a one story house.

we're on a little journey here.  one where we spend a lot of time searching.  one that will hopefully end with finding.  but for now, we pick things up along the way.  one little thing here.  then another over there.  and sometimes they make lots of sense together.  and others it seems like maybe we'll end up going down lots of paths to find. 
and in this searching, Jason and I, we spend time taking notes.  and discussing those notes with doctors.  and therapist.  and each other.  and trying so hard to pull all the things together.
we knew at the beginning of these sorts of journeys, and onward, no matter how long, there is often a lot of energy focused on the fight.  fighting to make it over, across, through.  to just be heard. to figure out what's best, and do that.  to learn to live in a place of hope.  of faith.  no matter how big the piles of shit are that we just seem to always be stepping in.

today. today felt like we managed to move forward at sprint pace, but marathon distance.  our first victory of the day, a new house.  a new, one story house.  a house where I will no longer have to carry children up and down steps multiple times a day.  a house where little can crawl into her bedroom and play until her heart's content.  a house, where, in the future, tiny can do the same.  a house that will work so much better for our families needs right now. 

and then, an appointment.  I pulled up tiny's shirt and said, we have noticed his back looks weird.  i'm not going to point it out.  I just want you to look at it and see if you notice anything.  and she listened. really listened.  and looked.  and told me something I almost suspected, then pushed out of my head very quickly.
1 in 10,000.  that's the statistic for children who have congenital scoliosis.  tiny has congenital scoliosis.  we have no idea what this means down the road.  we will have some imaging done. we will see a specialist. we will do what needs to be done.  we will continue on searching for answers. 

but, somehow the fact that we got word that we got the one story house, one hour before a doctor said my ten month old has scoliosis seems like a beautiful mess.  maybe they aren't connected at all.  maybe it's purely coincidence.
then again, maybe i'll cling to my faith in a God who would make certain we had the exact right place to live, just in time to find out a little more about how important it will be for our family.
to continue to live in a place where the piles we step in often seem to grow in size and quantity on a daily basis, I have to cling to the second conclusion.  without it, this is all too much. it's too cruel.  but, when there is hope.  when there is faith.  then, can we move forward on this journey.  then, can we remember that the small things are tiny sparks of what lies ahead. of all things being new. of new bodies.  and no more brokenness.
but for now, for today, heaven showed up in a one story house.

and then there were three.

mostly, I've felt like I just can't do it.  i'm already tired.  i'm already stretched.  how could I ever add another kid to this mix?  will I ever sleep?  will my other kids end up getting the short end of the stick for a while?  I just can't imagine adding more to what already feels like chaos.

and, then, I look up and the sunlight and shadows take turns dancing across her beads and face.  she concentrates on getting the next Lincoln log in just the right spot.  she adds chairs and beds, a fireplace, and a table.  she shares the details of the little world she has made. it seems impossible that she hasn't always been this age.  she was once a very little, little.  i soak up the moment and look forward to sharing these things with another child.

all the while, little is snuggled under a blanket, in the crook of my right elbow, sleeping.  she just couldn't make it until nap time, and i have not the heart to wake her.  i sit quietly feeling each breath she takes in and lets back out. i think of how much closer she is to walking, and how she will no longer feel like a baby to me when that happens.  i brush the hairs out of her face, and become thankful that soon, i'll have another little to sleep in my arms.

and, i remember how with each child, God has given me a verse.  and, they have fit perfectly into what His plans are for our lives, for our children's lives, and for our family.  so i try hard to focus on the verses He gave me for this little instead of the exhaustion and sickness i am experiencing.  i remember that while i will likely deal with the same struggles with tiny, of learning boundaries, and respect, and kindness, that it won't be in the first day, or week, or even month of life.  i'll have time to settle into the role of mother of three.
and, so to celebrate, and look forward to the joy that looms ahead, i buy a onesie.  a teeny tiny one that seems like it could never fit a real live person.  and i lay it out, and look at it, reminding me of days to come filled with toothless smiles, first times for all sorts of new things, and a sleeping baby on my chest.

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!