An answer to that prayer

So, it's been a while since I have written.  My last entry was a prayer of sorts.  It's no secret to those who know me that I have been praying for the last three years for another bird for our nest.  Well, begging, pleading, fasting and praying for another chance to be pregnant, give birth and raise a sibling for my amazing son.  I spent those three years watching friends and famiy getting what I wanted, being happy for them and wishing I could be counted among their number again.

Two years into it, I figured that my child was simply the miracle I had always counted him.  So we began the process of adoption.  We had seen what a beautiful way that is to build a family thanks to friends who had adopted three children from the state.  It's been just gorgeous to watch them struggle and triumph and finally become a family.  We were following in their footsteps and were a year into the process.  And still I struggled not knowing when we would get the call.

Then one Sunday, God made it clear to me that He wasn't witholding what I wanted to punish me, as I sometimes feared.  He was trying to get me alone in the wilderness with him.  He was trying to teach me about him in ways that I would not hear if I had two small children to care for, if I was going through life thinking everything was just fine and dandy.  I never thought that I would feel grateful for this time of witholding, but I was so grateful that he was so mindful of me, it felt like such a gift that I wept with gratitude. 

That seemed to be all it took.  In the next week or two, God granted us the desire of our hearts.  We are now halfway through our second pregnancy and are excited to know this new child.  Our son is so excited to be a big brother finally, and is taking every chance he gets around babies to learn how to be the best big brother there ever was.  And the timing, while not what I had had planned, is actually perfect.  I had wanted our children closer in age.  But, this way our boy starts school in September and the baby comes in October, giving me four hours a day to bond with the baby.  Maybe even steal a nap with them.  It gives me a chance to savor this child the way that I savored my son.  And I am just now beginning how to parent my son, who is a very intense child with a brain that doesn't belong in a four year old.  Had I had a baby while he was going through these last two years, someone may not have survived.  And it probably would have been me. 

a new prayer, thanks to Billie Holiday

"The mere idea of you, the longing here for you.  You'll never know how slow the moments go till I'm near to you.  I see your face in every flower, your eyes in stars above.  It's just the thought of you, the very thought of you, my Love."

Oh my child.  Wherever you are, whoever you are, I pray that God would be with you, that he would bless you and that he would bring you to us soon.  I  ache for your presence in our lives.  Every day, I feel the absence of you, I see a place that you can fill.  And I pray that God would bring you to us soon.

Ah, what we all have to learn

I come from staunch German stock.  When my grandfather had a notion in his head, there wasn't much that could be done or said to change his view.  Well, genetics are a funny thing and I myself have been known to exhibit this charactersitic on more than one occasion.  I realize that this can be a strength, and I must say that I can look back with pride on my teenage years because of this very characteristic.  But, I can also appreciate the humbling that comes with greater experience.  And this it seems is what I am walking through right now.

For reasons best left undescribed, I never believed that I would have a child of my own.  One Sunday at some random church I wept at the altar following the infant dedication service.  I wept at the idea of not sharing in that experience that women the world over and through ages past have so highly prized.  But, that was it.  The only moment of grief over that forfeiture that I allowed myself.  I knew that I was meant to be a mother.  I knew that there would ever be children whose mothers couldn't or wouldn't raise them.  I accepted and embraced the idea of adoption as my path to motherhood.

But, of course, I didn't stop there.  As I came to this place of accteptance, I took a lowly view of women who went through hell and back with their bodies to have "a child of their own."  I couldn't understand people who wouldn't consider adoption as an option when all else so obviously failed.  I even thought ill of a professor of mine who expressed disappointment that the child she was in fact adopting from China would be several months old before she could bring her home.  When I look back on my arrogance, I cringe.  I am truly sorry for such a self-righteous attitude.

A few years after we were married, my husband and I thought that it might be time to start a family beyond the two of us.  We threw caution to the wind on the natural side of things.  But, without any expectations of success on my side, I started to research adoption.  No sooner had the information packets arrived in my mailbox, than the little stick amazingly displayed two lines.  Somehow, we had gotten pregnant as easily as if I'd fallen off a log. 

When we had our beautiful son, I thought "I need to re-evaluate the whole adoption thing."  It had been such a certainty in my mind that I couldn't imagine my life without it anymore.  But, what to do with it now?  I thought, "Well, since I can apparently get pregnant after all, and since I loved the experience so much, we'll have two of 'our own' and then we'll adopt when they get a little older."  No problem.

Well, there does seem to be a little problem.  It has been two years of trying for that other one of "our own" and there has been no luck.  Must have broken something when I fell off that log.  Time to re-evaluate again I guess.  No big deal, just adopt right?  I mean we have friends who are in the process of adopting three beautiful children and it is such a glorious thing to see.  I should be all over this.  Only...I'm not.

See the thing is that I loved being pregnant.  I really did.  Having this one child has completely altered my way of thinking.  I long to experience that again, the way I suppose some women want to experience it who never have.  I should be grateful that I who thought I would never get the chance, got it.  But, I am not satisfied.  For me it was easier to give up what I didn't know than it is to give up what I know to be so good.  I now understand the feeling of shame and pain that your body has betrayed you and isn't functioning the way a woman's body should.  I now understand that ache in a way I never did before.  I understand the fear surrounding the idea of raising someone else's child, as we do in fact go through the adoption process.  I understand so much more now and realize just how big a jerk I was before. 

Today was a day of Magic

I took my "sun" to the park today.  The weather was unseasonably warm, as it has been lately.  But they say a change is coming, so I wanted to let my "sun" have one more romp in the sunshine before the snow comes and we hibernate for the winter. 

As always it was beautiful to see him run around and expend that ever present energy.  It was even more glorious that he passed up other children as playmates and chose instead to play with me.  Standing at the top of a slide, I called his attention to the sky.  It was a stark and sunny blue and filled with red and gold leaves that couldn't quite make their way to earth.  They twisted and turned in the sky catching the sun and winking at us.  It was as though God had decided to throw a party, and because we'd taken the time to notice, we'd been granted an invitation.

My "sun" laughed as he made his way down the slide then took off for the bridge that spans the creek between the playground we were on and the one at the top of the hill.  He turned before stepping foot on the bridge and called out, "Come on, Mom!"  Smiling, I followed.  He took off, his little legs working hard to conquer the hill.  Every so often, he would stop and look back to make sure that I was still there.  Reassured, he resumed his race.  And all that I could think of was how like life the scene was.  Him running forward, his whole heart in it, looking to me for support and assurance that he was on the right track.  I also noticed that he looked back less and less the closer he got to his goal.  The entire journey was his, not ultimately mine. 

Luckily when I reached the top, he enlisted me in a re-enactment of the sword fighting scene from Princess Bride.  My bittersweet train of thoughts temporarily derailed. 

Love

Love forbore the insults.

It filtered through the air

That reeked of hatred, pride and doubt

That Love, pure Love was standing there.

Love stood through all the bruising

And the spitting and the shame

They tried to heap upon it

In their twisted, bitter game.

Love chose its fate, the dreadful path

It knew would fill our need.

It chose its fate and did not stop

When Love began to bleed.

Love mingled with the blood and puss

That coursed across his skin.

It cried in agony and then forgave

When the nails were hammered in.

Love hung naked before all

Its only scrap of clothing

Our guilt and sin which to the Lord

Made Love a thing of loathing.

Love breathed its last in darkness pure

With all of Heaven weeping.

My life, my soul to Love is owed

And I have lain here sleeping.