Silence

To be a prospective adoptive parent is to feel lost. Uncertain. In the dark. To be a prospective adoptive parent is to be last. Anxious. Always fearing the worst. I've quickly learned these things in the last five and half weeks, but especially in the last 24 hours. Sure, part of the reason is that I spend far too much time inside my own head. But the other part I know is that this is simply the nature of being on an adoption journey rollercoaster.

In a nutshell, I tried calling the birth mother yesterday to see how her final doctor appointment went. On the other end all I heard was, "the code or number you have dialed is incorrect." Fear and panic struck my heart. Her social worker cannot reach her either. It is likely she simply ran out of money to pay her phone bill. But no one is answering the door at her home, either. We are told it is not uncommon for adoptive mothers to fall out of communication from time to time. And I am once again reminded of the instability of life outside the comfort of mine.

And so here I am. Worrying. Again. I want so desperately to hear something from the birth mother...to find her somehow...to know she's ok. My frail humanity despises this kind of silence. This lack of control. Why? Because it is in this uncontrolled silence where every fear and doubt comes creeping in. Where every worst case scenario has room to play out. And they do. Over and over again.

While I have been saying all along that I am holding this adoption loosely, I have come to realize that there's really no good way to do that. How do you hold a potential daughter's life loosely? How do you not imagine the next days and years of your life with this precious little one in your care? How do you not put the ultrasound photo on your fridge, when it's the only visual reminder that you may have a baby soon? To hold an adoption loosely requires the heart of a robot. I am convinced.

Alas, while I do hope that tomorrow's news will leave me laughing at today's melodrama, there's no way to be certain. Of only one thing I can truly be certain: That God is sovereign. He can trump all fears and doubts if I let Him. And He is not done with this story. Yes. I am certain of that...

"To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways, not knowing what tomorrow may bring. This is generally expressed with a sigh of sadness, but it should be an expression of breathless expectation."
-Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest

Be Counted in Their Legacy

Well, we're only eight days away from baby girl's due date. I laugh at my own use of "only"...silly me. Because "only eight days" feels like 8,000 years. How do pregnant women do this for nine months?! No seriously...how.

As I wait, I've enjoyed spending time in other blogs. I've laughed, I've cried, I've been encouraged. It's really a beautiful thing to read how adoption is molding, teaching, and redeeming families all across the globe. Everyday. In many different ways. But it's not all peaches and butterflies. I've been especially thankful for those bloggers who are not afraid to be raw and honest. Who are not afraid to educate the masses about their experiences with adoption. Sure, they would not change a thing, and they are the first to give God all the praise and glory. But they do not sugar coat. Because life is messy. And adoption can make it even messier...in a beautiful sort of way.

I think this is why the last lines of the blog I shared with you on Tuesday resonated with me so deeply: Challenge: Although not everyone can or should adopt or be foster parents, we all can support those who do. How could we do that today?

Serendipitously, a friend sent me a blog post today that tries to answer that very question. The author is a woman who recently adopted two children from Ethiopia. I love her wit. Her raw and uncensored writing style. Feel free to read the whole post if you have time, but if you don't here are some excerpts I thought may be helpful as you encounter couples and families who have been called to adoption:

Ways to support and speak to adoptive parents before the adoption:

1. Just kind, normal words of encouragement. Not the kind that assume we are one breath away from atheism. Not the kind that attempt to minimize the difficulties and tidy it all up with catchphrases. We don’t actually need for you to fix our wait. We just want you to be our friend and acknowledge that the process is hard and you care about us while we’re hurting. That is GOLD. I was once having lunch with my friend Lynde when AWAA called with more bad news about Ben’s case, and I laid my head down on the table in the middle of Galaxy Café and bawled. Having no idea what to do with such a hot mess, she just cried with me. Thank you for being perfect that day, Lynde.

2. Your questions are welcomed! We don’t mind telling you about the court system in Ethiopia or the in-country requirements in Nicaragua or the rules of the foster system. We’re glad to talk about adoption, and we’re thankful you care. I assure you we didn’t enter adoption lightly, so sharing details of this HUGE PIECE OF OUR LIVES is cathartic. Plus, we want you to know more because we’re all secretly hoping you’ll adopt later. (This is not true.) (Yes it is.)

3. When you say you’re praying for us and our waiting children, and you actually really are, not only does that soothe our troubled souls, but according to Scripture, it activates the heavens. So pray on, dear friends. Pray on. That is always the right thing to say. And please actually do it. We need people to stand in the gap for us when we are too tired and discouraged to keep praying the same words another day.

4. If you can, please become telepathic to determine which days we want to talk about adoption and which days we’d rather you just show up on our doorstep with fresh figs from the Farmer’s Market (thanks, Katie) or kidnap us away in the middle of the day to go see Bridesmaids. Sometimes we need you to make us laugh and remember what it feels like to be carefree for a few hours. If you’re not sure which day we’re having, just pre-buy movie tickets and show up with the figs, and when we answer the door, hold them all up and ask, “Would you like to talk for an hour uninterrupted about waiting for a court date?” We’ll respond to whichever one fits.

Ways you can support adoptive parents after the adoption:

1. Cook for your friends. Put together a meal calendar and recruit every person who even remotely cares about them. We didn’t cook dinners for one solid month, and folks, that may have single handedly saved my sanity. There simply are not words to describe how exhausting and overwhelming those first few weeks are, not to mention the lovely jetlag everyone came home with. And if your friends adopted domestically right up the street, this is all still true, minus the jetlag.

2. If we have them, offer to take our biological kids for an adventure or sleepover. Please believe me: their lives just got WHACKED OUT, and they need a break, but their parents can’t give them one because they are 1.) cleaning up pee and poop all day, 2.) holding screaming children, 3.) spending all their time at doctors’ offices, and 4.) falling asleep in their clothes at 8:15pm. Plus, they are in lockdown mode with the recently adopted, trying to shield them from the trauma that is Walmart.

3. Thank you for getting excited with us over our little victories. I realize it sounds like a very small deal when we tell you our kindergartener is now staying in the same room as the dog, but if you could’ve seen the epic level of freakoutedness this dog caused her for three weeks, you would understand that this is really something. When you encourage us over our incremental progress, it helps. You remind us that we ARE moving forward and these little moments are worth celebrating. If we come to you spazzing out, please remind us where we were a month ago. Force us to acknowledge their gains. Be a cheerleader for the healing process.

4. Come over one night after our kids are asleep and sit with us on our porch. Let me tell you: we are all lonely in those early weeks. We are home, home, home, home, home. Good-bye, date nights. Good-bye, GNO’s. Good-bye, spontaneous anything. Good-bye, church. Good-bye, big public outings. Good-bye, community group. Good-bye, nightlife. So please bring some community to our doorstep. Bring friendship back into our lives. Bring adult conversation and laughter. And bring an expensive bottle of wine.

5. If the shoe fits, tell adopting families how their story is affecting yours. If God has moved in you over the course of our adoption, whether before the airport or after, if you’ve made a change or a decision, if somewhere deep inside a fire was lit, tell us, because it is spiritual water on dry souls. There is nothing more encouraging than finding out God is using our families for greater kingdom work, beautiful things we would never know or see. We gather the holy moments in our hands every day, praying for eyes to see God’s presence, his purposes realized in our story. When you put more holy moments in our hands to meditate on, we are drawn deeper into the Jesus who led us here.

And here's the part I loved the most:

Here’s one last thing: As you watch us struggle and celebrate and cry and flail, we also want you to know that adoption is beautiful, and a thousand times we’ve looked at each other and said, “What if we would’ve said no?” God invited us into something monumental and lovely, and we would’ve missed endless moments of glory had we walked away. We need you during these difficult months of waiting and transitioning, but we also hope you see that we serve a faithful God who heals and actually sets the lonely in families, just like He said He would. And even through the tears and tantrums (ours), we look at our children and marvel that God counted us worthy to raise them. We are humbled. We’ve been gifted with a very holy task, and when you help us rise to the occasion, you have an inheritance in their story; your name will be counted in their legacy.

Yes! On a very personal note, Joel and I have been moved to tears by the ways we have been loved and supported in the last five weeks. "Thank you" cannot begin to express what we feel towards our family and friends. You have all been the epitome of Christ's love. And rest assured, your name will be counted in our baby's legacy.

Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.
-Galatians 6:2

Adoption is Not Normal

On this beautiful first day of November, instead of reading my words and thoughts on adoption, I'd love for you to read another's. The link below is from a blog my husband follows. I kind of want to hug the woman who wrote it...

Adoption - An Outside View

Please continue to pray for us as we wait for baby girl to arrive. Her due date is quickly approaching and the birth mother is feeling very tired! We have some renewed hope in this adoption going through, but I will leave it at that. Now, all we can do is wait...and trust...

But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; they shall walk, and not faint.
-Isaiah 40:31

An Exercise in Giving Thanks

A thankful heart. I would say on most days this is what I have. I realized fairly early into our infertility that unless I possessed gratitude for the things I did have, the grief would swallow me whole. The anger at God would persist. And I would become a bitter, nasty woman. It sounds funny, but I am thankful for my thankful heart. However, it does fail me at times. I am not perfect. Life is messy. And there are just days, seasons, when I am not thankful. I am discouraged. And I would prefer to wallow in my self pity. That is where I've been the last few days. Let me catch you up...

Sunday 10/16: We have a lovely one-hour phone conversation with the birth mother. We hit it off with her, learn about each other, laugh. Then we ask if she can tell us about the birth father. A man the social worker told us was not at all in the picture, his whereabouts completely unknown. Quite the contrary. Without going into too much detail, I will simply say that he is most definitely still in the picture. And most definitely has no idea about the adoption plans. Suddenly I'm the one needing a Lamaze class.

Monday 10/17: Realizing this changes everything, we get the social workers involved. As suspected, they tell us the birth father indeed needs to be notified. Having been told that he thwarted the birth mother's attempt at putting their second child up for adoption, we are not super excited about this turn of events. And neither is the birth mother. Which is exactly why she didn't want to involve him in the first place. Sadly, our legal system doesn't work that way. And neither do we. The last thing we need is a baby daddy knocking on our door after the adoption has already taken place. Hee-hee-hooooooooo. Hee-hee-hooooooooo.

Wednesday 10/19: The adoption agency sends out a certified letter to the birth father, alerting him to the adoption plans. He can either (1) consent to the adoption, (2) place himself on the putative father registry, which essentially means he wants to be notified when adoption proceedings begin so he can intervene, or (3) do nothing. If he chooses option (3) he will still have 30 days after the baby's birth to come forward and claim paternity. Which, yes, means we risk giving this baby up after several days of loving and caring for her. [This is where Lamaze goes out the window and I just stop breathing altogether].

Thursday 10/20: We drive down to Chi-town to meet the birth mother and her social worker, only to find out the birth mother can't make it anymore. Huh? We still manage to have a delightful meeting with her social worker, which we're actually quite happy about. Oh and did I mention that this meeting took place at a Denny's? Joel and I have enjoyed an ongoing war of words over Denny's for about the last five years. Ha! Proof that God has a sense of humor.

Friday 10/21: My optimism runs out and the weight of the week comes crashing down on my shoulders. Of course right before work. Of course after I put on mascara.

And that is where I've been since Friday. Realizing this has a high chance of not working out. Beginning to grieve the idea of this little girl as our daughter. Forcing myself to let go. Laying in my pool of self-pity. My boo-hoo's and why-me's. It's not fun. And in this season, I admit that I am struggling to be thankful.

But then I see a friend's status on Facebook proclaiming it is exactly 30 days from Thanksgiving. She is going to post one thing she is thankful for each day until then. I'm sure you all have seen this Facebook trend in years past. I know I have. And this year I'm going to do it. It is my exercise in giving thanks. Because I know my thankful heart needs to get whipped back into shape. I have so much to be thankful for. Baby or no baby. And while I believe we all must give ourselves permission to wallow at times, we also need to pull ourselves up by the boot straps and see the good that stands right in front of us. Because it truly is good. And because it all comes from God, the One who made the universe and all that is in it...and still makes time to smile on me.

Thankfulness is "the chief exercise of godliness" in which we ought to engage during the whole of our life.
-Ronald S. Wallace, Calvin's Doctrine of the Christian Life, p. 284

To be grateful is to recognize the love of God in everything He has given us - and He has given us everything. Every breath we draw is a gift of His love, every moment of existence is a grace, for it brings with it immense graces from Him. Gratitude therefore takes nothing for granted, is never unresponsive, is constantly awakening to new wonder and to praise of the goodness of God. For the grateful person knows that God is good, not by hearsay but by experience. And that is what makes all the difference.
-Thomas Merton, Thoughts in Solitude, p. 42

The Lord is Near

Last winter, a young girl was date-raped and became pregnant. We learned about her in early February when she was 15 weeks along and planning an abortion. Out of the heartache I felt for her and her baby, I wrote this post. God did many amazing things at that time. I look back in both amazement and fondness because of how close He felt and how undeniably He spoke to me. I thank Him for giving me the opportunity to channel the pain Joel and I had suffered at the hands of infertility into a letter of encouragement. A letter to a girl whose name we did not even know. But a letter that ultimately helped change the tides of her baby's fate. We learned in August that she had given birth to a healthy baby boy and a sweet couple from the great state of Minnesota had adopted him. I truly believe God has big plans for this little boy.

One of the many beautiful things about this story is that it created a defining moment in February that propelled us to get off the couch, stop feeling sorry for ourselves, and move forward with our adoption plans. Moreover, despite our pursuit of international adoption, we instead felt God strongly leading us toward domestic adoption through this young girl's situation. Needless to say, we followed His lead and are so very glad we did. Because what we didn't know was around that very same moment, in the cold darkness of February, a little girl was conceived in Chicago...and eight months later her mother would be choosing us as her adoptive parents. While nothing is certain until 72 hours after the birth, when parental rights are relinquished, we are hopeful. We see God's hand in all the details. Too many to chronicle in this post!

We get to meet the young birth mother on Thursday. A part of me wants to hug her so hard she can't breathe (and probably start crying all over her). The other part wants to simply shake her hand and smile. Since learning she picked us, we have been wavering between over-the-roof excitement and extreme caution. With this baby coming in a matter of weeks, we have had to find the balance between preparing our home and our hearts, and protecting them. It is anxiety-inducing to say the least! And at the same time, it's all I could have hoped for or imagined.

No matter how this plays out, the truth of the matter is that God is here. It's unquestionable, even in the midst of uncertainty. If this is truly our baby then watch out...I'm gonna be the crazy lady running through the streets of Chicago screaming "Hallelujah!" And if she's not, then we will trust God in our disappointment and wait patiently on Him to lead us to another. Because He is good and has made it His job to redeem all things. Until then, this is my mantra...

The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
-Philippians 4:5b-7

Somewhere Between Hope and Self-Preservation...

This is where I live. This is where I have been living for almost the last three years. Finding the balance between unabashedly hoping and trusting that the Lord will grant you your heart's desire, and protecting yourself from the seemingly constant realization that His timing is seldom your own is a constant theme in my life.

Today our adoption portfolio should be reaching a social worker in Chicago who will place it in the hands of a pregnant mother. Along with our portfolio, will be the portfolios of a few equally wonderful, able, and loving wannabe adoptive parents...couples who have probably been waiting for some time now (because unlike us, they actually have their home study done!). It's fun and exciting to start discussing things like furniture, names, logistics. It's scary yet thrilling to imagine dropping everything and leaving for Chicago at a moment's notice to meet a baby that could become our daughter. But it's dangerous. Oh so dangerous.

As a couple who has endured the month-by-month agony of infertility, every fiber of our being whispers to us things like: "She won't choose you"..."Even if she chooses you, she may not like you in person"..."She'll choose you and change her mind after the baby has already been in your arms". It's terrifying. And that's where the self-preservation comes in. That's where I try to rationalize everything to death. Just. To. Protect. I feel myself building up walls. But they're only knee-high right now. Y'know, just in case I need to step over them.

Lately I have kept coming back to Exodus 14. The Israelites have left Egypt and are in the desert. They were hopeful but are now disillusioned and terrified. The Egyptians are in hot pursuit, fearing they made a grave mistake by letting the Israelites go. When the Israelites find themselves surrounded by Pharaoh and his army, Moses says in verses 13 and 14, “Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the LORD will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still.”

The Egyptians in this story are my deepest fears and doubts. Moses represents our friends and family who have so graciously been walking alongside us in the desert. And the LORD...well, He is the LORD. The unchanging Yahweh. The One who keeps His promises and fights for His people. May we be still and trust that He will fight for us as we cross the Red Sea and beyond. Whenever that may be...



Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and all that night the LORD drove the sea back with a strong east wind and turned it into dry land. The waters were divided, and the Israelites went through the sea on dry ground, with a wall of water on their right and on their left.

The Egyptians pursued them, and all Pharaoh’s horses and chariots and horsemen followed them into the sea. During the last watch of the night the LORD looked down from the pillar of fire and cloud at the Egyptian army and threw it into confusion. He jammed the wheels of their chariots so that they had difficulty driving. And the Egyptians said, “Let’s get away from the Israelites! The LORD is fighting for them against Egypt.”
-Exodus 14:21-25

We Know How to Do Crazy

2004: We buy a house and decide it would be fun to remodel it while planning for our wedding. We get married and subsequently enter into significant changes in our careers and schooling. I decide to chase a hurricane and make Joel pay for it. We decide we're not going get a dog for two years (y'know...cuz we wanted to be stable in our marriage and all). Two weeks later, we end up driving home from Michigan with a free dog we got at a garage sale.

2005: We have this crazy idea to go to Kenya to love on women and kids affected by HIV/AIDS. We decide to finish our basement...ourselves.

2006: We go to Kenya. It rocks us to the core. Joel gets deathly ill there. We return and say to ourselves "we're never going back." Naturally, we decide this while trying to complete our basement project, which by this time has taken about 10 years off of Joel's life.

2007: We return to Kenya.

2008: Hey! Wouldn't it be fun to write a Master's thesis and start a new job while co-founding a non-profit organization? And then backpack through Europe?! Yup! We return and Joel loses me to 75% work travel for the next year.

2009: I change roles at work and take on significantly more responsibility whilst we plan, educate, and eventually lead a team of 18 people to Kenya and back (and get them all good 'n' food poisoned just before we board a plane for home).

2010: We sell our first home (miraculously) and buy the one house that I kinda hated. We spend the entire summer gutting it and putting it back together again. We eat lots of Hubbard Ave. pies to console ourselves after months of sleeping in drywall dust. I threaten to leave Joel and take the dog with me until the house is finished.

2011: The house is still not finished (but I love it now!). We decide to return to Kenya on a whim. Just before we leave we deposit an application and a non-refundable check to an adoption agency. I go to the Philippines and Thailand with two weeks notice. We begin our adoption home study in September and are told we could have a baby by the end of the year. To which we laugh hysterically and reply "...like 2011?! Uhhhh, thanks, but no."

Today: A pregnant woman in Chicago is looking for a couple to adopt her baby. Her only stipulation is that the couple not currently have other children. Her social worker calls our social worker: "Know anybody that fits this birth mother's request?" He sees only one on his list...us. Despite our currently incomplete home study, we get the call. We laugh hysterically (again). We have a moment of calm and clarity and decide to go for it. Our portfolio photo-book (which serendipitously was delivered just yesterday) will be sent to Chicago tomorrow. The birth mother will have a few couples to choose from. If she chooses us, and if our meeting with her were to go well, we could be the proud parents of a little African-American girl. Oh yeah...she's due in 2-3 weeks.

"This is completely crazy...which makes it so perfect for us."
-Joel Hassenzahl, October 2nd, 2011