Well it's Monday, which means I just finished up my ninth week of pregnancy and I'm settling into my tenth week. I don't want to jinx anything, but it's possible the morning sickness portion may be getting better. Today has been a pretty tolerable day. I don't want to simultaneously scarf a pizza and throw it up, so I think that's a pretty good sign!
This morning sickness is for the birds. No, I haven't had the violent vomiting–thank goodness–but I have had this combination of always being hungry and always be nauseous. And the scale tips closer the the nausea side the more hungry I get. It's an endless battle and one I have taken upon myself to whine and mope about to my husband daily. I'm sure he's tired of my moaning, but I feel that since I'm the one with the baby growing in me and the birth to look forward to, while he just gets to kick back and be daddy-o with not so much as a mere broken finger or two during labor, I get the right to whine if I want to! :)
I've determined, after my highly scientific study, that there is a distinct reason why God designed it so that you could not both be pregnant and have a newborn naturally. The smells of Desitin and formula might as well be sewage or moldy cabbage. Even certain lotions must be avoided or I get the gag reflex working. I find myself in the middle of the night burping Lamaya while also leaning away trying to find my happy place to keep the room and my stomach from spinning. Oh, what an adventure!
Heading into my 10th week also means that Lamaya is six weeks old now. My little girl is almost all grown up. Before I know it we will be picking out a prom dress, locking her up in her room to prevent any males from seeing her beautiful little face until she is at least 35, graduating high school, walking her down the aisle.... I need a tissue. Okay, so maybe I have just a wee bit of time until then, but it sure seems crazy to me that she is already six weeks.
The funny, or not so funny, thing about six weeks is that Lamaya's pediatrician made sure to clue me in on a little milestone we will hit at this stage. It's called the, "Every six week baby cries, on average, three hours per day." Oh yes, and like clockwork, she is dusting off those lungs and whaling like it's going out of style. And, like everything else, she is above average with this milestone. Last night was our first treat into the six week milestone. Every half hour she wanted to make sure we were still in the house, or at least within earshot–so, basically, within a 5-mile radius. I took the late night shift, which ended around 2 am and didn't sleep but maybe 45 minutes. Tim took the early morning shift, which ramped up shortly after mine ended and he was up nearly every 30 minutes. I got to thinking that maybe she just wants us to exercise with all this getting up and down. I'd prefer she focus her efforts during the daytime, but it's awfully sweet of her to be thinking about our health.
And boy does that baby girl got some l-u-n-g-s on her. Sure, she has cried here and there since we picked her up, but not the kind that I can hear through floor upstairs while Tim is rocking her and trying to calm her. I swear I felt the floor shake a little.
So, you know, we are trying to learn new ways to comfort her. The old go-to's are SO last week to her now. This is some adventure we are on. I think, for Christmas, all I want is just a bag of magical sleep dust. Where I can sprinkle it over me and it's like I slept the whole night. That would be marvelous.
Keeping it real in mommyhood,
AA
Monday, December 19, 2011
Monday, December 12, 2011
Mommy Blog - Day 31
Well, the time has come.
We've kept this "under wraps" for as long as possible. And we have done one terrible job of it, so this probably isn't even news for many of you.
The night we were packing to pick up Lamaya I decided to take a test. Oh, yes, a test! Not the SAT test. Not a personality test. Not a "Which Disney Princess Are You?" test. A pregnancy test. And, wouldn't you know it....
I've heard the stories of bringing home your adopted baby and a few weeks or months later, badabing! But, I have not yet heard of the simultaneous babies business. Yes, we were and continue to freak out a bit. For those of you who are trying to calculate, welcome to the club. I've heard conflicting stories as to how far along I am, though I'm sure my ultrasound in a few weeks will help solve the mystery. My fertility specialist doctor has calculated me to be in my ninth week at this time. We were able to see the heartbeat on an internal ultrasound on December 2nd, which was SUCH a blessing. It meant that our pregnancy is a healthy one and our chances of miscarrying have dropped to less than 5%.
So, pretty amazing eh? I suppose I should have backed off a wee bit on the prayers for a baby. :) No, no, we are absolutely thrilled and it's so evident that this is exactly how God planned it and here's why:
Lamaya was born 4 weeks early. On the day we received the phone call that we had been matched, we had already had a discussion that morning about what we would do if we became pregnant. We had come to a decision that we would put our file on hold if we became pregnant and saw the heartbeat in an ultrasound. If we became pregnant and it was really early on–too early to see the heartbeat–we would keep our names on the adoption wait list.
So, if Lamaya had been born late, or even on time, we would have more than likely pulled our names from the wait list because we would have seen the heartbeat in an ultrasound. Talk about perfect timing! It makes this whole process very special to know that God is up there smiling down on us and blessing us left and right.
I am very excited to begin blogging about the joys (and hardships) of being both pregnant and having a newborn, but I really just wanted to get this bit of good news out there.
Nothing like going from zero children to two children in less than a year! They will be 8 1/2 months apart and likely in the same grade at school. How fun!
No, we're not having twins. Whew.
AA
We've kept this "under wraps" for as long as possible. And we have done one terrible job of it, so this probably isn't even news for many of you.
The night we were packing to pick up Lamaya I decided to take a test. Oh, yes, a test! Not the SAT test. Not a personality test. Not a "Which Disney Princess Are You?" test. A pregnancy test. And, wouldn't you know it....
I've heard the stories of bringing home your adopted baby and a few weeks or months later, badabing! But, I have not yet heard of the simultaneous babies business. Yes, we were and continue to freak out a bit. For those of you who are trying to calculate, welcome to the club. I've heard conflicting stories as to how far along I am, though I'm sure my ultrasound in a few weeks will help solve the mystery. My fertility specialist doctor has calculated me to be in my ninth week at this time. We were able to see the heartbeat on an internal ultrasound on December 2nd, which was SUCH a blessing. It meant that our pregnancy is a healthy one and our chances of miscarrying have dropped to less than 5%.
So, pretty amazing eh? I suppose I should have backed off a wee bit on the prayers for a baby. :) No, no, we are absolutely thrilled and it's so evident that this is exactly how God planned it and here's why:
Lamaya was born 4 weeks early. On the day we received the phone call that we had been matched, we had already had a discussion that morning about what we would do if we became pregnant. We had come to a decision that we would put our file on hold if we became pregnant and saw the heartbeat in an ultrasound. If we became pregnant and it was really early on–too early to see the heartbeat–we would keep our names on the adoption wait list.
So, if Lamaya had been born late, or even on time, we would have more than likely pulled our names from the wait list because we would have seen the heartbeat in an ultrasound. Talk about perfect timing! It makes this whole process very special to know that God is up there smiling down on us and blessing us left and right.
I am very excited to begin blogging about the joys (and hardships) of being both pregnant and having a newborn, but I really just wanted to get this bit of good news out there.
Nothing like going from zero children to two children in less than a year! They will be 8 1/2 months apart and likely in the same grade at school. How fun!
No, we're not having twins. Whew.
AA
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
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Monday, December 5, 2011
Mommy Blog - Let's call this... day 24
Alright. Epic fail on updating the blog right away after returning home. It's been a little busy adjusting, but I suppose that goes without saying.
I've been a momma for 24 days now. That's amazing to me, because it's already flying by so fast. This whole life-change business is quite an ordeal. I'm certain I've never seen my home so messy, but I've probably also never cared less. It seems so simple, you know? Lamaya needs to eat, we feed her. Lamaya needs a diaper change, we change her. Lamaya need to burp, we burp her. Lamaya needs to fall aslep, she falls asleep. So, then, why does it seem to turn our world upside down? Because it really isn't that easy.
I'm learning more and more about the tricks of trying to get Lamaya to fall asleep, to eat all of her bottle, to stay awake more during the day. She has been pretty easy on us as newbies. She has allowed us to experience victories, which seem small in the scope of, oh say life, but they are huge to us. Getting up before 8 am, getting dressed and getting makeup on my face this morning was a serious accomplishment. I felt proud walking out the door this morning feeling like only good things could happen today because, by golly, I have clean clothes on, hair done and makeup on. I'm learning to celebrate these mini-victories, because the big ones I keep saying I "have to get done" that continue to be undone can really get me down. I really need to fix the Christmas lights on our outside post. Half of them are not lit up. I have to balance our budget from last month. It's making this month an impossibility to balance. I have to vacuum and dust downstairs because we will soon be living in the Munsters house if I don't. I have to help my mom finish up the third floor project we started months ago. I have to finish the laundry.
And, the best answer I can say to all these things is: Maybe tomorrow....
Ah well, the joy of motherhood. One giant balancing act. I feel like I don't have the right to say things like, "the joy of motherhood" since I am still very much so a rookie and have no idea what it's like to be a seasoned mom. I, especially, feel like we have this whole parenthood thing very easy considering we have oodles of help.
One of my favorite transitions in all of this, besides watching Tim become a daddy, has been watching my dad become a grandpa. Never before has the earth stood still like it does when Lamaya is in need of anything, even simply being held or burping. Grandpa is eager to jump in and take on the task of spending time with his granddaughter. Work? What work? TV? What TV? Grandpa has Lamaya and that's all that really matters. It's pretty neat.
Well, Lamaya's progress is pretty standard. I swear she is nearly walking and talking. Probably will know her alphabet tomorrow. Okay, I may be getting slightly carried away, but she's mastered drinking a bottle down! And, she is one heck of a head-lifter. She is even attempting to use her leg muscles to stand on me a little. So, it's pretty safe to say she will be a child prodigy. Maybe, MAYBE I might be a little biased.
So, that's all from the new mommy today. More to come for sure. Enjoy the frosty mornings!
AA
I've been a momma for 24 days now. That's amazing to me, because it's already flying by so fast. This whole life-change business is quite an ordeal. I'm certain I've never seen my home so messy, but I've probably also never cared less. It seems so simple, you know? Lamaya needs to eat, we feed her. Lamaya needs a diaper change, we change her. Lamaya need to burp, we burp her. Lamaya needs to fall aslep, she falls asleep. So, then, why does it seem to turn our world upside down? Because it really isn't that easy.
I'm learning more and more about the tricks of trying to get Lamaya to fall asleep, to eat all of her bottle, to stay awake more during the day. She has been pretty easy on us as newbies. She has allowed us to experience victories, which seem small in the scope of, oh say life, but they are huge to us. Getting up before 8 am, getting dressed and getting makeup on my face this morning was a serious accomplishment. I felt proud walking out the door this morning feeling like only good things could happen today because, by golly, I have clean clothes on, hair done and makeup on. I'm learning to celebrate these mini-victories, because the big ones I keep saying I "have to get done" that continue to be undone can really get me down. I really need to fix the Christmas lights on our outside post. Half of them are not lit up. I have to balance our budget from last month. It's making this month an impossibility to balance. I have to vacuum and dust downstairs because we will soon be living in the Munsters house if I don't. I have to help my mom finish up the third floor project we started months ago. I have to finish the laundry.
And, the best answer I can say to all these things is: Maybe tomorrow....
Ah well, the joy of motherhood. One giant balancing act. I feel like I don't have the right to say things like, "the joy of motherhood" since I am still very much so a rookie and have no idea what it's like to be a seasoned mom. I, especially, feel like we have this whole parenthood thing very easy considering we have oodles of help.
One of my favorite transitions in all of this, besides watching Tim become a daddy, has been watching my dad become a grandpa. Never before has the earth stood still like it does when Lamaya is in need of anything, even simply being held or burping. Grandpa is eager to jump in and take on the task of spending time with his granddaughter. Work? What work? TV? What TV? Grandpa has Lamaya and that's all that really matters. It's pretty neat.
Well, Lamaya's progress is pretty standard. I swear she is nearly walking and talking. Probably will know her alphabet tomorrow. Okay, I may be getting slightly carried away, but she's mastered drinking a bottle down! And, she is one heck of a head-lifter. She is even attempting to use her leg muscles to stand on me a little. So, it's pretty safe to say she will be a child prodigy. Maybe, MAYBE I might be a little biased.
So, that's all from the new mommy today. More to come for sure. Enjoy the frosty mornings!
AA
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Adoption - Day... Who cares, it's THE DAY!
I wish I had some very clever words to say today. I'm afraid I am still a little beside myself from the whirlwind that began on Sunday, November 6th–yes, the day that was just 10 days ago. I just had a dear friend of mine tell me I should just say, "She's Here!" and call it a day.
So...SHE'S HERE! I am absolutely blessed beyond measure to be able to introduce you to our baby girl, our daughter, the one we have waited and waited and WAITED for. Her name is Lamaya Claire Ainley (pronounced luh-my-uh). She was born on November 4th and was 4 weeks early. She was 5 pounds 9 ounces and 17 inches long. But, those are just the facts. She is perfect, angelic, beautiful, tiny, breath-taking and the absolute apple of my eye.
I am sure many of you are wondering, is this one for sure? The answer: yes. The revoke period ends in just a few short hours and, the truth is, the birth mother would have to give written notice and have it postmarked by now. Our caseworker, who has been a big blessing to us this entire 10-day process, checked in with birth mom today and she is feeling wonderful about the whole thing and is sure this is the best decision.
As I type this, Tim is walking around the room in our condo holding Lamaya. This is a very surreal picture. I'm speechless. God has truly blessed our lives with this precious gift and we just are beside ourselves with joy. I am very eager to share the beautiful story of the birth mother and how we were able to meet her and her loving family. I'm just not sure I can get into it right now with all the emotions swirling around me. I will have more to share as the days progress. Just know that is has been a beautiful process and one of the most precious moments of my life will always be the moment the birth mother and I shared outside in a Walmart parking lot. It was simply she and I holding each other, crying. It was like our hearts were connected and always will be. I look forward to the day when I get to share with Lamaya the courage and tender care her biological mother had to place her in my arms and walk away.
I look forward to sharing more about this story. But, for now, here she is! She is our precious baby girl and we are headed home on a plane from Georgia (no, not a midnight train) tomorrow (Nov. 17). We cannot contain how excited we are to bring her home to meet the rest of her family.
Enjoy these snapshots of the most beautiful little face I've ever seen. Thank you all so much for your love and prayers. This story doesn't end here! I'll be transitioning to mommy blogging. Wow, that's sure fun to say!
So...SHE'S HERE! I am absolutely blessed beyond measure to be able to introduce you to our baby girl, our daughter, the one we have waited and waited and WAITED for. Her name is Lamaya Claire Ainley (pronounced luh-my-uh). She was born on November 4th and was 4 weeks early. She was 5 pounds 9 ounces and 17 inches long. But, those are just the facts. She is perfect, angelic, beautiful, tiny, breath-taking and the absolute apple of my eye.
I am sure many of you are wondering, is this one for sure? The answer: yes. The revoke period ends in just a few short hours and, the truth is, the birth mother would have to give written notice and have it postmarked by now. Our caseworker, who has been a big blessing to us this entire 10-day process, checked in with birth mom today and she is feeling wonderful about the whole thing and is sure this is the best decision.
As I type this, Tim is walking around the room in our condo holding Lamaya. This is a very surreal picture. I'm speechless. God has truly blessed our lives with this precious gift and we just are beside ourselves with joy. I am very eager to share the beautiful story of the birth mother and how we were able to meet her and her loving family. I'm just not sure I can get into it right now with all the emotions swirling around me. I will have more to share as the days progress. Just know that is has been a beautiful process and one of the most precious moments of my life will always be the moment the birth mother and I shared outside in a Walmart parking lot. It was simply she and I holding each other, crying. It was like our hearts were connected and always will be. I look forward to the day when I get to share with Lamaya the courage and tender care her biological mother had to place her in my arms and walk away.
I look forward to sharing more about this story. But, for now, here she is! She is our precious baby girl and we are headed home on a plane from Georgia (no, not a midnight train) tomorrow (Nov. 17). We cannot contain how excited we are to bring her home to meet the rest of her family.
Enjoy these snapshots of the most beautiful little face I've ever seen. Thank you all so much for your love and prayers. This story doesn't end here! I'll be transitioning to mommy blogging. Wow, that's sure fun to say!
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Adoption - Day 413
Happy Almost-Autumn everyone. Boy, summer went out with a serious bang last weekend with temperatures in the 90s. My plants were dancing in the sunlight all weekend long. I, for one, do not care much for heat, so I was thrilled it was packed into a single weekend where I could enjoy the warmth in a brief stint. Now, welcome autumn. The best season of the year, in my opinion of course.
Time to dust off the leafy decor, pumpkin candles, funky gords and light sweaters. I love autumn. I also thoroughly enjoy the anticipation of autumn. The next few weeks left of "summer" are the weeks to get things done before the weather says, "And we're all done here for outdoor projects until July of 2012." I've got a lengthy list, but all sorts of ambition. Not the least of which is, drum roll, starting to venture into what I'll just call "Writing a Book Because I Feel Inspired and also Because I Have Always Wanted To But I'm Real Scared My Writing Isn't All That Fabulous or Interesting" project. It's a working title.
It seems insurmountable, but I have put it on my goals sheet for the year and you all can hold me accountable. Because, what good are goals if you don't have someone asking you about them? My goal is to make "significant progress" on writing the book. I've left the description of my goal a little ambiguous for a reason.
So, I suppose, in lieu of of this goal, I have written an essay. Perhaps it is really this essay that has been the catalyst for my commitment to writing a book. In any case, I've written one. I wrote an essay for the Real Simple magazine essay contest. Today was the last day to submit the essay, so it feels nice to finally have it out of my hands. It will be what it will be. Oh, how I love useless and meaningless statements. I've decided to share it all with you. Since I was an editing and revising lunatic, many of you have already read this. But for those of you who haven't, here you go.
I wrote in the body of my email that even if this essay doesn't amount to a winning piece (or even come close) it has brought tremendous healing just to write it. Each time I read it aloud or to myself, the pain of the experience would slightly dim, as the lessons would illuminate brighter and brighter. I mention briefly that there are days where I wonder if I will ever truly be grateful for this experience. I can honestly say that I am. I can only really thank Jesus for his grace to heal me through something simple but special: writing an essay.
I hope you enjoy!
An Unexpected Gift
By: Ashley N. Ainley
“Thursday?” I asked.
“Thursday. The day after tomorrow,” she replied.
This was the call my husband and I had been waiting nearly seven months for. We had a match. A birth mother had selected us to adopt her baby and she was scheduled for induced labor in two days. Since Georgia law allows the birth mother ten days to change her mind before the adoption is finalized, we had about twelve days to prepare for our baby girl’s arrival.
It is near impossible to describe that tender moment when something you have been yearning for becomes tangible. Real. I suppose it is something like unscrewing a water bottle upside down. It chugs out, followed by gasps of air and more chugging–moments of sheer joy, followed by moments of disbelief, followed by more moments of joy.
We began the adoption process in the summer of 2010. We chose an African-American infant program with an agency based in Georgia. We officially landed on the waiting list in January and were given an estimated match time of three to six months–a process where the birth mother selects us as the forever family for her baby.
August 18th was the day she would be induced–a day I spent getting better acquainted with antacids. The evening crawled by as my mind paced anxious for the news of our little one’s birth. No news. Not until the next morning. Our little girl had been born just after midnight. As the caseworker explained what details she had of the birth, she calmed our fears by saying this birth mother was ready to move forward with the adoption and would sign the surrender paperwork within a day or two.
We were bursting with joy. The door of my heart had flung open to the world of motherhood, as I leaped from tortured patience to eager anticipation. I was going to be a mother. We hugged each other and kept shaking our heads in disbelief. A whirlwind of emotion swirled around us–were we ready to be parents in less than two weeks? As my heart quickened, I had to remember to take deep breaths. I can do this. Right?
The truth is, we have been ready for over three years. After fruitless efforts to become pregnant, we decided to channel our longing for children into the passion we have for adoption. Adoption runs deep in our family. My husband’s mother is adopted and so is mine. He also has five adopted Korean aunts and uncles. Our extensive history combined with our love for children meant it was a topic of discussion even before I had a ring on my finger.
As I sat on the bed thinking of the words I wanted to say to our baby girl in her very first birthday card, I got another call. My breath caught in my throat. It had not been two hours since the last call. The birth mother had changed her mind. All of the emotion, joy and anticipation dissolved into nothing but a vapor.
I collapsed physically and emotionally. My husband held me as I sobbed at the heart-wrenching news. It felt like a tender gift had been snatched from my heart. My mind reacted in disbelief, racing to protect my heart from this sadness still ringing in my ears. It was too late. I was shattered.
It has been less than a month since the bottle cap unscrewed leaving us empty, drained. I have spent many days pondering what it was I went through, am going through, and how I am supposed to continue on with a new sadness in my chest. Many days I have inexplicable nausea. Other days I wonder if I will ever truly be grateful for this experience.
Several months ago I read the question in Real Simple magazine, “When did you first understand the meaning of love?” No single moment came to mind at the time. I have been abundantly blessed by various forms of love throughout my life, but I could not isolate a moment of epiphany for the multi-faceted meaning of love. This is not to discredit the deep love I certainly have for my husband and family. It was not until recently I realized how this experience has helped form my answer. I have a new understanding of love–a mother’s love for her child.
Throughout this waiting process, I’ve been searching for something, anything to make this experience of becoming a mother seem more real. Women who become pregnant have the reality on display after a few months, as they watch their bellies swell with their little gift. As for me, I launched into preparing the nursery and thinking of creative ways to remember and savor each moment along the way. I want to be able to give my child something special to hold onto, to know they are loved, cherished and wanted.
I have been given a fresh perspective. It isn’t that I lost hope, but I had latched onto a specific child who was never intended to be mine at all. If I hadn’t gone through the joy and anticipation of that little girl, I would not have had the opportunity to feel the pulse of motherhood flow through my veins–the love that goes beyond comprehension and mere emotion. This little girl has given me a peek at the tender moment when we will at last hold our baby in our arms, knowing this little one is ours, is home. This experience allowed me to dip my fingers into the depthless joy of motherhood awaiting me.
Although I still ache from the pain that rocked us not so long ago, I have tossed my nets into the ocean of hope for the day that has always been meant for us. The day when those small fingers wrap around mine and the look of a new father is on my husband’s face. The fear of loss will then be the vapor and pain will be a faded memory as we plunge into the joy this new little life will bring.
I have gained a new appreciation for Lord Alfred Tennyson’s famous excerpt from the poem In Memoriam A.H.H.:
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
I may have loved and lost, but I have also gained a glimpse of a new love that still awaits me–the love of a mother for her child. Love is a gift. It is greater than me, greater than my husband, greater than all of us. It is God’s greatest gift. I will get to give it away, as a mother, some day. I intend to give this gift to the child that is ours and I intend to never stop.
Time to dust off the leafy decor, pumpkin candles, funky gords and light sweaters. I love autumn. I also thoroughly enjoy the anticipation of autumn. The next few weeks left of "summer" are the weeks to get things done before the weather says, "And we're all done here for outdoor projects until July of 2012." I've got a lengthy list, but all sorts of ambition. Not the least of which is, drum roll, starting to venture into what I'll just call "Writing a Book Because I Feel Inspired and also Because I Have Always Wanted To But I'm Real Scared My Writing Isn't All That Fabulous or Interesting" project. It's a working title.
It seems insurmountable, but I have put it on my goals sheet for the year and you all can hold me accountable. Because, what good are goals if you don't have someone asking you about them? My goal is to make "significant progress" on writing the book. I've left the description of my goal a little ambiguous for a reason.
So, I suppose, in lieu of of this goal, I have written an essay. Perhaps it is really this essay that has been the catalyst for my commitment to writing a book. In any case, I've written one. I wrote an essay for the Real Simple magazine essay contest. Today was the last day to submit the essay, so it feels nice to finally have it out of my hands. It will be what it will be. Oh, how I love useless and meaningless statements. I've decided to share it all with you. Since I was an editing and revising lunatic, many of you have already read this. But for those of you who haven't, here you go.
I wrote in the body of my email that even if this essay doesn't amount to a winning piece (or even come close) it has brought tremendous healing just to write it. Each time I read it aloud or to myself, the pain of the experience would slightly dim, as the lessons would illuminate brighter and brighter. I mention briefly that there are days where I wonder if I will ever truly be grateful for this experience. I can honestly say that I am. I can only really thank Jesus for his grace to heal me through something simple but special: writing an essay.
I hope you enjoy!
An Unexpected Gift
By: Ashley N. Ainley
“Thursday?” I asked.
“Thursday. The day after tomorrow,” she replied.
This was the call my husband and I had been waiting nearly seven months for. We had a match. A birth mother had selected us to adopt her baby and she was scheduled for induced labor in two days. Since Georgia law allows the birth mother ten days to change her mind before the adoption is finalized, we had about twelve days to prepare for our baby girl’s arrival.
It is near impossible to describe that tender moment when something you have been yearning for becomes tangible. Real. I suppose it is something like unscrewing a water bottle upside down. It chugs out, followed by gasps of air and more chugging–moments of sheer joy, followed by moments of disbelief, followed by more moments of joy.
We began the adoption process in the summer of 2010. We chose an African-American infant program with an agency based in Georgia. We officially landed on the waiting list in January and were given an estimated match time of three to six months–a process where the birth mother selects us as the forever family for her baby.
August 18th was the day she would be induced–a day I spent getting better acquainted with antacids. The evening crawled by as my mind paced anxious for the news of our little one’s birth. No news. Not until the next morning. Our little girl had been born just after midnight. As the caseworker explained what details she had of the birth, she calmed our fears by saying this birth mother was ready to move forward with the adoption and would sign the surrender paperwork within a day or two.
We were bursting with joy. The door of my heart had flung open to the world of motherhood, as I leaped from tortured patience to eager anticipation. I was going to be a mother. We hugged each other and kept shaking our heads in disbelief. A whirlwind of emotion swirled around us–were we ready to be parents in less than two weeks? As my heart quickened, I had to remember to take deep breaths. I can do this. Right?
The truth is, we have been ready for over three years. After fruitless efforts to become pregnant, we decided to channel our longing for children into the passion we have for adoption. Adoption runs deep in our family. My husband’s mother is adopted and so is mine. He also has five adopted Korean aunts and uncles. Our extensive history combined with our love for children meant it was a topic of discussion even before I had a ring on my finger.
As I sat on the bed thinking of the words I wanted to say to our baby girl in her very first birthday card, I got another call. My breath caught in my throat. It had not been two hours since the last call. The birth mother had changed her mind. All of the emotion, joy and anticipation dissolved into nothing but a vapor.
I collapsed physically and emotionally. My husband held me as I sobbed at the heart-wrenching news. It felt like a tender gift had been snatched from my heart. My mind reacted in disbelief, racing to protect my heart from this sadness still ringing in my ears. It was too late. I was shattered.
It has been less than a month since the bottle cap unscrewed leaving us empty, drained. I have spent many days pondering what it was I went through, am going through, and how I am supposed to continue on with a new sadness in my chest. Many days I have inexplicable nausea. Other days I wonder if I will ever truly be grateful for this experience.
Several months ago I read the question in Real Simple magazine, “When did you first understand the meaning of love?” No single moment came to mind at the time. I have been abundantly blessed by various forms of love throughout my life, but I could not isolate a moment of epiphany for the multi-faceted meaning of love. This is not to discredit the deep love I certainly have for my husband and family. It was not until recently I realized how this experience has helped form my answer. I have a new understanding of love–a mother’s love for her child.
Throughout this waiting process, I’ve been searching for something, anything to make this experience of becoming a mother seem more real. Women who become pregnant have the reality on display after a few months, as they watch their bellies swell with their little gift. As for me, I launched into preparing the nursery and thinking of creative ways to remember and savor each moment along the way. I want to be able to give my child something special to hold onto, to know they are loved, cherished and wanted.
I have been given a fresh perspective. It isn’t that I lost hope, but I had latched onto a specific child who was never intended to be mine at all. If I hadn’t gone through the joy and anticipation of that little girl, I would not have had the opportunity to feel the pulse of motherhood flow through my veins–the love that goes beyond comprehension and mere emotion. This little girl has given me a peek at the tender moment when we will at last hold our baby in our arms, knowing this little one is ours, is home. This experience allowed me to dip my fingers into the depthless joy of motherhood awaiting me.
Although I still ache from the pain that rocked us not so long ago, I have tossed my nets into the ocean of hope for the day that has always been meant for us. The day when those small fingers wrap around mine and the look of a new father is on my husband’s face. The fear of loss will then be the vapor and pain will be a faded memory as we plunge into the joy this new little life will bring.
I have gained a new appreciation for Lord Alfred Tennyson’s famous excerpt from the poem In Memoriam A.H.H.:
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
I may have loved and lost, but I have also gained a glimpse of a new love that still awaits me–the love of a mother for her child. Love is a gift. It is greater than me, greater than my husband, greater than all of us. It is God’s greatest gift. I will get to give it away, as a mother, some day. I intend to give this gift to the child that is ours and I intend to never stop.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Adoption - Day 387
Speaking of days I will never forget...
It seems so blasé to say, "It's hard." The best summation of the past five days is a roller coaster with the peak and plummet being a little more than an hour apart. Isn't it true that it takes significantly longer to click, click, click to the peak of a coaster than it does to plunge into the downward dive? I've never been one for roller coasters because of the anticipation during the click, click, click on the way up, followed by my least favorite feeling of heart-in-throat panic as I fly, seemingly against my own will even though I willingly stepped aboard, to the bottom.
For those of you who haven't heard, we received the much-anticipated news of the little baby girl's birth shortly after 6:00 am on the 19th of August. She was born just after midnight. I had jolted out of bed nearly every hour on the hour throughout the night to see if I had any news. Tim and I hugged each other and laughed as we called each other momma and daddy. It was music to my ears to hear from the caseworker that, "She is very tired, but ready to move forward with the adoption process."
As the news sunk in, we were grinning from ear to ear, thanking Jesus all along the way for the answer to our prayers. It was surreal, the epitomy of cloud nine. Given the week we had experienced already, it seemed we had landed a sweet piece of land on cloud nine and were there to stay.
As a roller coaster does, after the climb to the top, there is a plunge. A plunge that came with the news of the mother's sudden change of heart.
I've asked, "Why?" a lot in the last 24+ hours. Why didn't I have my guard up more? Why didn't I see the signs of disconnect from Thalia as red flags? Why were we so foolish to commit our words to call her ours? Why did Thalia flip-flop within just 2 hours? How could this happen? And, the most common question I seem to ask: Why does God want us to endure this heartache?
It's not really that I have this woe-is-me attitude, it is more that I just don't understand. Yesterday, as Tim was driving me to the airport to fly home early from a wedding weekend in Oakland to be with my family, a few things came to mind. The old Ginny Owens song with the lyric,"I will go through the fire if You want me to," and, "You never said it would be easy. You only said I'll never go alone." And it got me thinking. These are the moments that define me, the moments that define my walk with Jesus. It is easy for me to blame God for this pain. It's easy for me to stop trusting Him and his so-called plan for my life. I had said all along that my most-fervent prayer was to be matched with the right baby. I prayed we wouldn't have to endure the pain of indecision. It is easy for me to think God doesn't listen, that prayer doesn't work, that He doesn't really care.
But...
Let me tell you. I love Jesus with all I am. If there is anything that gives me hope and restores my joy and gives me strength to stand when I have none, it is love that comes from Jesus. His love and the truth that He most certainly does care about me and my life and each moment I pass through, whether joyful or heartbreaking. He is holding me, taking all your prayers and washing them over me. I asked God to give me a verse to to calm my wretching heart. So, thanks to Jesus and Google,
I came across Psalm 73:26, which encouraged me and did what the popular song says, "dipped my heart in the streams of life." It says:
"My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever"
Well, I could use a Claim-Jumper-sized portion of God and his love and strength right now. I want to say thank you to all of you. All of your prayers and well-wishes I have been overwhelmed by, in the good sense.
As for what's next, we don't really know. We both still long for our forever child, so I am sure that we will continue on. But for now, we take it each day at a time, knowing we are resting in His hands and He is healing our broken hearts. For now, and always, He is our portion.
With love and mercy from above,
AA
It seems so blasé to say, "It's hard." The best summation of the past five days is a roller coaster with the peak and plummet being a little more than an hour apart. Isn't it true that it takes significantly longer to click, click, click to the peak of a coaster than it does to plunge into the downward dive? I've never been one for roller coasters because of the anticipation during the click, click, click on the way up, followed by my least favorite feeling of heart-in-throat panic as I fly, seemingly against my own will even though I willingly stepped aboard, to the bottom.
For those of you who haven't heard, we received the much-anticipated news of the little baby girl's birth shortly after 6:00 am on the 19th of August. She was born just after midnight. I had jolted out of bed nearly every hour on the hour throughout the night to see if I had any news. Tim and I hugged each other and laughed as we called each other momma and daddy. It was music to my ears to hear from the caseworker that, "She is very tired, but ready to move forward with the adoption process."
As the news sunk in, we were grinning from ear to ear, thanking Jesus all along the way for the answer to our prayers. It was surreal, the epitomy of cloud nine. Given the week we had experienced already, it seemed we had landed a sweet piece of land on cloud nine and were there to stay.
As a roller coaster does, after the climb to the top, there is a plunge. A plunge that came with the news of the mother's sudden change of heart.
I've asked, "Why?" a lot in the last 24+ hours. Why didn't I have my guard up more? Why didn't I see the signs of disconnect from Thalia as red flags? Why were we so foolish to commit our words to call her ours? Why did Thalia flip-flop within just 2 hours? How could this happen? And, the most common question I seem to ask: Why does God want us to endure this heartache?
It's not really that I have this woe-is-me attitude, it is more that I just don't understand. Yesterday, as Tim was driving me to the airport to fly home early from a wedding weekend in Oakland to be with my family, a few things came to mind. The old Ginny Owens song with the lyric,"I will go through the fire if You want me to," and, "You never said it would be easy. You only said I'll never go alone." And it got me thinking. These are the moments that define me, the moments that define my walk with Jesus. It is easy for me to blame God for this pain. It's easy for me to stop trusting Him and his so-called plan for my life. I had said all along that my most-fervent prayer was to be matched with the right baby. I prayed we wouldn't have to endure the pain of indecision. It is easy for me to think God doesn't listen, that prayer doesn't work, that He doesn't really care.
But...
Let me tell you. I love Jesus with all I am. If there is anything that gives me hope and restores my joy and gives me strength to stand when I have none, it is love that comes from Jesus. His love and the truth that He most certainly does care about me and my life and each moment I pass through, whether joyful or heartbreaking. He is holding me, taking all your prayers and washing them over me. I asked God to give me a verse to to calm my wretching heart. So, thanks to Jesus and Google,
I came across Psalm 73:26, which encouraged me and did what the popular song says, "dipped my heart in the streams of life." It says:
"My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever"
Well, I could use a Claim-Jumper-sized portion of God and his love and strength right now. I want to say thank you to all of you. All of your prayers and well-wishes I have been overwhelmed by, in the good sense.
As for what's next, we don't really know. We both still long for our forever child, so I am sure that we will continue on. But for now, we take it each day at a time, knowing we are resting in His hands and He is healing our broken hearts. For now, and always, He is our portion.
With love and mercy from above,
AA
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