I'm feeling a little emotional this morning. Some days I am just like that. I didn't used to be. The birth of my daughter has definitely unleashed this part of me that I held inside for a long time. I laugh more, cry more, and just embrace whatever I am feeling that day.
Abigail has strep throat right now. She was really crabby yesterday; rightfully so. It made mommy and daddy really tired though, and thankful that today would be a new day. So this morning as I was watching Abigail crawl around on the floor, kiss her animals and books, and talking to the dog I was reminded of how blessed we are to have a child. The hard days are hard, but just a day.
For a few reasons I have been reflecting on our past year or so lately. My heart has been heavy in being reminded of the most selfless woman I have ever had the blessing of being friends with. I have been thinking about spending time with her during her pregnancy. Going to doctors appointments and McDonald's. Bonding over how much we love Big Macs and McDonald's cokes. Laughing together and loving the way her whole face lit up as she laughed. Listening to her tell stories was one of my favorite things. She could weave words together beautifully and I loved to listen. I loved hearing her talk about the baby in her womb and how active she was. I really loved how sassy she was and that she did not put up with people treating her poorly. I see her sometimes when my daughter laughs, or when she yells back when she hears someone outside yelling.
I can't help but be sad when I think about this woman as well. I watched her bring her baby into the world. I was there as the doctor and nurse treated her horribly because of her situation. I heard the side talk that she could not and thought about how sad it is that all she wanted was to do what she believed would be best for this little girl. They could not see how amazing she was. They didn't know her, nor did they want to. I also think about the day she said goodbye; standing in the NI CU with Jason and I staring at this beautiful little girl and crying. I remember thanking her about 50 times and hugging her over and over. After she walked out Jason and I cried for another 30 minutes or so and just held each other. We stared at this amazing gift we had bestowed to us and just thanked God over and over again.
Some how birth mothers have been painted as crack addicts and whores who don't care about anyone but themselves. I know this to be not true. The woman who carried our daughter chose to give life instead of abort, despite the social and physical ramifications. She took a few weeks to choose the family she thought would be best for her baby. She spent time with us and asked questions about us and our families. She told me how to do her hair, and take care of her skin. She told me about herself and gave me toys to give to the daughter we share. She tried to prepare me to be a mother to this baby. If she was any of the things people believed about birth mothers she would have done none of this.
There is a verse in 2 Corinthians 2:16 that says, "To one we are the smell of death, the the other, the fragrance of life." During the time when this was written when men would come back from war there would be a celebration in the streets. The people waiting would burn incense and make music and just celebrate. The soldiers returning would parade through the street showing of what they had plundered. At the back of this parade would be those brought back as captives. They would be shackled and chained walking through the same crowd. The soldiers in the front rejoicing, and the prisoners in the back are smelling the same things, hearing the same celebration, and seeing the same sights. However to the soldiers returning it is the smell of elation and life. To the prisoners in the back it is the smell of death.
We believe this is a good analogy of adoption. Seeing this baby for us was the celebration of life; the "smell" of the child we waited on for three years. To the other woman in this equation the "smell" means something else all together. It means walking away from the life she nourished for nine months. It means the child she felt move in her womb, and that kept her up at night would not be coming home with her. This thought moves me everyday to be kinder, more patient, and more loving with my daughter. Because our victory was another's pain.
Abigail has strep throat right now. She was really crabby yesterday; rightfully so. It made mommy and daddy really tired though, and thankful that today would be a new day. So this morning as I was watching Abigail crawl around on the floor, kiss her animals and books, and talking to the dog I was reminded of how blessed we are to have a child. The hard days are hard, but just a day.
For a few reasons I have been reflecting on our past year or so lately. My heart has been heavy in being reminded of the most selfless woman I have ever had the blessing of being friends with. I have been thinking about spending time with her during her pregnancy. Going to doctors appointments and McDonald's. Bonding over how much we love Big Macs and McDonald's cokes. Laughing together and loving the way her whole face lit up as she laughed. Listening to her tell stories was one of my favorite things. She could weave words together beautifully and I loved to listen. I loved hearing her talk about the baby in her womb and how active she was. I really loved how sassy she was and that she did not put up with people treating her poorly. I see her sometimes when my daughter laughs, or when she yells back when she hears someone outside yelling.
I can't help but be sad when I think about this woman as well. I watched her bring her baby into the world. I was there as the doctor and nurse treated her horribly because of her situation. I heard the side talk that she could not and thought about how sad it is that all she wanted was to do what she believed would be best for this little girl. They could not see how amazing she was. They didn't know her, nor did they want to. I also think about the day she said goodbye; standing in the NI CU with Jason and I staring at this beautiful little girl and crying. I remember thanking her about 50 times and hugging her over and over. After she walked out Jason and I cried for another 30 minutes or so and just held each other. We stared at this amazing gift we had bestowed to us and just thanked God over and over again.
Some how birth mothers have been painted as crack addicts and whores who don't care about anyone but themselves. I know this to be not true. The woman who carried our daughter chose to give life instead of abort, despite the social and physical ramifications. She took a few weeks to choose the family she thought would be best for her baby. She spent time with us and asked questions about us and our families. She told me how to do her hair, and take care of her skin. She told me about herself and gave me toys to give to the daughter we share. She tried to prepare me to be a mother to this baby. If she was any of the things people believed about birth mothers she would have done none of this.
There is a verse in 2 Corinthians 2:16 that says, "To one we are the smell of death, the the other, the fragrance of life." During the time when this was written when men would come back from war there would be a celebration in the streets. The people waiting would burn incense and make music and just celebrate. The soldiers returning would parade through the street showing of what they had plundered. At the back of this parade would be those brought back as captives. They would be shackled and chained walking through the same crowd. The soldiers in the front rejoicing, and the prisoners in the back are smelling the same things, hearing the same celebration, and seeing the same sights. However to the soldiers returning it is the smell of elation and life. To the prisoners in the back it is the smell of death.
We believe this is a good analogy of adoption. Seeing this baby for us was the celebration of life; the "smell" of the child we waited on for three years. To the other woman in this equation the "smell" means something else all together. It means walking away from the life she nourished for nine months. It means the child she felt move in her womb, and that kept her up at night would not be coming home with her. This thought moves me everyday to be kinder, more patient, and more loving with my daughter. Because our victory was another's pain.
Attempting to be the parents that another woman believed we could be,
your so right- I though about birth parents everytime I had a baby- and I am still amazed by such a selfless act. How wonderful to give your child to parents that could care for him or her. Your doing a great job! Having a child isn't easy and having one with any health problem NF or something else is really an experience- one that all of us are trying to make the best of. I wish I had your Faith! I am struck by it everytime I read your posts. Love, Perfetti Clan
ReplyDeleteThis was beautiful, Andrea.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, indeed.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, inspiring, truth
ReplyDelete