for my hand in marriage, he knowingly walked into it with the realization that our lives would be different from most people that we know. He truly did not know if he would ever be a dad.  He chose love over infertility, and I am so grateful that he did.  I am also grateful for the Lord choosing my husband for me.

Love You Bigger Than Outer Space

(Okay, okay….so I know the picture of my children above is not necessarily related to the post, but I just had to include it!  It is one of my favorites…)

Since the time my son was old enough to carry on a conversation, he and I have engaged in an ongoing “debate” over which one of us loves each other more.  The conversation goes something like this:

Me:  “I love you so much.  Do you know how much mommy loves you?”

My son: “How much?”

Me:  “Bigger than our house.”

My son: “Well I love you bigger than our city”

Me:  “I love you bigger than all the oceans”

My son:  “I love you bigger than the whole Earth”

Me:  “I love you bigger than all the planets”

My son:  “I love you bigger than outer space”

He loves this game with me.  The smile on his face reflects the joy he gets when we are talking about how big our love is for each other.  Children just have such a way of truthfully speaking their hearts to us.  Good or bad – if it is on their minds, they will speak it.

My 3-year-old daughter whispers “You are beautiful” in my ear on a pretty regular basis.  I do not know where she got this from, but it so sweet and touching.  These three simple words from her instantly give me a sense of gravity.  It is not so much about whether she truly believes that I am beautiful.  It is more than that.  She seeks out opportunities to tell me her thoughts and to examine my reaction.  It also reminds me of the greater need to let her know just how unique and beautiful she is.

My parenting journey started around six years ago, and even still I am amazed how the Lord has worked everything out for my life.  Adoption has brought so much goodness and love.  Each day brings on new challenges and discoveries.  Every day I am reminded of my Lord’s provision in my life and His answering of my prayers.

The sweetest words I have ever heard are “I love you mommy”.  These words are engraved and resonate in my heart.  Each time I hear them is if it is the first time.  I despaired over these words for so long that I do not take them for granted now.  I never really thought I would ever hear a child say this to me.  I love hearing them profess their feelings towards me.  I don’t expect it, but it sure makes me feel good!

My children may say the words “love you bigger than outer space” or “you are beautiful”, but, the Lord too says these things to me.  In Him, I am beautiful, and so are my children.  It humbles and blesses me to know that God’s love for my His children is far greater and bigger than outer space.

My Children, My Teachers

“While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about” – Angela Schwindt

The quote above came across my vision today while reading an email from a professional contact. It caused me to stop a while and think about the meaning.  It is not that I have never recognized the life-lessons that parenting gives me. I suppose I have not stopped too often to truly think about the daily things my children do that I learn from.

Almost immediately upon becoming a parent, I was hit with the reality of the grand importance that children are to this world and how incredibly important it is to protect them, show them love, and nurture them along the way.  It is not just important; it is vital to our existence as human beings.  It pains me greatly to know that there are many children throughout the world who do not have anyone to teach them about life.  It is also tragic that some children do not have parents they can teach what life is about to.  Too many children do not have anyone significant in their lives that will listen to their stories, hang their art on the fridge, or encourage their imaginations.

My children show me on a daily basis what life is, or at least, should be about.  They are masters of forgiving and forgetting.  They say they are sorry when they do something wrong (intentional or not).  Even better, they accept apologies and move on as if they have not been wronged.  We adults struggle with this, although we know better.

They notice things like the color of the sky, the shape of clouds, and the little sounds that can be heard on any given day if stopped long enough to hear.  Sometimes I forget to pay attention to these things until I am gently reminded by them to look up, or listen to the birds chirping outside the window.  They ask questions about why things work they way they do.  They are eager to learn from the adults around them.  If they do not know what something is, they will try to investigate it as much as they can and as age appropriate.  Again, sometimes I find myself wanting to move through the day without anything “new” happening.

There is freshness and vibrancy to their thoughts and intentions.  They do not set limits on how things can be fixed or how people can be helped.  They absolutely believe that they can make things better and are creative in ways they can do this.  They believe that their sweet cards or pictures are the best gifts they can give.  My kids love telling their family how much they love them, and they end each day wanting “just one more hug and kiss”.  All of these things are really just a few examples of what my children show me, and what I continue to learn from.

My 3-year-old daughter recently told me that when she was a baby in Heaven, Jesus taught her all she needs to know about being here.  Her comment stopped me in my tracks.  It was one of those moments where I absolutely believed she knew and meant every word she was saying.  There was so much truth to what she said.  Christ has told us and continues to tell us how our lives should be led.

Like children, we should work on renewing ourselves each day.  We should forgive and forget.  We should approach those we have wronged with genuine sincerity in asking for forgiveness.  We should take time each day to take in the incredible creation that is around us all of the time.

We need to seek daily how we can impact those around us for the better.  Our words should be of love.  I hope that I never stop learning from my children and my Lord.  I may work hard at teaching them about life, but I know deep down that they will probably always be teaching me what life is really all about.

Deep Thoughts at the Zoo

One day while visiting the zoo, my kiddos started to engage in a conversation about being babies. My 3-year-old daughter said something to the effect of “when I was a baby, I was in mommy’s tummy.” In an instant, my 5-year-old son, said “No, when you were a baby, you were in your birth mom’s belly.” The conversation kept going from there and my son gently reminded his sister that she really was in her birth mom’s belly. My husband and I would acknowledge them from time to time, but also took the moment to try to gauge what their level of understanding of their own history is.

All of these deep thoughts from two preschoolers while eating ice cream at a zoo quickly caught the attention of a young couple sitting at the table next to us. I noticed they were trying to listen, but also did not want to make it obvious. Every once in a while they would grin at things my kids would say. I suspect perhaps they have never heard young children talk about birth mommies and adoption before.

Life as an adoptive family is different from biological families. The topics of birth parents and adoption pop up at various locations and times in our lives. Sometimes the questions and comments made by our children are random and occur when least expected. Other times, we will purposefully engage them in discussion about their unique stories as adopted children.

We try to take advantage of these teachable moments if we can. For example, my kids were playing with a baby doll one morning in our living room. My husband asked, “Did you adopt that baby?” My kids replied “Yes!” They were so excited to proclaim this. Adoption is exciting. It should not be something that is a hushed topic in the home. Children might just perceive it to be something shameful if adults act like it can never be talked about.

We are not experts on adoption. We are just two parents who love our children with everything we have. We want to make sure they appreciate their histories as much as we do. Honestly, sometimes we feel the need to have teachable moments as adoptive parents!

It scares me a little to wonder if at any time in their lives they will resent being adopted, feel insecure about who they are, or even about the love we have for them. The more we can grow their roots with love, honesty, stability, and grace, the better off they will be to face anything in the future. I know this is what parents strive to do for all children, but as an adoptive parent, I’m a little more sensitive to the need for this.

Recently, my daughter said to me “one day you will show me a picture of when I was in a belly right mommy?” Sadly, my answer was no. I do not have any pictures to show her of the time she spent in her birth mom’s belly. Sometimes, I wished our lives of mommy/daddy/children-hood were not so complicated. Sometimes I wished we didn’t have to talk about adoption and birth parents or any of that stuff; yet, I believe these things are also what make our family special.

I’m finding that the older they get, the more they want to know. This only makes sense. I wish I had a way to read their minds – get into their heads fully so that I could explain it all to them in a way that brings clarity and comfort. I try to take my cues from them. Often, I can sense where the conversation is going but that doesn’t mean my words are eloquent. My words, regardless of how well they are used to explain things, may never completely fulfill my children’s longing to know more.

Words may never fill in the cracks of their histories for them. How could my words do this when I do not even know all the necessary information to give them a complete history of their birth families? It does not seem fair that children who are born into the world, separated from their birth families, and adopted end up losing so much of their roots and family histories.

Then there’s my history to take into consideration when talking about their adoption. My surgery and inability to have children is obviously a part of the story. But, I never want them to think that the only reason they are my babies is because I could not have a biological child. I never want them to believe they are second choices…never. They are not. They are here in my life by the works of God and by the hands of many.

Perhaps I’m just over-thinking it all. I don’t know. All I can do is pray about it, learn from others, model honesty and grace to them and take it one day at a time.

…and…maybe just learn from them while they are sharing their deep thoughts at the zoo.

My Inner Momma

“He settles the barren woman in her home as a happy mother of children. Praise the Lord!” – Psalm 113:9

I’ll admit it. I was once scared to be a parent. I believe this fear may have started after my hysterectomy at age eleven. I suppose that a part of me wondered if I would know how to care of babies and little ones since I did not have the capability to carry a baby in my body. That seems sort of ridiculous, but it truly was a concern of mine.

The notion that my natural maternal instincts exited my body when the organs did is something that was never too far from my thoughts. I’m not really sure why and perhaps it was because of my young age, but I just assumed that the female organs went hand in hand with the ability to be a good mother. These thoughts stayed with me throughout my growing years and even right up to the moment when I became responsible for caring for a child.

I was not quite sure if I really knew how to mother a child. Babies always made me a little nervous, and I never really volunteered to babysit or care for children. It could be that most women feel this way before becoming a parent. I don’t know for sure. The sense of my own ability to instinctually be a mommy had been damaged somehow. I believed that I did not have what it took to be a mother and for some reason, I was not meant to be one. I feared that I would have to work harder at it and it would not come as natural.

Reality hit me the moment I became responsible for a life other than my own. My first care of a child came when we accepted temporary guardianship of my nine year old second cousin. Immediately I just knew I was meant to be a parent despite my medical history and the insecurities that followed. Something awoke in me. The inner momma that had been suppressed by life experiences began to speak, and I liked the sound of her voice.

I went from being aloof about trusting my parenting abilities to craving becoming a parent. Parenting became this complex, tiring, and joyful yet completely fulfilling experience. During this time, I started picturing myself as a mom. Growing up, this is something I never was able to do following my hysterectomy. I barely allowed myself to visualize being a mommy. I had moments when I would dream up my fantasy child, but truthfully, I never saw those dreams coming to fruition.

My husband and I knew that if we did not at least try to become parents, we would risk regretting it much later in life. I needed to parent. While raising my cousin, I felt more alive than I ever had before. The experience of caring for him lit the fire in us to become foster and adoptive parents.

Once we started fostering, it seemed that the most natural part of foster parenting our children was actually parenting them. I know that sounds so strange. The legal system does not lend itself to feeling natural. The placement of our kids was not normal in that we went from being childless to instant parents with just a few phone calls. Driving our son to visit his biological parent, handing him over, and then walking away always felt so surreal. Visits by case workers to our home every few weeks to make sure we were safely taking care of the kids felt invasive even though we appreciated them for doing so. Compared to all of the other experiences foster care provided us with, parenting them was definitely more organic.

I never knew really how easy mothering would come for me. My instinct to nurture never really left. It was not damaged from the surgery. It was not taken away with the organs. It just needed time to blossom. The inner momma in me found her voice, grew her wings, and took flight on the most amazing journey available to us on Earth….the blessed journey of selflessly putting ourselves second in order to care for and love on children.

Fearfully & Wonderfully Made

It is hard being a kid these days.  Their actions are usually fairly age appropriate, and yet, they are told to work on their “behaviors” on a pretty consistent basis.  I really do not recall as a child being reminded to “make good choices” or being told “you need to work on that behavior”.  I was disciplined and taught the correct way to interact with others, but it was done from the perspective that children will be children.  My actions as a child were not taken so seriously and certainly were not thought to be truly indicative of the adult I would end up becoming.

My son is precious, but boy he is a pistol!  High energy, fearless, creative, smart, and strong-willed are a few of the words that define him.  Let’s just say he has had his fair share of “behavior management” in preschool.  I often wonder how his perception of himself has been shaped by the continual reminders in the preschool setting to make good choices, earn rewards, “stay in the green pocket”, or any other motivational system put into place to keep kids in line.  I’m NOT saying that I disagree with these things as I know they have their place in helping children.  I just feel we expect children to be little adults far too often.  My son told me one time that he gets stressed out about school…seriously.  He’s not even in Kindergarten yet and has already felt stressed by the expectations of the academic setting.

Back in 2010 when he was close to four years old, we were painting together at the table.  He had been having a difficult time socially, didn’t mesh with the teacher, and was actually asked to leave the preschool.  In an effort to comfort him, I said “You know mommy loves you very much.” He said, “I know”.  Then it hit me.  I told my kids all the time how much I loved them, but far too often I failed to tell them why I loved them and what makes them unique.

In that moment, I grabbed the paintbrush, piece of construction paper, and started to paint a flag for him.  When he asked me what it was, I said “It is your flag.”  He giggled as he was not really sure what to make of it.  After I was done, I explained the meaning of it to him.  The blue represented his favorite color.  The middle letter in the flag is the first letter of his first name.  Above his name is a pink stick figure which represented the fact that he is a good big brother to his little sister.  The cross in the corner was because he loves going to church and singing about Jesus.  The orange dog symbolized how much he cares for our pets.  The bike below the dog was there because he loves riding his big wheel and really anything that has wheels.

The music note was for his love of singing and enjoying music.  The happy face was because he makes so many people smile and laugh.  The star represented the fact that he loves outer space.  And, the heart, well, it was not only because of how much he loves his family, but because of how much love he has brought to our home and to our hearts.

After explaining this, my curly, blonde-haired cutie could not stop grinning from ear to ear.  He grabbed it, ran to his daddy, and said “Daddy!  Look at my flag!”.  I know I am not the best artist and the flag is quite elementary, but it did so much in that moment to lift the spirits of my child and show him the reasons why he is loved so much.  Afterward, we went to his bedroom and hung the flag on his bulletin board.

Two years later, the flag is still there.  It still serves as a reminder to him of the unique factors that make him who he is.  I am not a perfect parent and I certainly fall short many times on having the best words at the right moment with my kids.  But, there are those times when the right opportunities come along to make an impression on my kids that will not be about their “behaviors” but, more importantly, about their beings.

That simplistic paper flag that is tacked to my son’s bulletin board holds a deeper meaning than it appears.  It reminds my son of the time his mommy painted his flag.  But, most importantly, it serves as a visual reminder for me to show through my words and my actions that they are fearfully and wonderfully made.

“I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” – Psalm 139:14

Dear Infertility

Dear Infertility,

Hello, it’s me again. You know…the little girl you once made to feel inadequate, the teenager you once strived to isolate, and the adult you almost accomplished stealing joy from. Well, I’m here to tell you what you cannot do.

You cannot diminish moments of laughter that echo in my mind for days following. You won’t determine my capacity to love other people and children. You no longer make me feel less of a female or parent or anything else you once tried to convince me of.

You don’t stalk me like you used to. I don’t think of you when I see babies anymore. I actually enjoy going to baby showers now. You used to tag along uninvited just to make me feel uncomfortable.  You are not invited, anymore.

You no longer cause a wedge between me and the loving Father I believe in. You used to do that, you know. I used you as an excuse to not listen to Him. He is bigger than you will ever be.  He reminds me what His plans are for my life, not yours.

You cannot take away forgiveness. You do not replace hope. You obviously offer very little grace, but I do not look to you for it anyway.

For the most part, you were one of my darkest secrets. I hid you away for so long.  Funny thing now is that I’m exposing you to the world. You have become my motivation to write, to reach out, and to love.

At one time, I was incomplete. You filled an ever-growing void with even more sorrow, but not anymore. I will never use you again as a way to justify my lack of purpose or meaning in this life.

Dear infertility…this is not goodbye. I can still use you to be a more passionate person. I can still reminisce of you as a reminder to try and love my children more each day than I did the day before. I see you trying to pull others down and I recognize you right away. I use this as motivation for being a more genuine and empathetic listener. The tears I cry now are not for me, but for those of whom you are trying to take over.

Dear infertility…you have not stolen my ability to have a bountiful life. I have a full, rich life that involves children despite your attempt at taking that away. My life is no longer barren. You did not create a wasteland in me. Oh, I won’t forget you. How can I really? You have traveled with me the vast majority of my life, but you are not my life. Ironically, you have caused me to view life as being precious.

Dear infertility…this is not goodbye. This is me saying hello to all the things that you will never be.

Playing in the Dirt

 

 

I don’t know why, but it really bothers me when my little boy bolts out the back door stepping around and jumping over the various arrays of toys just to head straight for the small and somewhat insignificant dirt pile near our patio. By the time his session in the dirt has ended, he is covered from head to toe with it. His bright blonde hair shows every spec. We usually head straight to the bathtub for a nice scrub down. After his bath, you would never know he was covered in dirt from his time outside.

I usually will say to him “Please don’t get in the dirt. Mommy doesn’t want you to”. He replies with “okay”. However, he still heads straight out the door right for it. It is as if he is compelled to play in it! One day while watching him twirl his stubby little fingers through it, I got to wondering if God feels the same way at times about us playing in the dirt. He may not want us to, but yet, we go back to it time and time again. Or, perhaps He wants us to get a little dirty at times. It is quite possible that there are many life lessons that we have to learn while in the dirt in order to come out a little cleaner.

As I grew from being an eleven-year-old to a young adult, I noticed more and more that despite trying to stay clear and clean of truly dealing with my hysterectomy and infertility, I found myself struggling to ignore it. I do not recall at what point exactly that I threw my hands up and gave up on pretending that my surgery did not bother me. Through the years I probably attempted this many times and may have succeeded in leading others to believe that I was just fine with all that happened. Truthfully, I was never okay with what happened to me.

Looking back on my experience with infertility, I can say there were definitely moments that I was just moving dirt around from one place to the other. Sometimes I would just sit right in the middle of the squalor that is hopelessness. Other times, when seeing my friends and families enjoy their pregnancies, I felt compelled inside to sling mud around. I would never try to purposefully ruin someone’s moment, but internally, I was slinging the mud from one spot to the other because of despair, anger, and jealousy.

There were times when my sense of purpose for life seemed to be soiled by the trauma of my surgery. Everything seemed to be less enjoyable because all I could do was wallow in my own misery. It was as if the impact of my surgery caused most things in life to be covered in a thin layer of dust; the debris left behind from just one impactful moment in my life.

It was during these times when I had my hands and head in the dirt pile that I probably gained the most insight about my life and the Lord’s will for it. In order for me to get a to a place of contentment and hope, I had to really dig around and take a look at what kept popping out of the “mud”.

I wish I could honestly say that I fully accepted being barren before becoming a mother to my children. I cannot do this though. While fostering them, I found myself still digging around trying to process and take it all in. There were moments when I grieved the fact that I didn’t carry them in my body. I would have never chosen some of the actions their birth mothers did. Other times, I was so frustrated because it only seemed “right” that I should be able to keep them and not worry about reunification…after all, I was doing all the hard work raising them.

Being a foster parent definitely allowed me to discover the full impact of infertility. It was extremely hard at times. I never really knew what I was missing until I held my children for the first time. While I was overjoyed with loving them, I was also being reminded of the great loss I had suffered.

There were other times when I became angry with myself for ever signing up to do foster care in the first place. When it seemed that their cases were heading towards reunification or placement with relatives, I would start grieving their loss before it even happened. I thought to myself “Well great job Caroline.  You’ve lost having a biological child, and now you just set yourself up to lose the only babies you have been a mommy to.” There I was, playing in the dirt again.

It seems now though that being in positions that truly forced me to get my hands and my head dirty probably were the most poignant times when I stretched in my understanding of what had happened, developed in my humility and empathy for others, and grew into a more faithful child of God. I lifted up these dirty hands, this soiled heart, and this dusty life to Him. As I did this my vision became cleaner; or better yet, His vision of me became clearer.

I have decided to make a consorted effort not to stress about my little boy playing in the dirt anymore. After all, it is just dirt. There are much worse things he could play in. I may just shock him one day and actually encourage him to get as dirty as he wants to.

Who knows…I may just get out there and join him!