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.