Good Tidings of Great Joy

It's been a long year of waiting since I wrote about advent last year.
And a lot has changed. God has greatly grown and humbled me, and shifted my perspective.

This weekend, during the Christmas services at our church, I was haunted by a phrase I read in "Count of Monte Cristo" last week (side note -- that book is freakin' amazing. read it). 
Edmond Dantes is engaged to be married, and "various rumors were afloat to the effect that the owners of the Pharaon [the ship on which Dantes is employed] had promised to attend the nuptial feast; but all seemed unanimous in doubting that an act of such rare and exceeding condescension could possibly be intended."

Rare and exceeding condescension. Perfect turn of phrase to describe the incarnation.

While singing the familiar lyrics "Long lay the world in sin and error pining / 'til he appeared, and the soul felt it's worth," I was freshly overwhelmed by the love of God. The exceedingly great condescension of Jesus gifting himself to the world made me feel my worth.

This year, instead of focusing on the ache of waiting for our second child, God helped me to fix my heart-eyes on a child whose coming is sure. The Christ-child, my redeemer, my lover, my savior ... there is no question on when He will arrive. He has come.
So this weekend, I could honestly say that I was greatly contented with the gifts I've already received.

And then I got a phone call today.
The same pregnancy counselor that called to tell me H had changed her mind called to tell me that we've been chosen again.

This birth momma, Jordan, is due on January 1st ... that's next Wednesday, people. If all goes well, we will meet our second child in the next two weeks. And it's a surprise ... we don't know the gender!

I am so thankful for the great support that we were shown in the wake of H changing her mind, and that is why we've decided to share the news this time. So many people in our extended network have been on their knees for us, have provided generously for us, and have extended the most thoughtful expressions of care. If all goes well, we want to publically celebrate this work of God in our family. And if Jordan changes her mind, we will need you to hold us as we bleed.

Thank you for walking with us! What an amazing Christmas gift!

3 Gifts - Part 3

Just hours before we got the call that H had gone into labor, Josh’s parents gave us some sweet little gifts for baby girl. Though we had no shortage of pink blankets and onesies from when Phoenix was little, they had thoughtfully picked out some new things for #2. I had eagerly unwrapped the little clothes to make sure they were washed and ready, but everything else was forgotten in the rush to leave for the hospital. When we came home with empty arms, those gifts didn’t really seem to have a place anymore.

Freed up by Josh’s parents to do whatever I wanted/needed, I decided to return them. So I found myself at Walmart with a gift card to spend … since the money was intended for grandchild gifts, it only made sense to use it on things we needed for Phoenix. After a few minutes, we had some socks, bibs and fairy wings in our cart and nothing left on the list. So we headed for the toy aisles.

I will just go ahead and own the fact that I am “that” parent … the one who is picky about what toys end up in our home.  I normally gravitate towards well-made toys that facilitate creativity, learning and motor skills. Plastics, characters and batteries aren’t part of my MO. And, while Phoenix really does enjoy the choices we make, she usually isn’t all that involved in picking out her playthings (yet).

While we perused the toy aisles, she made some comments here and there, but didn’t seem particularly drawn to anything. Until she saw that box of crappy, anatomically distorted ponies.

“You wanna hold the ponies!” she exclaimed (we are still working on pronouns).

I handed her the box, and she immediately began stroking their pink hair.

“She’s so beautiful!”

I wish that my video camera had been rolling in that moment. It was the sweetest display, and I’ve played it over in my mind many times to make sure I don’t forget it. This was exactly the kind of toy that I DON’T normally buy, but it gave me so much joy to get those ponies for her. It was a privilege to say yes to her. I might have even been more excited about this gift than she was.

And God instantly reminded me that it is also His joy to give gifts to his children.

“Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him?” – Matthew 7:9-10

I’ve had a hard time embracing that truth over the last year. I understand it cognitively, but it has been hard for my heart to get on board. I still don’t have the baby-gift I have begged to receive.

God, despite withholding our second child, has been relentless in working Matthew 7:9-10 into my soul theology. It started with the ponies, then a getaway with Josh, then a perfectly-timed free coffee, and on and on. But, like the ungrateful child I am, I have often sulked about His gift choices. Every morning, I have to choose to believe that he will answer my pleas for a child. And, each day, it is harder.

I wish that I had some gift-wrapped conclusion for this post – but I don’t.

All I have is a petition for your prayers. I need y’all to pick up my paralyzed faith on mat and carry it to Jesus. I know that my smallness of perspective is directly related to my understanding of God’s love. So pray that I experience His love more deeply, believe Him more fundamentally, and that I wait more patiently.

3 Gifts - Part 2

I know, I know ... this has been a long time coming.

Honestly, I hadn't written this post because these thoughts have been slow to brew in my heart, and because I knew it would hurt to write them down.
But I've ignored it long enough.

My senior year in college, I took a class called "Contemporary Christian Ethics Theory - Agape, Gift and Obligation." Much of the semester was devoted to exploring "the gift," and whether it can exist outside of economic exchange. For much of the semester, we mused with Derrida (whose name must be said in a French accent while shaking one's fist) about whether one can actually give a gift without expecting anything in return (even a "thanks") or receiving anything in return (even the warm-fuzzy feelings of having contributed to someone). He believed it was impossible to remove gifts from the horizon of economy, thus negating the term "gift" altogether.

We didn't get to give Hannah that necklace, but we did give her a gift. We gave her the gift of choice.

I can't imagine her hardship in the hours following the baby's birth. She was weighing options that not only impacted her directly, but that would forever impact that tiny new soul. We waited for 36 painstaking hours after the baby's birth because she had so much to consider.
But what if we had not been there? She wouldn't have had any terrifying decisions, right? Just the impending reality of motherhood. She would have held that little burrito-wrapped baby with no options but to embark on single-parenthood.
Because we were there, she got to choose motherhood. She got to say "I want to do this," instead of "I have to do this."
And that is a remarkable gift that we gave to both her and the baby. Alexandria has a mom who, with other viable options, decided to parent.

And this gift that we gave? I know for a fact that it blows Derrida and his aporias out of the water.
We received nothing in return and never will.
It came at a devastating cost. I am still unearthing new pains and still find myself punched in the gut with sorrow.
The knowledge of this given-gift doesn't serve me in any way ... if only it brought comfort.
And, though it was compulsory, I would give it again in a heartbeart.

At the end of the class, we concluded something that is so simply true: God has given us the perfect gift of Jesus. And this love-motivated, love-fulfilled gift came at great cost with no strings attached.

We gift-loved H because God first gift-loved us.

3 Gifts - Part 1

1. In the weeks after we were chosen as prospective adoptive parents, we bought a gift for our birthmother (H, as I will refer to her). We were told not to buy her anything expensive (as that could be manipulative), so I started hunting on Etsy for something small and meaningful. As strange as it sounds, I asked the Holy Spirit to help me find the perfect piece of jewelry. It mattered greatly to me because, at some point, she was going to be left with this gift instead of her child. I wanted it to remind her of the baby while still being ambiguous to strangers, and to be something she might pick for herself. I ended up at THIS shop, because the pieces were reasonably priced and looked like something H might like. As soon as I saw this necklace, I knew it was perfect.

No name or initials, because she had chosen a different name ... she was going to put "Alexandria" on the first birth certificate, and we would put Sloane on the certificate when the adoption finalized. Ambiguous, but a way to carry the memory of her October-baby close to her heart. When it came in the mail, I was horrified to read on the invoice that it symbolized infant loss. How did I miss that? But, still convinced that God had settled this as the right gift, I packed it up in our stuffed-to-the-brim diaper bag to bring to the hospital.
Needless to say, the irony of this gift was not lost on me. Someone did lose a baby ... and it was me. It is my reminder of the October-baby I never held, never met, never brought home.
When I finally got around to bringing baby things back into the house after returning from Warner Robins, I hesitantly pulled this gift out of the diaper bag. I wanted to break, burn and bury the stupid necklace. But, as the greatest act of faith I've mustered in the last three weeks, I put it in our "remember" jar. It houses reminders of how God has worked in our family (for more details, read HERE) .... and, as impossible as this currently seems, someday I will be able to see our fateful trip to Warner Robins as a part of God's perfect plan for us.

For whatever reason, Karl Marx's accusation that religion is the "opiate of the masses" has always been unsettling to me. More than once, I have wondered whether I merely use God to placate my tumultuous heart. But losing a baby has forever settled this question for me.
I've seen Josh on a lot of opiates/narcotics in the past two weeks because of his kidney stone. While they did not solve his pain problem, they brought a certain degree of numbness and escape.
God is a terrible opiate. I very violently feel the pain of loss, and faith does not afford me the luxury of escape. I must have more focus, feeling and fervor because of the road ahead .... numbness will not do. And, while I feel the peace of his presence, the pain remains.

Leaning In

Being at home is really hard. I think it's because time moves a little slower at home, which gives me too much mental space to feel the hurt. And there is "that room" all ready for a baby ... freshly washed crib sheets, a closet organized with blankets and clothes, and that damn car seat.

So I've been out and about, for my own sanity above anything else. Needless trips to Costco, to the mall, more than one trip to church (I admit it - I totally abused the free childcare) ... turns out, all of that has been helpful in passing the time, but not much else.

I had no more errands to run, so I headed to the gym this morning. Not because I actually care about working out right now; I barely have the energy to make it through the day. But I needed to do something, and that was really my only good option.

I dropped Phoenix off at childcare, settled into a comfortable pace on the treadmill, and decided to lean in. From the moment we started the adoption process, I have felt the call of God to really lean into everything that would come my way. As I blogged in April, "It would be easy for me to have tunnel vision, to focus on the parenting task at hand, and to protect my heart from getting burned along the way. But I feel like God has been asking me to lean into the emotion of this season, and to actively hope." Well, as much as I want to fight it, I know God is asking me to keep leaning in. Process my grief in His arms instead of ignoring it or running away.

The thought of starting from square one again makes me want to throw up - I currently hate adoption. Strong words, I know. At this point, I would hands-down choose a horrible pregnancy, traumatic birth, and long NICU stay again. As difficult as that season in my life was, at least things were happening and God was obviously near. I wasn't sitting around, waiting for a child that I haven't met yet but I still seem to miss. I want to run away from this whole thing, letting it be just a horrible memory instead of my incessant reality.

But, again, I felt the prompt of God to lean in. I took a deep breath, and made my heart available to Him.

All of the oh-so-kind and empathetic words of my friends and family have been helpful, but I needed to hear something healing. So I listened to the Bible as I walked, and this familiar verse stood out like a beacon:

"Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us." (Romans 5:1-5)

Sometimes this verse gets turned into one of those well-intentioned platitudes that Christians throw around, but it struck me so differently today. The end goal of suffering is hope. Not really sure how I missed that before, but I realized that this loss of Sloane is my greatest lesson in hope during this season, because it is my greatest moment of suffering (to date, at least).

I now have these twin passengers, longing and loss. The weight of longing was burdensome indeed, but my hope-muscles have gotten stronger while carrying it for many, many months. Thankfully, we have had many people help us carry our loss in the last few days; childcare, meals, flowers, chocolate, prayer and notes have truly helped to lighten the load. But life goes on, and soon the grief will be just ours to carry. And I am trusting God that He will supernaturally gift us the perseverance that will lead to greater character, which will in turn produce greater hope. 

And I don't, for one moment, doubt the love of God. I don't claim to understand His love, or the way that it manifests itself. But I undeniably felt his presence this morning, and it was overwhelmingly tender and loving. So much so that I ended up crying on the treadmill, which was probably so weird for everyone at LA Fitness.

One of the songs that played at our wedding (How He Loves, by David Crowder) came up on my Pandora station. I normally associate the song with a season of great joy, walking into a forever love with my Josh. So, though it was strange to hear in a moment of deep sadness, it was the perfect reminder that God has been oh-so-loving in orchestrating our family. And He is loving still. 

 

My Grief Observed

[No promises that this is coherent ... just the ramblings of my heart]

Yesterday I read "A Grief Observed" by CS Lewis -- a very short and very poignant book. People who know me well will not be the least bit surprised that I turned to my bookshelf in my moment of need: the written word tends to be my coping mechanism.

The book is essentially Lewis' journal writings following the death of his wife, Joy. It was originally published under a pseudonym, for it is disturbingly raw and honest. Honestly, I'm not sure why I own it. And I have no idea why it was actually on my bookshelf (alas, most of my precious books are in boxes in the basement) -- it is usually reserved for favorites, current reads and things I want to read soon.

But there it was nonetheless, and my tear-stained eyes seemed to find it almost instantly.

It did not, by any stretch of the imagination, ease my heartache. Not that it was ever intended to. It is called "A Grief Observed" because it is a window into one man's particular pain, not a self-help book to guide one on the way to recovery. But it gave me a fellow traveler on the journey, and some words to help process my hurt.

We have spent a year and half gaining love-traction for our adopted child, and that was compounded with 6 weeks of fierce love for this particular girl. She had a name - Sloane (which is not her name now, of course) - and we prayed over her and dreamed about her by name.

Of course the overall pain of the loss is horrible, but it's so big that I can attend to it. The little things, the specific dreams that unsuspectingly replay in my mind are much, much worse. The death of each of those dreams aggregates into something unbearable. I imagined the way her dark skin would look against the new, bright clothes we picked out for her. I imagined waking up to a quiet cabin in WV over Thanksgiving, getting to nourish my new girl while snow fell outside. I imagined bundling her up, getting both of my girls set in the new double stroller (which I now need to return) and taking long walks while looking at her sweet sleeping face. I imagined doing puzzles with Phoenix with Sloane wrapped up next to my chest. I imagined her tiny body rising and falling on her daddy's sleeping body. 

I don't regret those dreams - if Sloane had ended up as my child, I didn't want to miss one moment of loving her. Refusing to dream about her wouldn't have made the loss easier; when we are chosen again, I will commit my  imagination to dreaming again.

In Lewis' book, he talks about a mother's loss of child. She is comforted that her "child has not lost the end for which it was created," and she is comforted that she has not lost her greatest treasure, "that she may still hope to glorify God and enjoy Him forever." 

And here is where he hit the nail on the head:

There is no comfort to her motherhood. "The specifically maternal happiness must be written off. Never, in any place or time, will she have her son on knees, or bathe him, or tell him a story, or plan for his future, or see her grandchild."

There is great comfort for my soul, but my Mama's heart bleeds uncontrollably.

I feel sick to my stomach, and yet I want to drown in a pint of ice cream. I am so deeply exhausted, but I can't sleep. I don't want to be around anyone, but I don't want to be alone. 

This is uncharted territory for me. I recognize that this makes me very lucky indeed ... grief is not a stranger to most people. But it is nonetheless a hard lesson to learn for the first time. And, as Lewis writes, "there is nothing we can do with suffering but to suffer it."

"You can't see anything properly while your eyes are blurred with tears." And since I have spent much of the last two days trying to catch my breath while weeping, I know that I can't see straight.

Fortunately, God was preemptive in caring for my heart, knowing that I would be too broken to make my way to His arms just yet. Sunday night, while I was driving to Decatur, I felt God pressing on my heart to recount to Him the many things that I have learned about hope in this season of waiting. I also felt strongly that I should write them down. At the end, I wrote:

"The one who pursues hope leaps with great faith, knowing (even in a free-fall) that God is greatly kind. And even if she hits the ground at her greatest hope-speed, she rests safely in the care of a healer who will surely mend her broken heart, her rattled mind, her fragmented soul."

Well, I sure did hit the ground. But I am in the hands of a healer. A surgeon, lovingly taking me apart so that I can be made into His likeness. Unfortunately, this surgery comes without anesthesia. I acutely feel each cut.

Even still, in darkest night, I worship God. Because I am still forgiven, still loved, and still adopted by Him. He hasn't changed.

So while my heart cries "Sloane," it also sings "Jesus." 

The Last 48 Hours ...

On August 26th, we received the long awaited call from our social worker: we had been chosen by a birth mother! Just a few short days before, we had driven a couple hours to meet her, a beautiful fifteen year-old, pregnant with a biracial baby girl. We had committed not to get too invested just because of our meeting, so we were both in shock and couldn't believe this was finally happening for us! Our social worker reminded us to remain "cautiously optimistic," but we had so much to prepare in just the six short weeks before her due date.

This Wednesday, we got another wildly exciting call ... our birth mother had gone into labor! We frantically found childcare for Phoenix, packed our bags and finished last-minute work. The plan was to head to her home town in the morning, and to meet her and the baby at the hospital at 9:30. Then the time got pushed back to 1:00 -- which honestly, was great. It gave Josh and I a chance to get settled at our hotel, go buy flowers for the birth mother and get some quality time together. We met out social worker at the hospital, and then found out she still didn't want to see us. So the plan moved to 4:00. We were still optimistic at this point, and just hung out with our awesome social worker in our hotel lobby. Then we got the call that our birth mother was reconsidering her adoption plan. No one from our agency had actually gotten to talk to her in person though, so we decided to stay in town just in case she wanted to go through with her adoption plan. Plus, we had already paid for our hotel room and we were committed to enjoying the chance to get away.
 

I can't even tell you how kind God was to us in those hours of waiting. Mostly significantly, he was near to us in the prayers of our friends and family. As soon as I texted that things might not be looking so good, there were so many people who hit their knees for us. Josh and I were still composed (no point in mourning something that hadn't  happened yet), but I ended up in tears of gratitude for the amazingly faithful people that God has put in our lives. I know that every ounce of peace that was given to us in those hours was the result of people bringing our hearts before the throne of God. 

 

We wandered around the local mall, ate some wings for dinner, and then headed back to the hotel and watched TV for awhile. I ended up taking a bath and talking to God -- we dangerously prayed that His will would be done, and that her hospital room would be a place free from fear and thick with His presence. We prayed that God would draw a boundary line around her that the enemy could not cross and we asked for her to be given great clarity. And, most deeply, we prayed God's best for the baby.

 

Just as we were going to sleep, we got a call from one of the pregnancy counselors who had met with our birth mother. Though her head and her heart were in two different places, she had decided that she was going to go with her original plan and sign surrenders in the morning. Obviously, this was still not a solid decidsion - but it gave us great hope to carry us through the night.

 

The pregnancy counselor touched base with us in the morning before she went to meet with our birth mother, and told us to be on-call around 11:30 to come to the hospital to do paperwork and pick up our sweet girlie. And it wasn't long after 11:30 that she called ... to tell us that our she had decided to parent. They offered to come talk with us, but all I wanted was to go home.

 

So we got in our car -- with an empty carseat, with a bag packed with tiny diapers and sweet new clothes, with a present we bought for the baby to give to Phoenix -- and headed home weeping. 

We originally decided not to tell the world that we had been chosen for this very reason - in case things fell through, I didn't want to grieve with everyone watching. But one of the intentions that I set at the beginning was "to be vocal about the process, so that people get a window into the miracle of adoption. It was truly a gift for me to share my heart during our NICU experience, and I plan to be equally honest and forthcoming about this next journey in our family." And, as I was reminded by someone on Wednesday, my blog about Phoenix's time in the NICU was raw and honest (almost to a fault). To say that we told our adoption story without sharing this great loss would be a gross misrepresentation. 

So welcome to our pain. I will write more in the next day or two about how we are feeling, what we are thinking, and how we are processing it. But, for now, spare us platitudes about God's plan: we know that He is still orchestrating the process. But that doesn't ease the ache. What we want most is your prayers ... pray that He leads us well through our sorrow and that we honor Him as we grieve. 

Adoption Support Letter

Josh and I are in the throws of adoption fundraising, so I thought it would be appropriate timing to put our letter on the blog. We are hoping to receive the bulk of our support by the end of June, so that we can be financially prepared for that sweet baby whenever he/she comes!

Many of you have already received our letter in the mail ... so you can just ignore the rest of this post. Hopefully this serves as a reminder to pray, and maybe a prompt to give.

Otherwise, here it is:

Dearest friends and family,

As you may have heard, we are currently pursuing a domestic infant adoption. For those unfamiliar with adoption terminology, that means that we are going to adopt a newborn from the US (most likely a baby born in the greater Atlanta area). Adoption has been brewing in our hearts for years, but really gained traction at the prompting of God in May 2012. We attended an information meeting at Bethany Christian Services, and left certain of God’s call on us to adopt. We spent the summer attending classes; the fall was devoted to applications and other requirements (including self-studies, fingerprints, septic inspections, and a myriad of background checks); and we used the winter to financially prepare for our home visit. Our home study was completed at the end of the year, and we officially joined the list of waiting families in January of this year. It has already been a grueling and exhausting process (to say the least), but we couldn’t be more excited about the way that God is building our family and growing our hearts!

 Before we began this journey, both of us understood at an intellectual level that adoption is a good thing. But God has used the time and experience to help us embrace adoption at an emotional level: He has truly expanded our worldview, grown our compassion, increased our trust, and enlarged our patience. We haven’t even met our child yet, and we’re already full-fledged adoption advocates! Mostly importantly, we have learned so much about the heart of God. We have come to truly cherish our status as His adopted children, and we have been given the smallest taste of His longing for His children who have not yet found security and rest in His arms.

While we wait for a birth mother to choose us, the immediate task at hand is to raise the necessary funding. We firmly believe that this adoption is a matter of obedience to God, so we trust Him to continue to provide financially for us. Our adoption, when all is said and done, will cost $15,000. That includes application fees, networking, legal fees, training for us, counseling for the birth mother, mediation, and our home study. We have already paid a significant portion, and have been given some generous gifts – but $9,500 still remains to be paid, and we are humbly asking for help to fund this last need.

However, you would not be alone in helping us reach the goal: Promise686 (www.promise686.org) has graciously awarded a matching grant to help bring our child home. Promise686’s involvement makes your donations to our adoption tax-deductible, but even better, they will match your gifts dollar-for-dollar (for the first $4,000), so you can double the effect of those gifts! Because we must complete our fundraising before placement, we are asking that donations be received by June 28th. If you sense God leading you to partner with us financially, see the donation details below.

Regardless of any financial help, we would greatly appreciate your prayers. Pray for our child, that God would care tenderly for him/her until the day we meet. Pray for our child’s birthmother, that she would know the love of God, that she would clearly hear His voice and direction, and that she would remain healthy in every way. Pray for Phoenix, that the impending transition would be easy and exciting for her. And pray for us – for patience as we wait, for powerful bonding when our child comes home, and for wisdom for the years of parenting ahead.

Thank you so much for your investment in our family and in the Kingdom of God. We couldn’t be more humbled that God would allow us to steward His children, and we hope He receives every ounce of glory.


Much love,
Josh and Emily (and Phoenix)


To make a donation, you can:

1. Make out a check to Promise686, indicating our name in the memo line (“Cash Adoption”). Send it to:
Promise686, Inc.
3600 River Ferry Drive
Alpharetta, GA 30022 

2. Click the “Donate” button in the right hand panel of this blog.

**Note: per IRS guidelines, promise686 maintains complete discretion and control over the use of all donated funds, but intends to honor the donor’s suggested use.**

Bittersweet Mother's Day

"Sweet is nice enough, but bittersweet is beautiful, nuanced, full of depth and complexity. Bittersweet is courageous, gutsy, earthy." - Shauna Niequist

It has been a day of uncharted emotional territory for me. I am simultaneously celebrating and mourning. I woke this morning to the sweet sounds of my baby lady talking in the other room, but it was only moments before I felt that familiar ache to meet my promised child.

I was well celebrated this weekend. I got a beautiful locket, didn't cook, indulged in some good books, played in the sun with Phoenix and ate WAY too many sweets -- my husband cared so well for me. When we were going to bed last night, he told me that I am a better mother than he could have imagined for his children.
It was perfect.

But tears were inevitable. I am ready to be a mom again. Ready for that freshly-knit smell, the weightless snuggles, the sleepy smiles. I'm ready for bigger piles of laundry, more diapers and sleepless nights. I'm even ready for that what-the-hell-am-I-doing feeling ... because I am learning how to mother out of the generous grace of God. I am ready, but the wait continues.

It was kind of God to meet with me in worship this morning - we sang a song that was oh-so-dear to me when I was pregnant with Phoenix. Two years ago, when I trembled at the motherhood task set before me, God used that song to dispel fear in my heart. He helped me then to trust his timing, and the song brought me right back to that place of raw dependence. I am so thankful that I can trust my heart to God while I wait.

I am making the choice to prefer our path ... not just to accept it, but to prefer it. The atmosphere of my heart is bittersweet, but it is building a beautiful, nuanced, deep, complex, courageous, gusty, earthy love for this child.

And it helps that I have the coolest kid on the planet to keep me busy in the mean time.
Seriously, how awesome is she?

  

Keep this momma's heart in your prayers ... I want just enough ache to keep me on my knees. 

Hopefully next year I will get to hold both my babies!

Hope

It's been an interesting couple of weeks on the adoption front.

Long story short, we found out (in mid-March) that there was a birth mother who had narrowed down her choices to three families, and we were included. Then she narrowed it down to two, and we were still in the running. We held our breath for two weeks while she made a decision, and found out Monday afternoon that she chose the other family.

Theoretically, it should have been just like every other "no." But it wasn't. I won't elaborate on all the circumstances, but we had really high hopes. And it was unbearably hard to be out on a limb for two and a half weeks. Don't get me wrong ... I cannot even fathom how hard her decision was, especially with some complicated factors in play. She is a hero, and that doesn't change because she chose the other family.

But this was the first "no" that was just really hard to hear.

Monday night, after putting Phoenix to bed, I ended up before the Lord, desperate to hear from Him.
The last several months, He has been prompting me to pursue hope during this process. It would be easy for me to have tunnel vision, to focus on the parenting task at hand, and to protect my heart from getting burned along the way. But I feel like God has been asking me to lean into the emotion of this season, and to actively hope. So I've been reading books about hope, seeking hope in scripture and practicing hope with every email about a birth mother. And I spent two and half weeks hoping for that baby girl.
So there I was, sitting in the tub, feeling a little burned by hope. I wasn't devasted, just emotionally exhausted. I am so thankful that God welcomed my frustration with grace, and also with a healthy dose of truth.

The truth? My ultimate hope is in God. And my hope during this process is the promise of our child. So when we hear "no," hope doesn't die. It grows. Every day that passes puts me one day closer to meeting my tiniest love.

As you pray for us, please pray for an extra helping of hope. And pray that we don't have to hope for too much longer (wink wink)!

Still Waiting - Please Pray!

Sorry for the long blogging silence ... honestly, there has not been much to share.
[Skip to the end of this ranting post if you want to know how you can pray for us tomorrow]

We have had approximately six expectant mothers view our profile since we started waiting in January, but obviously none of them have chosen us.
I've had a couple people ask me what the process for the profile showing looks like on our end.
Well, I get an email from our social worker with details about the expectant mother (including drug use, status of the father, her desire for openness, expected delivery date, family medical history, race, etc), we say "yes" or "no" to having our book shown, and then we hear nothing.
The nothingness? That means we weren't chosen.

God has been so kind in filling us with patience and perspective for the process. Every time an expectant mother says no to us, that means she is saying yes to another waiting family. And God is orchestrating the process to place children in the right home. Not that it is entirely easy to wait, but God has gifted us an abundant peace ... and we are so thankful! I recognize that our wait has really just begun, so pray with us that God continues to give us eternal perspective.

This afternoon, I got a call from our social worker who was on her way to meet a woman who gave birth on Friday. She explained the details of the situation and asked if we wanted our book shown. We said yes, and then I obsessively watched my phone for the next several hours. Ideally, expectant mothers see profile books in their seventh month of pregnancy, but some women don't decide they want to make an adoption plan until the last minute. Obviously we knew that was a possibility, but this was the first time we received that kind of call. Turns out, she isn't seeing books until tomorrow. But the whole ordeal made me freshly aware that any given day might be my last as a mother-to-one. I spent this evening soaking up every minute with Phoenix and working a little harder to make her feel special and communicate my unending love. I want to ensure this is more of a daily discipline, because -- as much as I anticipate our future arrival -- I want to truly treasure our days as a family of three.

My favorite thing about this stage in the process? The abundant opportunity for prayer. Every time we get one of those emails, we cover the mother and her child in prayer. There have been two or three expectant mothers in particular that I have felt especially burdened for in prayer. These are women that I would probably never meet, who are in terribly difficult life situations. How cool that our lives intersect (however briefly) and we get the opportunity to pray for them when they may have few (if any) people interceding on their behalf.

Speaking of prayer (catch that artful transition?), we would really appreciate prayer tomorrow! There are two different mothers seeing our profile tomorrow, including the aforementioned birth mother whose baby boy is currently in the NICU. And, tomorrow afternoon, we have an interview with a member of a grant committee - I have mentioned this before, but (if we are chosen) they would make adoption donations tax-deductible and would also match every dollar up to $4000. Obviously, that would be huge for us. So pray for God's favor!

We love walking with y'all!

WE ARE OFFICIALLY WAITING!

As of January 3rd, we have been officially approved to adopt through Bethany, and are now officially waiting for our second child! YAY!

I've had a lot of people ask what happens next.
First, we have to get our profile books into the hands of the agency. I just ordered them, so they should make it to the Bethany office in a week or two. I am so very glad to be done with this project - it took an inordinate amount of my free time to get it done.

You can see our profile book HERE.

  To all people waiting on scarves, thank you for being patient with me! I have been spending so much time on this book, our paperwork, and holiday craziness that I haven't had as much time to crochet. But I am getting back on it now that we don't have as much to actively do.

Once Bethany has our books, they will show them to expectant mothers who would be a good match. Josh and I had to answer an extensive list of questions about what kind of birthmother/child we are looking for, and the birthmother also indicates her preferences. They show her any books that apply, and then she picks a family (or families) that she wants to meet. Ideally, they look at profile books in their 7th month of pregnancy. So we got our first email about profile showings for two expectant mothers in Augusta, and they are both due in March. So unless a birthmom decides really late in her pregnancy to make an adoption plan (which is possible but not likely), then March looks like the soonest our child would be born. But it could be years!

The spiritual intensity of this new season in our journey is already manifesting itself. Please pray for us as we will be regularly making decisions about who sees our profile book - we just want to make sure it lands in the right hands at the right time! But more than us, pray for the all the expectant moms considering adoption plans ... they have so much information to wade through, and such a weighty decision to make!

We will also be making an online profile as another way of exposing ourselves to women considering adoption plans. We are really only interested in in-state adoption, because interstate is too complicated (with Phoenix) and too expensive.

We are still deciding on how much we will communicate about potential babies. We don't necessarily want to sound the alarm if a birthmother picks us, because she may decide to parent (which would be great for her and great for the baby ... just hard on us).

Our next step? Applying for grants, fundraising, and praying a lot! We have $10,000 to raise - whoa. That includes possible pass-through medical expenses and the legal expenses. We are hoping to get picked for a grant that would not only make donations to our adoption tax-deductible, but also matches every dollar we raise up to $4,000. Unfortunately, that grant committee doesn't meet again until March 1st, so we might just hold off actively raising funds until that time.  We will keep you updated.

Thank you for all your support and encouragement - it blows my mind that we are actually at this point! God has been so very good to us!