Unintentional Sabbatical

When I  decided to create this blog, I created it to be a record of our journey, a place to share with others who were struggling as I was (and still am), and potentially provide a haven, a safe place for those facing trials of many kinds with a  primary focus on infertility.  

I realize that my presence here has been sorely lacking in the now recent (and not so recent) past. The months have certainly been an unintentional absence, a lapse I never intended. As the days, weeks, and then months flew by, it became easier to neglect this space, to remove myself from the words that swirled within. 

Excuses could certainly be used; I had two little ones to care for, foster paperwork, visits, doctor's appointments. Who knew that preschoolers could have such a busy schedule?!?! The holiday's were coming and with them thier busyness- I think I almost forgot what my house looked like from Thanksgiving through Christmas! Work was certainly tedious, wrapping up the end of the year and planning for a new one, full of its potential. 

Yet still they sit, burning within- the thoughts and feelings waiting for their time to be shared. And so I return. 

Life has certainly changed since Novemeber. My husband and I are once again childless, at least temporarily. The impact of the children who have departed has certainly impacted our lives however- not a day goes by without a refrence to one or both of them. It is my hope that I may influence others in a similar fashion. 

So while few may read, I will know... know that I have done as I should, hoping, praying that the words I write may somehow make a difference to someone, that my story may eventually be a testimony of God's glory, that I may grow, learning from my experiences.

Cleaning Out the Closet

This past week I decided to clean out my closet. My decision was months overdue and was prompted by my desire to stop tripping on tubs of winter clothing sitting on my closet floor waiting to be hung up in hopes that cooler weather would soon appear.

One reason I have neglected this task is the emotional component I knew would be involved.

Over the past couple of years, (just before beginning our journey with infertility treatments) I embarked on a weight loss journey for myself as well as posterity’s sake. In the course of time, I have passed milestones, losing a little over 40 lbs to date. This obviously has necessitated new clothing, which I’ve purchased sparingly, waiting until I reach my final goal before I completely restore my wardrobe to its former glory.

Each time I dropped a size I slowly purged the contents of my closet, reserving a few, very specific pieces “just in case.” Now this was not the “just in case I need them again because my other clothes are tight” kind of hesitation. It was prompted out of hope, anticipation, that this month, any month could be “the month” and I would soon need those items again because my waistline was expanding with our long awaited child.

Sadly, our journey has not come to that end as of yet, so all I had hanging in my closet were a bunch of clothes that would once again go unworn and constantly remind me of what we have could have been. Each pair of pants a reminder of where we’ve gone. Shirts unwilling souvenirs of treatments and procedures, memories gained and subsequently lost.

As I cleaned I encountered a gamut of emotions. Grief swelled as I packed away the shirt I wore the Monday I was given the shot to end our first pregnancy out of medical necessity.  Sadness grew as I relived the memories of the weekend that preceded; the first sonogram in its emptiness, Christmas parties where no one knew of our secret joy turned to disappointment and church members delivering their babies that very weekend.  Despair took over as I recalled procedures that were revealing in nature, yet seemingly ineffective in their efforts. Even a tinged happiness surfaced in my efforts as I folded garments worn the day I discovered that we were expecting our first child.  Bittersweet were the tears that came as I relived so many memories.

And as much as it pained me to do it, this cleaning was necessary.

I’ll honestly admit that I still have hang-ups where babies are concerned. There are days that I still cannot bring myself to attend showers or be around newborns. I still miss our babies terribly; I’m not sure that feeling will ever go away.

I’ve too often wallowed in self pity, alienating myself as well as others. I’ve built walls between God and man, all in the name of protection, willing my sufferings to disappear. I’ve lost some faith, wondering if I will ever see God’s promises come to fruition.

Yet I still hope.

And that is why I cleaned my closet. In hope that one day I will be able to hold my babies, declaring God’s glory, knowing that until that happens I must go on, that  I can’t allow my pain to impede forward progress.

Choosing to let go of those items was (and still is) a big step for me, one that I will not soon forget. I will long have the memories that are attached to those articles of clothing but their presence in my home no longer stares me in the face, haunting me on a daily basis. I had to let go of those items; they had become my security, my tie to what could have been, and the past is never a place to live. Almost two years later it’s certainly time to move on. So I will.

Healing is a process; sometimes daily, sometimes hourly, and sometimes involving a closet full of memories. For now, I choose to let go literally and figuratively. With God’s help, I choose to walk unfettered, unhindered, and free from the baggage that mars my path, even if they are only clothes.

Misfit Mom

I know that one day I will be a mom. I’ve been told time and time again what a good mother I will be or even that I already am a mother to so many (never mind the fact that there are no children in my home).

My greatest quandary is not that of motherhood itself. I understand the well meant comments of others; the healing that they are meant to bring, the solace that is offered. However, one fact remains to be seen. What will my impending motherhood look like?

Will it be a motherhood first of the heart, or will it be born of my body and its functions? Is that motherhood something that could be taken away because of extenuating circumstances? Will I be understood as a mother of children who have not been made mine indefinitely? While curious, these concerns are minimal in my mind. The doubt that plagues me the most?  Will I be accepted as a mother if that motherhood is not perceived as a permanent position.

My expectancy is different. It does not follow the normal patterns that are traditionally seen. I cannot complain of aches and pains, lack of sleep or changing bodily functions. My moods are not attributed to escalating hormones nor do I look like a mother to be.

But I am.

I do not have the luxury of forty weeks to prepare for my child; knowing that in my world, he or she is only a phone call away. In an instant my carefully crafted world will be changed. I do not have hours of labor preparing me for impending motherhood. I only have the amount of time determined and given by a legislating body.

I spend my days in anticipation of the arrival of the newest member my readymade family. Every day I wait, I wonder. Will this be the day? Will my babies come home to me soon? Will we have a boy or a girl? What will they look like? Are they even born yet? What kind of travesty has brought them to my home?

No, the motherhood I embark on is vastly different from what most experience, yet it is still valid. It is a journey in and of itself, full of ups and downs, moments of waiting and expectation, fear and concern. The anticipation, the joy and even the sorrow are still present, albeit different.

 I may not have had to work for motherhood physically, but the emotional expense is great. The sacrifices may not have changed my physical body, but they have changed my inner person. The investment will have been primarily of heart and soul but it is there the same. The love I bear for my children will be great, my desire to see them grow into profitable humans the same as any other mother.

So one day, when my journey is complete, I will stand alongside many others head held high knowing that I am a mother. No longer will I stand concerned about what others think of me or how I became a mom. I will join countless others who have struggled before me, giving much for their children. I will be a mother who deserves to be called such, as the sacrifices have been great.  It is in that moment that I will proudly say that I am a mother.

*** Obviously this was written before we became foster parents. However, I believe that many of the emotions and fears are still valid, often part of my daily experience. My posting of this writing is actually predicated by an experience from today; I was referred to as my child’s foster mom (no problems there-it’s certainly the truth) in a tone that discounted the impact that I have on this child’s life as a mother. The reminder of my lack of parenthood stung, jolting me back to a reality that I had almost forgotten in the comfort of what our life has become.

Questions of when I will officially be a mom still arise frequently, both voiced by others and quietly within myself. Even though we are foster parents, it feels as if we are no closer to the finish line of being parents than we were a year ago. So still we wait. Officially I am a misfit mom.  

Discoveries

In recent days, I have been working on photo books for our two foster boys, one, so we will have them on hand should circumstances rapidly change and they be returned to biological family, and two, because a couple of weeks ago, within a matter of a few days, I received coupons for two free books! Definitely a deal I couldn't pass up!

I worked on the book for the younger of the two first, mainly because I had already started his. I also assumed that it would be the easier of the two from an emotional standpoint (he's my baby) and because I have far more good pictures of him; he's just that photogenic!

Today, I began to work on the one for our older son. I honestly cannot say that I was looking forward to the experience. I wasn't dreading it either, but I just wasn't super excited about the prospect of spending my time that way. Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised with the product, and what I came to realize as a result of my efforts.

It's been no secret that our oldest has had some trouble, and that I for one, have not always handled his pain well, or even at all. He struggles often, unable to contain the fury that rages within him. He rages in a manner that grates on me, resulting in a tumultuous relationship between us at the very least.  It has certainly been difficult.

Today, however was different.

As I worked on his book, I realized that I really do love him, that the words "I love you" are not just something that I say; I really do mean it. That he is "my boy", as I am always calling him. That he is a part of my family, and that I wouldn't know what to do without him in my home.

I realize that the change of heart was certainly a God thing; only He can take the aching hearts of two of His children and graft them together in such a wonderful manner. This change comes after much prayer, on my part as well as that of many others. It is also a work in progress.

I'm sure there will be many more difficult days ahead. Fostering/adopting is not for the faint of heart. But I do know that no matter what happens, with these boys or with any other children who may enter our home, that God is in control, and by His grace, we can live in peaceful harmony together, loving each other in spite of what life throws at us.

So excused me while I go find "My boy." He needs a hug!

Learning Together

Grandparent’s day was yesterday, and in light of the fact that I am sitting in my office listening to the school from across the parking lot (our church leases our educational building to a school during the week and they borrow our sanctuary for larger events) in their recognition of this day, and the fact that it was the first time we were able celebrate with my parents, even as foster grandparents, I have been contemplating my childhood and all it entailed.

Growing up was an adventure in my house. With five children, there was never a dull moment; someone was always up to something. Activity was often found at a frenetic pace, silence at a minimum. Chaos seemed to reign; all the while a carefully balanced order stabilized the disarray. 

I learned much from my parents. They taught me all the basics; daily living skills like washing behind my ears, respect for my elders, what manners are and how to mind them, to never give up, to obey the first time and without complaining. They also pointed me towards God, not in words alone, but by faith-filled example.

Since becoming a parent four months ago, I have come to appreciate their influence more than I ever have. Their love for my children, who are not yet fully mine and may never be, is encouraging; their support of my husband and I indispensable and very much appreciated.

 My parents have taught me much, so summarizing and categorizing all they have poured into my life is difficult, especially since I discover something new daily. But in honor of them, here is my effort to vocalize my appreciation of who they are.

My parents taught me to-

     Love

       God first, with all I am.  Family is second; they are your support system, you are family for life. Everyone needs unconditional love, even the neighbor who doesn’t seem to deserve it. By showing acceptance of others, giving honor and respect to everyone who crosses your path, no matter what their status in life, we glorify God and show our love for Him.

     

     Laugh

       Frequently! It’s good exercise and makes for a happy home. It also strengthens your dependence on God when you exhibit joy even in hard times.

     Learn

       From others. No matter what their age. Be teachable at every turn; learn from the wisdom of those who have gone before you, from the inexperience and exuberance of those who have not. Most of all learn from what God himself is teaching you in each and every moment

     Live

       Wholeheartedly. Do everything to the best of your ability, and don’t compare yourself to others; if you’ve done your best then there is nothing to be ashamed of! Colossians 3:23 has long been a favorite of mine because of this mentality.

     Listen

       For the voice of God. The still small voice whispering in your heart will have the greatest impact of any that my physically bombard, if you give ear to what it is saying.

My parents have impacted my life in profound ways, and I could recount story after story for each of the afore mentioned lessons, would time allow. For now however, it will have to be enough to say, “Thanks mom and dad!” My hope and prayer is that, with God’s help, I can be a parent like them. Imperfectly striving to be more like Jesus every day, learning what it means to live and be family together in our unconventional, God ordained way. 

Over the Top

So this past weekend I went to Women of Faith with my sister. I attended the conference a few years ago, but she never had, and neither of us had been to a Friday morning session so we knew we were in for an experience.

Needless to say, Friday morning dawned early. We drove my boys to their preschool (30 minutes from our house- the joys of living in one town and working in another!), grabbed some yummy Chick-Fil-A breakfast, and faced the beast of Dallas rush hour traffic head on.

It actually wasn’t that bad for a change.

Day one- ready to go!

We arrived, found the best parking space ever (no really, it was good) and headed into the sea of women already at the door. I kind of felt like Dory in Finding Nemo- “just keep swimming…” Anyway, after a timely move from one line to the other, we made our way through ticketing and purse checks to the seating, which was at the time, general admission. As a result, we had front row seating. Awesomeness.

Lunch anyone???

Friday featured Patsy Clairmont, a pintsized (like I’m one to talk) powerhouse of proverbial wisdom, as well as author Andy Andrews. What a combination!  After coming off of what had been a fairly emotional week, I was reminded through Patsy’s words and then convicted by the Holy Spirit that I have the ability to control my emotions, that God has given me a will that is stronger, and that feelings don’t have brains. She also advised that thoughts should be harnessed, lips be sealed, and was the librarians new best friend with the recommendation to read. Andrews, through masterful storytelling, reminded us of the importance of who we are, and that even when we don’t see it, the imprint that we leave on others now will be felt down the road. Both offered sound advice during a Q&A session that afternoon, which was one of my favorite parts of the day.

During our dinner break, Target called our name; first for water (I felt like a camel in the desert) and second for a second jacket for me (…and a penguin in the arctic). We then met my handsome hubby to switch cars and exchange introductions with a friend of his involved in a start up. After a quick dinner, we returned to the arena and found our “real” seats. They looked like this:

Not too shabby!

Friday evening featured Lisa Welchel, who spoke on friendship followed by a Mandisa concert, which was pretty awesome in and of its self. The songs were soothing and uplifting, a timely reminder that God is in control, no matter what our personal circumstances may bring.

Saturday highlighted Brenda Warner, wife of former NFL QB Kurt Warner and her amazing story (I can’t wait to get her book via Booksneeze- please hurry Mr.Mailman), Sandi Patty, who of course sang, and our personal favorite, Amy Grant.

My sister and I, especially my sister, were some of the biggest Amy Grant fans ever when we were kids. We memorized every album we had in our house, sang the songs in our grandparent’s church and fought over who got to sing what verse.  Unfortunately, we were devastated when she divorced as that was something that was forbidden in our home (we have awesome parents). So we closeted our love for her, never turning back… until Saturday. Not really. We both continued to like her music, again, my sister more so than me, but who can resist a good “Grown Up Christmas List” done by Amy Grant? Not me! That said, Grant did an acoustic concert Saturday afternoon, which was very relaxing after our lunch, and was also a fun trip down memory lane for my sister and I.

Listening to Amy Grant, our childhood music fave!

Marilyn Meberg then spoke on cravings, and then event ended with a recap by all the speakers each driving home their individual points of interest.

All in all, I had an awesome time. It was great to spend some time doing something out of the ordinary, especially since it meant being with my sister whom I rarely see. We laughed at ourselves when we couldn’t figure out what the end of the designated hash tag meant, rolled our eyes at family issues, and deepened the bond of sisters that existed between us. Who knows, maybe we’ll go again next year- it might be even more “Over the Top.”

Surviving the Seasons

Weather used to be something that people employed as a conversation starter, small talk of sorts when there was nothing else to say. These days, it is a legitimate topic of interest, something that impacts us all. For me, this entire year has often seemed to mirror the seasons outside my window, each one being that of mere survival, making it from one to the other, holding on tightly, anticipating what may be around the next curve.

Our year started with a winter in our area that brought some weather that was extremely cold, shutting down our entire metropolis for several days. Personally, this year commenced bleak and cold, winter’s icy tendrils attempting to overtake more than just the outside world.  It was also a time of rebuilding, restoration, renewed hope in spite of the circumstances that surrounded as we ended our journey of infertility treatments following my second miscarriage and entered the foster/adopt path.

Spring arrived early, almost before the devastation that winter had wreaked could pass. It too was a time of anticipation as we prepared for our potential children, decorating their room, putting the crib together, dreaming and imagining what our life could soon be. It was a time of completion as we fulfilled all the requirements to be a foster/adopt family, receiving our license, permission to become parents via this avenue.

Summer too dawned early bringing with it a scorching heat that was relentless and has not yet seen relief. Hot days became hotter, becoming almost unbearable at times, often to the detriment of plants, animals, and even people. Likewise I personally have felt like circumstances were as unyielding as the sun beating down outside. Our foster placement has brought unimaginable conditions; wounds once considered healed were ripped open, daily stressors magnified. This in turn rendered the daily task of dealing with children who need so much almost overwhelming, draining the life from me until I no longer feel as if I have anything to give.  Pain has been my constant companion at times, emotional turmoil a certain thing; uncertainty as sure as the scorching heat and lack of rain. Every day is an effort to sustain some sense of normalcy.  

As I look at the date, I realize that fall’s arrival is imminent; less than a month away by calendar days. I do not yet know what it will hold. Will it bring with its cooler temperatures some relief to my life? Will the ever shortening days become longer, or will respite be found in the cool of the abridged daylight? Only God knows. I do not say this in a flippant manner; ultimately all is up to Him, and I know that whatever the coming months hold, He is in control,  a fact I would do well to remember when I feel as if I am that sun scorched land in dire need of a drink.  

My weary soul longs for rest, for the calm of the cool, yet I know ultimately that my rest is in Him; my heart’s cry that of the Psalmist in Psalm 143:8 “Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.” So no matter what the rest of this year holds, fall and then our return to winter, I will look to Him as my strength because only He can sustain me through the seasons no matter what their conditions.

Show me, Lord, which way I should go.