For This Child We Have Prayed
December 15th, 2018, our world changed forever.
At work on a typical Friday morning, shortly after I finished telling the rest of my team that I would be leaving Feeding San Diego in three weeks (another post on that journey to the decision to change careers is coming), we got The Call. Honestly, I thought our adoption facilitator, Sarah, was calling to have us update some profile information or wish us happy holidays because I was finally at peace about our place in our adoption journey. In fact, I had just written a post earlier that week (see the one before this) about brokenness not being the end of our stories--in our parenthood journey or, more importantly, all of us as humans. My brain had completely put on back burner the notion of becoming a parent (Maybe out of self-preservation? Or maybe I'd finally learned how to rest in God for this matter.) and thus was a little out of sorts when Sarah asked if I could get Alec on the phone as well. "I can just tell you about my job change and send you a new picture; why do we need Alec?"
Then it hit me.
A birth mom had chosen us.
I was going to be a mom.
With both Alec and I on the phone, Sarah gave us some details about the birth mom, and I frantically looked around for a pen and piece of paper (ended up with a sticky note, my brain's best friend) because I knew that I wouldn't remember any of this unless I wrote it down and tried not to completely lose it in my office. The way the process works typically with Sarah, an independent facilitator of an open adoption, is that a birth mom (or family) chooses the adoptive family while she is at some stage of pregnancy. We all have the most awkward meeting of our lives trying to get to know each other, and then both parties make a decision if this feels right to move forward. We have time to bond before the baby arrives, create a birth plan together, go to the hospital when birth mom is in labor, and come home with our baby. This typically takes anywhere from 1-5 months, depending on how far along she is.
So with the 3 of us on conference call, we got some demographic background on the birth family and Sarah then shared that birth mom would like to meet us on Monday afternoon. At this point, my brain was already listing out the things to get ready: Will it be a boy or a girl? What are some ways birth mom and I can connect? How do I begin my out of office plan for my new job? What Pinterest-inspired announcement can we create to share the news with our families at Christmas? And then Sarah gave us the kicker of all kickers. "Oh, and she has already given birth. The baby is 8 weeks old, but he was born 7-8 weeks premature. Also, her hope is that if the meeting goes well on Monday, you would go home with baby then too. Are you guys interested in meeting her and potentially your son?"
We had the weekend and then would be parents of a two-month-old.
Yup, you read that right.
Two. Days.
Talk about God's timing versus our timing; not only did we just have a couple days to prepare our for meeting birth mom, we were going to have a baby in our house to feed and change and love potentially Monday night. God, in God's infinite wisdom and timing, didn’t just crack a window, He threw open the double doors to parenthood and asked, "Well, aren't you coming in?"
That weekend was a blur of happy tears sharing with our immediate family the potential of having a child in just a few days, very little sleep wondering if we got all we need or how we might come across to birth mom, and a roller coaster of joy, terror, peace, anxiety, and gratitude sometimes all at once for this next step. We secured all the necessary things--babies really don't need that much, but the market has you convinced otherwise--and were so humbled by how our families rallied around us to get those essentials and much, much more through the doors of our house in preparation for our little man.
Monday at work I was utterly useless and when time came to leave for our meeting, I had to stop by a gas station for some Chex Mix and a banana because I had forgotten to eat all day. Alec and I met in the parking lot and couldn’t really say anything more to each other than, “Are you ready? This is what we’ve been waiting for so long” and give each other a hug, both our eyes glistening with tears. We met birth mom (even though this is an open adoption, I won’t mention her by name until she is ready to share more publicly. Her whole pregnancy was pretty under wraps, and want to honor her privacy) at the front desk of the Adoption Center and immediately saw the same fear, anxiety, hope, and desire I was feeling reflected in her big hazel eyes and oversized sweatshirt. We shook hands, gave nervous giggles to some joke Sarah made, and sat down to learn more about this courageous, selfless woman making probably the most difficult and bravest decision of her life by choosing adoption for her son.
I won’t go into all the details because that space I truly believe was holy ground where God was continuing His miraculous work in all of us that can’t fully be described and, selfishly, I want to keep between Alec, birth mom, and me.
Walking out three or so hours later, strapping my 6 pound son in his too-big onsie and even bigger car seat, I’m surprised I made it home without getting into an accident. That night was a blur of FaceTime and tears and smiles that any brand new parents feel when they have the village of family and friends who have been waiting in anticipation of a new little one to join the clan.
There’s so much more to write and remember about this time-outside-of-time in mid-December before the devil wormed his way back in through fears of finances, an uncooperative birth father, and birth certificate woes, but what I want to capture in this post is how God’s fingerprints are smeared all over our journey to parenthood. Is it how we planned? Um, no. Is it easy? Definitely no. Is it convenient or clean-cut or painless? 100% no. But are we alone? No. Does it mean our family is any less a family than one created biologically? Definitely no. Is God any different than who He promised He is because we couldn’t have biological children? 100% no. God has been faithful and so, like Hannah when God gave her Samuel in the Old Testament, I continue to release our precious babe to Him on a regular basis, even if it's sometimes reluctantly.
My heart cries out as Hannah's did, “I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord.” 1 Samuel 1:27-28
At work on a typical Friday morning, shortly after I finished telling the rest of my team that I would be leaving Feeding San Diego in three weeks (another post on that journey to the decision to change careers is coming), we got The Call. Honestly, I thought our adoption facilitator, Sarah, was calling to have us update some profile information or wish us happy holidays because I was finally at peace about our place in our adoption journey. In fact, I had just written a post earlier that week (see the one before this) about brokenness not being the end of our stories--in our parenthood journey or, more importantly, all of us as humans. My brain had completely put on back burner the notion of becoming a parent (Maybe out of self-preservation? Or maybe I'd finally learned how to rest in God for this matter.) and thus was a little out of sorts when Sarah asked if I could get Alec on the phone as well. "I can just tell you about my job change and send you a new picture; why do we need Alec?"
Then it hit me.
A birth mom had chosen us.
I was going to be a mom.
With both Alec and I on the phone, Sarah gave us some details about the birth mom, and I frantically looked around for a pen and piece of paper (ended up with a sticky note, my brain's best friend) because I knew that I wouldn't remember any of this unless I wrote it down and tried not to completely lose it in my office. The way the process works typically with Sarah, an independent facilitator of an open adoption, is that a birth mom (or family) chooses the adoptive family while she is at some stage of pregnancy. We all have the most awkward meeting of our lives trying to get to know each other, and then both parties make a decision if this feels right to move forward. We have time to bond before the baby arrives, create a birth plan together, go to the hospital when birth mom is in labor, and come home with our baby. This typically takes anywhere from 1-5 months, depending on how far along she is.
So with the 3 of us on conference call, we got some demographic background on the birth family and Sarah then shared that birth mom would like to meet us on Monday afternoon. At this point, my brain was already listing out the things to get ready: Will it be a boy or a girl? What are some ways birth mom and I can connect? How do I begin my out of office plan for my new job? What Pinterest-inspired announcement can we create to share the news with our families at Christmas? And then Sarah gave us the kicker of all kickers. "Oh, and she has already given birth. The baby is 8 weeks old, but he was born 7-8 weeks premature. Also, her hope is that if the meeting goes well on Monday, you would go home with baby then too. Are you guys interested in meeting her and potentially your son?"
We had the weekend and then would be parents of a two-month-old.
Yup, you read that right.
Two. Days.
Talk about God's timing versus our timing; not only did we just have a couple days to prepare our for meeting birth mom, we were going to have a baby in our house to feed and change and love potentially Monday night. God, in God's infinite wisdom and timing, didn’t just crack a window, He threw open the double doors to parenthood and asked, "Well, aren't you coming in?"
That weekend was a blur of happy tears sharing with our immediate family the potential of having a child in just a few days, very little sleep wondering if we got all we need or how we might come across to birth mom, and a roller coaster of joy, terror, peace, anxiety, and gratitude sometimes all at once for this next step. We secured all the necessary things--babies really don't need that much, but the market has you convinced otherwise--and were so humbled by how our families rallied around us to get those essentials and much, much more through the doors of our house in preparation for our little man.
Monday at work I was utterly useless and when time came to leave for our meeting, I had to stop by a gas station for some Chex Mix and a banana because I had forgotten to eat all day. Alec and I met in the parking lot and couldn’t really say anything more to each other than, “Are you ready? This is what we’ve been waiting for so long” and give each other a hug, both our eyes glistening with tears. We met birth mom (even though this is an open adoption, I won’t mention her by name until she is ready to share more publicly. Her whole pregnancy was pretty under wraps, and want to honor her privacy) at the front desk of the Adoption Center and immediately saw the same fear, anxiety, hope, and desire I was feeling reflected in her big hazel eyes and oversized sweatshirt. We shook hands, gave nervous giggles to some joke Sarah made, and sat down to learn more about this courageous, selfless woman making probably the most difficult and bravest decision of her life by choosing adoption for her son.
I won’t go into all the details because that space I truly believe was holy ground where God was continuing His miraculous work in all of us that can’t fully be described and, selfishly, I want to keep between Alec, birth mom, and me.
Walking out three or so hours later, strapping my 6 pound son in his too-big onsie and even bigger car seat, I’m surprised I made it home without getting into an accident. That night was a blur of FaceTime and tears and smiles that any brand new parents feel when they have the village of family and friends who have been waiting in anticipation of a new little one to join the clan.
There’s so much more to write and remember about this time-outside-of-time in mid-December before the devil wormed his way back in through fears of finances, an uncooperative birth father, and birth certificate woes, but what I want to capture in this post is how God’s fingerprints are smeared all over our journey to parenthood. Is it how we planned? Um, no. Is it easy? Definitely no. Is it convenient or clean-cut or painless? 100% no. But are we alone? No. Does it mean our family is any less a family than one created biologically? Definitely no. Is God any different than who He promised He is because we couldn’t have biological children? 100% no. God has been faithful and so, like Hannah when God gave her Samuel in the Old Testament, I continue to release our precious babe to Him on a regular basis, even if it's sometimes reluctantly.
My heart cries out as Hannah's did, “I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord.” 1 Samuel 1:27-28
love love love. *Crying face emoji*
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