I still think of you, birth mother

photo credit: http://www.freedomphotography.smugmug.com/ — photo credit:
http://www.freedomphotography.smugmug.com/

I still think of you, birth mother. You are always with me. Each embrace, each kiss, each smile, and each moment of growth, I think of you. This week marks the fifth year since the adoption of my son…our son, and yet; I still think of you.

It seems like a lifetime ago since we talked about him. I remember our talks while taking turns rocking him. We were in love with the same child. Our love for him opened the door for our relationship. You are the one who started loving him the moment you knew you were expecting. I’m the one who prayed for a child to love. How could we have known that while I was praying for a child to hold, you were carrying my future son?

How can I ever thank you, birth mother? How can I ever tell you how grateful I am that you chose life? Because of your life-affirming choice, I am raising a bright, energetic, and spirited boy who filled the paleness of my dreams with color. Your son was my first baby. Your son was the answer to my deepest longings of the heart.

Your son is the embodiment of a life lived outside of oneself.

It is not a mistake that our process to get approved as foster parents took nine months; nine months of our child forming in your womb, nine months of our anxious thoughts, nine months of your difficult circumstances, and nine months until we met for the first time.

I remember that the first thing you said to me was, “So, that’s what you look like.” Your words humbled me, birth mother. There I was, a stranger, embracing your son, holding him in the middle of the night, and caring for his every need. While I was doing this, you were wondering who I was. My prayers to our God was for His will to be done, and for His strength to get us through whatever path we would end up walking.

I know that our path was probably the easier one. Yes, we worried, we cried, and we prayed, but we ended up keeping your son. We ended up becoming his forever family, his mommy and daddy, and his future. Yes, we had it easy. You, birth mother, you walked the difficult road.

You, birth mother, you must have felt the pain of loss that first Mother’s Day without the acknowledgement of him. You, birth mother, must have felt an ache in your heart that went unfulfilled. You, birth mother, must have longed for a different outcome; and yet, you did not fight the decision that was made.

You and I both had our hands tied. We both had to adhere to the decisions made by others about the child we both loved deeply. Together, we both had little control. Together, we both had hopes of raising him. Together, we both loved this child.

I still think of you, birth mother. I still wonder how you are doing. I still see you in him. I still think of your kindness to me. There I was, a young foster-mother holding your son, and yet, you embraced me. You were kind to me. You were interested in me, and you thanked me for the love I gave your son. I don’t know if I could have done that. I don’t know if I could have been as kind as you were if the tables were turned. I just don’t know.

Thank you, birth mother. Thank you for the courage it took to not fight the inevitable. When I was told that you had decided to not fight the courts anymore, I fell to my knees in grief and in joy at the same time. I cried over the hardship of the decision you must have made. In that moment, I knew my life was forever changed.

In that moment, I knew that you truly loved your son.

It has been five years since your son became mine forever. It has been five years since tears fell from my eyes while the judge was announcing our adoption. You were on my mind that day, birth mother. Our journey together ended that day; although, it will never really end. As long as our son has life, I will think of you. You will always hold a place in my heart. I will always remember your smile, your laugh, and your kindness.

Your son…our son…is a treasure. He is a delight. He loves dirt, bugs, art, gymnastics, basketball, and fishing. He is always coming up with the most creative ideas out of simple household items. He is a willful, curious, loving, and loyal boy. Oh, he has his moments of challenging us, but he is a wonderful son. He is a child that has left his footprints on the hearts of many. He means the world to so many, and is richly loved.

I still think of you, birth mother. I still see you in him. I still think of our talks,and the mutual love we held for our son. I’m doing my best to raise him in a way that will honor the difficult decision you made. I want him to be a man of integrity, a man that nurtures life, and contributes to goodness in this world.

We have a beautiful son, birth mother. Thank you, birth mother, thank you.

Journey of Infertility (my post for National Infertility Awareness Week)

Photography Credit: http://freedomphotography.smugmug.com/
Quote: Author Unknown

Apparently, this is National Infertility Awareness Week. Who knew? Right? I certainly didn’t until I stumbled upon a few blogs about it. I kinda find it funny that there is just one week to be aware of infertility. Those of us who have experienced it, are experiencing it, or, like in my case, lived a life of it, are always keenly aware of the presence of not being able to have a biological child.

I so wish that there would have been attention given to infertility when I was a girl. Instead, it was a hushed topic. Some of the reasons why I never had deep discussions about it with anyone while growing up was because of my age. I mean, what in the world do you say to an eleven-year-old who had a hysterectomy?

Most of the time people would say things like “God must have a plan for you.” My thoughts after hearing these words often went something like this, “Why yes, I’m sure He does and it obviously doesn’t include biological children.” Or, I was given the advice of “You can always adopt!” Again, the thoughts behind my smile went like this, “Oh wow, thanks. I had not thought of that before.”

Now, I know that sounds a little sarcastic. Looking back now on my life experience and the pain of growing up infertile, I know that I kept these thoughts to myself. I could not control what happened, but by golly, I could control how I responded to it. I know God had a plan for my life, I just didn’t know what it was or if it included children. Throughout the majority of my life after the surgery, I did not want other people’s advice. This was my battle to win, my life experience to navigate, and my journey to seek the answers.

One thing that I find ironic about infertility is that it creates a sense of isolation and loneliness, but it also creates an unspoken bond with others going through it. There have been moments where I felt I could almost read someone’s thoughts by their expressions when speaking about infertility. I just find that to be interestingly ironic.

Just a few weeks ago, I was speaking to another adoptive parent. She and her husband spent many years trying to get pregnant. Although she expressed great joy and love over her little boy, she also agreed that infertility really is a life-long process to deal with. Missing out on having a biological child does not go away. However, the incredible and genuinely loving experience of adoption does not go away either.

I feel like an old veteran of a battle waged many years ago whose wounds have healed and are now a source of strength to carry on. I feel the need to encourage others, motivate others, and testify about how the Lord does work it all out. For those of you who are just now experiencing a life different than you expected, hear me when I say this:

There will be times when you feel like crawling into a hole where no one can find you.
There will be those moments when the words of other’s will sit on you like a heavy weight.
God is NOT punishing you.
You ARE still able to be a parent; it may just take you a little longer to become one.
It is okay to avoid the baby departments at stores (stop beating yourself up over it.)
It is normal to be a little envious of your friends who are having babies…ALL at the same time (again, stop beating yourself up over it. This is a process of healing and does not reflect on how much you love your friends.)
Baby showers are the worst when you can’t have one, and going into an ob/gyn’s office is miserable when you are the only non-prego chic in the room.
There are others who feel the same way you do. Find them. Seek support from them.
Most people really don’t know how you are feeling. This is just a fact that you need to accept.
Whether you become a parent through birth or adoption, all of these hard times you are going through will seem like a blip on the radar screen compared to the lifetime of love you will be able to give and receive through parenting.

Infertility is more than about pregnancy. It is a sojourn into the pits and valleys of despair. It is a path where each step taken leads to healing. Like the quote on our family photo above, we were not separated from our children when they were born. We had all embarked on a journey that led to each other. Our journey together really did not end at our adoption. We began a new one with new stories to be written, lessons to be learned, hopes to be fulfilled, and new revelations of the Lord’s presence throughout it all.

Out of the Ashes

Photo credit: http://freedomphotography.smugmug.com/ — Photo credit: http://freedomphotography.smugmug.com

Looking at the image above of my family causes me to think of how blessed I am. We are a family filled with lots of love, lots of trial and errors, lots of do-overs, and lots of moments that leave us laughing. Looking at the image above makes my heart happy, and yet, it also makes my heart a little sad.

I know that sounds strange to say it makes me sad, but truthfully, it invokes a sliver of sadness. It is not my children or my husband that do this to me. It is the thought that my family…my everything here on Earth….was created out of the terrible circumstances of others. The birth parents, grandparents, cousins, siblings, and other relatives that will not be pictured on the couch together with my children are on my mind. My children will most likely never be embraced by their birth grandparents. We have some limited contact with a sibling of my daughter, and we send letters to my son’s birth mother, but these things do not replace or ever will replace growing up in their families of origin.

I love the little ones I’ve been charged of taking care of. I love them so much that my heart can’t help but break for what their birth parents have or are going through. Substance abuse, mental illness, instability, homelessness, severe impoverishment…you name it….these are the things that make up the lives of birth families of the sweet ones I tuck in at night. I know that the Lord formed my family. I know that He took the messiness of life’s problems, and created the portrait of love above. I know this.

Adoption has blessed me in some many ways. It has fulfilled that deep longing to live for and love on a child. It has broken me, humbled me, and rebuilt me again. Taking in someone else’s child has brought me to my knees in tears and in prayer. It is complicated, requires full attention, and yet, it is beautiful. It is beautiful.

Still yet, my heart aches for those out there with whom my children come from that are missing out on the hugs, kisses, temper tantrums, scrapes, good dreams, bad dreams, and longings of children learning who they are in the world. It was not meant to be this way. Fathers and mothers were not meant to abandon their children, have severe addictions, or struggle with mental illness. Still, here I am benefiting from these tragedies.

People may look at our situation and think, “What a great thing that has happened for them.” I think that way too, but still, in that quiet place of my heart, that place that is secret, I grieve for my children’s birth mothers. I carry them with me. I think about them when celebrating the goodness of my children.

I know the day will come when my children will learn and fully understand the circumstances that opened their paths to our hearts and our home. I know that day will be hard. It saddens me. It worries me, and it humbles me. It also builds my courage to do a better job as a parent, to try each day anew to meet my kids where they are at, and to gently guide them as they grow.

There’s a lot of love on the couch in the photograph above. There are moments of utter chaos and craziness that comes with three young children. There are moments of exhaustion, and moments of exhilaration There is definitely plenty of happiness that goes around.

There’s also a family sitting there that has shed tears, whispered prayers, and spoken hope. There are two parents who know that out of the ashes of mistakes, darkness of addictions, and pain of regrets, this family…our family….was created.

“Colors Don’t Matter” – Matt and Heidi’s Story

Family Pic Blue Wall 16x24RS (2) — Matt, Heidi, Jaz, Shiloh, Sean, Annika, and Isaiah
Freedom Photography

“Colors Don’t Matter” – Matt and Heidi’s Story

While sitting at a park bench watching my daughter play, I sat next to a woman who was also watching children play. Something about her seemed familiar. Although I rarely do this, I said to her, “Do I know you from somewhere?” This start of our conversation led to the realization that we have mutual friends. We also learned that we are both adoptive mothers of children out of foster care. We exchanged Facebook info, and each went our separate ways.

I’ve been wanting to share more stories of the “Backyard Missionaries” that make a difference in our communities. I think of foster/adoptive parents as missionaries serving others in their own backyards. I’ve asked Heidi and Matt to share their story….here it is.

Heidi has always had the desire to adopt even before she and Matt tried to get pregnant. After six years of marriage, they opted not to pursue infertility treatments, and instead, put their pursuit and efforts into adoption. Although Heidi yearned for pregnancy, once they began their journey of adoption, she quickly became excited about what was in store for them.

Their first son, Isaiah, was placed with them through a private adoption agency. They were blessed to be matched so quickly, but also noted that they were very open to race, and other issues such as prenatal drug usage. This level of openness certainly helped to speed up their placement matching.

Throughout the next four years, it was just Matt, Heidi, and Isaiah. They wanted more children, and chose to become licensed as foster parents in the hopes of eventually adding to their family. Within the first few months of licensure, they received a call about a sibling group of three children, ages 10 months, 2 years, and 3 years. A few months later, they were called to take placement of another little one. In a matter of months, they went from being a family of three to a family of seven!

They finalized their adoptions in 2011, and thought they were finished when they received a call from the local children’s protective services office in June 2012. Matt and Heidi say “yes” to a newborn sibling of their children. They continue to foster him, and if the case goal changes to adoption, they will add another little one to their amazing family!

For Matt and Heidi, the biggest joy is seeing their children grow and thrive. They recognize that the road of life these little ones were walking before coming to their home was a difficult one. It is indescribable to know that they have taken part in the incredible intervention of children’s lives.

Their oldest daughter really struggled when she came to live with them at age three. She desperately missed her birth mommy, and was angry. Matt and Heidi allowed these feelings, and helped her transition to their home by offering stability, love, and support. The quick adjustment from a small family to a large one was quite challenging at first, and it took them a while. Big is normal now, and they love it.

Questions from others such as, “Are you ever going to have children of your own?”, or “Which ones are brothers and sisters?” are ones that challenge Matt and Heidi. Although they have two biological sibling groups, they are ALL brothers and sisters, and do not see each other any different. As far as having their own children, Matt and Heidi know their children are their own, and quite simply do not understand why anyone else would feel different.

Adoption has changed their lives, formed their family, and has added incredible joy. Adoption has taught them the value of diversity. They embrace their uniqueness as Caucasian parents raising African-American and Bi-racial children. Their family motto is “Colors Don’t Matter” . They have also learned that the ability to grow babies in a belly truly has nothing to do with the love and commitment of parenting. Adoption has taught them that love truly has no borders and knows no bounds.

Heidi’s and Matt’s advice for people considering adoption out of foster care is quite simple:

“Be patient. Have faith. The system is not perfect. Love the children.”

Think that is the end of the story? Oh, no. In 2014, after years of infertility, Matt and Heidi welcomed their baby girl, Haven, to their family.

I’ve come to believe that God doesn’t just work in mysterious ways, he works in MIRACULOUS ways. Just ask Matt and Heidi.

Sons are a heritage from the Lord, children a reward from him. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are sons born in one’s youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. They will not be put to shame when they contend with their enemies in the gate. -Psalm 127:3-5

Matt and Heidi own a photography studio and completed a project called, “Courageous Love”. This gallery of images include families who have adopted out of foster care.

You can check out their website at: www.Freedom-Photography.com

Colors Don’t Matter

One day while sitting at a park bench watching my daughter play, I sat next to a woman who was also watching children play. Something about her seemed so familiar. Although I rarely do this, I said to her, “Do I know you from somewhere?” This start of our conversation led to the realization that we have mutual friends. We also learned that we are both adoptive mothers of children out of foster care. We exchanged Facebook info, and each went our separate ways.

Heidi has always had the desire to adopt even before she and Matt tried to get pregnant. After six years of marriage they opted not to pursue infertility treatments, and instead, put their pursuit and efforts into adoption. Although Heidi yearned for pregnancy, once they began their journey of adoption, she quickly became excited about what was in store for them.

Adoption has changed their lives, formed their family, and has added incredible joy. Adoption has taught them the value of diversity, and it is their uniqueness as Caucasian parents raising African-American and Bi-racial children that they embrace. Their family motto is “Colors Don’t Matter” . They have also learned that the ability to grow babies in a belly truly has nothing to do with the love and commitment of parenting. Adoption has taught them that love truly has no borders and knows no bounds.

Heidi’s and Matt’s advice for people considering adoption out of foster care is quite simple:

“Be patient. Have faith. The system is not perfect. Love the children.”

Matt and Heidi own a photography studio and are preparing to put together a gallery of images of families who have adopted out of foster care in an effort to promote this incredibly vital and worthy cause in our nation. You can check out their website at: www.Freedom-Photography.com

Beauty in the Complexity

Here is another insight I’ve discovered since becoming a parent through adoption:

Adoption is extremely complex, but there is beauty in complexity.

The closer we got to our first adoption, I was so eager to “get it over with”. I just wanted the judge’s gavel to fall and for our son to be declared ours. I did not want anyone else to be in control of my son anymore. I looked at that day with fantastic expectation and with the thought that it will all be so much easier after adoption than when we were fostering him.

Our daughter was placed with us a few months later and I was also looking forward to the day that we could adopt her. Right after our daughter’s adoption, we closed our foster care license. What I have realized through the years since then is that adoption continues to evolve as our children grow older. The gavel may have fallen, and the “cases” may be closed, but our journey really has just begun.

We see the look of confusion at times when the children are talking about birth parents and why they do not have the same birth moms. We watch our son stare at his baby pictures and ask a million questions about the baby that he was. We overhear the kids talking in the back of the car or in their rooms about birth parents. I even heard my daughter say that she wished I was her birth mommy.

My husband and I have late-night talks on the couch after the kids go to bed about how we should address specific issues and questions as they arise. Our son usually has a rough couple of days after visiting our daughter’s sibling, who is also adopted, because he doesn’t quite understand how his sister could have a sister of her own.

I often watch the kids and wonder how much of their lives will be affected because of adoption. Don’t misunderstand me. There are incredible opportunities, safety, love, and stability that they have because of adoption, but, it would be amiss of me to assume that it is always going to be easy for them.

I worry at times that we are being too open in discussing it, or maybe not open enough. I used to weep for my children because of the losses they have endured without even knowing it. I have wished to be able to wipe the slate clean for them. All of these things are issues that my child-bearing friends do not have to take into consideration when parenting.

The complexity of it all makes me appreciate the opportunity to talk with other adoptive families about their experiences, and to learn from each other. I love the diversity of each family and the journeys that many have been on. I also have come to realize that adoptive families are unique and special in so many ways. Yes, there may be worrying, wondering, weeping, and wishing, but in these things there is great beauty.

My Life’s Song

Here we are in the last few days of November and the last week of National Adoption Month. This past month I have posted something each day that I hope has inspired people to take care of children through adoption and foster care. I’d like to share some insights I’ve learned as an adoptive parent. Here’s the first one:

Through the adoption of my children I have learned that my life was planned and designed with great purpose.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that growing up I never really understood or appreciated the concept of a life planned in advance; especially if the plan included the heart-wrenching grief of infertility. I did not comprehend how a loving God could or would allow infertility, even though barrenness is written about in Scripture. I certainly never envisioned myself as a mother. I just didn’t think it was “in the cards” for my life.

Seeking the Lord and the adoption of my children have both revealed to me that mothering was written into my life story. My children were planned for me, and I was planned for them. Despite the medical problem I had that resulted in being barren, I was still designed with the great purpose of motherhood by the God that created the Heavens and the Earth.

Some call it fate. Some may say I lucked into being able to adopt. I choose not to call it either of these things. I call it the grace of the Lord and His Divine Plan. I call it the presence of a living God whose works are ones of love. I call it the pouring out of His blessings. I call it a mission-filled and purposeful design.

Adoption really is my life’s song. My children are the instruments. Our experience together is the melody. The Lord is the composer, and, from time to time, you just might catch me dancing to it.

“For I know the plans for you, declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” – Jeremiah 29:11

Passage (poem about adoption)

Passage

Your mother loved you dearly
But that love was not enough,
With tears in her eyes and guilt in her heart
She had to give you up.

You started life, far from certain
Moving from home to home,
A search began to fill your void
A family to call your own

Days dragged on, and into weeks
And months turned into years,
Old enough to look for mommy and dad
But the horizons never near

Your life on hold, bonds incomplete,
Growing older with every day,
Hoping and dreaming every night
For a permanent home to stay

A call is made, “a child we have”
Of course we want this child!
More than ready to fill a heart felt void
Knowing your trust will be meek and mild

You quietly question another move
Is my search over or still continuing?
You keep to yourself, hiding here and there
As the question begins diminishing

You eye all the other children
Their love helps you on your way,
You see, once they were where you are
At the start of their first new day

You give us your trust, you warmed to our love
We’re finally now mommy and dad,
Our heart now filled, the bonds now complete
Your tears for a family, now glad

Your mother sent you on a journey
God’s destination she did not know,
So little, you made your passage
From her heart into our own.

-Ron Schutt

It is hard to find a lot of poems about adoption out of foster care. I came across this one and thought I would share it. Have a wonderful day!

Four Years of Firsts

My girl, Happy 4th Birthday to You! I didn’t know about you the day you were born. I wasn’t there to welcome you into the world, and to see you take your first breath of Earthly air. I didn’t greet your sweet face with a gasp of joy. My arms were not the first ones to hold you. I didn’t hear your first cry or witness the doctor say how precious you were. I didn’t feed you your first bottle, change your first diaper, or pick out your first garment. I didn’t lock you safely in your car seat and drive you home to your first crib. Our home was not your first one, but our family is yours forever.

Your first year was so special. I celebrated your first taste of real food, your first embraces, your first steps, your first words, and, of course, your first birthday. I cared for your first boo-boos and scared away your first fears. I bought several pink outfits for the first time. There were many firsts that you only had with me. No, I wasn’t there for your first breath of Earthly air, but I was there for your first year.

Your second year came so quickly. I listened as your vocabulary took off and saw how your shy spirit took a backseat to your ever-emerging confident self. I noticed that your first friend was your brother. You were not quite two when our adoption was finalized. I penned your new name for the first time! I took you on your first “girl’s day” shopping spree, and tucked you into your first big girl bed. No, I wasn’t there for your first breath of Earthly air, but I was there for your second year.

Year three seemed to fly by so fast. You learned to dress yourself, and I laughed at some of your first outfits you pulled together. I took you to your first dentist appointment and applauded at how well you brushed your teeth. You and I squealed with excitement at your first tube ride behind papa’s boat. I noticed how quickly you learned to spell your name for the first time. I was amazed at how easily you seemed to pick up on your first numbers and other preschool lessons. I took you to your first dance recital, and wiped tears away while watching you twirl on the stage. No, I wasn’t there for your first breath of Earthly air, but I was there for your third year.

Here we are at the start of another year of life together. How many firsts will we discover this year? I may not have been there to watch you take your first breath of Earthly air, but I am here now. We are here now. I love you so much daughter, and thank the Lord for gracing us with the blessings of you and your four years of firsts.

Much More

Adoption: The act of transferring parental rights and duties to someone other than the adopted person’s biological parents. (Concise Encyclopedia/Merriam Webster)

I ran across this definition of adoption when doing some research. It seems so simple; too simple. It doesn’t take into account the emotion, waiting, persistence, patience, grief, giving, receiving, love, and joy that travel along the way towards adoption, and it certainly doesn’t describe life held after adoption. It is so much more than just transferring parental rights.

Adoption is hope. It is commitment. It is patience. It is waiting. It is grief. It is joy. It is giving. It is love. It is receiving.

I gave myself away to my children before they were legally mine. I did not wake up the morning of their adoptions and discover new-found love based on transfer of parental rights. I dreamed of them. I yearned for them. I grieved for them. My soul grasped for them. My imagination sculpted them. Truthfully speaking, I loved them before I even met them.

In return, I received so much more than the legal status of being called mom. I have been given the chance to push a little harder to make the world better for them. I have been awarded the opportunity to imprint their lives with love. I have received living, breathing, laughing joy.

I have received those moments of feeling full well the Lord’s penmanship of my life. I see the Lord in my children’s eyes. I feel Him in their embrace. I hear Him in their wonder of the world. I still remember being that girl who didn’t know when or if I would ever be healed from the pain of barrenness. I still think about her and who she used to be. I still grieve at times for what she went through and for the pain she carried through the years. But then….I look at my children, feel His presence, and know full well that I am healed.

Adoption deserves so much more than a legalistic definition. It is defined by the path that one walks – whether birth parent, adoptive parent, or adopted child. It is shaped by the loss along the way. It is refined by the waiting. It is colored by the emotion and highlighted by the joy. It is enhanced from the giving, and humbled by the receiving. It is love in action, hope in process, and life lived in the full awareness of Him.

Yes…adoption is so much more.

BARREN TO BLESSED

Primary Menu

Tag: adoptive parenting

I still think of you, birth mother

Journey of Infertility (my post for National Infertility Awareness Week)

Out of the Ashes

“Colors Don’t Matter” – Matt and Heidi’s Story

Colors Don’t Matter

Beauty in the Complexity

My Life’s Song

Passage (poem about adoption)

Four Years of Firsts

Much More

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