My Best Home Alone Face

I had always imagined what my reaction would be to finding out I was pregnant. Would I scream? Cry? Would it be some cute movie lines exchanged between Scott and I? Maybe wrap up the test and send it to work in his lunch box?

On Dec 11, 2010 (yes, I remember the exact date), I was Christmas shopping in Louisville with Norma, Beth and Linda (My MIL, SIL and Scott's Aunt). Beth and I got separated from the others, talking away as we do, when I mentioned how tender my boobs were. She chuckled and said, "Maybe you're pregnant." I have already mentioned that, while trying, I knew exactly when I should start and if I was late at all, and maybe a time or two I had actually been about 3 days late, but tests were never positive. In fact, 31 days was as long as I had ever gone, but 28 was typical. I scoffed, but let her move on ahead as I pulled out my phone to check the calendar....it was day 29. My breath caught. I was ready to go home that instant so I could take a test. I called Scott, "Did you know I was late?! How did I miss that?!" He said, "Yes baby, I knew.",  almost like he wished I hadn't realized. I asked him why he hadn't mentioned it and he told me, it was because I always got so crazy excited and he hated to see me sad when I'd rush to take the test, only to find it negative. He hoped I would just enjoy my time shopping and not worry about it.

By the time I got home I had convinced myself that, in fact, my boobs were bigger and my jeans a bit tighter....could it be?! I wanted to take a test that evening, but Scott made me promise I'd wait until Tuesday, which would be day 32. That's 3 days people! Hard for me to imagine now that I made that promise, but I did. That was three really long days, but Tuesday morning did in fact make it. Although I normally woke up at 5:30 as opposed to Scott's 4:30 wake up, on this day, I was up and at the commode with a test, before he hit snooze. This is especially noteworthy since I had a snow day and really no need to wake early.

I wish I had kept track of how many tests I had taken in those eight years, straining to see two pink lines. Turning the stick in the light, just in case it was there and I just had a bad angle. But it never was....not even when I'd dig it out of the trash an hour later, just to make sure.

So, this morning, without a word between us, I peed on the stick while he brushed his teeth. I set it on the shelf in front of me while he spit, and rinsed, then dried his hands, never taking his eyes off me in the mirror. Many times he'd had to hug and console me on similar such mornings, but never on day 32 with no trace of starting. Unable to wait the 3 minutes for accurate results, I took an early peek. What!?! In all my imagined reaction scenarios, I never pictured shock, or disbelief. "Scott, is that two pink lines? Do you see two lines?" It was somewhere between a scream and a whisper with my face in my hands, that I spoke as I thrust the test in his face. "Do you see it? Can you see two lines? Are we pregnant? Are we going to have a baby?" He smiled, eyes flooded with tears.

We collapsed into each other. We were pregnant. We were going to have a baby.

We dressed, ate breakfast, and smiled at each other like giddy school kids after their first kiss. We decided we were not the kind of people to sit on this news, especially after waiting so long to have the chance to say it. Instead, we wanted to share it with everyone right away. Gram was still asleep but we wanted her to be the first to know. We went downstairs and I called to her. "Gram, can you wake up? Everything is ok, but we need to talk to you." So, she scurried to the bathroom, asking us to give her a few minutes to steady herself. We stood at the island in her kitchen and blurted out the news. "We are pregnant!" She gasped in surprise, then with pride and joy difficult to describe, she smiled through her tears and hugged us both. "We're going to have a baby. I'm just so happy."

We continued down the line of family and friends, letting them know our news, each as shocked and excited as we were. About 9:00 that morning, I took a second test. I figured after all those I had taken before that were negative, it would be ok to have two that were positive! I sent a picture of that test to Scott at work, "Just in case you'd forgotten....we're going to have a baby!"

That day, stuck inside with the boys, I held to them a little more. Timothy and Mason were going to be big brothers and it made my desire to adopt them even greater.

I spent a lot of time reflecting on the 'talk' with God I'd had just 2 months earlier. Why now? Why after I finally said I was ok, did God bless us in this way? While we cannot presume to understand His ways, I believe pretty strongly that it had something to do with finally surrendering myself to His plans and not trying to force my own any longer. He didn't want my 'deals', he just wanted my trust, my faith and my heart. There was nothing about my path to parenthood that I could claim as my own...absolutely every bit of it was His perfect timing, His perfect plan and He used, and continues to use, every bit of it to test and strengthen my faith.

A Tribute to a Friend

I would be remiss if I failed to mention a sweet friend, a sister really. It's actually a little funny how alike we are! Our relationship began as members of the same church, grew to photographer of our engagement and wedding, to friend, to kindred spirit. I love Angela for so many reasons, but the reason she requires mention here, now, is because of our shared journey of infertility and adoption. One of the funny things about adoption are those rare occasions when the children look just like their adoptive parents, which is the case with Angela. Her son looks just like her and her daughter looks just like Joe, her husband, their dad. Since Scott and I were fairly new to the church, we had no idea they were adopted until one day, she mentioned their 'mom' and I stopped her to ask what she meant. She shared their whole, beautiful story and instantly our friendship deepened. She was, and still is, one of our biggest supports in this journey, but I don't know if she'll ever really understand how much her life, her example, her story, impacted me in such a powerful way. As I was worried I'd be less of a woman, or missing out on true motherhood if I never got pregnant, here was a woman, showing me how very wrong I was. She was a woman who absolutely loved her children she had spent years praying for. Almost every other woman I knew who struggled to get pregnant, finally had success. While they did understand the hurt and disappointment of infertility, they now had that bump- that baby. She did not. She had never conceived, making her the only example of a woman who moved forward with adoption, knowing she may never have her own, and she was ok. I know God used her at this time to show me, the world will not end if you quit trying. His plans are far greater than our own. Seeing that Angela was no less of a mom, or woman, without a biological child, brought a peace to my heart and helped get me to the point of surrender. I love her and Joe, I love her kids and I love that she loves us. God will use us, even when we think no one is watching, and I love that He used her to show me this truth. Angela shared this with me a few years ago. It is such a beautifully written description of adoption, I hope you take the time to read it.

DIFFERENT TRIPS TO THE SAME PLACE
By: Diane Armitage

Deciding to have a baby is like planning a trip to Australia. You've heard it's a wonderful place; you've read many guidebooks and feel certain you're ready to go. Everyone you know has traveled there by plane. They say it can be a turbulent flight with occasional rough landings, but you can look forward to being pampered on the trip.

So you go to the airport and ask the ticket agent for a ticket to Australia. All around you, excited people are boarding planes for Australia. It seems there is no seat for you; you'll have to wait for the next flight. Impatient, but anticipating a wonderful trip, you wait - and wait - and wait.

Flights to Australia continue to come and go. People say silly things like, "Relax. You'll get on a flight soon." Other people actually get on a plane and then cancel their trip, to which you cry, "It's not fair!"

After a long time the ticket agent tells you, "I'm sorry, but we're not going to be able to get you on a plane to Australia. Perhaps you should think about going by boat."

"By BOAT?!" you ask. "Going by boat will take a very long time and it costs a great deal of money. I really had my heart set on going by plane." So you go home and think about not going to Australia at all. You wonder if Australia will be as beautiful if you approach it by sea, rather than by air. But you have long dreamed of this wonderful place, and finally you decide to travel by boat.

It is a long trip, many months over many rough seas. No one pampers you. You wonder if you will ever see Australia. Meanwhile, your friends have flown back and forth to Australia two or three more times, marveling about each trip.

Then one glorious day, the boat docks in Australia. It is more exquisite than you ever imagined, and the beauty is magnified by your long days at sea. You have made many wonderful friends during your voyage, and you find yourself comparing stories with others who also traveled by sea, rather than by air.

People continue to fly to Australia as often as they like, but you are able to travel only once, perhaps twice. Some say things like, "Oh, be glad you didn't fly. My flight was horrible; traveling by sea is so easy."

You will always wonder what it would have been like to fly to Australia. Still, you know God blessed you with a special appreciation of Australia, and the beauty of Australia is not in the way you get there, but in the place itself.

So, this Thanksgiving, as I have just written about the moment I finally let go of MY dreams and gave myself over to GOD's plan, I want to tell my friend, Angela, I am thankful for you. You are a wonderful example of a loving and devoted mom and I'm so glad God brought you and I together when He did.

A Talk with God

Things were moving along pretty well with the boys, now that the courts had cancelled the transition for Timothy from our home to the paternal grandparents. Sometime around April, the boys maternal grandmother began having weekend visits twice a month with the boys. The court approved her supervising their birth mother and father on their visits during those weekends. While we still didn't like having Timothy and Mason gone from our home, these visits were completely different from the ones before. She, Nana, cared for them, kept them clean and fed and Timothy never fought us when we dropped them off like he had with the previous visits. And, she loved them both. It never felt right to us before that a grandparent would want one child but not the baby brother. These months passed pretty seamlessly. The school year ended, summer break began. Every other weekend the boys would be gone on their visits and we would miss them, but the fear was gone.


We celebrated my first Mother's Day....

Father's Day...

Summertime fun.....



Something happened during this time that was so obvious, but it took Scott guiding me to it before I could really see it for what it was. Getting back to our fertility efforts loomed somewhere in our future, but wasn't talked about as often anymore. As the new school year approached I mentioned maybe we should discuss when we wanted to schedule IVF again to work best around school and volleyball season. This was a very sensitive topic, because at some point Scott had, very lovingly, mentioned that if we weren't able to get pregnant he would be ok. During our testing it was determined that he was not the problem. The problem lay somewhere within me, but nothing was ever found to be wrong, so I took this as him reassuring me that he would not be upset with me should I never get pregnant. Well, being the driven (some would say stubborn) person I am, it was just not ok with me to quit trying. If I never got pregnant, I at least wanted to say I gave it every shot I could, and quitting was not anything I was interested in. So, as I brought up rescheduling IVF to Scott at the end of the summer, it was with a slightly demanding tone, as if to remind him, I wasn't willing to give up trying.

My husband...the man is a gem. He sat with me on the bed and said I need to ask you something. "Is this about you being pregnant, or about you being a mom?" He says he can still see the look on my face when it struck me, that all this time, in almost a year, God had given me the desire of my heart. He had made me a mommy, and that was really all I ever wanted. He said he was certainly willing to move forward with IVF, but asked me to consider what was really important. As I said before, I can be a little 'driven' so the idea of not trying after so many years of its all consuming presence, was daunting. I needed time to think on it.

One night in October, after the boys were down for the night, I was taking an evening shower, the weight of it all on my heart and running through my mind. It had been one year and a month that I had been singing bedtime songs, buying baby clothes, packing a diaper bag, mixing formula, smelling of baby spit up, and loving two little boys that meant the world to me. While I was busy working and caring for my family, God had up and answered my prayers. Suddenly, the need to be pregnant became less important. I didn't need anyone to tell me how cute my baby bump was or have a baby shower, I just needed to hear these boys say, "I love you mommy", to keep them safe and fed, healthy and happy, to hold them when they cried and sing our special song.

That night, I thanked God for Timothy and Mason. For making them my sons, for bringing us together as a family. For the very first time that I uttered words of this type, I meant it, when I said, "It's ok God. If these are my kids, if this is my family, I'm ok with that. I'm really ok." Although alone in the room, I spoke those precious words out loud and knew in that moment that my heart was forever changed. I really was ok, and a weight fell off of me I had no idea was there.

Our family

Still Trying

Back tracking just a touch.....this whole process began because getting pregnant was just not happening, despite our best, and frequent, efforts. After surgeries performed to enhance my utero atmosphere where scheduled and completed, pills, shots and artificial insemination attempted and failed several times....we decided on adoption through foster care. If you have ever struggled to get pregnant maybe you would agree- years of hurt, disappointment, fear and frustration hover so close to the surface, in absolutely every single situation. The shared thrill for my dearest friends the first, second and even third time they called to let me know their good news, was a little harder each time, as my calls to them where always the opposite. While they couldn't wait to hear that we finally had good news, my call was to say, "not this time".  With each passing year it seemed like literally every woman I knew was getting pregnant, even those trying hard not to! And it's not a position of pity or envy....I didn't want my friends to feel sorry for me, and my joy for them was from the depths of my soul, but I'd be telling an untruth if I said it wasn't hard and that, on occasion, I didn't hang up the phone and cry. So, as we made the decision for adoption, although exciting to move forward, it felt like a moment of defeat rather than the moment of surrender that it became.

During the entire process of training and fostering, we never let go of our desire to get pregnant. We would open our home, adopt if possible and continue trying to have a baby. After having zero success with the other options, we decided to try IVF. Our first attempt was scheduled in October of 09, but was rescheduled after Timothy arrived in September. Our new appointment was now for March of 2010, but when Mason came in February, and since the time of possible transition was pending, we decided to cancel IVF until further notice. We needed to see how the next few months were going to play out. Would Timothy transition to the grandparents? Would Mason stay? Too many 'what if's' to go into IVF and the doc had said, "We should reduce our stress before we invest". Ha! Then this was certainly not the time!

So, for the time being, we continued the fun, nonmedical attempts, but all medical fertility efforts ceased. From February 2010 and on, it would be this way.

While our minds were preoccupied with work, kids and life in general, the idea and hope of getting pregnant and having a child of our own, never left me. Scott wanted to have a baby too, of course, but I'm just not sure it consumes men in the same way it does a woman. Like, somehow I would be less of a woman if I never got pregnant. I would be missing out on the great gift God gives us after years of having a period. While maybe a little vain, the fact that no one would ever ask me how far along I was, or compliment my 'glow'. A little piece of my heart broke ever single month that my cycle came again. When you've been 'trying' that long you know exactly how many days it's been and, if by chance, I was 30 minutes late, I knew it and was ready to take a pregnancy test. Scott would always say, "Just wait another day, then you can take it if you haven't started." Inevitably, I would start sometime that day, or first thing next morning, just after breaking into a test. I had moments of anger...I'm healthy and my cycle is like clockwork, WHY can't I get pregnant?! I knew from a young age that what I wanted to do when I grew up, was be a mom. I would get frustrated at the strong desire I had for this role that now, God was not allowing me. What had I done? Maybe this was my punishment for the things I had done wrong in my life. Oddly enough, that brought a little understanding...I deserved that and worse, I'm sure. But no where in scripture is that mentality supported. God forgives us, pours out His mercy and grace.

People had advice, of course.....'have you tried this position?' 'Have you put your feet in the air after?' 'You just need to quit thinking about it so much, then it will happen.' And then there were the bargains I made with God. "I'll do x,y,z if you just let me get pregnant." Or, "I'll never cuss again if I have a baby." I'm here to tell you, I quit thinking about it a thousand times, tried real hard to never cuss and put my feet in the air every time, after every position, and not one single time did I ever get pregnant. Not once, in 8 years.

Good thing we enjoyed the trying!

Transition Time

The four weeks of weekend visits with the paternal grandparents were intended to make moving Timothy from our home to theirs, permanently, easier for everyone.

The first Friday night that we met them in the designated parking lot, we both got out of the van, held Timothy, hugged him as we prayed silent prayers of protection over him, and thought there would be at least a moment of casual conversation, perhaps to share his routine or confirm a pick up time. However, what happened seemed to solidify our concerns for this move in the first place. The grandmother got out of her truck, grabbed Timothy, sat back in her truck and shut the door. I can't even confirm he was buckled in his car seat before they drove away. It was a pit of the gut, sinking, helpless feeling I knew would be with us the entire weekend. We sat in our van, unsure what to think or say to each other. Eventually, the silence was broken by Mason and we headed home. What a miserably slow weekend that was, as we busied ourselves with Mason, willing, this time, for time to speed up.

For 4 weeks we went about our weekdays as though Timothy and Mason were our own, living, loving and laughing. But then the weekends would come and we would pray over Timothy, cry, fret, worry, pray for God to take our worry and replace it with reassurance....it was such a horrible feeling from Friday evening until Sunday morning.  We never knew where he was, who he was around, what he was, or was not, eating, what he may be exposed to, whether or not he was safe.  It was so unsettling, even to this day, to know we will never know what he went through during those days. With each Sunday morning that we got him back, we were both thankful he was home safe, and increasingly sad, as the weeks went so quickly.  

After the fourth weekend visit we were scheduled to have court again on Wednesday to make the move to his grandparents official, but that Monday we received a call from the boys social worker stating that the grandmother had requested another months worth of weekend visits to 'make sure' they wanted him. We were elated! While we dreaded the visits, this meant there was a better than average chance they were going to back out. The following week he called back to say the visits were cancelled! The grandmother had literally walked into his office,  put her fist down and said, "I don't want him back in my house." While the tragedy of this is surely obvious, the reality is, it was a blessing. Timothy had a Great Gram, two sets of Mimi's and Papaw's, an Onka Gang (Oklahoma Grammy) and a Grandpa who loved him, and would walk the Earth for him, if need be. And, he had us, his home, his brother and our extended families that would never be the same without him.

Finding Ordinary Again

Life with our two boys could not have been better. Timothy loved his baby brother so much, and fortunately for him, Mason was pretty tolerant of big brother. Timothy would play and entertain him and laugh with such delight and pride when he made Mason smile. While adjusting to life with a newborn, literally overnight, was tough, that sweet baby brought unthinkable happiness to our little family.

On a kind of funny note...Scott and I slipped off to town during our first Saturday with Mason to run a couple errands, sadly, while Timothy was gone to his first of four transition visits. We sat down to a burger at the Steak and Shake for lunch and, after our waitress oooh'd and ahhh'd over Mason a few times, she asked, "How old is he?", to which I replied, "Six days.". She looked my up and down aghast as she said, "My goodness, you look SO good for just having a baby six days ago!" I wish I could convey the look on Scott's face as he silently, but quizzically tried to read my mind wanting to know how I would handle this one! I'm sure he could see the wheels spinning in my head, because in five months as a mom, this is the first time I was faced with this dilemma...do I own it, do I explain the facts, how do I respond?? So, without missing a beat and with a gracious smile on my face, I said, "Well, thank you so much." Scott all but applauded me as she walked away!

While I maybe should have felt a little bad taking credit for "looking good just six days after having a baby", I was feeling all the 'joy' of sleepless nights that newborns often bring. Who knew people actually meant it when they said "We were up all night."?! We got to know, accept and love our sweet May May between the hours of 1-4:00 am, singing to him through his heartburn driven screams and relieving each other when we knew the other could take no more. Scott would often take him to the sun porch and light the fire place, bonding through flickering flames in the deep and quiet of the night. These are the sweet memories that stay with you forever.

My Gram, who was 84 at the time, offered to keep Mason during the day until he was at least six weeks old and able to go to the daycare, so I could go back to work. So grateful for her offer, I took a few days off work to try to establish a routine and get things set up at Gram's apartment over our garage for her to care for him while we worked. These days are still precious memories for Gram as she and Mason established their bond and love for each other through naps, feedings and diaper changes. When she would rock and sing to him, it brought back sweet memories of my childhood, rocking with Gram until I was too big for us both to fit in the chair. Unfortunately, this arrangement only lasted three weeks before an ulcer got her down and in enough pain to head to the hospital for about a week. Thankful for Ms. Callie at the daycare who said three weeks was close enough to six and to bring him on. While this was not our ideal choice, it was the best we could do under the circumstances.

We look back at this time and wonder how we made it. There's a reason for the 6 week maternity leave, and having gone through this time without that, I'd have to think part of it, while there is the physical healing I didn't have, is the mental adjustments and sleep deprivation to learn to live with which we had in force. One day, maybe a week into working while Gram kept Mason, (keeping in mind we rode to work together and passed our daycare halfway between home and school), we made the drive in a silent daze. Only after we parked at the school, turned the van off and reached to the back to get our bags did we realize Timothy was still with us! We could only laugh and poke fun at little man, and each other, for not speaking up as we drove past his stop! I went in to work as Scott turned back around to take him to daycare. Our coworkers laughed and entertained me with similar such stories, making me feel not so bad for our small oversight.

Prayer and Praise

We made it back to Mimi's with Mason, our newest edition, to introduce him to his big brother. Everyone was smitten with him and took turns looking him over and taking him in. After this brief introduction, we did as my friend, Christy, suggested and headed to the church for family prayer night. The shock on the faces of our friends as we walked into church with Timothy AND a carrier... Priceless! The questions swarmed as many had no idea what our day had been like and that, not only had we almost lost Timothy, but we brought home his newborn brother. The ones who knew, and had prayed for us, wiped away tears as they heard us retell it. Timothy was in the nursery and Mason slept sound in his carrier next to us. Another moment in God's plan of making me mommy.

I have no idea what other prayer requests were brought forward that night, but we went up with Mason and asked for our church to pray for our changing family and the fear we still faced of potentially losing Timothy in a few weeks. I took Mason with us in the carrier, when another sweet friend, Jenny, whispered, "You can take him out and hold him.". "I can?", I asked so sheepishly it's almost embarrassing admitting how unsure of 'how to be' with a newborn I really was. So, I once again with trembling hands, took him from the carrier and held him against myself while our dearest friends prayed God's blessings and promises over us. It was a powerful moment. The emotional release while they prayed, when I processed what all we had been through that day. How God had worked in our favor and the protection of our sons. I realized, that while these visits, intended to transition Timothy, were a hurdle that would be hard to get over, HIS faithfulness to us was unchanging. And, although we could absolutely not interfere with the transition, I was comforted by the same overwhelming sense we'd had five months before, that these boys would be ours.

After getting help from Mimi and my Gram in learning how to bathe a newborn...again I ask, where are the instructions?!...we said goodnight to everyone, got the boys to bed, now singing to two boys the same bedtime song, and took our first deep breath of the day. We cried. We held on to each other and agreed to hold tight to our faith, no matter what happened. We promised to continue to love with reckless abandon and to trust in the same God who saw fit to bring these boys to us, that His timing and His plan was perfect and that we had to believe this with our whole heart. What good would it do if we did adopt them someday, to look back and say we guarded our hearts, or that we didn't have faith? The same God...and He is worthy.

Mason with his Great Gram

The Rest of 'The Hardest Day'

That call from Scott at 3:00 caused my heart to sink. I had this thought that maybe we wouldn't get to this point. That my procrastination...or perhaps better said, refusal... had proven wise and I wouldn't have to pack his things. I wouldn't have to load him in the van, appropriately named Timothy's Van since we did what many new parents do and bought a kid friendly vehicle a week after he came. I wouldn't have to walk inside the courthouse with him and his favorite things and hand him off to these grandparents. I would be able to go back home with him and get dinner started and move on as if that call had never come. But that wasn't what was happening. Scott said our case was soon and I needed to get him there. So I cried some more, as if my legs were full of lead and my arms too heavy to lift him, I just sat there. I sat with my mother-in-law, Norma...Timothy's Mimi...and we watched him. Without realizing it, 30 minutes had passed and my phone rang again. I knew Scott would be frustrated with me for not doing what he asked, so I answered with, "We're about to leave, I'm sorry." He said, "It's ok. Don't come. Things have changed."

Again, with the falling to the floor, I cried "Really?! Is he staying?" Scott, in an effort to stay calm, said, "Hush baby, I need to tell you something. He will have weekend visits with the grandparents for four weeks as a transition for everyone, then will move." Although I was overjoyed I would not have to take Timothy that moment to leave us, I wasn't quite thrilled with this news either, but Scott, not letting me argue or get a word in edge wise, said, "There's more. His biological mother had another baby and we're picking him up at 5:00." "Oh Scott, I don't even know what to say, what to think. Him? What's his name?" "His name is Mason. Just meet me at home, I need to see my son."

I am searching for the words to describe the shift in my heart, in my mind, in my whole body, and all I can think of is the sharpest roller coaster ever. Literally, in moments I was flooded with every possible emotion and went from a day of crying, to jumping up from the floor, spinning Timothy in the air in a rush of excitement! I grabbed Norma and screamed, "He gets to stay for now and we're getting a baby!" The tears of sadness now slowing, but replaced by tears of joy. If gladness and shock can combine in a facial expression, that's how she looked. I left her reeling in that news and ran home to meet Scott. First, we needed to hug and thank God, and then we had lots to figure out in the next hour and a half before we picked up our newest edition, Mason.

When he got home, we hugged and cried, and laughed with Timothy who was completely unaware of the days events, or that he would be meeting his baby brother in just over an hour. With our multitasking skills kicked into full gear, we simultaneously called back those we had shared the bad news with and tried to trade it for the good news. Understandably, everyone was a little confused and wanted more details, but this wasn't the time...too much to do in an hour to prepare for the arrival of a newborn. AHHH! A newborn!?!  We left Timothy with Mimi so we could more quickly make it through the store then back to the cabinet in time to pick Mason up.

Again, I say, an hour. Not a day, week, or as in most cases, nine months....an hour. And neither of us had ever had a newborn so we really had NO idea what we needed, or what we were getting into! I knew who could help... our friends, who had a couple baby girls. Christy could give me an idea of what I should get to make this easier, so I dialed her from the store. As quickly as I could, I relayed the events of the day finally making it to the point of my call....what do I need for a newborn? This girl, my sweet friend, Christy, with a daughter about Timothy's age and a pretty, new baby girl, who has a wealth of parenting knowledge and, in my opinion, one worthy to share advice, laughed at me! She laughed! I was confused at first, but then it settled in as all she could say was, "Oh Julia. Julia, you have no idea." I can still hear the compassion in her voice as I realized, I could buy blankets, diapers, formula, jammies and a bink, but we really had no idea. She said we should bring him by the church as they were having a family prayer night and we could talk more then. So, totally not reassured, we ran through the store grabbing the items we knew we needed and headed to the cabinet.

These exchanges are sometimes funny. I expected mounds of paperwork and instructions...don't babies come with instructions? But instead, while Scott signed the only required paper, they told me I could go ahead and get the baby out of their car seat and into ours. I could not believe how nervous I was! While I had never had a baby, I had babysat a ton and had held babies before, I had just never been fully and completely responsible for one. With uncertainty I unbuckled the tiniest little guy I had ever seen, and having no idea the right way to take him out of this car seat, I rolled him forward a little into my hands. I was afraid they'd be watching and not let us take him if I didn't do it right! I pulled his blanket over him as it was a typical, cold February night, and lowered him into the car seat strapped into our van. I crawled in next to him and finally looked at him. My goodness, another baby. And just like that my heart burst with love for him and I felt as we had about Timothy....he's never leaving.

Mason, 48 hrs old





The Hardest Day

Just a couple weeks later, on Monday, February 22, of 2010 we received a call from Timothy's social worker that we had a court date on Wednesday. With no other details, we were unsure what to make of it. The next day, he called back to let us know a grandparent had come forward and said they might want Timothy. As far as the foster care system is concerned, a placement with a family member is success. As far as we were concerned, well, you can imagine. We were scared, hurt, worried for Timothy....why did it take this grandparent five months to decide they wanted him? So many fears flooded our mind, but we decided to not panic and see what they said at court the next day. Then, Wednesday morning, at 7:30am, as we were about to leave for work, my phone rang. It was our social worker calling to make sure we knew that the point of court that afternoon was to move Timothy from care to the paternal grandparents. A lump swelled in my throat as the image of Timothy fighting to not go on the visits filled my mind and now he was being sent to live with this man's parents. The cabinet had looked into the grandparents and, although their own children had been removed to foster care years before, approved them to take Timothy. Even typing this, my breath catches and my heart skips a beat. I thanked her then hung up and, Scott knowing something was majorly wrong, grabbed me before I fell to the floor in a heap of tears. Being the strong, thoughtful man he is, he stepped into action deciding first that we would take separate cars to work so he could leave and go to court and I would go get Timothy after work. While on the drive, he would call Timothy's GAL (the child's court appointed attorney) to inform him of the situation, fill him in on Timothy's behavior on visit weekends and plead for him to take action on Timothy's behalf, and I would call my Gram, who lives with us, and the rest of our family to let them know what was happening.

I had Timothy with me, so when I dropped him at the daycare with a tear streaked face and trembling knees, Ms. Callie put her arms around me and let me sob. Everyone we knew was in love with Timothy....our families, our friends, our church, our coworkers, our players, and Ms. Callie....she said she would gather his things for me to pick up that afternoon. Timothy, completely unaware of what was happening, hugged me and blew his sugar like he did every morning on his way down the hall to his room. A smile on his face and joy in his heart. The rest of my drive in to work was a combined pleading prayer that God would not let this happen and uncontrollable tears as I let those closest to us know that this would most likely be his last day with us.

I went straight to the assistant principals office when I got to work to let her know what was going on. Still unable to stop crying, she 'made' me go home. She insisted the only right thing to do would be to go get Timothy and be with him that day. I left her office so appreciative of the support we had received from so many people during this five months. I let Scott know what I was doing, we hugged hard, prayed harder, and I left to get Timothy and go home. As we played and snacked and played some more I willed time to stop. I focused on every move he made, how much he had grown and changed. The things he had learned in only five months. Just five months, but it felt like he'd always been there. My Gram came to see him, but only for a moment and she refused to say goodbye. I realized this wasn't just our hearts that were breaking.

From the first night we had Timothy I had a song I sang to him every night called Find Your Wings, by Mark Harris. At nap that day I sang these lyrics over and over as he slept, unable to lay him down. "It's only for a moment you are mine to hold. The plans that heaven has for you will all to soon unfold. So many different prayers I've prayed for all that you might do, but most of all I want to know you're walking in the truth. So if I never told you, I want you to know, that as I watch you grow, I pray that God would fill your heart with dreams. That faith would give you courage to dare to do great things. I'm here for you what ever this life brings, so let my love give you roots, to help you find your wings."

Scott had to be at court at 1:00, but then it's a waiting game for the case to be called, so we had no idea how much time we had. He called me at 1:30 to tell me I better pack Timothy's things and take him next door to his mom's house so Mimi and Papaw could say goodbye to Timothy. I took him next door to say goodbye, but I could not bring myself to pack his things. My mother-in-law and I laughed through tears as we recalled stories of the past 5 months while we watched him play. At about 3:00, Scott called again and asked if I had his things ready. He thought we would be called soon and I'd be expected to have Timothy there to, for lack of better wording, hand him over.

Playing in the snow with Momma

Daddy's little guy

Five Months Later

This time, these visits, was hard for us, for our family, and it lasted five months. Will he be safe, will he be fed, loved, cared for? But remembering it was our choice to love with reckless abandon, our choice to provide everything, including our hearts, to this baby....we prayed for him while he was gone and when we had him back, we cleaned him, fed him, and loved him.

One Sunday in February, Super Bowl Sunday actually, we were at Beth's (my sister-in-law) house watching the game with her family. As we were packing up at half-time to go home, my phone rang....it was a placement for a baby boy, either three or five months old. (It's not entirely unusual to get broken facts the first few days depending on the circumstances surrounding the child's removal.) We were moments away from the social workers office (the cabinet) and without much thought, said "Yes." We had to borrow a car seat from them since we only had one and a blanket because it was a cold, cold night and Poppy, as we called him, was not dressed for the weather. He and Timothy exchanged the funniest glances on our way home as we tried to explain to our 18 month old that Poppy would be staying with us for a while and that we would love him and care for him like he was his brother. We finally got them home and I made Poppy a fresh bottle of formula as Scott bathed Timothy. After he downed that and got his bath, that sweet baby boy slept for the next 13 hours with out making a peep. I had to check on him several times because, for one thing, he was the youngest child we had ever cared for, and another, I'd always heard babies cried a bunch at night. Not this guy! Either he was just so tired, or was finally warm, fed and comfortable enough to sleep for so long, or a combination of the two. Either way, it was wonderful. The next day we got a crib from a friend and bought a second car seat so we could return the borrowed one to the cabinet, and some warm clothes for the little man. That evening, we received a call that he would be returning home on Wednesday and that we needed to take him, with his belongings, to the courthouse at the designated time. Wow. So this is how it works? He had no belongings so we sent him home with the things we bought for him. I hadn't realized until I drove away without Poppy that he had already claimed a place in my heart. He and Timothy had played together for three days and we would all miss him.

Now we had another empty crib.....

Ordinary Life

After a while, life with Timothy became ours. We found a daycare we trusted, who loved him and was willing to work past regular hours to help us get through volleyball season. We taught, we coached, and we loved life with Timothy. But, the moments came that reminded us we were foster parents, and he was our foster son. We had monthly meetings with our social worker, paperwork to maintain, a life book to create (for the family, should he return), and then there were the visits. Oh, the visits. While sharing our story is my goal here, many details are very private. What he experienced before coming to us is not for public consumption, nor are the few details we have of his time on these visits, so forgive me for glossing over those facts. But, what I will share is from our perspective. What this time was like for Scott and I. But to do so, I need to share another very intimate moment...  About 10 days after Timothy arrived, during an average afternoon, Scott was on the couch with Timothy, no doubt watching a game and within minutes, he fell asleep and we could not take our eyes off him! To understand that this 1 year old was so 'at home' snuggled there, comfortable and loved (not because it was nap time or late at night), but knowing he belonged and was safe enough to sleep, was such a warm sight. I was in and out of the kitchen, unable to stop looking at them. My son....10 days ago we were still praying. 10 days ago we had NO idea this would happen. 10 days ago all we had was an empty crib. 10 days ago..... and I could not stop taking him in. During this sweet nap I had an overwhelming sense that he would be ours. That somehow, things would work out and we would adopt Timothy. That evening, after dinner, bath and bedtime, Scott...something obviously on his mind...came into the kitchen where I was and whispered through his tears, "He's never leaving." My own tears only allowed a simple response, "I know."

I will tell you here and now, God reassured our hearts that day, and though there would be shaky times ahead, we knew we had to hold on, to be there for Timothy, and get through whatever happened, because that's what you do for your kids.

Back to the visits, with the understanding that emotionally, Timothy was our son-- The biological family has rights throughout the foster care process until those rights are terminated. To what degree, is up to the court to decide, then the biological and foster families are required to maintain the court ordered visits through the social worker, if needed. In this case, Timothy had visits with his biological father every other weekend. Exactly how those visits went, we may never know, but we came to dread them immediately. We met him in a parking lot half way between our homes to drop Timothy off. The first time or two, Timothy went to him and they drove off without much incident. However, after that, Timothy would very literally try to claw over whoever was holding him to get away and closer to our car. He would cry, kick and scream and refuse to go. Scott finally had to put him in the car seat himself for him to go. Understand, we had no choice, or we NEVER would have parted with our son. We had the choice to have the social worker come get Timothy and take him to these visits but we wanted to be as close to the situation as we could be. Otherwise, had we interfered with these visits they would have removed Timothy from our home. We kept social services notified of his behavior, but the visits were never cancelled, therefore we continued with this every other weekend. Once he was safely buckled in, we'd drive just out of sight, our breath caught in our chest, then pull over and cry. We could hardly breathe and had only the words to ask God to protect him while he was away from us. Faith was all we had and we held to it with all our might.