A Different Kind of Labor

A few weeks ago I found myself in a familiar place. A place, due to my season of life, I find myself in quite often. I was sitting in a circle of women who were sharing their birth stories. I heard tales of water breaking, c-sections, epidurals, 10 pound babies, water births, midwives, and even a husband’s broken hand. These are not unfamiliar stories to me. I listen quietly as women share about their miraculous moments often. I usually nod, smile, say “awe” at the appropriate times, and sometimes hold back what might be coming forth from a rumbling in my stomach as certain ladies like to give vivid detail.

This time, this conversation, was a bit different however. At the end of three women’s stories, most like I had heard before, a lady turned to me and said, “Wow, I guess you got the easy way out huh?”  In the moment I was thrown off. I just smiled and said, “Well, adoption is certainly a different kind of labor but I wouldn’t say it was easy.”

So on behalf of all adoptive mothers I would like to share about a different kind of labor.  I think every birth is miraculous and undoubtedly special for the mother so I am certainly not trying to take anything away from biological mothers. I think it’s incredible, and after hearing some of the stories I have heard, downright impressive. I want to hear your birth stories. I want to enter into that moment with you as you relive the excitement and wonder of bringing your child into this world. So, please don’t hear me say that I think adoption is harder, more difficult, scarier, riskier, etc. Please do hear me say that adoption is different. It is hard, it is difficult, it is scary, and it is risky. But so is giving birth, or at least that’s what they tell me 

If I had had the time to think through it, here is what I would have said to my friend who jokingly implied that I got the easy way out by adopting rather than giving birth. Yes, I agree with you that I did not have weird cravings and swollen ankles for months of pregnancy. I agree with you that I did not struggle through hours or physical labor. I agree with you that I did not feel the pain it causes a woman’s body to deliver a baby. I agree with you that I was not sore for days afterwards or don’t bear the physical scars delivery may have left you with. You are right. In the physical sense I did get the easy way out.

But I would like to tell you how very hard adoption is and how much I labored over my son. I began laboring almost 2 years before he was born. I labored over a desperate desire for a child. I labored in prayer so hard that I wore a permanent callous on my knee and a worn spot on my plush bedroom carpet. I cried out to God for a child and waited, then waited some more. I know there are many biological mommies who began labor the very same way, so we might have that in common.

I labored over the decision to adopt. I knew it was what my heart desired. I had always wanted to adopt. But to actually come face to face with the decision was quite difficult. I kept mulling over all the things you  hear about adoption: “It’s too risky, what if they want the child back, what if the child is sick, what if he/she has serious emotional problems, what if the birth mother does drugs, and not to mention the cost.” After months of wearing my callous knees just a little tougher we put our yes on the table. We said we will move forward with adoption and see what God has in store for our family.

Then I began laboring over mounds and mounds of paperwork. I would fill out one packet just to receive another in the mail. It felt endless. All that was keeping me from my baby was this paper, and that paper, and this medical form, and that FBI check, etc. I labored well into the wee hours of the morning filling out those papers and requesting those forms.

Then I began laboring through each adoption situation. Our phone would ring and we would hear about a little baby being born in X amount of days, weeks, or months. We would find out if this baby was a boy or girl, if they were at any health risk, what the situation with the birth parents was like, etc. Then we would decide whether to present our profile. Most of the time we said yes. After presenting our profile I began another kind of labor. Laboring over the wait to hear if this birth family chose us. Many times, 6 to be exact we got a phone call saying that the birth family of this little one that I had already fallen in love with simply by the brief description provided, chose another family. Of course our prayer was always that each child would be placed in the family God desired for him/her but it didn’t make those labor pains any easier.

Then I began what may have been the most exciting and terrifying part of this different kind of labor. We matched!!!! I had ten days to get ready for my little guy. I labored over all the fears that I had somehow pushed to the back of my mind. What if something happens to him? What if she changes her mind before we get there, or worse, after we get there? What if I hold him in my arms and fall madly in love and she says she can’t do this and wants him back? What if 3 years from now he looks at me and says, “Mommy, why is your skin lighter than mine?” What will I say, how will I help him know just how very special and amazing he is?

Once we arrived at the hospital labor got really intense. I heard his heart on the monitor and I fell a little deeper in love with each beat. I tried to hold back and guard my heart until the five day revocation period was up and he was safely and securely in our care. But I couldn’t do it. I was in love and that wasn’t changing. There was no holding this mama’s heart back. Then I held the hand of a woman who was physically laboring as she gave birth to my son. I labored with her, a different kind of labor, but labor all the same.

Then, unique to most births, my labor continued. I was holding this little miracle for which I had prayed for so long and I was looking in the eyes of the beautiful woman choosing me to be his mother. I ached for her. I ached to wrap this baby up and take him far away so there was no chance he would not be mine. I ached for time to still and speed up all at the same time. I watched the clock as the hours ticked by until the five days (the revocation period) was up. I placed my baby boy in the arms of his birth mother twice. I watched her tear up. I watched her hug and kiss him. I watched her snuggle him. Talk about labor. That was intense. I wanted to hug her and tell her that it was all going to be ok, that she was making a good choice and that he will always know how much she loves him. And at the same time I wanted to scoop him up and stake my claim. I’m not sure I have ever experienced anything so incredible and so painful at the same time.

So, no I don’t have a great story of how many hours I was in labor (although I could add up the hours it took me to fill out that paper work and I might have you beat). I can’t join in your conversation as you share about all the birthing methods you considered, or tried. I don’t know what it feels like to have my water break, heart, yes, but water no. I don’t know what it feels like to be numb from the waist down.  I have never experienced the intensity pitocin adds to labor. Although, there were many times I wish there had been some medication, some thing, that would speed up my labor process.

But I do know what it feels like to labor over a child, a life, a miracle. And, I did it all without an epidural. 

But a Vapor...

“Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” So, I realize that the title of this blog post is from Scripture, James 4:14 to be exact, and that the first sentence is a quote from Ferris Bueller in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off , but stick with me.

God has blessed me with an incredible job in which I get to minister to His children every day. For that, I am beyond grateful. I experienced one of the most eye-opening, thought provoking, awe-inspiring moments I have had in my 6 years of vocational ministry a little over a month ago. It brought me to my knees in thanksgiving, in confession, in pleading for wisdom, and interceding on behalf of some beloved people in my life.

Over 3 years ago I met a woman, I’ll call her S. I met her through the ministry that I direct in which we do outreach projects and Vacation Bible School to meet and minister to the people in our local community. This particular week we didn’t have very many children coming to our ministry but we knew we were there for a purpose. That purpose was S. She brought her one year old son with her every day. We played with him, fed him, sang songs with him, cleaned up his peanut butter and jelly fingers and bare belly. We even bought him some clothes and toys as it was obvious this family did not have the means to provide for him.

S came faithfully every day and sat with us as we taught the children. She told us how lonely she was and how much she needed people around her. Over the next few years I really got to know S. I have visited her about once a month and we have shared a lot of life experiences with each other. She calls me telling me of her life struggles and asking me to pray. Sometimes she calls and all I hear is a faint cry on the other line. All I know to do is say I love you and I am praying.

Shortly after I met S, her one year old son that our mission team fell in love with was taken from her home and placed with some of her family members. She informed me that this boy was her 4^th child and all of them had been removed from her home. It was heartbreaking to walk beside her in this knowing how much she cared. It also hurt seeing how she was not able to provide financially, physically, or emotionally for those children no matter how much she wanted to. I won’t go into all the details but S is living in a difficult situation with difficult people but she has a heart of gold and loves her Heavenly Father with great passion.

A few months ago S called me to tell me she was expecting again. We talked for a long time that day and she informed me that she had made an adoption plan for this baby. She knew we had adopted Ben and was asking all kinds of questions about our process, Ben, his birth mother, etc. It was neat and heartbreaking to share those moments with her. From the time I found out about S’s pregnancy I took her to several doctor appointments, bought her prenatal vitamins, informed her that she may want to lay off the mountain dew for a while, and listened to her cry as she doubted her decision to place this baby.

A little over a month ago I got a call from S. She was in the hospital getting ready to deliver her precious baby girl. I got there a few hours after the baby was born. I held S’s hand, doted over the beautiful baby, oohed and awed over her sweet sounds and beautiful name. I prayed with her, answered some questions, and had the honor of meeting baby girl’s adoptive mother.

Sitting in that hospital room on a green couch holding a baby that another woman had just delivered brought me racing back to the day Ben was born. I remember how hard it was that day to know how to feel. I felt overwhelming joy and overwhelming sadness. I was holding my little baby boy and he was perfect. I had dreamed of that moment since I was a 4 year old pushing my cabbage patch doll around in a box I called her stroller. But I also felt sadness for Ben’s birth mother. It was hard to express both joy and pain in the same moment. But the Holy Spirit showed me how.

So on this green hospital couch holding a two hour old baby, looking at the smiles and joy on the mother’s face, and the pain and fatigue on the S’s face, I was overwhelmed once again. The mother asked me all kinds of questions about Ben’s adoption. She was brimming with excitement. She told me all about the baby’s nursery, picking out her name, etc. I was smiling with her and remembering that elated feeling. I would peek back over to S out of the corner of my eye. She was half smiling, half holding back tears. I wanted to scoop her up and hug her until it was all ok. Instead, I handed that little bundle of joy back to her mom and sat on the side of S’s bed and prayed.

That was early in the afternoon that day that I got to watch life enter into the world. I got to see redemption unfold before my eyes yet again through the miracle of adoption. I got to see the pain on the face of a birth mother who did what was best for her child. Nothing is more selfless or brave in my opinion. It mirrors our Heavenly Father’s love for us. He gave His son because He knew it was best for all of His children. He knew it was necessary just as S knew placing this beautiful baby girl in the hands of another woman was just that, necessary.

That evening I traveled to my hometown to be by the side of a dear friend from high school. I walked in another hospital’s automatic doors, but this time I was not headed to the maternity ward. I followed the signs to the hospice suite where my dear friend’s grandfather was taking in his last few breaths. This friend was one of the reasons I made it through high school. I was shy, awkward, and had not grasped that my confidence can only come from the Lord, not from the popular crowd, grades, or anything else. She welcomed me in when my family began attending her church. She sat by my on all of our youth trips and roomed with me. She may never know how much those simple acts of kindness and friendship meant to me. They gave me the courage to be me.

Her grandfather must have taught her a thing or two about kindness and hospitality. He was a man that I will always admire. I never had a grandfather growing up. Both of mine had passed away before I was born. This man became my grandfather. He loved on me as if I was his own. He doted on me and looked for me every Sunday to give me a big hug. Any time I would come home from college he made a big to do about me being there.  I will never forget his smile, his kindness, his laugh, and his authentic love for the Lord and for people.

I walked in the room that was filled with his family, many of whom I had gone to church with for years. He was frail and struggling to breathe. They were tired and anticipating the coming hours. I held tight to my friend and told her I loved her, him, all of them, and I was praying. We shared some stories about him and laughed as we remembered. He was in and out of sleep most of the time I was there but in one brief moment that his eyes were open he extended his hand for me to hold. I came close to his side and grasped his hand. He still had a strong grip, and with the sincerest voice he said, “It was so sweet of you to come.” I wanted to say, “It was so sweet of you to love me like one of your own all those years.” But instead I assured him there was nowhere else I would rather be in that moment.

I stayed for awhile and then left the family to pray, wait, and lean on each other. Early the next day I got word from my friend. Her message read, “He’s gone.” I grieved with them. I hurt for them. I know the pain of loss and I don’t ever want anyone else to know it. I wish I could take it away from them in those moments. I cried tears of pain for my friend and her family and I cried tears of pain for S who just earlier that day experienced a whole different type of loss that I don’t understand.

In the span of 24 hours I watched life begin, hearing the tiny cries of a newborn and I watched life end, hearing the effort from a man taking his last few breaths. I couldn’t help but think of how quickly life passes. There were many years between that newborn and my friend’s grandfather but I bet it didn’t seem like that many years to him. When I stop to think about my life over the past few years, or even longer, it seems unreal that I could be 29. It seems impossible that my son who I feel like I just met is 7 months old.  Where does the time go?

Since that day, I have asked myself that question a lot, “where does the time go?” It’s an important question. I want to know where my time is going. I want it to count. I want it to make a difference. I want it to go to my son, to my family. I want it to go to falling madly in love with my Savior and to serving His people with the gifts He has given me, I want it to go to fight for justice, to set the captives free, to be a voice for the voiceless, to be hope for the hopeless. I want it to go to feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and housing the homeless. I don’t want to look back in 29 more years and wonder where the time went. I want to know.

It’s true what Scripture and Ferris Beuller say, “Life is but a vapor,” (James 4:14) and “Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” Take a moment of that quickly passing time of yours and ask yourself, “Where does the time go?” 

Adopting a King

At Christmas time I am always reminded of the overwhelming love God has for us. That He would send his only son to the world in the lowliest of places and that that son would live among us, perfectly, and die as a sacrifice to pay for our sins.

Last year at Christmas I found myself focusing on Mary, the mother of Jesus. I wondered what it would be like to be so young and to be chosen to carry the Savior of the world. To be ridiculed as it seemed to others that she had conceived this baby out of wedlock. To make the journey to Bethlehem being so close to delivery. To deliver a baby in a stable surrounded by animals. I have always aspired to be the kind of woman Mary was. She was chosen by God for a great mission because of her faithfulness and obedience. I desire to have that kind of faith and bravery. But last year at this time I was not admiring Mary because of her faith.  I was admiring, or more accurately, envying her because she was about to have a little baby.

My desire for a child always heightened around holidays. I would picture my little one crawling to the beautifully wrapped packages with a curious look in their eye. I would dream about the joy he/she would bring to family as they shared this holiday for the first time. So, as I looked at pictures of the nativity or sang songs about the young virgin Mary I found myself full of desire to be a mother, to be just days from welcoming my little one as Mary was.

My son Ben was born just a few months after the holiday season last year. In fact, it was almost a month exactly after Christmas that we first learned of him and his selfless birth mother. So, this Christmas I am watching Ben, my little one, crawling to the beautifully wrapped packages with the cutest curious look in his gorgeous brown eyes. I am filled with joy as I watch family members pass him around and anticipate his reaction to his first holiday season.

But this year my focus is not on the expectant mother. It has turned to Joseph, the adoptive father.  I have always admired Joseph’s courage to stand up against society and stay with Mary when no one would have blamed him for taking action against her since they were betrothed and she was now expecting a child that was not his. He is a man of honor, courage, strength, and radical obedience. He is also an adoptive father. This part of Joseph’s life is often overlooked. Jesus was not his biological child yet he took him in as his own. Jesus had a biological (if you will) father, the Great I Am. But Joseph was the man that was called to father this child during his days on earth. Joseph changed diapers, fed him, burped him, and no doubt got up at odd hours of the night with him. He dealt with Jesus’ 2 year old moments, taught Jesus how to walk, talk, and when he grew older, the family business of carpentry.  Joseph was Jesus’ father in every way.

When Joseph looked at Jesus he did not see himself. He didn’t see a baby with his eyes or his nose. As Jesus grew Joseph didn’t see a boy that was shaping up to look just like him.  He saw a child, a boy that was given to him by the Heavenly Father. He saw promise, hope, and redemption. He was looking the very gospel in the face. He wiped the tears, bandaged the scrapes, and tickled the tummy of this beautiful child that, by the world’s standards, was not his own. While there is not much recorded in Scripture about the relationship between Joseph and his son Jesus I would venture to guess that Joseph loved him as his very own. I would imagine that in the moment that he first held Jesus before placing him in the manger that Joseph knew he would love this child with his whole heart and that the fact that he was not conceived from his own flesh and blood made no difference at all.

Today as I hold my son Ben I know how Joseph must have felt. When I look at Ben I don’t see my eyes or my nose, or in our case, my skin tone. I see a child, a boy that was given to him by the Heavenly Father. I see promise, hope, and redemption. I look the very gospel in the face as adopting a child into ones family is living out what Christ did for us, the good news, the gospel. I wipe the tears, bandage the scrapes, and tickle the tummy of a beautiful child that, by the world’s standards, is not my own. But much like Joseph, I love him as my very own. From the moment I first heard of him over the phone I knew this child was to be mine.  And in the moment I first held him in my arms just seconds after he was born I loved him with my whole heart and the fact that he was not conceived of my own flesh and blood made no difference at all. Most days I don’t even remember that I didn’t carry him for 9 months and deliver him. When people ask me, “is he adopted?” sometimes I answer, “oh yeah I guess he is.”

So, this Christmas season I remember the gift God gave me as He sent his son to this earth to live and die so that I could have a relationship with Him. I remember the gift that He gave Mary by choosing her to carry and mother Jesus as he grew. I remember the gift that He gave Joseph in calling him to adopt Jesus and be his father. I remember the gift He gave me when He placed the call on my life to be an adoptive parent and I will never forget the gift He gave me when He placed my precious baby boy in my arms on February 13, 2013. I’m blessed to share with Joseph, and so many others, the high calling of adoption.

I hope that during this Christmas season you will look at the nativity differently and that you will read the Christmas story with a fresh look. I hope that as you ponder and meditate on what the coming of the Christ child means for all of us that you will thank your Heavenly Father for adopting you into His family. Merry Christmas! 

That First Step

My life have been so immensely blessed by the adoption of my son Ben. I could write for days telling you how sweet, cute, precious, adorable, fun, cuddly, happy, and smart my little guy is but I am too busy gazing into his beautiful brown eyes to sacrifice the time that might take. So, instead I will write a simple update hoping you catch a glimpse of what a precious gift this little man is.

In the past few weeks I have done a lot of reflecting. For me, August marks the end of a season and the beginning of a new one so it’s sort of like my New Year. I work on a college campus and I direct a summer missions program that ends the last day of July. So when the summer mission ends I get a few weeks to recover before the students move in for the Fall semester. These few weeks are always very reflective for me.

It was in these weeks  in August last year that the decision to move forward with the adoption process was made.  After much prayer, the first piece of paperwork was filled out and the first phone call was made.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think that at this point the next year I would be holding an incredibly handsome brown eyed boy that I am blessed to call my son. From the moment the first step to follow God in the call to adopt was taken He flung open the doors. He provided in some incredible ways and paved the path that led straight to Ben.

I had heard all kinds of stories about peoples’ adoption journeys and really had no idea what to expect. I thought the wait would be a year or longer, there would probably be a few paperwork problems, there could be a hard time raising the funds, etc. Those were my fears. The day I made the first phone call and started filling out that first piece of paperwork I decided to hand God all of those preconceived ideas and fears about this adoption process. I asked Him to help me trust Him with a child-like faith.

He answered that prayer a thousand times over. If you know me, even a little bit, you know that I am a planner, a details person, very analytical, and most often a worrier. For me to surrender something to Lord, seriously surrender, is very difficult. But God gave me strength through the Holy Spirit to trust through the whole process.

Once I surrendered and said yes things just started happening. The home study was completed in 2 months. I became a client of Faithful Adoption Consultants and presented to the first birth mother situation in November. In the matter of 3 months I was already hearing about babies that needed families. God also provided funding from the beginning. Because I had not planned to adopt as soon as I did, I didn’t have much saved up so we knew God would have to provide the rest and He did. Then 7 short months after that first phone call and piece of paperwork I was holding my son in the delivery room. Absolutely incredible.

Sometimes I still can’t believe it’s real. I look down at his absolutely precious smile and I melt. Is he really  mine? Did God really do all of that in 7 months?  As I was reflecting this last week I was holding Ben and playing peek-a-boo with him, overcome with thankfulness and joy I just started weeping. This was the first time Ben has seen that many tears come from my eyes since the delivery room. He looked at me with great concern on his precious little face and I kept saying, “Mommy loves you so much buddy. You are just a miracle. I can’t wait to explain it all to you one day.”

It’s hard to believe that one year ago this week I said yes to the call on my life to adopt. One year ago I was on the phone with my Faithful Adoption Consultant asking more questions than she has probably ever heard about adoption. One year ago I was dreaming of a precious baby that needed a family. And today, a year later, I am looking into the eyes of a 6^th month old, incredibly adorable, dream come true. 

Mother's Day

Today holds so much meaning for me. I have been reflecting on this day for weeks now in anticipation. My heart feels as if it is in three different places as I hear people say, “Hope you have a great first Mother’s Day,” or I read cards that are full of sentiments about being a new mother.

I know to them this is my first mother’s day. It is my first with a baby in my arms. My first holding a sweet, precious bundle. My first with a spit up stained shirt. My first with little brown eyes staring back at me. My first with the cutest smile you’ve ever seen. My first with a room full of baby toys. My first with baby snuggles. My first with a nursery across the hall. My first with a sweet little cry telling me he needs me. My first with this little boy who changed my life. It is my first mother’s day with a baby in my arms but it is not my first mother’s day.

Today I am rejoicing over this life that has been given to me. I cannot even express in words how special and precious Benjamin is to me. He has radically changed my life forever and my prayer is that he keeps changing lives with the power of Christ. He is the sweetest, cutest, cuddliest, snuggliest baby I know and I could never say thank you enough to my Heavenly Father for bringing him into my family.

I love him with all my heart and every day is a new adventure with him. I wake up to a little smiling face full of joy and am reminded of the joy of Christ that comes in a childlike peace and rest.  I scoop him up and kiss his face all over as I praise God every day for the miracle of this baby boy and the miracle of adoption. He smiles back at me and rests contently in my arms. He knows that he is safe, loved, wanted, cared for, and that’s all he needs. How simple, yet how profound. That is exactly what God offers us every day yet we still act as if we need something else, something more, a clearer picture of that love, a plan, etc.

Ben has taught me so much in the past 3 months and I am beyond excited to celebrate my first mother’s day with a baby in my arms. And he’s not just any baby. He is a very special baby with a very special purpose. I am excited to open cute cards and sweet gifts about being a mom. I am excited to hold him today and take pictures commemorating my first mother’s day with my son. I am filled with joy and thanksgiving as I think about all that God has entrusted to me. I look at Ben’s big brown eyes and my heart melts all over again. I’m in love with this little guy and I am so proud to be his mother.

It’s interesting to me how my heart can be so full of joy, hope, and thanksgiving and yet so full of longing and sadness at the same time. You see, this is not my first mother’s day. I was a mother last year on mother’s day. I was a mother with empty arms, aching for a baby girl that was taken home to Heaven. I still long for her. I still miss her. I think I always will. My family doesn’t feel complete yet and it won’t until we are all together in eternity. 

Today I looked through all the sweet sentiments we were given to me when Abigail passed. I was reminded of the strength God provided and the hope that He placed in my heart. I thought back to this time last year and remember the pain of watching other mothers hold their precious babies and children and aching to hold mine. I still ache to hold her but I know her life held great purpose as she was instrumental in bringing Benjamin home. So today when people wish me a Happy Mother’s Day I will be clinging tight to a beautiful brown eyed boy named Ben and clinging tight to the memory of a beautiful little girl named Abigail.

As if joy, hope, thanksgiving, longing, and sadness weren’t enough, this Mother’s Day my heart is filled with compassion and concern as well. I think of Ben’s birth mother often. In fact, I pray for her every day. I am still so thankful we got to spend three precious days with her in the hospital. While I think of her often, today is different. I can’t get her off of my mind. I wonder what today is like for her. When she walks through the store and sees all of the cards and flowers does her heart break? Does she regret her decision? Is she crying over her child today? Is she wondering if he is ok? Is she wishing she could see him, hold him, kiss him? Is she filled with peace knowing her decision was the best for her son? Is she thankful that God provided him a loving family? Is she thinking back to February 13 when she placed her baby in another woman’s arms? Does she wonder what it would be like to be celebrating this mother’s day with this baby boy in her arms?

I can’t help but sympathize with her pain. While her loss is my gain my heart grieves for that loss. I wish I could tell her thank you every day. I wish I could help her understand how incredible I think she is and how much love I know her decision to place Ben in an adoptive family truly shows. I pray that her heart is full of peace today as she celebrates Mother’s Day the way I once celebrated, with empty arms.

She chose to do a semi-open adoption which means that I send her monthly updates through the adoption agency. She gets a photo album full of adorable pictures each month and a letter updating her on Ben’s development. I always include a personal letter too so she knows how special she is to us. I couldn’t let Mother’s Day pass without sending her something. I actually found a card at a Christian book store specifically written for birth mothers so I wrote a letter to her in this beautiful card and put a gift card to a restaurant she mentioned as her favorite in a conversation we had while she was in labor with my son. I wanted to do something more though to show my deep appreciation so I called our social worker to see if sending a picture of me holding Ben would be a good idea or a bad idea. I can only imagine the mixed emotions it could stir within her. The social worker said she thought it was a great idea as birth mothers love to see how much adoptive mothers love their babies. On the back of this picture, which was taken in the hospital, I wrote a poem that I penned just for her:

To the Woman who Made Me a Mother

You chose life, selflessly you gave

I chose love and eagerly I came

You chose sacrifice, giving of your heart

I chose hope, to be a light in the dark

You gave me your son, the most precious gift given

I gave you a promise that with my whole heart I would love him

You knew this choice was the best for our son

I knew he was meant for my family from moment one

You made a decision most definitely harder than any other

And with that selfless decision you made me a mother

I pray that as she reads the card and the poem that she knows how much I care for her, how much we all care for her. I admire her. I told her in the hospital that she was my hero and I still feel that way. Every day when I see Ben’s smiling face I think of her, not only because he looks just like her, but because she made that moment possible. She made all my moments with my little guy possible. She made me a mother and I can’t think of a more precious gift.

So today I celebrate with a beautiful brown eyed baby boy in my arms. Today I celebrate the miracle of adoption and all that God did to bring Ben home. Today I celebrate a beautiful baby girl that is praising God in eternity. Today I celebrate that the Father is rejoicing over her. Today I celebrate a brave young woman who chose life, love, and hope. Today I celebrate the woman who made me a mother. Today I celebrate Mother’s Day and all that it means for all mothers. What a blessing. What a high calling. Happy Mother’s Day. 

A Baby Boy in Alabama

On January 31, 2013 I received a call from my adoption consultant, C. I had received many calls like this one since becoming a client of Faithful Adoption Consultants in November of 2012. She was calling to tell me about a potential adoption situation and I would go through the same process I went through each time I got a call like that. She would tell me the details, I would labor over it in prayer, give my answer as to whether or not I would present my profile. If I presented then I would wait the agonizing days to hear if the birth mother chose me or another family.

This time seemed different though. From the moment my consultant told me about this baby I knew something was different. My phone rang and C greeted me kindly as she always does with a super sweet and chipper voice saying she had a few situations that she wanted to tell me about. She told me about 2 other situations that I might get the opportunity to present on, running down the details like the due date, the gender, the location, and the basics of the situation. Then she said, “And there’s this little boy being born in AL that you may get the chance to present on.”  As soon as she mentioned him my heart fluttered.

Every time I heard of a baby that needed a family my heart strings were tugged. Since November, when I first showed my profile, I fell in love with each baby I heard about. It’s hard not to start dreaming about them as soon as you hear a few details.

As C told me about the other situations my heart was full but when I heard of this baby boy in Alabama it just felt different. I told myself that it probably wasn’t anything and that I just needed to hand it over the Lord so I didn’t get attached to an idea or a baby that wasn’t meant to be mine.

C explained that there was another family that would most likely present on this little boy in Alabama and because of certain reasons they would have first priority to present. She told me to pray about it because if this family decided not to present she would call me the next day and would have to know our decision immediately as to whether I wanted to present or not.

The next day I went about my day the way I normally do. I thought about and prayed for the little boy in Alabama throughout my day but tried not to think about it too much. After work that day I went to our local homeless shelter with a few students that are involved in campus ministries to fix dinner for the residents and spend some time getting to know the people there.  After several great conversations and a really fun night at the shelter I went back to my car ready to drive home.  I picked up my phone to check it and I had a voice-mail from C.

She was telling me about another situation that I would have an opportunity to present on and I was to pray about it and tell her the next day.  I began praying but my heart was drawn back to the baby boy in Alabama. I hadn’t heard yet about the status of that situation but I couldn’t get him off my mind. 

 Within a few minutes of arriving home C called. She informed me that the other couple decided not to present their profile on the baby boy in Alabama and then she explained that my profile would be the only one being shown to this birth mother. So unless the birth mother saw something that she didn’t like or wasn’t her preference this little baby boy would be mine.

I stood in shock for a few minutes. On all the other situations I presented on I was one of at least 3 other families presenting so there was always an element of anxiety waiting to hear what the birth mother decided. But on this baby boy in Alabama, this baby boy that I couldn’t get off my mind, that I kept dreaming about, praying about, handing back over to the Lord, I was it. I was the only profile the birth mom would see.

After a few hours C called and asked for my decision. I said YES, I would like to present. She explained the process from here and said that she would call me tomorrow with the birth mother's decision. She said she didn’t expect it to be anything but a yes but she explained that there was still a chance that she may not choose me.

So, I waited. Something I had grown quite accustomed to.

Match-Maker, Match-Maker, Make me a Match

February 2 was a long day. I woke up and spent a few hours in prayer about this baby boy in Alabama. I prayed for his precious birth mother and for all those involved.

I went to work praying desperately for the Father to help me stay present to the students in which I minister to and to keep my mind fixed on Him. At the end of the work day I headed to a neighboring town for an appointment.

I was in meetings all day, but finally heard from C. She explained that the birth mother looked at the profile and said, “It's perfect. It's exactly what I’m looking for.”  Music to adoptive parents’ ears.

So on February 2 I was MATCHED with that baby boy in Alabama due to be born February 12. I knew there was some reason I couldn’t get him off my mind. It was because he was to become my son.

Now the fun and madness began. Most people have 9 months to prepare for a baby. I had 10 days.  It’s amazing what you can do in 10 days.  

The Ten Day Wait

The next 10 days were filled with prayer, preparation, and praise.  I transformed a spare bedroom into a nursery literally overnight.  I began stocking up on bottles, diapers, wipes, blankets, bibs, cute little outfits, etc. I was so blessed to have so many people handing down baby gear so that my little guy would have what he needed when welcomed into my family.

I spent many hours of those 10 days in prayer for this baby boy in Alabama. I also spent our time continuing to raise funds. The day I got the call that I had matched I had exactly half of that estimated goal.

God did a miraculous work in my heart. On a normal day under normal circumstances I would have freaked out that I needed to raise $15,000 in the matter of 10 days. That sounds impossible doesn’t it?  However, by the grace of God alone, I was incredibly calm. I kept reminding myself of all the ways God had provided so far and I chose to trust that He would continue to do so.

The day after matching I received a letter in the mail informing me that I had received a grant that I applied for back in October when I first started the fundraising process. I took this as God’s reminder to me that He was in control. C, our adoption consultant, always says, “He funds what he favors.”  I was watching that happen.

In the matter of 10 days God provided every single dollar that was still needed, right down to the last penny.  I was shocked, amazed, overwhelmed, and in awe of our mighty big God. I prayed and He provided through so many people and so many avenues. People I have never even met donated to the fund, bought t-shirts, etc. It was incredible. To God be all the glory. I stood by and watched Him work. I prayed in confidence that He would provide and, as His word says, when we ask according to His will He will answer. And that is exactly what He did. 

The Body of Christ in Action

My son's story wouldn’t be complete without sharing about the amazing support I received from our family, friends, church family, co-workers, our whole community, and some people I have never met. He may be the most prayed for, anticipated child I know.

I hope and pray he knows just how loved he is now and will never forget it when he grows older. My life has been touched by so many that rallied around as I waited to be matched, got ready for my son, traveled to get him, and returned home. I am simply overwhelmed. Every time I think about it I feel so undeserving but so very grateful.

I have to first start with the support of my church family. They have such a heart for adoption and following God’s command to take care of the orphans and widows. I have never seen a church with such drive to carry out that mandate. They made that very clear as they helped significantly financially and in every other way possible. I could never say thank you enough.

A couple that are great friends of mine in my church family took it upon themselves to plan and coordinate a benefit concert in our honor. They invited Contemporary Christian artist, Andrew Peterson, to perform. They worked hard to acquire sponsors for the event so that all ticket sales would go to the adoption fund. They spent many hours working on every detail from the location, parking, to publicity. I simply had to show up and tell my story. What an incredible blessing.

The night of the concert will forever be a sweet memory for me. People from all parts of my life came out to be a support. Old high-school and college friends, co-workers, church family, family, community members, students I work with, and people I have never met but were so blessed to worship with.

As I stood on stage sharing my story, really His story, of this journey to adoption and the great news that I was expecting my little guy any day now I was overwhelmed. I scanned the room and saw the face of former students I worked with, my boss and his family,  co-workers, most of our church family, my neighbor and her daughter, close friends who I hold dear, strangers that I prayed our story would impact. I could barely keep it together.

I were so touched and so blessed. All these people were here to number one, worship God, and number two support us, support Ben, support adoption. It was incredible. Simply beautiful. That dimly lit room filled with so many precious people will be a picture that does not soon leave my mind. I wish I had words to express how much the body of Christ meant to us in that moment. I was not only overwhelmed at the outpouring of love for my family but at the passion and drive surrounding adoption and orphan care.

Everyone was so eager to give, to help, to learn more. My prayer through this whole process has been that God would be glorified and that He would place a passion to care for orphans in the hearts of my community, friends, and family. It seems He is doing just that and we are blessed to be a very small part of it.
There are so many more people that I would love to thank individually but it would take pages to do so.

I am putting a puzzle in the baby’s room that has Jeremiah 29:11 on the front and the name of every single person that donated in some way from time, to items, to talent, to finances on the back. I have over 500 names to write on the back of that puzzle. Over 500 people helped bring my son home in some capacity. That number does not even include those who were silent prayer warriors. If I knew all of their names I would reserve special pieces of the puzzle for them too. Over 500 people helped answer the mandate of James 1:27. I pray this baby boy knows just how loved he is and how many people took time to be a part of his life.

A side shot of the community members that came out to suppor.

A sweet friend who raffled off a free photo shoot from her photography business to help raise money

On the Road

At first when I heard that I had 10 days to get ready for a baby boy I thought there would be no way we would be ready that soon. Looking back, I am so very thankful we only had 10 days. God knows exactly what we need. I tend to be a very anxious, over planned, high strung kind of gal. If I had 9 months to get ready for this little fella I would have worried about every little detail. I would have studied every bottle system, every formula, every everything you could possible need. I would have cleaned my house from top to bottom making sure no germs were left and not a speck of dust could be seen. I would have read every parenting book known to man and have already mapped out the perfect plan for parenting.

But, instead, I had 10 days. Just enough time to do what had to be done and leave the rest to my Heavenly Father who was providing every step of the way. I am so thankful He knows me so well.

Toward the end of that 10 day wait, which felt more like 10 years, I got a call explaining that if baby boy’s birth mother had not delivered by his due date that she would be induced on Valentine’s Day. Baby boy would be here by the 14^th if not sooner.

So I made plans to travel on the 12^th, his due date. I traveled half way to the destination and spent the night. I would normally be up all night in anticipation and planning, but the Lord allowed me to sleep a deeper and more peaceful sleep than I ever remember sleeping. I know this was His provision as He was preparing me for many sleepless nights ahead.

That was the first of many “little” ways God provided and had His hand on every detail of this little boy’s arrival. From sleep, to funds, to hospitality God had it covered.

February 13, 2013

I woke up that morning in the hotel half way from baby boy’s city. I planned to head down and stay with a friend of mine from college as she lived just 20 minutes from the hospital. God provided that connection as well. We had not spoken or kept in touch since college and when a mutual friend found out that we were going to be in her town she reconnected us. My friend, B was such a great host. She was so kind and so generous. It was a huge blessing to be able to stay in a beautiful, cozy home. And it was a huge blessing to be able to reconnect and catch up with this sweet friend. Just another way God provided and showed us he was in control of every detail.

So, on the way to B’s house I got a call that baby boy’s birth mother, T, was having contractions and had been admitted to the hospital.  So, I rerouted the GPS and headed straight to the hospital. Being new to the whole adoption world, I bombarded my social worker with a thousand questions about the process from here and how to handle myself in the hospital.

I was informed that T had decided not to meet me. She had originally said she did want to meet and then changed her mind. I have to admit I was both sad and relieved that she no longer wanted to meet. I did desperately desire to see her and thank her and speak into her life even for a brief moment, but I will admit that was scary to me. So I simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief and disappointment.

On the last few hour stretch before arriving at the hospital I was in constant correspondence with the social worker and consultant. I got a call saying that T has changed her mind again and decided that she did want to meet. So I was instructed to go to the hospital and walk back to her delivery room. 

I stopped to get her some flowers, forgetting that it was the day before Valentine’s Day, so everywhere I went was a mad house of people buying flowers. I picked out some beautiful peach roses and headed on my way. I got to the hospital and stopped at the desk in labor and delivery. I asked to go back to T’s room.  They told me the number and pointed me in her direction.

I was instructed to “just walk in and introduce myself.”  On the outside I held it together thinking I can do this, you prayed for this opportunity, you are going to get to tell your son about this amazing moment one day. But on the inside my thoughts were everywhere, Just walk in and introduce myself? What do you say to the woman who is giving you her biological son? “Umm….thanks.”  That didn’t seem right or enough. "Will she recognize me from the profile? Won’t this be awkward? I mean the lady is in labor. Will she like me? Will she be shy? Will she talk? Talk…what do we talk about?  Enjoying this weather?  No that’s no good.  How about those Bears? No I don’t even know who the Bears are or what sport they play? So what’s your favorite color? Definitely not. How are you feeling? Hmm she’s in labor, I’m guessing not great." Nothing seemed quite right.

I was envisioning myself walking in and saying all the wrong things and goofing it all up.  I stopped outside her room to pray. I praised God for this amazing opportunity, prayed that the Holy Spirit would calm my heart and give me the words to say, and that Christ’s love would shine brightly through me and my love for her and this baby boy.

I stood there for a moment and then opened the door slowly. I walked in and there she was. She was absolutely beautiful. I had seen a picture but it didn’t do her justice. I could already tell she was sweet. She had such a kind face and very inviting eyes.  I leaned in and asked, “T?”

With a sweet voice she said, “Yeah come on in and have a seat.” She definitely possessed the southern hospitality you always hear about, even in the midst of labor.

The first things I noticed as I entered her hospital room were her beautiful eyes and the sound of my son’s heartbeat on the monitor. I was instructed to keep the conversation light this time because there would be time later to talk about the “heavy” stuff. I held back tears as I heard his little heart beating. I was in the room with my son. Granted he was still in the womb, but he was here. He was within a few feet of me. I could hear him and it was the most precious sound I have ever heard. I may have missed the ultrasounds along the way but that moment made up for it all.

I sat down and began chatting. It was as if I was reconnecting with an old friend. We talked about everything from sports to food to this precious baby boy that was about to make his arrival. She asked me all kinds of questions and I asked her several as well. I felt like I already knew her well. I think we would be great friends in a different scenario, different time in life. We had a lot in common.

We kept chatting and we laughed a lot. I looked at the clock and 2 hours had passed. Wow!!! Just moments ago when I stood on the other side of the door I thought I will probably chat with her for about 20 minutes and then wait outside in the waiting room for delivery. I never would have guessed we would have chatted for 2 whole hours. Wow, God provided again. He answered yet another prayer.

Toward the end of our 2 hour chat T looked over at me and said, “I want you to be in the delivery room when he is born if you want to be.”   I said, “Of course I would love to be here if you would like that.”  She said she would like that and then she uttered the most precious words I have ever heard, “You might even have to hold my hand.” 

I held back tears because I didn’t want to get everyone all emotional, not yet. I told her I would be honored to hold her hand and be a part of this moment. How many adopting families get to say they held the hand of their child’s birth mother? I felt incredibly blessed. Nervous, but blessed.

There was a bit of a lull in the conversation and T started to look like she was in a bit of pain. She has just gotten and epidural before I arrived and said she was feeling great after that. She started expressing that she was feeling a lot of pain so I called the nurse to come check on her.

The nurse walked in and checked her. She said, “No wonder you are feeling some pain, you have a baby sitting right here. He is ready to go. Let’s start pushing. I’ll call the doctor but baby may be here before he gets here.” 

Both T and I were a little shocked. I think we both thought it would take a lot longer. So, this was my first experience in the delivery room. I knew I was coming to welcome my son but I didn’t expect to be a labor coach as well.  As all the nurses gathered around her and the doctor finally arrived I held T’s hand. They were telling, well yelling, at her to push. She squeezed my hand and pushed as hard as she could. I kept telling her she was doing a great job and that it wouldn’t be much longer. T pushed about 3 times and baby boy was here!!!!!

I thought hearing his heartbeat on the monitor was the most precious sound I could ever hear but my son’s first cries changed my life forever. In that moment I wanted to scoop him up and never let him go. I wanted to tell him everything was going to be okay and that mommy was here and that she loved him more than she could ever tell him. But, there was someone else in the room that needed my attention too.  As the nurses were cleaning, weighing, and getting baby boy ready I had one eye on T and one eye on this little miracle.

In all the times that I thought about this moment I guess I failed to think about how much my heart would break for this beautiful young woman that was making one of the most selfless choices a woman could ever make. As much as I wanted to run to my son’s side I had to stay with T for just a moment. This woman chose life. This woman chose me. She chose me to be her son’s mother. She was loving enough to choose life. She was wise enough to choose adoption. She was brave enough to let go.  And now she was here, next to me, still feeling the pain of labor and hearing the sounds of a baby boy she would never hold or cuddle, or rock to sleep, or watch take his first step, or hear his first word.

My heart has never been so full of so many different emotions at the same time. I wanted to scoop her up in my arms too. I wanted to tell her that I love her and that it was going to be okay. I wanted to take her home with me too and help her have a better life.

Things were happening really fast after baby boy arrived and T had requested that baby be taken out of the room as soon as he was born. She knew it would make her choose easier if she didn’t see him or hold him after delivery. The nurses were handing my son to me and telling me all of his stats.

He was 6 pounds and 1 ounce, 19.5 inches long. They kept congratulating me and telling me how perfect he was.  I stood in awe of this little miracle in my arms. He was bundled so tightly in the hospital blankets you could barely see his beautiful, perfect little face. I always thought I would burst into tears at this moment, uncontrollable joy. But, my heart was so full I think my body didn’t know how to respond. I stood there gazing into his eyes, soothing his cries, and realizing I was a mother.

Before they whisked me away to a room across the hall, I walked back to T. I squeezed her hand and said, “You were amazing! You are my hero!”  I told her that I would check on her later that night and that I hoped she got some great rest after all that work.

Leaving her room felt strange. My heart broke for her. What would she feel like when she saw the door shutting behind me? That was the last moment she would hear or see this baby boy. Had she held back her tears? Would this be the hardest few hours of her life? Was she going to regret her decision? Was she going to change her mind? Did she have anyone to go home to for love and support?

I prayed for God to comfort her heart and to hold her tight as I walked across the hall to hold my baby boy tight. I knew only God could do the kind of healing that was ahead in her life.

My first view of his sweet little face

He is Here!!! 

I couldn't stop kissing him

Look at that sweet little smile

He's Here!!

My arms were the first that held him. My heart was ready to bust. I had waited for this moment for a long time. I have always wanted to be a mommy. I remember toting around my cabbage patch dolls telling my mother that I wanted 10 kids. To nurture the way a mother is designed to nurture just seemed like it was welling up inside of me. Almost as if I didn’t have a child to nurture soon I would just die. So, there he was. My very own cabbage patch doll. Except I got to name this one.

I named that baby boy from Alabama, Benjamin David. In my conversation with T she said she wanted me to name him. I already had a few names picked out, but Benjamin was my favorite. When I held him I knew he was a Benjamin. Benjamin means wanted or favored son and David, his middle name, means God's beloved.  His name holds great meaning. He is a very loved, very wanted little man and a very special member of the family.

I spent the next few moments in amazement. The last few hours has seemed like a whirlwind. I kept asking myself, “Is he really here?” “Is he really mine?” “Did that just happen?” I spent a few hours in that little room holding my son. Gazing into the most beautiful brown eyes I had ever seen. Ben was so alert the first few hours of his life. He was wide eyed and looking all around, trying to figure out what was going on.

I spent those few hours singing to him, praying over him, reading Scripture to him, and praising God for this miracle, this gift. He was perfect. His eyes were beaming, his nose was so cute, his lips were adorable, his tiny little face was too cute for words, his dark black hair was beautiful, his skin tone was absolutely gorgeous, his little sounds were too precious for this momma’s heart to handle, everything about him was amazing. I could have stared at him for hours. I could have held him in my arms and never let him go.

I thought back to a few short days ago when I first heard of the little baby boy in Alabama. Now I was holding that baby boy. I was staring into his eyes and singing praise over him. He was here and he was mine. Be still my heart.

I was assisted by a wonderful nurse, G. She was incredible. She whisked me out of the delivery room across the hall to a private room with the biggest smile on her face. When the door was shut behind us she said she had no idea I was the adoptive parents until right after the birth. I assumed she knew, I assumed the whole staff knew, but apparently I was a surprise to them. Nonetheless, they were incredible. Everyone treated me with such kindness and hospitality.

G went over his stats with me and the process from here. She got a private room set up at the hospital to stay in for the next few days and made sure I had a band on my arm that gave me access to the nursery. Around my arm was a hospital band with Ben’s birth mother’s name on it and the number that identified him. I was wearing her name. We were his mothers. We played different roles and will always play different roles but I felt honored to share that responsibility with her and wear her name.

After G went over some information she just stared at me. I looked up to see a twinkle in her eye and she said, “Now I’m just being nosey.  What agency did you use?” I began telling some of Ben’s story and she said, “I have been dealing with fertility issues for many years and my husband and I just started and adoption process.”  I was blown away. I have been so blessed how God has brought people across my path that have dealt with the pain of infertility or have been considering the miracle of adoption.  And here was another precious lady in the same spot right in the hospital, moments after he was born. I was able to encourage her and she said seeing a successful adoption gave her more hope.

God has already used Ben in some pretty incredible ways. It would take me days to write out all the accounts of people who have told me that they have considered adoption, dealt with infertility, etc. We have been amazed at how this little guy has already touched so many lives. God has great plans for him and I am blessed to by his mommy. What a high calling. What an honor. What a blessing. 

Now We Wait Some More

The nurses took Ben to the nursery to give him his first few shots and look him over. I was right behind them but I had to stand outside the nursery window at first. I watched through the blinds at every move he made. I was still in awe and my arms ached to hold him again even though it had only been a few minutes since he was with me.

After the shots and initial care I was able to come in with him. They checked my band and ushered me in. All the nurses were so accepting of the adoption situation and kept congratulating me and telling me how wonderful they thought it was.

I was able to help give Ben his first bath and first bottle. It was incredible. My first act as a parent. I spent the night  holding him. Not because he couldn’t sleep but because I couldn’t put him down. He was too amazing. It was too wonderful to hold him and look at his sweet face. I was exhausted the next day but it was worth every second. We were together. We were a family.

All the while I never stopped thinking about T. We were on the floor above her and I kept wondering what she must be feeling and thinking. Our social worker was the go between so I text her and asked how T was doing. She said she was doing well recovering from labor but she was hungry.

In our two hour conversation that we had before Ben’s big arrival T had mentioned that McDonalds chicken nuggets and French fries were her favorite. So, there was a trip to McDonalds to buy her a feast of her favorites. I took it to her room and snuck in while she was sleeping. The nurse said she would make sure she got it.

As I walked down the hall to get back to Ben my heart was halfway in her room and halfway with my son. I love them both so much. They are both very special.

My sweet little baby

The next day I spent my time oohing and awing over this precious miracle I called Ben. I watched him do a lot of firsts and  learned a lot of new parent information from the nurses. I was becoming a pro at diapers and swaddling. My first few attempts were a little pitiful. The nurses laughed and assured me that it took a little practice.

Ben was a day old on Valentine’s Day so I got to spend my day with this handsome little boy that I loved very much. It was a peaceful day. I didn’t have to worry about anything but Ben. No chores, no jobs, nothing but this little baby. I met with the lawyers to go over some paperwork and protocol from this point forward. He informed me that T had signed her rights over at 10:46 a.m. that morning which meant that I had power of attorney at this point over Ben.

Later that day I went to the hospital gift shop to buy T some Valentines balloons and candy. She had told me about her favorite candy bars so I got a handful for her. I brought the balloons and candy to her room and sat with her for awhile. We just chatted like old friends and she was very touched by the Valentines gift.  All the other doors on the maternity hall had big congratulation signs or big blue or pink ribbons but T’s door was bare. All the other mothers who had just given birth were being showered with visitors, cards, and flowers. But T was all by herself and no one was sending flowers. I had to make sure she felt special too so Valentine gifts were the perfect way to do so.

As soon as we were matched, just 11 short days ago, our consultant, C, told us that it is etiquette to get the birth mother a gift. I began thinking. What do you get for the woman who is giving you her child?  Nothing seemed quite good enough. I decided on a basket full of lotions, soaps, and all the pampering essentials. I also gave her a copy of my favorite devotional, Jesus Calling. I wanted her to know the love of Christ but I knew that I only had a few days to build a relationship so I wanted to give her something that would offer continual encouragement.  I also gave her a heart shaped diamond necklace that says, "Mom." I wrote her a long letter telling her how grateful I was for her and how she was the bravest, strongest, most selfless person I knew. I also explained that I too had a necklace just like the one I gave her. I told her that I know that Ben would always be in her heart and I wanted her to know that she would always be in his too, and ours. I told her that anytime I wore my necklace I would think of her and pray for her and that I hoped she did the same when she wore hers. She said she loved the gift and that it was the nicest thing anyone had ever given her.

I didn't want to put him down

The rest of the day I spent admiring my little guy. I stared at his beautiful brown eyes, little baby hands, precious feet, cute little nose, and sweet little lips. I sang songs, I read books, and I read passages of Scripture to him as he fell asleep. Those few days in the hospital will be the most precious memories I will treasure forever. I felt like I was in heaven. It was a beautiful dream come true. It all felt so surreal. Could this beautiful little creation really be mine? Did the last 11 days really happen? Did I answer a call about a baby boy in Alabama? Did I present my profile? Did she say yes? Did I  just watch my son being born? I just couldn’t believe it yet I wanted to soak in every single second. I didn’t want to miss anything. So, I barely slept so I didn’t have too. Maybe not the wisest of choices as a new mom but I don’t regret the fatigue that followed. I will cherish the moments of lost sleep that were spent staring at my little boy as he slept, becoming familiar with his coos and sweet little sounds. He was here and he was mine.

The 5 Day Wait

When I first heard of the little boy in Alabama my consultant told me that this situation was a little different than most that our referral service usually dealt with. Most of the states they work with have a short revocation period, no more than 72 hours. The revocation period is the time in which the birth mother can change her mind and reclaim the child after she has signed away her rights. FAC doesn’t normally work with the state of Alabama because they have a much longer revocation period, 5 days to be exact.

When I first heard that it made us nervous but not so nervous to deter us from presenting the profile. Now that I was living the 5 day wait my nerves were heightened. T signed on Valentine’s Day at 10:46. That meant that she had until Tuesday February 24 to change her mind and reclaim my little boy.

My prayer life has been greatly strengthened over the last year and a half as  I have lost a child to a miscarriage, struggled to conceive, moved forward in the adoption process, sought wisdom on prospective adoption situations, and now starting a life with this little guy. However, I don’t think I ever prayed as hard as I did in those 5 days. I prayed for peace more than I did for my desired outcome. I have learned that God knows what is best and can bring beauty from ashes so, of course, I asked for God to help T remain steadfast in her decision but I prayed mostly for my heart to be stilled and my thoughts to remain on Him.

It was a miracle. I really didn’t worry that much. Occasionally I would think there would be no way I could handle it if she changed her mind. I would look at the clock and mentally count the days and hours that remained of the revocation period. But overall my heart was at peace. God answered yet another prayer.


During that 5 day wait, while I was still at the hospital, our social worker informed me that T had decided she did want to meet Ben after all. I will admit that my heart skipped a beat when I received that news but everyone assured me that was very normal for birth mothers to desire a moment of closure. So, after praying, I wheeled my little bundle down to T’s room. The social worker escorted me in but then stepped outside so we could have a few minutes with T. I lifted Ben out of his bassinet and handed him to T.

That may have been the scariest moment of my life. To hand back the little baby boy that I had spent the last day staring at in amazement, rejoicing over, in awe of. To lean over and place him into his birth mother’s arms was a very difficult thing to do. I was praying all the while for peace and for God’s sovereignty over Ben and T’s life.

She took him from my arms and unswaddled him. He was sleeping soundly so I don’t think he noticed. She counted his little fingers and his little toes and looked him over. She held him close for a few minutes staring at him. I stood to the side trying to give her privacy but also keeping an eye on her every move. I know this was her child but he was mine too. My protective mother bear instincts didn’t take long to kick in.

After a few minutes she swaddled him back up and handed him back to me. She said, “I just needed to know that he was okay.”  My heart melted for her again. I was glad to have my baby back in my arms but to hear the concern and pain in her voice hurt. I wanted to help her. I wanted to say it’s going to be okay. My degree in pastoral counseling was on overdrive. I wanted to talk about the process of grieving and how this moment of closure will be so helpful in her process. I wanted to give her tools she needed to cope with the pain she was feeling. But I knew that was not my place. I was only to pray for her and love her. 

I wheeled Ben back to our room and breathed a sigh of relief. I spent the evening cuddling him again. He may have spent a total of 20 minutes in his bassinet the first 2 days of his life. He was too amazing to let go of. I just wanted to hold him close to my heart every second I could.

Discharged

The next day, February 15, we were being discharged. Ben checked out great on all his tests and everything was looking great.  I was gathering his things and packing up in anticipation of going “home.” We were going to a temporary home. The home of a sweet friend from college that was kind enough to extend her house to us for a few days while we waited for the revocation period to end.

The nurses on our floor had come in several times over the past few days to check my vitals. Every time a shift change happened I got to tell Ben’s story again. I would explain that I  wasnt the patient and that I was adopting this precious baby. Each nurse that I told was overwhelmed with excitement and was so supportive. They encouraged me and asked all kinds of questions. I could not have asked for better reception and service at the hospital. They were phenomenal. Another answered prayer. God is in control of the details. I believe that more now than I ever have before.

As we were getting ready the social worker told us that T wanted another visit with Ben and would like to get a few pictures. I had planned to visit her one more time before we were all released. So, I prayed again and held my breath. I wheeled him down to her room and handed him to her once again. She gazed at him lovingly and we took several pictures for her. Then we got some pictures with her too so Ben has a sweet memento of his birth mother later in life.

After the pictures she handed Ben back to me and we talked for a few minutes saying our goodbyes. I kept hugging her and telling her how much I loved her and how we would continue to think of her and pray for her. Then we gathered around Ben and prayed together. After we said, “Amen.” T looked at me and said, “All I ask is that you love him.” I promised her that I would love him with all of my hearts and do my very best as a parent. She smiled, a little teary eyed, and said, “I know I made a good choice. You are good people. I made the right choice.” 

I smiled back and said thank you and encouraged her again. I was holding back tears because I didn’t want to make that moment any harder on her than it already was. I gave her one more hug, told her that I loved her, and then I left. The moment the door closed behind us I let out those tears I had been holding back. I wondered if she was doing the same thing. The last image I had as I closed the door behind me was of T looking, with much love and much sorrow, at the pictures of our baby boy. She looked proud of him and, I think, proud of herself.

When we returned to our room I praised God again for the blessing of getting to know Ben’s birth mother. I desperately wanted to speak into her life, even if just for a few moments, and God answered that prayer.


I held Ben for hours and just waited on clearance to leave the hospital. I dressed him in his “going home” outfit that swallowed my 6 pound bundle whole.

I heard a knock on the door and it was a nurse with a wheel chair ready to take us to the car. I had to ride in the wheel chair even though I explained that I wasnt the patient. She said it was hospital policy and I thought I might as well get the whole experience. I’ve spent the last few days lying in a hospital bed with a hospital band around my wrist. I might as well ride out in style.

When the automatic doors opened and the car ready to put Ben in his car seat it started to become more real. We are leaving the hospital. No more nurses to call every time I have a question. No one to check on us to make sure we are okay and that baby is doing well. It was just us.

I put him in his car seat, shut the door, and I buckled in next to him. This was real.

How blessed we were. What an incredible few days has just transpired. The birth of my son, the building of a great relationship with T, the opportunity to tell Ben’s story and give God the glory multiple times. I was in awe of God’s power, provision, love, and grace. All I could do was thank Him, cry, and look into the beautiful brown eyes of my son. 

Hospitality, Lawyers, and Gotcha Day

We then drove a short 20 minute drive to a sweet friends’ house that was so kind to let us stay for a few days while we had to remain in the city in which Ben was born. She was out of town for the weekend so we were able to get settled into being a family of three in a beautiful, cozy home.

I was loving every minute. I purposefully tried to soak up every second of every day. I didn’t want to miss a thing. Our sweet friend returned after the weekend and we were greatly blessed to spend a day catching up with her. It was such a great re-connection and I am so thankful that God used Ben to bring us closer together. I will cherish those precious days in her home sitting on her couch, talking about college days, and passing Ben around.

We had to stay in the city for the 5 day duration of the revocation period (the time in which T could change her mind about her decision to place Ben in an adopting family.)  I didn’t dwell on it but every day at 10:46 I would mark the countdown. Just 4 more days, just 3 more days, just 2 more days…

When there was only one day left we traveled to a city a few hours away to be near the lawyers. I was supposed to sign a document that day that would start the ICPC paperwork process. ICPC stands for Interstate Compact of the Placement of Children. It is the paperwork that allows you to legally take an adopted child from his/her birth state into your home state. My consultant, C, told me that it could take anywhere from 10-14 days for the ICPC to process. This was the same news the lawyer gave. So, I was planning for a long stay. 

On the final day of the 5 day revocation period I watched the clock and counted down as if it were New Year’s Eve. I was feeding Ben. I stopped around 10:40 and just watched the clock. At 10:46 I celebrated. The wait was over.

I felt like the wait was over the day we matched with the baby boy in Alabama. I felt like the wait was over when the nurses placed my son in my hands. But, I really felt like the wait was over when I looked at the clock and it was 10:46 on Tuesday February 19, our Gotcha Day. He was ours!!!!

In the midst of our celebration and thanking God over and over I began thinking of T. I wonder if she too was looking at the clock and waiting for 10:46. I wonder if while we wear crying tears of joy and thanksgiving if she was crying tears of grief and pain. I prayed to thank God for his provision and protection. I also prayed that He would give T a peace and a comfort that can only come from Him. That she would know that she made the right decision and that she would be at peace with it and be able to celebrate today too. I pray that for her every day.

February 19, Ben’s Gotcha Day. I plan to celebrate both his birthday and Gotcha day in the years ahead. I want him to know just how happy his mommy was at 10:46 that day for the rest of his life. 

One Week Old

The day after Gotcha Day Ben was one week old. We celebrated with a quick trip to Starbucks. We needed to get out a little bit and we thought Ben would like for his mommy to celebrate with a cup of coffee.

 I had been texting and calling the pediatrician back home multiple times a day (obviously a new parent) and I made sure it was okay for me to bring Ben into a public place while he was so young. Starbucks was approved.

While there, all the patrons were oohing and awing over Ben. It was tons of fun showing him off.

It was also fun watching peoples’ reactions when they realized he was just a week old. Women were puzzled at how I had lost so much pregnancy weight so quickly. I was tempted to just let them think I had an amazing metabolism and ability to bounce back, but I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to tell Ben’s story which is really God’s story. My prayer throughout the adoption process was that God would be glorified and that people’s hearts would be turned toward adoption.

The next day I had to return to the lawyer’s office to sign one more piece of paperwork. When I walked into sign the secretary looked at our lawyer and said, “Do you want me to tell them or do you want to?”

I waited in anticipated while they decided who got to tell me the news. The secretary said, “We aren’t sure how this happened but your ICPC has already cleared. You are free to go home.”

They informed us that it was the fastest ICPC they had every processed in all their years working with adoption. I was thrilled and so thankful. I prayed that the paperwork would go smoothly and that we would be home within the 14 days. God answered above and beyond.

So the next day I checked out of the hotel. I was a bit reluctant to leave since it had been so nice just being with Ben. The hotel was cozy and I had nothing else to worry about but snuggling Ben. I didn’t have to do laundry or wash dishes. I didn’t have to worry about cleaning house or paying bills. It was just was. So, I was anxious to get home but hesitant to leave our little safe haven. I will cherish those days forever. They are sweet, sweet memories. But I was excited to get home and start making more memories.