Category Archives: Faith

Faith

Three Months Old

February 10, 2013 – 1:14 pm

I typed the title of this post and  realized I’m turning into that mom.

The one who writes a blog entry about her child being three months old. (But, c’mon. If you follow me on Facebook or Instagram this isn’t news to you)

But, things are getting pretty exciting around here. There’s lots of new sounds and expressions; Little man is fully engaging his eyebrows in conversation now. He loves apple juice and has some favorite toys.

He is also keeping me on my toes. Just when we were getting a solid six hours of sleep a night, he started Green-Hulking his way out of my fabulous Aiden & Anais swaddle at about hour two. It all goes down hill from there, his arms flail about and he slaps the passie out of his mouth across the crib. And then, he’s ticked.

After a few nights of unsuccessfully attempting to hog-tie him back into his cozy swaddle, I seriously considered searching the internet for a course in baby Ninjutsu so I could outmaneuver this kid.

It has rocked my world a bit trying to keep up with his changing needs. Just when I feel totally in synch with him, understanding his little sounds and baby-babble-coded-requests, something changes and I’m back at square one trying to figure him out all over again.

And I’m really starting to get it. You’ve all heard it; Becoming a parent can reveal a lot about God’s character. In fact, I had become a little annoyed by the parenting anecdotes in sermons over the last few years (when you’ve attended as many adoption conferences as we have- you hear that stuff a lot).

But there I was on the floor of my son’s room in dim-blue-light with one arm wrapped snuggly, desperately attempting to catch the other while keeping his passie secure…

“I know what you need.Why won’t you let me give it to you?” And before all the words even left my tongue I got it.

Sitting back on my heels, I hung my head and let out the breath I’d been holding.

How many times has this been me? A million. How long do I have to flail my arms and reject His help before I ultimately have nowhere else to turn but His comfort? Days. Months. Years.

“Little dude. You and me- we’re not that different.”

I gave up on the swaddle and scooped baby boy up. Tucked tight between my chest and arms, as frustration was replaced with sympathy.

“I hate it when I’m not happy too”

And we rocked. And rocked. And rocked.

So, yes. I’m that mom writing about her son turing three months old. About a few new sounds and changing sleep patterns.

And I have more bad news. I’m also that mom who is embracing the reality that God is revealing more about who He is and how He loves through being a parent.

Happy 3 Month Birthday Eli (and Mommy who still has a lot to learn)!

 

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We can’t post his face online until May.

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Adoption Process Coming Home Faith Mom Ache

Eventually, It All Runs Out

January 30, 2013 – 5:31 pm

Nothing is more evidence of God than my own limits.

I love this kid more than I’ve ever loved anything on the planet. He twists my heart in a new way every day and I always think it can’t hurt anymore. But tomorrow, I’ll pluck him out of his bed as he stretches his arms high, puckers his lips tight and arches his back poking his baby butt way out- and my heart will twist on itself once more. The unconditional love I have for him, seems endless.

But nothing else does.

Not my energy or strength.

Not my emotional capacity.

Not my open-eyes.

Not my knowledge or instinct.

Eventually, my arms ache. I find a pillow to prop under my elbow and my back aches. I bring my nose to his curls and breathe deep- making myself very aware that these moments will someday seem so far away. I appreciate it. The out of sync beat in my chest echos in my stomach and I reach into the memory-haze of years before our son and acknowledge the gravity of this spectacular moment; holding him and remembering the days when my arms were empty.

Almost every day I imagine who he may be. What the world may have for him. What God may have for him. I always make an attempt to be realistic and begin accepting whatever his life may unfold to be.

But, eventually it all runs out.

I don’t really know what his life holds. I eventually have to put him down, into his own bed and tuck him in tight. Inevitably my eyes will be too heavy. Eventually, I end up with my forhead resting on the side of his bed, one hand securing a passie and the other stroking the bridge of his nose, hoping for deep breaths fast asleep. Sometimes, I even cry I’m so tired. The feeling of failure, however slight it may be, greets me every day as I realize I can’t always make him perfectly happy.

These are my limits and they meet me every day. This has reminded me of  the limitlessness of God. I typically don’t elaborate deep into my faith on this blog. Although, if you’ve read through it- it’s obvious I believe in God as an active and loving being. That’s not to say we haven’t struggled with our faith; honestly I even kind of loath expressing it that way. “Struggling with our faith” makes it sound as though it’s not normal to doubt. And we just don’t believe that in our house. It’s absolutely normal to doubt. And those of you who have experienced the severity of the darkness in this world may be entirely skeptical, and I don’t blame you.

But there is something about reaching the end of myself that solidifies my faith in a God bigger than me, every time.

I can’t love Eli perfectly. I wish I could. But I know at the end of the day- I have to meet my own needs too. I’ve spent time hating this. But really- do I want to be able to meet his every need? (selfishly- yes) Because of what I’ve seen of God in my life, the answer to that is no. I do not want to be able to meet his every need. I do not want to be the god in his life.

I desperately want him to have the fear and pleasure of God meeting his needs.

I can’t wait for the day he’s old enough for me to explain to him that mom and dad love him more than they’ve ever loved anything on earth, and we still can’t fulfill his needs the way he was created to have them met.

Midnight feedings have taught me quite a bit this week. Particularly, all the ways I just can’t love my son.

“God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” (John 3:16-17)

“You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.” (1 Pet 2:9)

God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, he condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.” (Rom 8:3-4)

“All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith.” (Rom 3:23-25)

“For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!”” (Rom 8:15)

“We have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.” (Heb 10:10)

“Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.” (1 John 3:1-2)

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Adoption Process Doubt Emotions Faith Joy Mom Ache Uncategorized

Thanking God for a Dead Car Battery

January 25, 2013 – 8:39 pm

And here’s part 3…

Last night, after more than nine hours in the waiting room and finding out that L was apparently still in triage, we left the hospital for a change of scenery (and I’m not gonna lie, a change in beverage). After dinner we came back to the hotel feeling frustrated by all the red-tape keeping us from being with L or even communicating with her, wondering if she had been able to eat and how she was feeling. Our emotions were fried and feeling such a lack of control made me want to crawl in a hole and not come out until it was over. I can admit now, the frazzled frustrated look on Chris’ face for the last several hours of waiting stole my heart away. He was a bit of a disaster with dark circles under his eyes, pacing the hall between the area we’re loosely calling a waiting room and nursery. Seeing the pain of a father, desperately wanting his child, filled my heart with emotions from all parts of the spectrum.

After dinner we walked back to the hotel defeated, showered, put on pajamas, crawled into bed and searched through channels for some form of mindless entertainment.  We were just about to hit the lights….

“I’m gonna run back up there” Chris said, already grabbing our keys and his wallet.

I closed both my eyes tight against the lamp light I was desperately trying to escape. “To the hospital?”

“Yeah. I would just feel better.”

Earlier we discussed our gut-feeling, based on the day we’d had, they wouldnt’ call us if he were born after hours. He suggested I stay at the hotel since my emotions were a little over-easy and I’d already found my comfy spot in bed.

“I’ll just run up there and call you if there’s anything going on. I’m just doing this to make myself feel better before I go to sleep”

I agreed and fell fast asleep.

The next thing I know, I hear this loud BANG! I jump up out of bed to see Chris’ shadow against the bathroom light.

“GET UP! GET DRESSED! You need to come meet your son.”

I swear I could see his heart beating right through his shirt.

Confused, I looked around and remember who I was and what I was doing in a hotel room.”Wha– ARE YOU SERIOUS?! WHAT?! WHAT TIME IS IT? WHAT HAPPENED?!”

Y’all should have seen me. I practically fell out of the bed, one foot hung in the twisted sheet. With one hand reaching for my glasses and the other for my shoes, I was still asking questions and leaving no room for answers.

“Here. Look.” Chris turned his phone towards me and I can not believe my eyes. There was nothing at all about that moment that felt like real life. Not mine, anyway. How could I ever deserve such an amazing moment? But, there he was; all hunched over with a mop of black hair, his face sitting in the hands of a nurse dressed in blue scrubs. I continued to hop around the hotel room with one shoe on and one in my hand, grabbing things I thought I’d need, and then putting them all back. Finally, I got that second shoe on, grabbed my purse and we ran down the hotel hallway, out the lobby to the car and Chris drove like a crazy-man down the block to the hospital.

We stood at the nursery window and stared at him through the glass for what seemed like an eternity. I just couldn’t believe how perfect he seemed. How can anything be so perfect?

 

When we finally got to see him in person, I was amazed at his size. He was so small. It wasn’t until we were sitting alone in a room with him in our arms that Chris told me what happened.

When he left the hotel room, he realized the battery on our car had died. After finding someone to jump the car for him, he was able to get the car over to Auto Zone to recharge the battery. Unfortunately, it was totally dead so he ended up having to replace it with a new one in the parking lot. An hour and a half later, he made his way to the hospital, five minutes from the hotel. When he walked up to the nursery window, Eli was still being cleaned up from being born twenty minutes before.

If our car battery hadn’t died, it’s likely we wouldn’t have even met him that night.

I’ve been absolutely amazed at how our prayers have been answered. We didn’t have to meet our son that night. But, we (and most of you) begged God for it anyway. Holding our son, I really understood that God is more than a distant being who does what’s best for the greater good. I was reminded that He isn’t uninvolved. He looks us in the eye and, when it’s good, wants to give us the desires of our heart just like a parent wants to give their child the same. And through a dead car battery and a dad desperate to meet his child, He delivered us the greatest gift either of us has ever received.

Needless to say, we’re completely head-over-heels in love with this little guy.

 

 

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Faith Mom Ache

Boot Camp

September 3, 2012 – 11:34 am

This pile of thoughts has been collecting dust in my drafts folder for three months:

Nine days ago on May 19th, we recieved an email from our agency

“Hi Erin,
I just wanted to let you know that we received your wonderful photo book and other paperworker. I hope things have settled down for you, but please let me know if you need anything!”

Within 24 hours, we had another email:

“Hi guys,
   I have a special case that I wanted to present to you. If you would like to be shown please let me know. We do not know the gender yet, but she is receiving prenatal care already. Her name is L—– and she is…due November 9, 2012…”

It’s now May 24th. Since that first email we’ve experienced more emotions than I really ever thought a person could. Apparently you can die and live, with your guts spilled out and heart full, all at the same time; We’re complicated creatures. Our google searches have spanned from all the “worst-case-scenarios” to cloth diaper reviews, and the nights have been sleepless. Today we agreed to move forward. Today we agreed to be parents. 

And I am not freaking out (entirely). I am, however, trying to keep this in perspective and pace my emotions. What does that even mean?Who’s perspective? I guess I just mean that I’m trying to keep the big picture in mind. And what is that exactly? I really don’t even know. I guess it just means, there’s a lot on our minds and we have no control. Yeah, that’s what it means. I suppose.

It also means that our baby is in a delicate situation and we’re a little scared. It means that we haven’t met “L” yet and we already feel so much compassion towards her. It means we have some high-hopes and we’re afraid to let ourselves acknowledge them. Yeah, it means all of this too.

You’ll be glad to know that our nights have held more sleep, we’re not nearly as scared and I’ve mostly embraced the lack of control I have over any of this. In the last couple of months, we have met the baby’s mother, found out its a boy, spoke to his father on the phone, chosen his name (so now I’ll be referring to him here as ‘E’), put our house on the market, began the process of purchasing a new house, became unexpectedly “homeless”, lived in a hotel, moved into our new house and had one of our vehicles stolen.

Each of these events is really just the tip of the iceberg. The sub-stories are the best; for example the way L (the baby’s mom) was immediately put in a better situation than she was in when we first found out about her. One where she’ll be more protected and have more consistent care. And just like that, half of our fears were put to rest. And the confirmation we received from God about the name we chose, what we went through to get our house on the market and the fact that it sold in only five hours. How our friends left town for a family emergency and let us move into their home until we knew what was going to happen with our prospective new house. How after being thrilled we could move into our new house, we realized we had no hot water, dishwasher or microwave (and all we wanted in the midst of getting moved in and doing repairs was quick easy meals and hot showers). And how a few months ago we kicked around the idea of selling the vehicle that was stolen to make room for E, but the hub was won-over by the sentiment of still owning his first vehicle and said, only semi-jokingly “it would almost be easier if someone would steal it…I can’t bring myself to sell it.”

Are you seeing this you’re-not-in-control-but-its-okay-because-God-really-is pattern that we’ve been living in?

Then, there’s the less obvious thread. The one that held it all together- the people in our life. The ones who are so involved, they see God’s hand moving in our life the way only someone with their nose pressed up against the glass can see. The ones who are willing to get messy and let moodiness slide, because they know I’m doing the best I can. Or the ones who tell me they don’t know how I’m keeping it together (and I think oh, that’s so sweet of them to lie like that) The ones who bring wine or cupcakes, and always flowers. The ones who are already calling our soon-to-be-son by his name.

I didn’t know how prophetic my statement was back in May.

Apparently you can die and live, with your guts spilled out and heart full all at the same time…

I have a feeling this is exactly what being a mom is all about. Living and dying. Guts and heart. So, I’m considering these last few months a bootcamp in mothering.

 

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Adoption Process Adoption Support Anxiety Emotions Faith

Never Underestimate The Power of a Gas-Station Icee

June 15, 2012 – 12:18 am

Well, now. It sure has been a while.

And holy toledo Batman- the things that have been going on in our hearts these last six weeks are hard to explain right now.

We have been all over the board with our emotions and I have never been so thankful for friends with open hearts and minds to listen and love us well. Never.

Via text message:

Me: I’m having a mini-crisis…can’t think

Friend: Wanna come over? I’m craving an icee and will grab us both one.

And with a frozen tongue I ramble for twenty uninterrupted minutes to a friend who has been giving herself to others all day- pouring out my fears and questions. And we decide together, that things have to look a certain way for Chris and I to have peace about moving forward with any adoption- this one or the ones after it.

Not “certain” in a controlling paranoid-about-adopting way. But “certain” in a trying-to-make-ethical-decisions kind of way. “Certain” in a don’t-become-part-of-the-problem kind of way.

(my vagueness here is purposeful- I apologize if it’s confusing)

We turned my fears over and over, weighing their merit. Deciding they were legitimate, we prayed for a very specific situation.

Friends, God answered this prayer very specifically. Very. Very specifically.

God crumpled our fear and uncertainty like a piece of tissue paper, and tossed it in the trash. Not to say that there aren’t new ones…oh, there are new ones. But, I am amazed at His provision.

And not just over this mid-adoption-crisis. But, the people in our life right now.

This past couple of Wednesday nights at our community group from church, I’ve felt pretty humbled at the big family we’ve been given for this moment in our life. We share food. We teach each other. We are loud (okay- sometimes it’s really too loud). We are struggling. We are finding out the truth of things. We tell inappropriate jokes. We cuddle each other’s babies. We hurt each other and apologize. We sing together. We are everywhere, from here to China. We say the hard things. We go to adult skate night (don’t judge). We drive each other to the airport. We wash each other’s dishes. We use each others washing machines. We share office space. We are protective of each other. We send snarky text messages.  We buy an extra icee when someone has a mini-crisis. These things make us a family.

How dare we be anxious about anything? I mean that in an entirely rhetorical way (even though it’s the truth). We will continue to be, while we try not to be (that’s also just the plain truth).

On another note, my mom gave us the only-in-my-dreams baby carrier a few weeks ago and I’ve been testing it out. Works great.

 

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