Rays of Kindness

The following is part of a series of posts that will take you on a (very personal) journey with me through the story of our family. If you are just now tuning in, take a minute to start back at the beginning and catch up: 

Post 1: A Journey

Post 2: Love Awakened

Post 3: Hope Deferred 

Post 4: Worth the Wait

Post 5: A Longing Fulfilled

Post 6: Faith Tested

Post 7: Choosing to Trust

In the weeks leading up to our vacation to San Diego, God started providing for it in crazy ways. Like, really bizarre ways. It was the kind of thing that, at first, we were excited to share with others how God was providing for us, but then it got to the point that it was a little embarrassing just how much we were being blessed. Someone at South Bay gave us an anonymous envelope with a bunch of money in it. Another family heard we were going to San Diego and bought tickets for our whole family to go to the zoo, SeaWorld, AND a safari adventure. Altogether, there were over 10 different gifts that we received leading up to this vacation. 

It was baffling to me. I couldn't figure out why God was blessing us so much, but was thrilled to be on the receiving end of it! Then the events of our miscarriage began to unfold and it seemed that our whole vacation may unravel. We weren't even sure if we should still go to San Diego.  

As my heart and body ached while driving down to Southern Cal, the same question kept running through my mind over and over again, "How is this kind? You say that You are kind. How is this kind?" 

When we got to our hotel, they gave us a free upgrade to a suite overlooking the ocean. Ok, that was a little weird. But, thank you. 

And slowly it began sinking in...God saw this heartache coming down the pike for us and He wanted to do something to remind us that, right here in the midst of it, He is still kind and benevolent toward us. He's not cruel or mean-spirited. He didn't ruin our long-awaited vacation. He's been planning ahead this whole time to provide space for us to be together as a family, away from everything else, to grieve and heal. He provided for our every need while we were there. 

It was by-far the most luxurious family vacation we've every experienced and we only ended up paying about $100 out of pocket for it. We stayed at a beautiful resort overlooking the ocean, went to a different theme park every day we were there, and Andy & I both got a massage. When we were walking up to LegoLand (the only park we did not have pre-purchased tickets for) someone walked over and gave us a buy one/get one free coupon. As he walked away, Andy and I kinda laughed and said, "This is unbelievable." Two minutes later another person walked over and gave us one free admission ticket. Hello!

The other way God provided for us during this time was through a close community of friends and family. Andy and I were completely overwhelmed by the love and support that was immediately poured out on us. We had only told a handful of people, mainly South Bay staff, that we were pregnant. But this small group of friends banded together and ministered to us in ways they may never fully understand. 

I received daily texts from friends and family checking in on me, encouraging me, and sharing Scripture with me. Every text ended with the assurance of, "I'm praying for you," and I knew it was true. They were holding up our arms when we ran out of strength. 

When we got home from our vacation we were shocked to find our refrigerator already stocked with food. The really eerie part was that it was pretty much exactly what I would have bought if I had been to the grocery store that day. Yes, I have a few friends that know me so well they can even buy my groceries for me. They put together a meal train, set up childcare to provide windows of alone time for me (which is how I've been able to write all these blogs), sent flowers and chocolate covered strawberries and gift cards. 

I know that their hearts hurt with mine, and somehow that brought so much comfort. They've been eager for every update, have listened to me share my heart when I wanted to, and just let me be "normal" when I didn't want to think about it anymore. 

I've been reminded through all of this that life is better together. God designed us to live in the context of community. When life gets busy and my task list seems out of control, may I never let "pursuing meaningful relationships"be the ball that I drop. There are a lot of other things that can be put on hold or said "no" to altogether. But, relationships are the richness of life.

Those dear friends and family members were the tangible arms of Jesus that held me tight and reminded me of His love. And sometimes we all need Jesus with skin on.

One last post coming tomorrow...

Choosing to Trust

The following is part of a series of posts that will take you on a (very personal) journey with me through the story of our family. If you are just now tuning in, take a minute to start back at the beginning and catch up: 

Post 1: A Journey

Post 2: Love Awakened

Post 3: Hope Deferred

Post 4: Worth the Wait

Post 5: A Longing Fulfilled

Post 6: Faith Tested

I'm going to try to wrap this up in about 3 more posts. Can you hang with me? 

Our time in San Diego felt strange. Not exactly the mixture of emotions we thought we'd be experiencing on this family vacation. We didn't expect to need to research the nearest hospitals every day when we went on an outing just in case we needed to get there quickly. I had envisioned putting the boys to sleep early and then watching movies with Andy while cuddling on the couch and enjoying desserts. We did some of that, but our evenings were also filled with tears pent up from the day, long conversations trying to make sense of everything, and writing down my thoughts as I tried to process through my grief. 

I didn't want to miss this moment with my boys, but I felt like a shell of myself. I'd be fine one minute and then hiding my face from my kids the next to disguise the tears that had suddenly sprung to my eyes. 

There were three different components of what we were walking through: the physical, the emotional, and the spiritual. 

Physically we knew that the actual miscarriage could take place at anytime. Most of the time, a woman's body can do this naturally but my midwife had warned us that there are occasions where you have to go the hospital because of complications. This especially worried Andy so he was constantly checking on me to see how I was feeling physically. It kinda felt like the last week of pregnancy when you know labor could start at any time...we always had a contingency plan of what we'd do if that happened.

Emotionally we were both grieving. It felt like we had lost a child, or at least the hope of a child. This baby was deeply loved and long awaited. The pain ran deep.

I also grieved the loss of a joy-filled pregnancy. There was exuberant joy from every person that we had told that we were pregnant. Our hearts were so full and expectant that it felt impossible to keep the good news to ourselves. As I considered the thought of trying to get pregnant again, I understood that our next pregnancy will likely be received (by us and by others) with much more caution and even fear. Every expectant mom has the reality of miscarriage in the back of her mind. But when you have walked that road, the battle with fear is inevitable. I loved the unreserved excitement I had in sharing my joy with others. I felt like I lost that when I lost this baby.

And, though this may seem unimportant, I also grieved the loss of what I felt like was perfect timing for our family. A late June due date was great for the rhythm of Andy's schedule with his church responsibilities. Fall is always a busy time for the church, and next fall in particular we have already started planning some big things for South Bay. The timing was also great as a homeschooling mom because it provided about 6 weeks to get our feet back under us before needing to think about school. I could totally wrap my mind around a late June birthday...but now it felt like we were completely up in the air again.

Perhaps the most difficult thing to process, however, was the spiritual component of what happened. 

The day I found out I was pregnant, I had imagined God like a parent who just watched their child open the best Christmas gift ever. I imagined him laughing with joy and clapping His hands with delight. Now, as I looked back on that day, I had no idea what God was thinking while He looked on from Heaven. He knew that in 3 weeks time my joy would turn to grief like I'd never experienced. I wondered what He was thinking and feeling as He watched me rejoice. I didn't know what to make of it. One night I said to Andy, "I just can't imagine my earthly father ever doing something to wound me so deeply. How do I received this from my Heavenly Father who loves me perfectly?" 

I knew that it was important to keep filling my mind with truth instead of allowing Satan to fill it with lies. So, before we left on vacation, I grabbed Chip Ingram's book entitled, "God As He Longs For You To See Him". My perspective of God was suddenly very fuzzy and I needed a trusted source to hold my hand and remind me of all the things that the Bible teaches as truth about the character of God. 

I also wanted to be real and honest about all of my questions while still being respectful of God. I don't think that God is at all threatened by our honest questions and He wants us to pour out our hearts to Him. He's big enough to handle any emotion that we bring to the table and trying to disguise them is futile since He knows everything about us anyway. 

At the same time, we have to choose if we will come to God humbly or arrogantly. Seeking to understand or demanding answers. For example, one thing I've really struggled with is feeling like this chain of events in my life is cruel and mean spirited. After five and a half years of infertility, why even let us get pregnant only to take it away 7.5 weeks in? It would have been easier emotionally to not even get pregnant. So, I take that to God and lay it at His feet... "Father, to me, what just happened feels cruel. But I know that Your Word says that You are a kind and compassionate Father who loves to give good gifts to His children. How does what happened to me fit into the truth of who You are?"

The concept of prayer also left me with huge questions. Isn't praying for a child in accordance with God's will? He instructs us to "go forth and multiply" and tells us that "children are a blessing from the Lord." Doesn't the Bible promise that "the prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective"? Didn't Jesus teach that if we ask for anything in His name He would do it? Hadn't we prayed for years for a baby, received the pregnancy with gratitude and thanksgiving, and continued to pray DAILY for the health of this child? What went wrong?

I think anyone who says they have a clear understanding of how prayer works is probably a little crazy. Can we ever truly understand the Almighty? The truth is God does not owe me an explanation. He is God and He may do whatever He chooses. His thoughts are not my thoughts and His ways are not my ways. They are far higher. Far better, and wiser, and more loving than what I can wrap my mind around. He reserves the right to not explain all the why’s of His choices and I have to remind myself that if I could understand everything about God, He would be no God at all. 

Andy, who was also struggling through this concept of prayer, described it like this... sometimes when he presents an idea to our kids, he has already made up his mind that that's the way it's going to be. It is his "will" and nothing that the kids say is going to change his mind. But there are other occasions that the plan is more flexible. He wants to hear their opinions and feedback and will take them into consideration as he makes the final decision. Andy said, "Perhaps, in God's Sovereignty, prayer is kinda like that. We don't know which decisions our prayers can effect and which decisions God has already divinely determined, so we should just pray about everything, always knowing that God has every right to make the final call."

When we live this way, ending every prayer with "not my will but Your's be done", we can rest in the confidence that we serve a Sovereign God who knows the end from the beginning and His plan is always best. This is how we can acknowledge the deep longings of our hearts while reminding ourselves that our deepest longing is for the Lord’s will to be done in our lives. 

One other idea that has helped show me the value of prayer is a quote by Charles Spurgeon: 

“We do not show our trouble to the Lord that He may see it, but that we may see Him. It is for our relief, and not for His information, that we make plain statements concerning our troubles. It does us much good to list our sorrows.” 

So that's kinda where I've landed with it right now. I'll keep pouring out my heart to God...telling Him all that I long for, asking Him all of my unanswered questions, and sifting through my every emotion at the foot of His throne. I'll keep doing that because I believe, in my heart of hearts, that He cares. That He loves me deeply. That He is a kind and compassionate and good Father. That He would not hurt me without cause or withhold from me without preparing something better. And I will remind myself that He is God and I am not. Even when I don't understand, I know that He can be trusted.

Though He slay me, yet I will trust in Him. Job 13:15

Faith Tested

The following is part of a series of posts that will take you on a (very personal) journey with me through the story of our family. If you are just now tuning in, take a minute to start back at the beginning and catch up: 

Post 1: A Journey

Post 2: Love Awakened

Post 3: Hope Deferred

Post 4: Worth the Wait

Post 5: A Longing Fulfilled

After 3 weeks of feeling great physically and elated emotionally, everything changed.

Mid-morning on Tuesday, November 6 I started having back pain. At first I thought I must have pulled something in my back during my workout that morning, but it felt different than that. Most of the day I couldn't stand up straight or walk without limping. I also noticed some light spotting. That night I told Andy, "I think something is wrong." And then I laid down and sobbed while he took me in his arms and prayed over me.

The next morning the bleeding was more visible and I felt confident that I was having a miscarriage. I cried all morning as I got ready. We had our Mornings for Moms life group that I help lead that morning and I was so thankful that I was doing childcare that day instead of out with the moms. I didn't want to have to have a real conversation with anyone.

While driving to the Mom's Group it was very foggy outside. Sammy said, "Mommy, where's the sun?" I replied, "It's behind the clouds." Sammy said, "But I can't see it." With tears streaming down my face I said, "I know, Baby. I can't see it either. But even when we can't see the sun, it's still shining."

After our Mom's Group, I told a few of my friends who were there that morning what was going on. Two of them said, "We're taking your kids." One said, "Don't lose hope. Go see your midwife this afternoon." Another took me to her house to feed me lunch while I filled out all the medical form for my appointment.

I had an ultrasound that afternoon and much to my delight, I saw the baby's heartbeat. The heartbeat seemed a little slow, but my midwife assured me that sometimes they see that and the baby is totally fine. After scheduling a follow-up appointment in two days, I left feeling a mix of emotions. Hopeful yet uncertain.

The appointment on Friday left me much more hopeful. Once again we saw the baby's heartbeat and the ultrasound technician assured me that it was within normal range. The spotting had continued throughout the week, but my midwife told me that a lot of women have spotting during their first trimester and perhaps my progesterone levels were low. So they ordered some lab work and I began taking progesterone immediately.

In my mind I felt relieved, but I had been through hell emotionally that week so I still didn't have my feet under me. I assured myself that I'd feel better once all the spotting had stopped.

That night we had an overnight South Bay staff retreat in the Santa Cruz mountains. It was just what I needed. We played games and laughed our heads off with some of our dearest friends. After 4 days of grieving the thought of having a miscarriage, it was exactly what I needed to snap me out of my slump.

On Saturday and Sunday I turned my thoughts toward preparing for our big vacation. Our family had been planning a weeklong getaway to San Diego and were set to leave at the crack of dawn on Monday morning. Because of my current situation, I had to do one more round of labs on Monday before we left town, but we planned on being there as soon as they opened with the van already packed.

However, by late afternoon on Sunday I started feeling crampy. At first I thought it was just in my head...like a nervous paranoia. But by bedtime that night, there was no denying it. I knew what was happening.

If you've ever lost a loved one, you understand the strong desire to be with them during the last moments of their life. As I laid in bed that night, that is how I felt. I knew in my heart that these were my last moments with our baby, so I put my hands on my tummy, pictured that little heartbeat on the ultrasound machine and I cried myself to sleep.

The next morning the cramping continued and the bleeding had picked up. Andy and I wandered around the house like zombies trying to figure out what to do. The van was already packed for vacation and there were two little boys who would be waking up at any moment bouncing off the walls with excitement. We decided we would wait to talk with my midwife before leaving town.

All four of us sat in the lobby awaiting the dreaded ultrasound. Our boys had no idea what was going on...we hadn't even told them that we were pregnant yet. I went alone into the exam room and saw on the screen what I had feared. There was our tiny baby snuggled into my womb, but there was no heartbeat.

After talking everything through with my midwife, I trudged back through the lobby and outside where Andy & the boys waited. Our eyes met, and Andy knew. We wrapped our arms around each other and I wept as he whispered in my ear, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Then we piled into the van for what was supposed to be one of the best weeks of our year.

We didn't talk a lot on the 8 hour drive down to San Diego. I was pretty uncomfortable physically and completely distraught emotionally. This took "hope deferred" to a whole new level.

So many questions for God began swirling around in my head.

• Why allow us to suffer the pain of infertility for five and a half years, then fulfill the deep longing of our hearts, then cause us deeper pain than perhaps we've ever experienced? That just seems cruel and mean spirited.
• Why even allow us to get pregnant only to take it away in 3 weeks (7.5 weeks pregnant)?
• How does what just happened fit into the grid of what I've always believed to be true about God? How is this kind? And loving? And good?

Everything seemed suddenly very fuzzy. Why was it that I believed what I believed? What exactly is it that I believe? What do I do with all this pain that is wrecking my heart? 

Those are some of the questions I've been processing through the past week and a half. It has not been pretty or neatly packaged. It has been raw and painful on so many levels. 

I'm sharing all of this with you because I know that every person processes through grief and painful circumstances at some point in our lives. Sometimes bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people. Pain and suffering is an inescapable part of living in this fallen world, and it's really hard to know how to make sense of it. I don't feel like I've come up with a lot of profound answers, or any answers at all really. But I thought, somehow, if I shared my own grief journey with you, it may provide comfort for someone else. So in the coming posts I will give you a peek at the storm that's been raging in my heart. 

I never wanted this to be my story. I never imagined that my journey would include miscarriage and years of infertility. I never would have written the script this way. But for some reason there is an all-powerful God in heaven whose thoughts are higher than my own, and this is what He saw fit for my life. I've always believed that He is kind and loving and full of compassion...so even on my darkest of days I will cling to what I knew to be true in the light. I will tether my heart the promise that He works all things together for the good of those who love Him. 

[I feel like I need to apologize to many of you who wished me "Congratulations" after reading my post yesterday. Please don't feel bad that you said that and please don't be angry with me for misleading you. I wanted you to experience all of the different emotions that I have been experiencing. Each post has represented a significant season of our journey. As we have lived this journey out, we've had no idea what was right around the bend for us. So we keep putting one foot in front of the other, experiencing each emotion as they come, and trying to filter it all through the grid of what we know to be true about God. Thank you for journeying with me. More to come tomorrow...]

A Longing Fulfilled

The following is a part of a series of posts that will take you on a (very personal) journey with me through the story of our family. If you are just now tuning in, take a minute to start back at the beginning and catch up: 

Post 1: A Journey

Post 2: Love Awakened

Post 3: Hope Deferred

Post 4: Worth the Wait

Thursday, October 18, 2012 started off like a typical morning. My alarm went off at the crack of dawn and I stumbled into the bathroom to put on my work out clothes. But on that particular morning, something broke up my normal routine. I took a pregnancy test and it came back positive! 

No one who has been trying to get pregnant as long as we have ever expects to see the word “pregnant” on that test. Hope for it? Absolutely, every month. But expect it? No, we lost that expectation long ago. I have no idea how many times I’ve taken a pregnancy test only to let out a sigh at the disappointing results.

I was at a complete loss of what to do. I wanted to tell Andy is some brilliant way but instead I just walked back out of the bathroom and stared at him while he was still laying in bed. He looked at my speechless expression and was suddenly wide awake. He said, “What?! Are you pregnant?” I couldn’t even speak. I just excitedly nodded my head and jumped back into bed. 

The first words out of Andy’s mouth were an expression of relief as he said, “Oh, wow. Thank God!” We laid there hugging and crying and praying. After 56 long months of hoping for another baby, we could have received no greater news that day!

Later that morning as I was about to read my Bible and spend some time alone with God, I decided I wanted to start off by journaling about the events of the morning and the joy that was bursting out of my heart. All morning a certain verse kept coming in my head: Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life. (Proverbs 13:12) You see, every month for those 56 months, that was the verse that popped in my mind after discovering that I was not pregnant, again. But not the whole verse. Just the part that says, “hope deferred makes the heart sick.” I understood that. I knew all too well exactly what those words meant. 

However, on that glorious morning of October 18, I could claim the second part of the verse as my own: A longing fulfilled is a tree of life. 

As I sat down to write in my journal, I paused to look up the reference for that verse. Wouldn’t you know, in the Providence of God, that verse was in the section of Scripture that I would have read that day for the daily reading plan that I was following. When I discovered that, tears flowed down my cheeks again. Only God could have timed it so perfectly.

I imagined God looking down on my joy-filled, overwhelmingly thankful heart the way a parent feels watching a child open the best Christmas present in the world. The excitement of the child is rivaled only by the excitement of the parent. I thought of God up in heaven watching this plan unfold and felt sure that He must be laughing with joy! Squirming with excitement in His throne as He watched me discover that I was pregnant. Clapping His hands with delight as Andy and I rejoiced together. Grinning from ear to ear as He thought, “I’ve got one more little surprise for ya...Go get your journal and Bible and see what little nugget I stored away for you today!”

We didn’t make a public announcement right away (only our families and the South Bay staff), but I was shocked that everyone in the whole world couldn’t immediately tell that I was pregnant. I felt like a different person. Wasn’t I floating instead of walking? Wasn’t I glowing at all times? Did the radiant smile and permanent good mood not give it away? 

I discovered that our due date would be some time at the end of June, which could not have been better timing for our family. June is probably our most relaxed month in the rhythms of church life. That also gave me a month and a half before homeschool started back up to just enjoy the baby and try to get on some type of routine. And the cherry on top was that the birthday was nicely spaced away from other family birthdays and Christmas. Ahhh, so perfect!

The people we did tell were all well aware of our long-term struggle with infertility and had all been praying on our behalf. Their reactions to our good news were priceless. Several of my friends burst into tears. One almost fell while holding her own child! One friend couldn’t stop jumping up and down. Another told me later that she felt like a huge burden was lifted off her shoulders when she heard the news. She said, “I didn’t even realize that it was there, but I guess I’ve been carrying this with you ever since I first learned of your struggle.” She learned of it four years ago. 

I told my mom, “If ever someone knows how to be thankful for a pregnancy, it’s me. You will never hear me complain about anything regarding being pregnant, even if I’m puking in a toilet or can’t get out of bed.”

Every night as we go to sleep, Andy prays for us. For as long as I can remember, those prayers have included, “...and please bless our family with another healthy baby.” (Often he threw in there “baby girl” just for clarity’s sake. :-) ) Now the prayers changed from supplication to thanksgiving, and then back to supplication again. Every night, “Thank you so much for blessing our family with this precious gift. Please protect Stacie and the baby as he/she grows in Stacie’s womb. We pray that this baby would be healthy and strong and a world-changer in Your kingdom.” 

And then we would fall asleep with our hearts full. Thankful? Oh, there was so, so much that we were thankful for...

Happy Thanksgiving, Folks! The journey continues tomorrow... 

Worth the Wait

The following is a part of a series of posts that will take you on a (very personal) journey with me through the story of our family. If you are just now tuning in, take a minute to start back at the beginning and catch up: 

Post 1: A Journey

Post 2: Love Awakened

Post 3: Hope Deferred

While God has still not chosen to bless us with another biological child, He has blessed our family with a breathtakingly beautiful little Ethiopian boy that we named Sammy. There are times that Sammy’s belly laugh can stop me in my tracks as I remember God’s promise: those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. He may be the most joyful child I’ve ever met.

When Andy and I had been married about one month, we went to Thailand for a couple of weeks and worked with an orphanage. It took about two minutes for both of us to be head over heels in love with these children and we started scheming how we could bring a couple home with us. From that point on there was no question in our minds: We knew one day we would adopt. But “one day” is rather elusive. We had no idea when that would be and if we had not gone through this struggle with infertility when we did, we may have waited years. We may have missed Sammy. And the thought of missing him is more than I can bear. 

Not long after Caedmon turned 3, an adoption agency that I had done a little research on hosted a introductory seminar in our area. I mentioned it to Andy and he thought we should go. I was a little surprised because, while Andy was 100% bought in to the idea of adoption, he wasn’t convinced that this was the right timing. We had only been in California for about a year and had just “given birth” to a new church. We kinda had a lot of other things going on in our lives, but I was (cautiously) excited that he was willing to at least learn more about this agency.

After attending the seminar I casually said to Andy on the drive home, “So, what’d ya think?” His response could not have shocked me more. He said, “I think we should do it.” 

“Really?! Now?! You’re ready?!” Yes.

When we got home, I went back to our office to pull something off our bookshelf...it was the already completed application to the adoption agency that I had filled out weeks prior. It was just awaiting Andy’s signature. He laughed so hard when I handed it to him.  

To say that I was excited would be a huge understatement. I felt like I had just found out that I was pregnant. In many ways, I did! As soon as we said, “Yes!” to adoption we began our “paperwork pregnancy”. We were expecting. 

Nine months later (ironic timing), on July 6, 2010, Andy and I were anxiously standing at the bottom of some steps outside of an orphanage in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Right around the corner was our son who we were waiting to meet for the first time. As 21 month old “Wondimu” toddled out tightly squeezing the finger of his caregiver, my heart leapt into my throat and that same joy that I felt when Caedmon was first placed in my arms was mine again. 

It would be impossible for me to sum up in one post all that God has taught me through our adoption experience. In fact, much of my blog is devoted to sharing that journey with you. But today, I will share a few highlights.

Many people wonder (and a few have been brave enough to ask), “Is it different?” Is adopting a child different than having one biologically? Do you feel differently about the adopted child than you do your biological child? 

(Sidebar- It’s important to note that adoptive families never refer to kids born biologically as “kids of our own”. i.e. “We had a child of our own and then we adopted one.” No. Both Caedmon and Sammy are very much “kids of our own”.)

Back to the question... The answer is yes, it is different. And yet at the same time no, not at all. 

When we brought Sammy into our family, I fully anticipated having all of the same emotions for him that I felt for Caedmon when he joined our family. I was absolutely smitten with Sammy from photos that I had received and was enthralled with him during our week in Ethiopia. I had been longing for him for three and a half years. My dream was finally coming true!

Needless to say, I was completely blindsided by the reality that the bonding process was not immediate in either direction. I anticipated that Sammy may have some trauma to work through and it would take time for him to understand that we are his forever family. But I was confident that I would feel nothing but love and compassion for him. Ha. I discovered I’m not that noble. 

At first, it felt like I was taking care of a friend’s child or, at best, my nephew. I cared about him, but he was a bit of a stranger to me. Not only was there a lack of familiarity, but there were all kinds of negative behaviors that made loving him much more of a choice than an emotion in those first months. Waking up 4 or more times a night, refusing affection, biting, a strange combination of wanting to be constantly held but only on his terms, and sibling issues. Ah, the sibling issues. It was a hard time.

There were so many nights that I cried myself to sleep feeling like a horrible mother. I wondered if I would ever be able to love Sammy the way that he deserved to be loved. Would he ever feel like my son? I knew we were 100% committed to providing for Sammy for the rest of his life, but I wasn’t satisfied with a relationship based on bathing and clothing and feeding. I wanted to love him from the depths of my soul with an unstoppable love. 

It took time. Some weeks felt like we made a ton of progress. But then we’d have a major regression or I would notice some behavior that reminded me of just how far we still had to go.  

It took memory making. It took countless nights of snuggling on the couch while we read the Bible together. It took family vacations and Christmases together. It took singing songs and kissing boo boos and making playdough creations together. It took prayer. 

If you’ve ever met Sammy, you probably have no idea why in the world I would ever struggle to love him the way a mother should love a child. He is truly the most lovable and endearing child you’ll ever meet. I don’t really understand it either. I just know that I have a different expectation of my level of love for my own kids than I expect to feel about any other kids. So as much as I “loved” those children in the orphanage in Thailand and wanted to take them all home with me, the reality is my love for them was not that of a mother’s love. It was a fairy tale love. A happily ever after love. 

Adoption is not about that kind of love. It is not for the joy of beautiful, multi-ethnic Christmas cards. It’s not because I love international missions. It’s not to feel like a superhero by rescuing a child from the throes of poverty. It is not even because adoption is a picture of what God has done for us through Christ. 

As magical and lovely as all of that sounds, adoption requires a fierce love. A “I’m-never-going-to-stop-loving-you-no-matter-what-you-do” kind of love. A love that is willing to potty train and discipline and do bedtime routine every. single. night. A love that can take stinky breath and stinky booties and stinky attitudes. A love that desires what is best for that child no matter what inconvenience or sacrifice is required of myself. That is the love of parenting. You can’t say you love adoption without also loving parenting. 

Do you know why, ultimately, we adopted and why we would like to adopt again in the future? Sure, I’m proud of our beautiful Christmas cards and international mission trips have changed my life. It does feel good to know that we have given a one-time orphan a family and a chance to become all that God has created him to be. And I have, honestly, learned a lot about my relationship with God when I consider the parallels of our adoption process with Sammy.

But the real reason that we are committed to adoption is because the Bible is pretty clear that we (the Church) are to look after widows and orphans in their distress. And because the Bible teaches that we are to love our neighbor as ourselves and it just so happens that a lot of our neighbors in this world are without families. I am NOT one of those people that thinks every single family should adopt. Adoption is a calling. It is one of the (many) ways that we can look after orphans in their distress. But, I AM definitely one of those people that believes every family should consider adoption...because if you haven’t honestly considered it as a possibility for your family, then you can’t honestly say that you know God is not calling you to it. 

One other thing I’ve learned through adoption: love grows. Given time and commitment and a few rounds of glow stick parties, love grows. It may grow slowly at first, but once those roots start to get firmly planted into the rich soil of a devoted family, growth takes place at exponential rates. It’s uncontainable. 

I no longer wonder whether I’ll ever be able to love Sammy the way a mother loves a child. I already do. I marvel at him and laugh at him and get mad at him and play with him and train him the exact same way that I do Caedmon. There is no difference. The only variations come as a result of the fact that, I guess in some ways, we have a unique love relationship with every precious individual in our lives. 

When I look in Sammy’s sparkling coffee colored eyes, I think to myself, “You were worth the wait.” Even if it required me to cry myself to sleep and for my heart to be wrecked with unanswered questions for month after month that grew into year after year. I would do it all over again. I would go through the pain and disappointment of infertility and the struggles with attachment and bonding of adoption. I wouldn’t hesitate just so that I could see him tiptoe out of his bedroom in the morning with his monkey pajamas and soggy pull-up and come bounding into my arms and hear him say, “Mommy.” So worth it.