First of all, I hope your weather has been as fantastic as ours! I absolutely love autumn. Secondly, I received a lovely little email from our case worker the other day...
We are home study approved!!!
It came just around the time I was texting a dear friend how I was feeling discouraged and beginning to question if we would ever get to adopt. The preceding days had been full of doubts and asking God if we had misinterpreted His plan for us. When there's a positive pregnancy test in hand, it is much easier to be confident that He has chosen us to parent a particular child. At the same time, losing three babies already and having a silent pause with our adoption makes it hard to not wonder if He doesn't think we are good enough to have another baby. Insecurities I didn't even know I had started popping up like weeds in a flowerbed.
What if our desire to adopt is just that -- a desire -- and not really what God wants us to be doing?
Even now, it's hard to know for sure, since there is still no baby in our arms, and not even one matched with us on paper. This whole thing is certainly a walk of faith, as each excruciating step seems to open up a new "can of worms" to deal with. However, with this hugely important home study behind us, it is very encouraging to see another door open toward adoption. Once the caseworker sends us our home study, we will be free to apply to multiple agencies who will hopefully be able to open the next door -- the one that leads to our baby's family!
Please continue to keep us in your prayers as we navigate this hectic chapter of our lives. Trying to time an adoption in the middle of a big move, and trying to figure out how to pay for it all is our Goliath right now. We need David's courage and stones more than ever right now.
So David triumphed over the Philistine with only a sling and a stone, for he had no sword. (1 Samuel 17:50)
Showing posts with label heart's desire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label heart's desire. Show all posts
Friday, December 5, 2014
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
When We Compare
If you're anything like me, you most likely make a difficult situation even worse by donning a poor attitude to go with it. Mine tends to fluctuate between anger and an intense, mopey kind of sadness. I allow my emotions to cripple me and prevent me from even looking for the hope and joy that can always be found in any situation. I often do this through comparing myself and/or my circumstances to others.
If you look for it, you will certainly find at least one news story every day about a child who has been abused, abandoned, or brutally murdered -- often by their own parents. Then, if you dig a little deeper, you can find mind-blowing and heart-sickening statistics about how many unborn babies are killed each year through abortion. You can even look around you in your own circle of acquaintances, and I can guarantee you'd find at least one person who doesn't appreciate or deserve the child/children they have.
But all these people who don't want or don't deserve children still manage to have them, while we who so desperately wanted our babies did not get to keep them. It isn't fair. It hurts. And that sort of thinking only wedges the gap between ourselves now and ourselves as we could be. There will always be people who are more or less deserving than we are, and comparison will get us nowhere we want to go. When I start comparing, it only makes me feel worse and sort of plants me into my grief instead of letting God lead me through my grief and toward something better. He's the One in charge, not me. He's the One who knows how the story ends, and I have no right to tell Him what is or isn't fair.
"Comparison is the thief of joy." It's a common saying, often plastered all over Pinterest boards or cutesy wall-hangings available on Etsy, but it is one I don't heed enough. I can't change my circumstances. I can't bring my babies back. But I can honor their short lives by truly living my own, with joy and hope. Let others walk their own paths, as I do my best to try to be graceful and avoid stumbling along my own. Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding...
.
If you look for it, you will certainly find at least one news story every day about a child who has been abused, abandoned, or brutally murdered -- often by their own parents. Then, if you dig a little deeper, you can find mind-blowing and heart-sickening statistics about how many unborn babies are killed each year through abortion. You can even look around you in your own circle of acquaintances, and I can guarantee you'd find at least one person who doesn't appreciate or deserve the child/children they have.
But all these people who don't want or don't deserve children still manage to have them, while we who so desperately wanted our babies did not get to keep them. It isn't fair. It hurts. And that sort of thinking only wedges the gap between ourselves now and ourselves as we could be. There will always be people who are more or less deserving than we are, and comparison will get us nowhere we want to go. When I start comparing, it only makes me feel worse and sort of plants me into my grief instead of letting God lead me through my grief and toward something better. He's the One in charge, not me. He's the One who knows how the story ends, and I have no right to tell Him what is or isn't fair."Comparison is the thief of joy." It's a common saying, often plastered all over Pinterest boards or cutesy wall-hangings available on Etsy, but it is one I don't heed enough. I can't change my circumstances. I can't bring my babies back. But I can honor their short lives by truly living my own, with joy and hope. Let others walk their own paths, as I do my best to try to be graceful and avoid stumbling along my own. Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding...
.
Friday, June 27, 2014
At the Beginning
I thought it would be nice to share a little backstory of why this blog crept into the blogosphere amongst the millions of others out there written by far better writers with much more to say.
When I was a little girl, I had every intention of growing up and becoming a mother to either three or five adorable, smart, and well-behaved children (hahahahahaa!). Before too many years had passed, Darling and I were well on our way to fulfilling that dream with two squishy-cheeked little ones and a positive pregnancy test in my shaking hand. This is it! I thought. I'm getting exactly what I wanted! But a week later, the bleeding started, and my time as a mother to three was already over.
Not long after that, I cautiously became excited to once again see that second pink line appear. I was determined to love this baby with all my heart, because I knew too well that this life could also end abruptly. The first half of the pregnancy went well and without complications, but our 20 week ultrasound and subsequent testing revealed our precious baby had a very serious heart defect. It felt like my own heart was broken, knowing the possibility of losing another loved baby was even greater now. He did great during his first heart surgery and recovered quickly enough to come home less than a month later, but was quickly readmitted to the hospital and faced yet another major heart surgery. He died of complications the following day.
Several months later, we were once again surprised by a positive pregnancy test. I think I was more optimistic this time than I had ever been before, because I'd already lived through the unthinkable loss of an infant and a baby I never even got to see. Surely I'd been through enough, and things were going to work out the way I wanted them to this time. But once again, a week later, a blood test confirmed we had lost our baby.
I don't know if there's a way to accurately describe what it feels like to have more children in Heaven than within arm's reach. I'm pretty certain the nonchalant "How many children do you have?" question fills me with more dread than any other. And sometimes, I ask God what I have done so horrible to deserve this. Basically, I host a little pity-party and whine, Why me?! I imagine I'm not alone in those feelings, which is the main reason this blog has come into existence. In our loneliest, most heartbreaking moments, I think we all need a reminder that we really aren't alone. If you've experienced infertility, miscarriage, stillbirth, infant or child loss, this is for you. Someone, somewhere knows what we are going through. We can't give up.
In a way, I guess you could say my dreams came true. I delivered and named three beautiful children; I've technically been a mother to five. And while I love my two living children so much that it hurts, it still feels like something -- like someone -- is missing from our family. I know there are three who will always be missing pieces of our lives, but it seems like there should still be someone here to fill that role. I'm not quite sure if this desire will ever be fulfilled by adoption or another biological child, but I do know that every storm is followed by a beautiful rainbow. I'm learning to trust the One who holds me through the storms, the One who will lead me to the rainbows.
When I was a little girl, I had every intention of growing up and becoming a mother to either three or five adorable, smart, and well-behaved children (hahahahahaa!). Before too many years had passed, Darling and I were well on our way to fulfilling that dream with two squishy-cheeked little ones and a positive pregnancy test in my shaking hand. This is it! I thought. I'm getting exactly what I wanted! But a week later, the bleeding started, and my time as a mother to three was already over.
Not long after that, I cautiously became excited to once again see that second pink line appear. I was determined to love this baby with all my heart, because I knew too well that this life could also end abruptly. The first half of the pregnancy went well and without complications, but our 20 week ultrasound and subsequent testing revealed our precious baby had a very serious heart defect. It felt like my own heart was broken, knowing the possibility of losing another loved baby was even greater now. He did great during his first heart surgery and recovered quickly enough to come home less than a month later, but was quickly readmitted to the hospital and faced yet another major heart surgery. He died of complications the following day.
Several months later, we were once again surprised by a positive pregnancy test. I think I was more optimistic this time than I had ever been before, because I'd already lived through the unthinkable loss of an infant and a baby I never even got to see. Surely I'd been through enough, and things were going to work out the way I wanted them to this time. But once again, a week later, a blood test confirmed we had lost our baby.
In a way, I guess you could say my dreams came true. I delivered and named three beautiful children; I've technically been a mother to five. And while I love my two living children so much that it hurts, it still feels like something -- like someone -- is missing from our family. I know there are three who will always be missing pieces of our lives, but it seems like there should still be someone here to fill that role. I'm not quite sure if this desire will ever be fulfilled by adoption or another biological child, but I do know that every storm is followed by a beautiful rainbow. I'm learning to trust the One who holds me through the storms, the One who will lead me to the rainbows.
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