Magic and Miracles

Just a couple years ago we had a boat we would take out to the lake, or river. Often we'd stay overnight, enjoying the stars over the still water, and savor bad coffee in the early hours when the fishing folks would stir the water and peaceful quiet enough to wake us. And we had a Harley we enjoyed taking out for day trips. We visited many of the covered bridges in Kentucky, ventured back roads just to see where they led, got caught in the rain and enjoyed the wind in our hair. But, we sold the boat and the bike in exchange for a minivan with three car seats. We could rarely stay awake late enough to see the stars in the sky and feeling the wind in our hair only came from swinging with the kids at the playground. Don't you know, this was WAY more fun!

This life with three boys...it was beautiful.

And busy. Yes, my boys used the doggie door!

And exhausting. I tried to nap under the cushions too, but I didn't fit so well!

But, for the first time, I was dealing with the physical and emotional side of coming home with a newborn. Sleepless nights, we had done. But stool softeners and leaky boobs on top of sleepless nights, I had not! Every day was a miracle. How did this happen? How do we have three boys under three years old? You pray, you hope, you cry, you get mad, you hope and pray some more, then you rejoice! And then you change another poopy diaper and snap back to reality and think again, wow, how did this happen? They are a miracle. Not just Elijah, not just because he came from us, but Timothy, and Mason. And not just mine, but yours as well, or those you are hoping and praying for. A miracle. Let us rejoice and be glad in it. I have those regrets, little things I would change if I could go back....I wish I hadn't tried so hard to keep the big boys quiet while Elijah slept. I should have tickled them and laughed with them. Used that time to take them outside to run and play, or build towers with them. I should have stayed off the baby feeder app while I breastfed late at night to see how much he had eaten that day and just watched my baby fill his belly with the wonderful goodness God gave my body to nourish him.  But, I know I did the best I could in the moment, and I'm ok with that.

They are magic and our love for each is endless.



After the termination of parental rights in July, it was just a waiting game while the cabinet and lawyers completed more mounds of paperwork, preparing Timothy and Mason's case to move forward with adoption. We hired a lawyer. We attended meetings where we were asked questions like, "Do you understand when you adopt them, they will be your responsibility as your natural children are?" I wanted to explain that they weren't just a responsibility. They were our sons. That God had knit our family together perfect, as only He can. That in His perfection there are 17 months and 12 days between Timothy and Mason, and 17 months and 16 days between Mason and Eli. That, although there are two degrees of adoption separation, Mason looks just like my Dad! That all three are redheads like their Daddy. That we are meant to be. I wanted to ask if they understood that the only thing that would change for us, is their name? But I didn't. We said, 'yes, we understood", we signed all the necessary paperwork, and then we waited for a court date....

Our family

Baby makes 3!

July 2011: His room was ready, his brothers were ready, his momma and daddy were ready....but first...PICS! We had the best time with maternity pictures taken by our dear friend, Angela, when I was about 7.5 months. They turned out beautiful and are such a treasure!

After MUCH debate and several options deeply considered, we finally settled on a name. Little man would be named Elijah Earl. My grandpa, Gram's husband, passed away from ALS when my mom was 14. His name was Earl and from what I hear, he was quite a man. Someone I am so proud to name my son after.

Being pregnant was such a blessed time for me, but another truth....I was a little worried about the whole delivery part. I'm sure I'm not the only woman to ever fret over the idea that this person, tiny as they may be once they're out, has to get out....you know...the way they've got to get out. Timothy was curious about this as well when he'd hear us say his baby brother would be here soon. "Oh mommy, how's he gonna get out of you? Will they cut your tummy open? Do you have to push him out like poop?" Oh, how close to correct you are dear son!

I knew I was going to attempt to go natural, without any drugs, mostly because I knew the needle would make me pass out and they'd do a C-section, which I did not want to do. I hoped between the pain of contractions, the anticipation of a baby, and the pacemaker, my heart and blood pressure would stay up enough to keep me from losing consciousness. We also hoped having a planned date in mind would help with this. My mom delivered my little sister and I super fast and was afraid I'd be the same. We live an hour from my doctors office/labor and delivery, so he agreed to schedule to induce one week before my due date on August 17. One of Scott's biggest fears was having to deliver our baby on I-65!!

Sunday morning, three days before the scheduled induction, my water broke at 2:30am. I woke Scott up and said, "I think it's happening!" He said, "What it?" Seriously?! "The baby Scott, I think my water just broke!" Sleep must have clouded his judgment because he then asked, "Are you sure?" Men, a little advice, don't ask a woman that! Unless I just involuntarily peed the bed, twice, then yes, I'm pretty sure! That man flew out of bed, completely operational, which other than his years in combat, never happens without coffee! We had our plan in place, but still it seemed we had NO idea what we were doing. We had our sitter, Gine`, keep her phone on her day and night, just in case, so when she didn't answer the first time, we kinda panicked, but her calm, "Ok, I'm on my way" the second try, reassured us. Gram came to be with the boys until she got there and to cheer us on.

After she arrived and we finally got ourselves together enough to leave, the downpour began. It rained so hard the entire drive which caused Scott to have to drive slower, filling him with the dread that the baby would come before we made it. With every contraction the words 'having a baby' would sing-song their way out of my mouth, while he'd say, "Oh baby, I'm hurrying. Please wait just a few more minutes." My mom called about every 10 minutes to make sure we weren't pulled over having a baby and to assure me, through the sounds of my sobbing, that I could do this just fine.

We pulled into the labor and delivery valet. Scott opened my door to help me, and my soaked shorts, out of the car when the tears unloaded from my eyes. He said, "Why are you crying? We're here, now there's nothing to worry about." Oh yeah, nothing except that big baby I still have to push out of me!!!

Cut to the chase....my water broke at 2:30am, we got to the hospital about 5:20 and Elijah was in my arms at 8:15 am, less than 6 hours later. While the pain was very intense, it was all so amazing. I had to remind Scott to encourage me during the contractions because 'he was nervous', but otherwise, he was the best during it all. And that moment....when they handed him our son. My oh my. There are no words.

Big brothers, Timothy and Mason, were SO excited to finally meet their new baby brother! In 23 months we went from 0 to 3....

Little blessings

Another Placement

Around this time...the end of the 2011 school year, boys were about 2 1/2 years and 17 months, I was almost 8 months pregnant...we received a call for a 7 year old girl. Now that we had small children in the house and another on the way, there were safety issues to consider. The difficult reality of foster care, in my opinion, is the 'history' many of these kids bring with them. Abuse of all forms, neglect, violence....in training they teach you that kids who have dealt with these issues will often project them on to other children in the home, especially smaller children. So, this is something that must be thought through before accepting a placement. We believe, strongly, in not accepting a placement we don't feel we can commit to.

There was no sign or history of abuse or violence, so we said yes. The worker brought her to our house early one weekday morning. She had the prettiest long, blond, curly hair. She was quiet as a mouse as she took us in.... our two little guys inspecting this sweet new girl while her social worker gave us her belongings, which consisted of two or three items in a Walmart bag. She told us they were trying to contact her biological mom so it might only be a few days until they could move her there. We signed the only required form stating she was in our care, and the worker left.

We showed her where she would be sleeping and let her get her bearings for a bit. She seemed tired and a little overwhelmed. I have to think there is a built in fear of going to live with people you've never met....will they be nice, will they like me? I hope she saw that both of those were a 'yes' very quickly upon arrival. Mimi agreed to watch the boys while we took her to town to buy a few outfits and toiletries, take her to lunch, and as we always do, a doctors visit for a once over. It turned out she had strep, but otherwise seemed fine. It takes 24-48 hours for the state insurance to kick in so we found out she wasn't covered yet. Let's just say, I had a new appreciation for health insurance. Who knew doctor visits and antibiotics were SO expensive without it!?!

At any rate, when we got home and unloaded her bags from shopping that day she asked, "Are these all for me?" She was so thrilled with new jammies, some under garments and about 3 new outfits, she just lit up. I took her up to show her the shower and get her things set out, then headed down to start dinner. She came down and asked if I would help her with her hair, donning her new jams. I have to admit, it was pretty special, combing through her curls and braiding it for the evening. A glimpse at life with a daughter.

Knowing now that she was sick, she took it easy the rest of the night, or at least as much as the boys would allow, then went to bed early. Our guest bed was a white, antique wrought iron made complete with too many pillows and a down comforter. That sweet girl hugged us then climbed right in the middle of it all, closed her eyes tight as we prayed for her, as went right to sleep. She was just precious, and I might be lying if I said I didn't want her to stay.

Not long after all the kids were asleep, her social worker called to inform us they made contact with biological mom and she was approved and willing to take her daughter. She, the worker, would be by the next morning to pick her up. Well, nothing more to do other than pray she would be kept safe, and be loved and cared for.

The next morning, after a long and peaceful sleep, I went in to wake her up. She was still nestled in the middle of all the fluffy covers just as she was when we told her goodnight. Once she woke, I let her know that she would be leaving soon to go live with her mom. I'd hoped there would be a joyous response, but instead, she took hold of the covers and asked, "So, I won't get to sleep in this bed anymore?" No, sweet girl. My heart ached for her. We want to believe every little girl has a safe, fluffy place to rest, but it's just not always the case. She asked if she could lay there a little longer before coming down for breakfast. I laid out one of her new outfits and told her to come down when she was ready. She stopped me as I left the room, "Um, do I get to keep these clothes?" I said, "Of course you do." And left wishing we had bought her more.

At the end of breakfast the social worker showed up. She asked her if she was ready to go to her mom's. She looked at us, then looked at the worker and simply said, "Ok." We grabbed her for a quick hug and then she left.

Catching up with the Boys

During the months of pregnancy bliss, a lot of life was lived with our sons who were getting more and more curious about my growing belly. Especially when we began telling them their baby brother was growing in there! They would talk to him, try to tickle him, feel him kick and move. It was such a fun time for us all.




Snuggle time with Momma and baby

Timothy battled a lot of strep throat for several months before the doc decided it was time for surgery. That was a fun two weeks! Thankful my mom, Onka Gang, was able to come out and stay with us to help during this time.

Timothy had a tonsillectomy in January

Mason had his first birthday!

Mason turns 1!!!!

Sweet May May took his first steps!

And then learns to walk at 13 months!

Happy Easter bunnies from Onka Gang

Oh, and did I mention, baby #2 in the crib.

Mason

When a child is removed from home and placed in foster care, there is a 'plan' developed and put in place for the biological parents specifically addressing their needs and goals for them to accomplish in order to have the child returned to parent, which is always the goal until that is changed by the court. While this plan was in place in our case, not much was being done by the biologicals to work toward any of the goals. These are not my details to give, but what it did mean for us, was a lot of court dates where very little, if anything, was accomplished. We were not required to attend a single court date but we decided from the beginning we would. It was important to us to be informed of the progress and we wanted the judge to know our boys had parents involved in their well being.

 At some point early that spring, we finally had a victory.....the goal was changed from 'return to parent' to 'adoption'. While this sounds like the final step, it is simply the first. The next step, after mounds of paperwork completed by lawyers and social workers, is termination of parental rights. For about three months we had court every two weeks were absolutely nothing happened. Usually Scott took off work for these because I was missing plenty of work for trips to the doctor. He would arrive at 1:00, usually sit for 2-3 hours to spend less that 10 minutes in the court room to find out the date would be pushed another two weeks for this reason or that. It was really frustrating, but there was nothing we could do to move things along, and it was important enough to us to keep going. Then one day, during end of the school year professional development meetings, I received an email....we had a termination date of July 18!!!

Prego!

What a gift! What an over abundance of joy we felt that Christmas, minus a little morning sickness, which I have to admit, was just a little woozy tummy that only lasted about two weeks. In fact, I think I only threw up a few times one day, and that was from a bug. So far, being pregnant was a wonderful experience. The first ultrasound was, perhaps, one of the most amazing moments of my life. As Scott describes it, one moment it was a pregnancy and the next, it was a child. Incredible. A life. A 2 inch person.

But then came the first trimester screenings, which my doctor recommended due to my 'advanced maternal age'. I turned 35 at the end of the first trimester. So OLD! Ha! I was at work when the nurse called to share my results. Probably not the best choice she ever made, but nonetheless I took the call standing in the lobby of the high school where I taught, with kids zipping past to get to class, breakfast or hug their friends, as she informed me that I was high risk for having a baby with a chromosomal disorder. In fact, it was a 1 in 8 chance, the highest given based on the test results, without knowing for sure. My heart sank. I stepped into a nearby office to call Scott (he was now teaching at a different HS). His first words to me were, "Baby, we can handle this." And he was right. Love is not based on chromosomes, and while I was saddened by the news, my love would not change. His approach to most things is to be as informed as possible and do your best based on what you know, so he started reading about the risk factors she had given me. By that evening he decided we should do an amniocentesis so we could know exactly what we were dealing with. I had already set up an appointment with the at risk doctor at our clinic.

When we got to the appointment he was so matter of fact about the numbers, risk factors involved and probabilities which we were grateful for, and while he gave us our "options", he never tried to push anything on us. Once we told him that the results would not change our plans, we moved forward with scheduling the procedure. If I remember correctly, we had one month. What a month that was. About half way through, Scott came home from work with an interesting story. He has bus duty at the end of every day, so he frequently talks to the middle and high school kids as they head to their bus. On this day, a girl he had never seen before came and stood next to him and said, "Hello". He looked down at her and saw right away she had downs syndrome. He said, "Hello, how are you?" She asked if he was a teacher at the HS, to which he said yes, he was. She informed him she was an 8th grader and hoped she'd get to be in his class the next year, then skipped away to get on the bus with a big grin on her face. While this was in no way at all related to anything else, he said a peace flooded him about our baby as he watched this girl so full of joy. Although he continued to look for her after that day, he never saw her again. He had no idea how it would go...would it be the 1 in 8 or turn out to be the 7 in 8 chance that everything would be fine? No idea, but having peace about it was comforting.

On a side note, I have a pacemaker. I got it in 2006 after flat lining during some testing to try to determine why I passed out so often, and had my whole life. One of the things that always caused me to pass out was having blood drawn, so naturally, needles are not my friend. You can imagine my excitement as they described the size of the needle used during an amniocentesis. (insert wide eyed, sarcastic face here) In case you don't know, during this procedure, a very long needle is inserted through the stomach and into the amniotic sac to draw fluids that would tell the doctors for sure of the chromosomal state of the baby. There are risks involved, including the possibility of miscarrying.  I was petrified, but was willing to do it for the knowledge we hoped to gain about our baby. That is, until the date drew near. I will admit, I was scared to death.

Generally speaking, Scott and I talk everything inside out and backwards, but for some reason, had avoided talking much about this. The day came for the appointment and we headed to the doctors office. We thought they would take us right back to preform the procedure, but once we were back they said, first, we'd do another ultrasound. The ultrasound we had during the screening revealed about 9 of the 12 markers, so as she was moving the wand around my belly in silence we couldn't help but wonder what she was finding. When she finished she told us the doctor would have to review everything, but she saw none of the markers this time. 0 of the 12. We were still. That's really all I can remember...how still we sat there taking that information in. None of the markers were present now. And then I finally exhaled. The doctor came back in, confirming what she said, that none of the markers were present this time, but that if we were ready and still wanted to, we could continue with the procedure to solidify these findings. We asked him for a moment to talk it over in private.

I think we were both so worried what the other would think, but as soon as the door closed I blurted, "I don't want to do it. I haven't for 3 weeks." Scott said, "Oh good baby, I don't either. Why didn't you tell me?" Bottom line, I think we each thought we were doing it for the other, but for Scott, he had made his peace with either outcome so really didn't need to know. And for me, I couldn't get over this idea that I would have this test to see if anything was wrong and possibly miscarry a perfectly healthy baby. I hadn't slept in days carrying the thought of that with me. We were so relieved to call the doctor back in and tell him, "thanks, but no thanks." He agreed.

We still did not know for sure about the health of our baby, but no longer had the need to know. We moved forward in faith and optimism. The next 6 months were pregnancy heaven. The worst of my discomfort was a touch of heartburn in the final trimester. OH, and we found out we were having a boy! Another son.