first mommies.

on a Thursday morning, I stood next to her in the nicu, looking at her daughter.  our daughter.  I hugged her and thanked her.  but there were no words adequate for what had just happened.

on a Tuesday night, I sat across the table from her, and answered question after question about us, and our family.  I can still see the pain in her eyes as she tried to interview a family to raise her daughter.

birth mothers are often misunderstood.  most of the adoption questions I get asked stem around them.  how old they were.  what sort of 'problems' they had.  how much better off their child is with me.  the comments go on and on.
it's easy to see these women, and villainize them.  we want to be certain to distance ourselves from someone who could 'do something so awful' 'be so selfish' 'give up her kid.'  we want to make certain that we find all their flaws that put them in a place where they were able to 'walk away from their kid.'

and, in all honesty, you are partly right.  you could never do what they did.  but, it's not because you are better than them.  it's because they just made the most selfless choice any woman can ever make.  it's the choice to place their child in another families arms, simply because they want what's best for him.  this is not to say that placing a child is always what's best.  but, for my two daughters, I have no doubt that their mothers love them, and were trying to give them the best that they could.  it spurs me on, on days that parenting drags me down, and I want to give up.

the Saturday before mother's day is birth mother's day.  I want to say happy birth mother's day to my children's first mommies, and to the women everywhere who loved their child enough to carry him for nine months, give him a kiss goodbye, and step back so that he can be with the family you chose. 

your choice is the only reason that I get to celebrate on sunday morning.  thank you.


 

 

from the bottom of my very thankful mama's heart, happy birth mother's day!

fix you.

these words have been going through my head today after a conversation i had this morning.  they are from the song 'fix you' by coldplay:

   'when you try your best but you don't succeed.

    when you get what you want but not what you need...
    ...and the tears come streaming down your face.
    when you lose something you can't replace...
    ...and i will try to fix you.'

those are the specific words from the song that apply to this situation.

so here's the scene-with my thought process interjected. i STILL suck at knowing what to say in these situations and to these questions.  mostly because lots of them actually sting so much that no matter how many times i've heard it, it catches me off guard.

sitting with another mom who i see somewhat regularly at a play time event i go to locally.  she is asking some questions about shilo, and her feeding tube.  somehow formula comes up which leads to a discussion on the fact that both of my girls were adopted.  i will admit that i'm always surprised when people are surprised by this.  anyway here's the brief of how it went.

'how old were they when you got them.'
'i was in the room when abigail was born, and we met shilo when she was four days.'
'you were in the room when abigail was born?  didn't her mom want her?'
i come close to tears every time someone asks this question.  'want her?'  of course she wanted her.  she wanted her, and she wanted what she believed to be best for her at that time.  so she asked jason and i to parent her.  my actual response.
'yes, she wanted her.  and she knew she couldn't take care of her like she wanted to.  so she placed her with us.'
'do you still see her.'
'yes.'
'and that's fine?  i mean it works.'
'yes.'
'and shilo was four days when you met her.'
'yes.  we found out about her after she was born. her mom had planned to place before that, but one family backed out, and she went into labor early.'
'did you know she was going to have Down syndrome.'
'yes. we intentionally set out to adopt a child with Down syndrome.'
(five minutes of how awesome that is, and how very hard that must be-countered with my go to of how not awesome it is, and how not hard it is).

'so do you want to have kids of your own?'
'well, these are my own.  but my husband and i don't care if we get pregnant or not.'
'you still could.  you are young.'
'i'm 31 and we've been married for nine years.  it seems unlikely at this point.

this is the point where things go from awkward to the feeling that others see me, and our family as something to be fixed. the next few minutes are spent telling me how i'm still young,and i could still have kids of my own.  then the stories start in on other people she knew who were married 800 years and then they got pregnant, and so on and so forth.  it's this entourage of how everything is going to be okay, we will be fixed when we just have 'a child of our own.'
it's the idea that we tried, and we didn't succeed.  we got what we wanted (children) but not what we needed (biological children).  we obviously spend our days crying and greiving because we haven't gotten pregnant, and we feel like we've lost this amazing universal experience that can't be replaced-even with the second rate choice of adoption.  so of course, along comes the world with all of their ideas, suggestions, and so on, on ways we might be able to become 'real parents' someday.

we're not broken.  we aren't sad that our family of four came to be because of adoption.  they aren't a second choice parenting option.  i wish i had the ability in these situations to say what i really mean.  but, i'm often working hard to keep my emotions in check, and don't get out that we are more than content with where we are.  maybe, just maybe, we aren't missing out on the awesome experience of being biological parents.  maybe you are missing out on the incredible experience of getting to adopt.  i mean, our girls' stories are way better than birth stories, in my opinion. or, perhaps, families are formed in lots of different ways, and we can just celebrate that instead of viewing our way as the only logical way anyone would ever want to have children.

at very least, please, stop trying to fix us.  we're pretty happy with what we have.

    

...something wrong with them.

i use this blog as a forum for lots of different things, because our lives are filled with many labels.  i know people don't always understand things outside of their own lives.  i am 300% certain i have said stupid and hurtful things to other people.  in general, when i'm met with comments that make my heart hurt a little, i do my best to educate, and then i make a joke about it on facebook later.  it's how i get through my day.  so today, i'm going to share, once again, about adoption.  i need people to understand these things.  my four year old understands what you're saying.  she's smart.  and, i'm starting to believe, that it was the grace of God, that allowed my little to be deaf.  because i don't ever want her to hear what people ask.

so let's start by reestablishing something.  first moms, birth moms, tummy mommy, whatever you would like to refer to the woman who carried a child, and then placed that child in someone else's arms, ARE. NOT. SELFISH.  stop judging them.  i don't care if they were addicted to crack.  they loved their child so much that they said, 'i cannot give this child what i want them to have.  i am going to find someone who can.'  i have met lots of birth mothers.  none of them have ever said, 'i don't want this kid.'  i've watched the tears.  i've heard the mixture of joy and sorrow that come with the choice they made.  it takes more love than i can hope or imagine to place a child for adoption.  educate yourself.  meet some birth moms.  read their stories.  stop. judging. them.
so here is where thing get hairy.  our family looks different than others.  people are curious.  i get it.  i know, that no matter what, we will get questions.  and like i said above, i can say the wrong thing sometimes.  there is a line though.  one that makes it really hard for me to be graceful.  one that makes my eyes well up, and my heart cry, 'dear God, please don't let abigail internalize that.'

'are both of those kids your?'
'yes.'
(referring to abigail) 'is she adopted?'
'she WAS adopted.  they both were'  (let me explain this answer.  first of all, for us, adoption was a one time thing.  it happened, and now it's over with.  second of all, i know that people assume shilo is biological because of skin color.  so i want to make certain not to single abigail out.)
(referring to shilo) 'oh.  did her mom give her up because she knew something was wrong with her?'

i get instantly pissed when i hear this.  i can eek by the fact that children aren't given up.  they are placed.  i'll pretend like i didn't even hear that.  but, did you really just ask me, in front of my children, if her mom got rid of her because she had something wrong with her?  really?  you just said that?  and what you don't know, is that my other daughter, standing there, also has a genetic disorder.  and she hears you.  and she gets it.  she's a very smart little girl.  i should not have to fix your ugly words for my children.
the questions vary, but they all are the same:  'i can't believe she gave her up.  kids like her are so sweet.'  'i would never give up a child just because they had something wrong with them.'  and then the flip of, 'did you know there was something wrong with her before you got her?'
my children weren't placed for adoption because of anything that had anything to do with them.  at all.  children are placed because their first families did not have the resources to parent them the way they wanted them to be parented.  money.  time.  health.  energy.  healthcare. the list goes on.  nothing on that list is because of the child.
could a parent say, 'i do not have the resources to take care of a child with special needs.'  absolutely.  that still does not translate to placing a child because she has 'something wrong with her.'
i'm all done being nice when someone asks this.  i am a fierce protector of my daughter's hearts.  i will not allow an adult, who has the sense to think before they talk, to say ugly things anymore.  i'm going to start calling people on it.  be ready.

nothing wrong with big.

definitely nothing wrong with these two sisters.

nothing wrong with  little.

pain.

not long before shilo was admitted i came across a place to enter an essay to be considered for addition to a book.  the essay was to be about one word that comes to mind with adoption.  i was unable to write because we were admitted to the hospital, but i have thought about my one word over and over again.  i go back and forth on wanting to put it out there for fear that people won't understand what i mean, but certainly there are other families that feel the same way.  so here it is.

eleven times in the past three years i have handed my daughters off to someone else who was much more capable of caring for them at that moment than i was.  i have no idea how to administer anaesthesia.  i don't know how to run an mri machine.  i am most definitely incapable of performing any sort of surgery.  every time i hand them off i cry.  and every time the people who take them assure me they will take good care of them.  i have no doubt of that.  it's just that trusting someone else with your child's life is painful.  and adoption is born of this same essence.
adoption is something that if i had one word to sum it up, it would be 'pain.'  (most) people adopt after experiencing the pain of not being able to conceive children.  even though we are very much at peace with having every one of our children come through adoption, there is still something painful about not being able to create life like so many other people around us.
for a birth parent, the knowledge that raising their child, would be best done by someone else, causes great amounts of pain.  it's beautiful.  it's selfless.  it's painful.  society can judge, they can question. but they can not erase the image i have of both of my daughter's mothers, with tears running down their cheeks as they walked away from their little girls.  and one of my little girls has a birth dad who's heart was also ripped out with making this choice.
and for my big girl (and likely some day my little as well), there are questions, thoughts, conversations, that rip my heart apart as i watch the pain seeping out of her.  lots of adoptees come to terms with the fact that being placed for adoption was done in love.  but it doesn't take away the pain that for some reason their first family was unable to raise them.
but the thing with pain, is that our God, He loves to redeem.  He often will pick up the ashes and make something more beautiful than you could ever imagine.  He does not waste the suffering and pain that come with adoption.
as a result of the pain of not being able to conceive, we have two of the most amazing little girls.  i could not have envisioned the beauty that would radiate from my daughters.  they bring about a kind of joy that starts in your toes, and moves up quickly, making every part of you feel like it will burst.
as a result of placing their children with us, our daughter's birth families have been able to make great choices, and change their lives so that they are able to still be an important part abigail and shilo's lives.  going back to college, getting new jobs, becoming more stable.  even making choices to live for, and follow Christ.
and as a result of adoption both of my daughter's (despite our parenting deficiencies) will understand the way Christ adopted us much better than i ever will.  they will be able to directly relate how adoption means belonging, just the way you are, to a family that loves you. 
yes, adoption is pain.  and it is out of that pain and brokenness that we often can find beauty.

the emotions of the last few days.

Shilo is currently sleeping, Jason is back home to get some work done and hang out with our daughter, and I am choosing not to hold sweet one right now because she tends to desat when she gets upset...so I'll wait until they do vitals again and then comfort her instead of being the one who causes it.
Anyway, I thought I would share a little more of the personal and emotions side of things here.
First of all, I wasn't sure what to expect when we got here.  There are so many stigmas that go with children with Down syndrome that I was ready to defend our choice to knowingly adopt Shilo.  But that hasn't been the case at all.  While I have had lots of saintly comments, 'wow two children with special needs, y'all are just amazing' I think it's good to clear up right away that we aren't amazing or saintly.  We wanted to be parents.  And without Abigail and Shilo we wouldn't be.  As far as special needs go: raise your hand if you have a biological child with special needs.  Now raise your hand if you got some sort of choice about it during pregnancy.  Right.  Nobody else gets to choose.  So why should I be able to say, 'yes, I'll take a Caucasian baby, brown hair, green eyes, and perfectly healthy please?' 
I also believe that If I'm going to be willing to step up with my beliefs about being pro-life then I should also step up to the plate of helping those Mama's who choose life.  For some that might mean coming alongside single parents.  For some it might mean stepping up and taking in those kiddos who's parents loved them enough to choose life and make certain that they had a great one by placing them for adoption.  I can't write passionate post about not aborting children with Down syndrome and then hope everything just works out in the end for whomever ends up in that situation. 
'If one of you says to him, "Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed," but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it?'  These verses are from James 2:16.  We are called to have the works that back up our faith.  If I say, go have your baby with Down syndrome, and enjoy your life, but am not there to help out in some way I am a liar.  Well wishes do nothing to help in the midst of the situation.

All that was to bring us to the first doctor conversation I had in the NICU at University of Kentucky hospital.  It will forever be etched in my heart as a moment that God ordained with great joy.
Jason and I arrived here on Tuesday at around 1 in the afternoon.  We sat next to Shilo (who still didn't have a name at that point) and stared and rubbed and kissed and sang.  After about an hour a doctor pulled us aside so he could give us all of the going-ons with our little girl.  He went through what all she had going on medically and then with the biggest smile said, ' She has Down syndrome. We know that. But she will be great. She is great. Where I am from [India] we don't have this sort of care for these children. She will do just fine.'  It went on, but the conversation about her actual diagnoses was all positives of why her life will be great and how many opportunities she will still have in life if we don't limit her.  I still tear up thinking about it.

Every interaction we have had with nurses here has included a story about a friend, a niece, a cousin, somebody they know that has Down syndrome who is just this awesome joyful person whom they have strong affectionate feeling towards.  Not one person has questioned the logic of what we are doing.  Not one person has mentioned that she should have been disposed of while in the womb. 

We are so grateful for our Shilo and the joy she will bring to our family.  We believe ALL children are a blessing from the Lord.

Enjoying our children with different chromosomes than most,

P.S.  While I'm not going to make any sort of public push for assistance, we have had lots of people wanting to know how they could help.  So I added our paypal info at the side as well as the charity that we would love for people to donate to. :)

Adoption thoughts.

Jason and I (along with lots of our friends) have had lots of funny things said to us pertaining to the fact that our daughter was adopted. Most of them are funny in the sense that I never know what to say, but we laugh about how ridiculous it was later. Some of them are funny in the sense that I can't believe people have the audacity to say things like that to others. I have written a post here before about the many things that adoptive families don't want to hear (especially in front of their child). That is not so much what this is.

An example of what I mean is the time when we were walking through the mall, all three of us hand in hand, a woman asked if Abigail was our grandchild. She couldn't figure out in her head how two white people ended up with a black child. But seriously, we were 28 and 30 at the time. And neither of us looks old. I get mistaken for 16 regularly. My husband has a full head of hair, and is pretty trim and fit. We definitely do not seem old enough to be grandparents. The woman just didn't know how to phrase the question so she said something ridiculous instead.

We also have a set of friends who have a biological daughter who is white and a son who is black. They are a little over two years apart in age. Someone asked this family if their children were twins. I promise you that there is no way that they could possibly be mistaken for twins. It's one of those moments where you walk away and just choose to laugh about it.

So this past week Abigail and I were at the store together. The woman who was running the register had this conversations with me.

cashier: 'how old is she?' me: 'she will be three in september.' c: 'she's really little. i guess you are petite too. are you her mom?' m: yes, but she didn't get her smallness from me. she's adopted.' c: 'she's adopted? you can't tell.'

I posted this on facebook because it was one of those awkward moments that made me laugh, and I thought I would share it. At the end of the post I wrote, 'that's right friends, abigail looks just like me?!?!' I wasn't really angry with the cashier. I was annoyed that after I shared that she was adopted that she felt like she needed to smooth things over with, 'you can't tell.' But mostly it was meant to be a good laugh.

I ended up getting lots of people letting me know that people could assume she's biracial since Jason wasn't with me that she could be my biological daughter. And then I get the messages about how people have adopted, or know people who have adopted who's kids look like them. I get all that. I really do. And daily I see Abigail do things, hear her say things, or hear an inflection in her voice that is Jason or I. I'm not trying to debate the nature or nurture thing. Heck there was a family I used to babysit for that I didn't realize their son was adopted because he looked so much like his dad.

But come on people. I am a very light skinned, blue eyed, straight, light brown hair, narrow faced young lady. And Abigail is a dark skinned, extremely kinky, black hair, round face, brown eyed (one of my favorite features of hers) little girl. To be quite honest, I don't feel like she could even pass for biracial. But beyond that, there is not one feature that we share in common. I'm fine with that. I don't need my daughter to look just like me. I think she is the most beautiful little being I've ever seen.

And when I get all those people who defend the cashier I want to tell them that they aren't helping people to see why adoption is beautiful. It's different than biological, not a sad secret to try to sweep under the rug or blend until it's all smooth and could pass as biological. Part of the reason some people have such a hard time accepting adoption is because they want some family trait passed on, or they believe that an adopted child doesn't truly share in the inheritance the way a biological one would. My real 'problem' with what the woman said was that it was obvious that she was trying to make me feel better that I had adopted. Obviously adoption is a last ditch effort, to be pitied, because someone 'can't have children of their own.' Amiright?

That is not the case with us. No, we haven't gotten pregnant. But frankly, at this point in the game, I'm fine if we never do. I'm so excited about getting to adopt again. Giving birth is not what qualifies someone as a real parent. Biological is different than adopted. Not better, not worse, just different. I don't need, my family being formed different than someone else's, to be washed over so that we can pretend it's all the same.

While our family of three may have been formed through adoption, my daughter is still my own. I have held her in the middle of the night. I have been to more doctors appointments than I can count. I have read books, sung songs, danced, gotten angry, and most of all fallen completely head over heals in love with the little girl whom I was chosen to parent.

Yes, you can tell my daughter is adopted. Adoption is one of the many things that I really love about our family. And if you ask her she can tell you all about her tummy mommy, Miss Rebecca (our lawyer for the adoption), Judge Feick (who finalized it), and how Mama and Papa, 'dopted you.' Adoption is not a point of contention for us. It is what God did for us so we could be called sons and daughters and share in the inheritance with Christ. And it is what took our family of two and made it a family of three. And for that we are glad.

Abigail and Mama reading a book together...and not looking alike.

Who's fault is it?

Last night while I was giving Abigail her nebulizer treatment before bed she asked me to read her 'Jehuy.' So I flipped through her children's book with lots of Bible stories in it and stopped at random on the story from John 9, where Jesus heals a man who was born blind.
I read through the story and then went on to a second story from Acts 3 where Peter heals a man who was lame. I could feel my brain start to spin in all sorts of directions so I finished getting Abigail to bed and then came down and read both stories from the Bible. I took some time to really think about both of them, and reflect on how they made me feel.
First of all, it was interesting to me that on the day before Abigail's eye doctor appointment the place that I happened to open to was the story of a blind man. It is probably the first NF appointment that we have ever had where I haven't been an anxious mess before hand. It seemed divinely appointed.
But my bigger thought was how something about stories of healing like this make me cringe a little. I know why, and will explain it a little more in a few minutes. The other thoughts I had were a little more specific to each story.
First of all the story in which Jesus heals the blind man, it is immediately mentioned that the boy was born blind to bring glory to God. It tells us that his parent's didn't sin, nor did he sin, to cause the blindness. God had the intentions of taking one man's suffering and using it so that the blind man would be a testimony to the healing abilities of our God.
Before Abigail was born God gave us her name. It means 'father's joy' and I specifically remember praying at some point, and God telling me that Abigail would be His joy. For this reason, with all that Abigail has gone through, and will go through, I continue to feel a strong impression that it will be used for the glory of God. I think that her little life has already touched more people and reached far beyond my wildest imagination.
The second story was one I remember having a conversation about at some point in a small group. Someone in the group pointed out that the gate they mentioned this man sitting by (the gate called beautiful) was one Jesus would have entered numerous times to go to and from the temple. And since the story states that this man was there everyday, it can likely be assumed that Jesus had walked passed this man numerous times and not healed him.
The next part strikes me as interesting as well. The man isn't sitting there asking to be healed. He is only asking for money. Think about what you do when you see someone panhandling. Do you glance away. Do you throw some money in their dish? Most importantly have you ever given them dignity by simply looking them in the eyes? Peter does just that, and when he does he sees the man's true need, and it isn't the money he is asking for.
I know lots of people who feel like Jesus has walked by them unnoticing; choosing not to heal, not to bring children, not to mend relationships. And I can attest to the fact that I have felt that way too. But I think even when it feels like Jesus has walked passed, that it's possible He has someone else lined up to do something amazing in our lives through Him.



Now here's why the stories make me cringe. I have talked before about healing, and specifically that God has moved in mighty ways in my little girl's body. For those of you who weren't following back then, a brief recap: Abigail wasn't using her legs at nine months, we prayed for healing, and she began using them. Knowing now that she has a tumor in her leg, and that it is congenital (there when she was born) we can look back and realize that God did something amazing.
But for whatever reason God has not healed her of NF. I'm okay with that. Truly. I simply cringe because of the number of people who have said to us that we need to 'claim' healing for Abigail, or that her lack of healing is a result of our lack of faith.
I personally have yet to find where it says that Jesus only heals people who claim healing. None of the stories I read in the Bible about healing have someone yelling, 'I claim that healing for me' (or my daughter). I also find it hard to believe that God's ability to 'heal' my daughter rest on my faith.
First of all, God says it only takes faith like a mustard seed to move mountains. I'm pretty sure that my faith is at least the size of a mustard seed. Secondly, if anything, for anyone else, rest on my faith (instead of God's omnipotence) then we are all in trouble.
I don't believe her birth mother caused her NF. I don't believe Jason or I caused it, and I definitely don't believe Abigail caused it. I believe God has taken what was meant for harm , and is using it for His glory!

And to end it all, our appointment today was phenomenal. Her optic nerves are clear (no tumors) and her eyesight has improved slightly. She will still wear glasses, but I can't think of how the appointment possibly could have gone better. So for that, we will be thankful, and walk through everything else as it comes our way.

(Abigail a year ago when she first got her glasses)




Walking, and leaping, and praising God,

Another little one.

I have always had some sort of heavy draw towards people with special needs. I am not certain that I can even trace back how old I was when it started. I remember playing with the boy in my first grade class that was in a wheelchair. He could whip me at basketball. And as I got older I remembered being drawn to try to befriend the other kids who got made fun of for being in remedial classes, getting extra help, and so on.
I spent seven years from junior high until I graduated volunteering in the special education classrooms during my study hall. I also had a cousin who had Down's syndrome that I adored. She was just a bright, funny, happy, and stubborn girl who loved country music and people.
Nobody was surprised when I chose special education as my major in college. However, I quickly realized that although I enjoyed working with people with special needs, I had no desire to teach.
Since that time I have done respite care for families of children with special needs, had a nephew born with cerebral palsy, and am now walking the road of a child with special needs myself.
And as Jason and I find ourselves discussing kiddo number two, whether to pursue another child with NF, adopt domestically, older child or infant again and so on and so on; I have had one thought alone.
When we found out about Abigail and how old her birth parents were I was prepared for a little girl with Down's syndrome. I was almost shocked when the ultrasound didn't show it. We knew she still might have some other issues, but were a little unprepared for how things have unfolded. Don't get me wrong, had we known about the NF before she was born we would have only gone into the situation with more knowledge about NF. Abigail would still be where she is right now.
Since that time though I have learned a lot of new things about Down's children and have been more and more drawn to adopting a child with it.
We are told in Matthew 25:40, "Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." And hearing that in America, 90% of pregnancies where the child is found to have down's syndrome end in abortion, tugged on my heart making me feel like this is one of the least of these. Then I read how in other countries children born with down syndrome are put into orphanages. If they aren't adopted by the age of 5 they are then sent to mental institutions where a large percentage of them die in the first few years from neglect. And those that don't will live their lives hidden from the public. Societies, ours included, are throwing these children away. These children are the least of these.
So with each new thing I read and think about my heart feels like it's being drawn more and more to adopting one of these precious little ones. Jason and I have talked about it quite a bit. Much like I did with Abigail, I feel very much like we are "expecting." Don't get to crazy when you read that. We were expecting Abigail for three years. :) We haven't even so much as begun the home study process. We are at the very beginning where we are praying about the child God has for us.
I often wonder if I could handle two children with special needs. More doctors appointments, more therapies, so on and so on. Every time I think this though, I hear, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." I know that to be true. With infertility, waiting on a baby, and hearing a diagnoses for Abigail, God's grace and mercy has grown with our need for it. And I know that if we add another child with special needs that His grace will continue to grow.
And as always our God likes to give us little presents, things that help us to know that we are hearing from Him, even if everyone around us might think we are crazy. So I will end with a little story that made my heart flutter and my eyes well up with tears.

On Thursday we had to stop by one of Abigail's doctors offices in Indianapolis on the way out of town. I ran in to pick up what we needed. As I am stepping on the elevator, a father and his daughter step in as well. His daughter has Down's syndrome. I smiled at them and said hello. The little girl (probably around 5) walked over stood next to me and grabbed my hand. She held it the rest of the ride up and as we walked through the hospital she talked to me. Her dad was slightly embarrassed, but I reassured him that it was fine. When I finally had to let go to part directions I could feel God impressing on my heart that He had planned that moment.

We would love if you would all join us in prayer as we await the amazing story that God will weave for our second child,

"Tis the season.

As I was sitting at church on Sunday my mind drifted to Abigail, and where we are right now in life with her. It seems overwhelming at times, but I couldn't feel anything but hopeful. It's a season wrought with hope. And quickly I was reminded of where I was three years ago.
It was the worst Christmas I can remember. I was extremely depressed, and was begging God for a baby. I specifically asked God to bring me a Christmas miracle. When January rolled around and we hadn't gotten that phone call yet I sunk even lower. I was at the point where I was trying hard to let the desire to be a mama just die. But March came, and with the melting of the snow my heart seemed to soften a little too. And in April I sat praying one afternoon and heard God tell me to pray that our Abigail would come now. So I prayed, and called and asked others to do the same. The rest of the story is that in May we were chosen by Abigail's birth mom, and in September she was born.
However it wasn't lost on me that in December, when I was praying for my Christmas miracle, Abigail was being conceived. What I thought would be a miracle, and what it actually ended up being, were different, but beautiful none the less.
And so as I sit here during this season of advent, "expectation" I find myself unable to do anything but hope. I feel the hope that was born over 2000 years ago. I hope for the return of my Savior. And I hope for another miracle for my little girl.
The official update is that we went to the neurologist this morning and all signs point to a plexiform neurofibroma (although the doctor couldn't technically diagnose it because the MRI didn't make it clear). These specific type of tumors are much harder to deal with than regular neurofibromas. So for this reason we will be consulting with a surgeon to see if we can have it removed early. We also will have the added weight of having to cover whatever cost of this procedure and appointments ourselves. Our insurance will not pay for it because it is out of state and considered elective. However the doctor we are seeing is the best of the best and world renown for removing plexis. So we will figure out the finances for it.

Leaving you with the theme of the last six years of our lives, hope,

Happy adoption day!

This is our sweet baby bug exactly two years ago today. She was seven weeks old, and the sweetest thing we had ever met!


Mama, Papa, Abigail, and Judge Feick after everything was made official. She was now our Abigail Tohelet. The judge also shared that enjoyed doing adoptions because he deals with so much bad stuff that the adoptions help balance it some. We sent him a thank you and copy of this picture. I hope when we adopt again he does the next one.

Celebrating adoption day a year ago with her monkey we got her. Crazy to think she wasn't walking yet!

Reading "Family Ever After" the adoption story book we made for Abigail on picaboo. Would highly recommend the sight, and making a book if you have an adopted one.

Abigail wearing her backpack and slippers she got for adoption day today.

Happy adoption day to a little girl who has blessed our lives, brought us unspeakable joy, showed us grace, and taught us how to laugh more than we ever have before. We are thankful for you in ways we could never put into words. Never stop being who you are and showing us that happy face of yours. We love you baby bug!

Thankful for adoption,

About that word hope again.

It was almost a year ago that we sat in a neurologist office with Abigail for the first time to find out she unofficially met the diagnostic criteria for NF. It was also a year ago she was diagnosed with asthma. I had recently started to feel like I was closer to the side of sanity again. I had stopped fearing every new doctor's appointment as the next horrible thing that would happen. I wasn't freaking out about every new bump or spot on Abigail, certain it was her first tumor. I was starting to feel almost like the NF was just a part of our lives.
And just like the first time we heard about NF, I took Abigail to the doctor for something completely unrelated, and got sucker punched with something new. So now I am in the waiting mode to see if she has mastocytosis. At this point if she has it I am certain it is mild. The thing is though, it's definition is like that of NF...most cases are mild, some are not. We don't have any way of predicting what will happen.
I feel like I'm caught in some sort of weird parent nightmare. Because it seems unlikely to have a child with a disorder (NF is not technically rare) that nobody has heard of, and then to also most likely have a second rare disorder. I mean does that really happen? And if it does it doesn't happen to us...right?
I am overwhelmed with it all right now. I want to know something now (our appointment for the masto is at the end of November). I want to find someone to blame. I want to fix this all. It feels so surreal to be in the same spot emotionally a year later with something different.
As I write about all of this I also feel torn. I feel SO fortunate with Abigail because of things we have already bypassed with the NF. I feel fortunate that although both of these disorders leave her at higher risk for being on the autism spectrum, we see no signs of that. I feel fortunate that I watch Abigail learn new things, say new words, walk, talk, laugh, eat, play, and everything else a typical two year old does. I am very aware of how easy we have it, even with all of the medical stuff.
But honestly, the craziest part of all of this to me is the word that God has whispered since before Abigail came....hope...I need to learn to hope. And not just hope that everything turns out okay, or that she outgrows the masto and never has the bad stuff from NF, but hoping in the one who can save her; the one who knows the cure to all things.
While we waited on a baby God told us to hope in Him and what He could do. And the story he spun into motion with our little girl could not be more beautiful. The things He is still writing and doing, have spurred me on to hoping for more than just a little girl for us, but hoping for the lives of her birth family to be changed by her presence in the world. And then learning about the NF all we could do was hope in Him. There isn't a doctor out there with the answers for this disorder. Nobody can tell you what the future holds. So I slowly remembered what it was like to live in hope; how it feels to be held up by the one who hung the stars and moon. And for whatever reason God gently nudged me over the summer to hang the word hope over all of the windows in our house. To remember to look at the world outside with hope in my eyes; because I know the one who can do all things.
And here I am again, losing hope. Feeling like I'm unable to swallow this, and trying hard to read what I can, talk to people, do whatever is in my power to figure out what the future holds. I don't believe that God has caused any of this suffering. I do believe that He refuses to waste it. And so with each new thing that comes into our lives it seems to all point back to that one word. The one thing that can lift me up and keep me moving forward when all I really feel like doing is laying down and waiving my white flag. But I can't give up. I can't back down after getting a taste of the things God does when we put our hope in Him.

"And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you." 1Peter 5:10

Ready to be restored, confirmed, strengthened, and established by Christ,

Happy Birthday sweet Bug.

On September first of 2008 we spent the day at a park in a city close by. We took our two dogs over and let them play in the water, and run free. They didn't know what was coming, but it was a last hurrah for them for a while. That evening Jason and I ate dinner and went our separate ways. Jason went out with a friend for a few "your about to be a dad" beers. I went and stayed at the hospital.

It's always weird to me the things that stick in your head. I remember most of the night very vividly. I know what television shows were on. I remember the hospital room and exactly how it looked, and which room it was. I remember lying there awake and watching the woman in the hospital bed sleep. I know what she ate that night, what she drank, and what the nurse looked like.

I also can still feel the anticipation as the annoyed nurse reminded the woman in the bed that she wasn't even dilated an hour ago so she couldn't give her an epidural yet. And then the look of panic when the nurse checked her and had to report that she was ready to push, and would not be able to get an epidural.

Jason didn't understand what it meant when I called and gave him the stats and numbers. I felt bad for the first person who answered the phone at 4 in the morning when I dialed the wrong number. And a few hours later I cut the cord and looked at the beautiful being that had just made her debut.

Here she was our Abigail Tohelet. Born at 6:17 a.m. on Tuesday September 2, 2008. 6 pounds 7ounces and 18-1/2 inches long. And yes there was some chaos and a few days in the NICU, but our long awaited journey to parenting had officially begun. There was paperwork over the next few days, e-mails about what needed signed, and dates that things needed done. Things that people who have children biologically don't tend to think about.

It's interesting though because the story isn't just about us having a baby, or becoming parents. There is another person involved. And I have written before about the goodbye, but it is something that also so vividly sticks in my head. It was her birthday. We had given her a letter and a small present. She walked in the NICU to tell her daughter goodbye. We had no idea if we would ever see her again, or if our daughter would. The joy and pain of the goodbye were intermingled.

And two years later we are madly in love with this little being. I can think of nothing that God has entrusted to me that I am less deserving, or more thankful for. And as we celebrate the life of our little girl it is still a reminder of other things. Knowing that even though we now see her tummy mommy, and spend time with her, that today is still a hard day for her. And in two days when she's celebrating her birthday, she also will have the remembrance of what it was like to lovingly, and unselfishly, choose to walk out of the hospital without that little girl.

I have read adoption books that talk about how birthdays are sometimes hard for adopted children. I understand. Because I couldn't be more excited about celebrating our daughter's life. And yet there is still that intermingled feeling of pain because I love her tummy mommy as well, and know that this was not an easy thing for her.

So happy birthday beautiful daughter. I could think of nothing more wonderful than the joy of getting to be your mama.

And thank you kind tummy mommy. I can think of nothing more honoring, or humbling, than you choosing us to be her parents.

Forever grateful for our little bug,

The woman who gave our daughter life.

Abigail blowing on a stick (that was obviously hot) at the park.

In the beginning of our adoption Abigail's tummy mommy had chosen to receive letters and pictures from us, and that was all she wanted. It's always such a mixed feeling because I want Abigail to know her family, but also felt (secretly) relieved at not having to try to navigate the messiness of openness in adoption.
None the less, we continued to let her mom know that if she ever wanted more contact to let us know. So at Christmas we saw Abigail's mom and dad for a few minutes and they gave her some presents. Since then she has called a few times, which hadn't happened since before Abigail was born.
So yesterday I decided that I would call and ask her to come along to a picnic/playing at the park outing. She said yes. It was truly wonderful to sit with her. She interacted with Abigail, but mostly Jason and Abigail played while V and I sat and talked about life. Oh how I have missed her. She can weave words into a story and you just want to sit and listen for hours. I love her voice, and terms she uses that we don't...like "falling out" instead of throwing a fit. I love her smile and laugh. I soaked in the compliments of how great of a daddy Abigail has, how good of a kid she is, and how she thinks we are great parents. I can live on that for a while.
I hope as the summer roles on we can do a few more things like this. My favorite part of the night was when Abigail, V, and I were sitting on a bench together and she looked at me and said, "mama" and then looked at V and said, "mama." Abigail has two mama's. And looking back through the pictures we took I can see that V's love for Abigail radiates from her face as she is looking at Abigail. I can't think of another woman that I want to be more like, or that I hope my daughter can be like.





Abigail with both of her mamas.



Thankful for a family that extends beyond biological,