The Lord watches over me
You hear my cry and You know every need
The Lord watches over me
You never fail me, God
(Kari Jobe, Keeper of my heart)
One thing I can write with confidence is this, Jesus has never failed me. And He never will. His mercies are new every morning. Great is His faithfulness! As a follower of Christ who desires more than anything to please Him with my life, I have said these words more times that I can even count. But in this "season" of life I pray and cry out to the Lord for these words to steady my heart, and for His arms to hold me together when I feel like falling apart. And He has done just that, over and over and over.
The Call
On Monday, April 28, the kids were really restless and sirens were going off everywhere. We decided to make the best of it and drive South to avoid an approaching tornado and spend some "family time" together. We had no idea that we would be running into a storm instead of escaping one. That storm began with a call from our adoption worker. It was "the call" every family waiting for a baby prays to receive. I cannot tell you with words the emotions I had during that call. At that very moment I loved that baby and his birth mother. Sounds crazy, I know. But nothing about adoption makes sense - it's beautiful and painful at the same time, it's redemption! On Wednesday, April 30 we met the birth mother. The very next day, May 1, our son was born. A special day already because our firstborn, Katie, was born on this day eight years ago. Saturday, May 3, we saw this precious life for the first time. Steady my heart, Lord.
There are no words to describe what you feel at that moment. There is no gap in love or affection, there were no thoughts of am I able to love this being even though he did not come from my womb, no doubts whether or not he would "fit" in our family. None. Absolutely none. It's the beautiful, redeeming kind of love I felt when I gave my heart to my Savior thirteen years ago.
Friday, May 16 we were getting ready to take the kids to see the baby and officially become his parents. This was the day the birth mother was to "sign the papers" and place him in our arms. At 10:00 a.m. with one call from our adoption worker everything came to a screeching halt. Over. Just like that. No signature, no baby. Ever. Once again, I found myself without any words. This time the abyss I felt myself falling into was so overwhelming, it was hard to breathe. Steady my heart, Lord, I trust You. So many thoughts, so many questions, the tears would not stop and the ache was overwhelming.
One of the things I learned - among many - was that guarding your heart does not always mean insulating it from pain. The Cross was the most painful death. It IS redemption. It's painful, it's beautiful, it's what followers of Christ are called to. We did a lot of things to "protect" our kids and family during this process. We were "guarded" in many ways. And I am grateful that we heeded this wisdom. But even so, Christ asks us to trust and love. And that, sometimes, is painful beyond words.
I have really prayed over how transparent to be in this. I want to protect and respect the birth mother and her family. They are precious in the Lord's sight and Jesus loves them just as He loves me. But I also want to share the suffering and realness of this because I know there are countless families who have gone through this and some who have yet to walk through this door. The first thing I read after that call on that Friday was a blog post by someone who had been through two failed adoptions in one year. God used those transparent words from that precious lady to reach down and comfort my soul. Since that post she has written several more regarding their adoption journey. And if I'm honest I will tell you I read them often. So, I've decided to share some of the details of our journey, reaching deep down, being real and praying that God will use these humble words to minister to someone like me.
The Story
When we arrived at the hospital on Saturday, May 3, the adoption worker told us there were some risks with this birth mother. She was very unstable, so many things she was facing that I will not disclose, but we were given the option to back out. We prayed, I cried, the adoption worker cried, we prayed some more, I cried some more. We felt the Lord so close speak to us, this is your son, whether you care for him for 3 days or for the rest of your life, trust Me. So, we did just that. We trusted and believed. But honestly, this is not what I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear, you will bring this baby home, just hang in there a while. Steady my heart, Lord, I trust You. We spent the next few weeks nurturing and loving this baby and his mother. There were so many sweet moments with her. I am still amazed at the work of Christ. He loves when we cannot.
The baby was born a few weeks early and with some complications. He had a long road ahead of him and remained in the NICU almost a month, but as each day passed, he became stronger and stronger. On Mother's Day, we arrived with news that he was able to be held. For the first time I was able to pick this sweet baby up and hold him. Steady my heart, Lord, I trust You.
I want to share this moment with you because the realness is intoxicating, overwhelming, terribly sad and beautiful at the same time. I have blurred it for privacy and respect for his family. All of the pictures we took were with his birth mother's permission.
That was the last day I saw his birth mother. I continued to visit him that week. Thursday, May 15, I kissed his sweet cheek for the last time. I'm digging deep here...Oh how I wished I would have known that was the last time. So many things I would have prayed over him and said. Don't get me wrong, we prayed fervently for him from the beginning. But after that final call there were so many "ifs" that flooded my heart and soul. If I had only been able to say goodbye. If I had only been able to hug his mother and tell her I am not angry. If only, if only, if only. Steady my heart, Lord, I trust You.
Grieving Well
Another thing I have learned out of this is when we grieve, there is healing in being real. Christ already knows our thoughts, hurts and questions. He catches every tear. Even now, almost four months later, as I write and the tears fall, He sees, He loves, He comforts. Jesus Himself asked for the cup to be passed, but if not Your will Lord, so be it. There is no remedy except Christ. In life and death, Jesus remains. Either He is the Healer of wounded hearts and Freedom for captives, or He is not. You do not have to walk alone in grief. Healing does come in the name of Jesus. Of course, that looks so different for each of us. Another blog post by a friend speaks of this so vividly. Romans 12:15 tells us to rejoice with those who rejoice and to weep with those who weep. The body of Christ plays a crucial part in the healing of it's wounded. And I am so grateful for it.
When people ask how we are doing, I say, "it gets a little better every week." The Lord is so near. He is Sovereign and Good and Just. We are still a waiting family with Bethany Christian Services. We still believe in open adoption. We still have a desire to share our lives with our birth mother. There is redemption in our story. Even though we may not see it this side of heaven, we trust the Lord! So, please feel free to share our story and our adoption profile. Pray for us, our baby and his/her birth mother. Philippians 1:6 says I am sure of this, that He who began a good work is faithful to bring it to completion. Jesus will do just that. Whatever Your will Lord, so be it in our lives.
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