I wrote this story over 8 posts for a number of reasons. I wanted to document the 5 year journey that led to my becoming a mom. A journey so incredible, so painful, so scary, and so beautiful that I would do it all again to have the same result: my girls. I also wanted to encourage other women and families who have gone through the same thing. I never want to forget what God had to do to mold and shape my heart to get me through the lowest valley of my life. Because it helped me climb my highest mountain. I also want to educate people a bit by letting them get a small peek into the life of being a foster and/or adoptive parent. My hope is to one day publish this story into a book to give to my girls. To remind them of the magnificent God and King we serve. And to always remember the road God took me on when...
The Story Behind Two Shades of Pink: Part 1
But that's me. And I like it.
But you need to know how this all began. My journey to being a mother. How my life came to be at this point. At this moment. How the journey during these last 6 years have shaped me to be the person I am now.
This will be a blog mini-series of sorts. I am not sure if it will be daily or weekly because the story is long. Incredibly miraculous, so it is worth it. But I may have to return to a valley I have emerged from that was rather dark for me. Scary and hopeless (or so I thought). So I will do my best. My goal is to have my words here be a heritage to my children. Memories, creative fun, laughter, some tears and most of all, to thank my Jesus.
I am not sure how much humor will enter into this because this was a tough time in my life. You will share with me the pain of infertility, the path through becoming foster parents, understanding what it means to have radical faith, and becoming a mom to my girls. So here goes...
OK. I am staring at the monitor wondering how to begin this.
Let's start wiiiiiiith...Once upon a time...I got married.
June 16, 2002 to be exact. A sweet outside wedding in North Carolina where we lived. My husband and I were friends for a year, started dating around Thanksgiving of 2001, engaged by February 2002 and BAM...married 4 months later. Things were great. I had decided to go on birth control three months earlier fearful that I would be pregnant too soon. Oh, how young and idealistic I was. Anyway, told my OB that I had not had my period in a year. Yes, a year. She said she really did not think we had anything to worry about. We could run some blood tests but did not feel it was a major issue. Okidokes. You're the doc, I will go with that.
Within 10 months of being married, we moved to Florida and in November of 2003 we decide to start trying to have a baby. I have an annual check, tell them my plans, go off the pill and my period decides to be MIA for the next 3 months. I go back to my OB to find out what is going on, they run blood work and realize I have something I have never heard of before; Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome or PCOS. I had never heard of it but I had almost every single marker for having it. Always carried extra weight, still would break out like a teenager, my blood work confirmed it. The next step was an ultrasound of my ovaries which was the final confirmation since the ultrasound indicated a pearl like strand of cysts all over my ovaries. And so began a journey through infertility that I thought so naively was not a big deal.
Initially, it was not something I felt sad or worried about. I was not yet in the infertility trenches of yearning for a child. I was in the beginning stage of asking myself, how long will this really take? I will take some of these here chlomid pills, give it a whirl a few months and there you have it...we will make a baby.
Uh, not what happened.
But in the process of this I began meeting fellow PCOSers. With children. Or pregnant. OK, so I was like what is the big deal? But after doing 3 cycles of chlomid with no indications of ovulation, it was time to be referred to an Infertility Specialist.
This is when allllllll the pieces began coming together to form the much needed BIG PICTURE for me. Here was the bottom line which finally became reality for me...it will be hard to get pregnant. Period. You kinda need to ovulate to make a baby. And I was not ovulating. At all.
OK. I am actually entering a sad place even with my two children sleeping peacefully in their rooms. So I am going to wrap up for today. It is the strangest thing. When you talk to anyone who has had a similar journey, you realize they never really can forget. The sadness and pain, I mean. My friend who has 4 children under 3 (triplets about to turn 3 and a 13 month old) still says it is hard to hear when people are pregnant. The same for me. And everyone I know seems to have a bun cooking or the timer just went off. But I will delve into that issue a little later. Just wanted you to get a sneak peek into the genesis of Jessica becoming a mommy.
Until my next post...or until one of these miracle babies do something funny again...
2 Shades of Pink Story: Part 2
So where were we?
Ah. I find out I have PCOS. I also begin seeing an Infertility Specialist who wants me on a drug called Metformin which is supposed to help with weight loss and help jump start the ovulation process.
And so the infertility dance begins.
During this initial quest, I am still hopeful. I take the Chlomid and Metformin for about 6 months but nothing really changed to indicate ovulation. When I was about to start doing the dreaded (and self administered) shots in the stomach, I was ready to take a break.
Then a year goes by. My cycles return on their own but they were crazy. Some were every 20 days. Others were every 52 days. But I felt like it was progress because I had not had a cycle in so long. I still went up and down with my weight. The break was a time for me to not even deal with infertility but now I felt like a barren woman, not worthy of bearing a child and my marriage took a major hit.
My husband and I struggled the first few years of our marriage after a short courtship and many financial hardships. Our intimacy became almost nonexistent and I even entertained the ugly, D word. Hopelessness and despair became close friends. Then my old, best friend and I got reacquainted.
Anger.
I needed to someone to blame. Not God, of course. If I blame Him he will snatch my uterus right out of me when I am not looking. Can't make the Creator of human life mad. Not my husband. Can't blame a man you are seldom intimate with. So who is to blame? Where can I direct my anger at the unjustness of it all?
Mothers. All of em.' Pregnant women, grandmothers, unwed teen girls, moms who complain about being moms, moms who are pregnant and don't want a particular gender. The wrath of Jessica was coming their way. I was justified by the cry of an empty womb and by golly those women had better tread lightly in my presence. If you were pregnant, you better suck that belly in or apologize profusely for carrying your 8 month fetus in my face. If you complained about your whiny child, my brain would scream at them..."At least you have a child albeit a whiny one!" What did I have? Two dogs, a cat, and marriage on the rocks.
Bitter was an understatement to describe how I felt. Baby showers were like torture devices wrapped in powder smelling packages. I was practically writhing in pain at all the seasoned mothers and their precious nuggets of wisdom. The looks of pity when asked if I have children and my answer of no with a cheerful "We're trying!" added in for good measure.
Ugh. And it always felt like a baby boom was upon our church during the darkest and lowest times. Everyone was pregnant! My favorite was when I would get the pregnancy announcements in batches of threes and fours. Or shower invitations on consecutive weekends.
I think I have described the pain adequately. This daily pain of wanting to be a mother down to every cell in my body crying out, "WHEN IS IT GOING TO BE MY TURN?"
Now understand that adoption was not even on my radar. To be honest, it felt second rate to take in a child that was someone else's. I was actually appalled at the idea. Because that was not the plan. I was going to be married at 24, pregnant by 25 and on to my third child by 30.
That. Was. The. PLAN. But I was 29.
And how could I love a child that was not my flesh and blood? How could we even be a real family?
When the journey brought me down this low path of bitterness and jealousy, I began believing I was literally barren. During this time, I was in a bible study and one week we were studying the verse in Isaiah 54 that says "Sing, O barren woman, you who never bore a child..." and on this day as we read this verse, I begin making this sputtering, moaning sound before erupting into tears. Of course, the study leader does what I despise...stops the study in its tracks to focus on me. Every other woman in the room (with all wonderful intentions) touch my arm, leg, or grabbed tissues, and got ready for me to spill my heart. Then, I hear myself cry out, "I CAN'T HAVE CHILDREN!" and lose myself in desperate sobbing. As I sit here and remember this I am wincing because all I think now is "Geesh, what a drama queen. Where did I get that from? No doctor had ever even told me that."
But I believed it with everything in me.
The leader begins a beautiful dissertation on how adoption is a viable and wonderful way to be a parent. I think I actually heard violins. I then say out loud that adoption is not what I want. I want my own children who look like me and my husband. I want his sweet spirit or my humor in my child. His eyes, my hair color. And the leader says that maybe an adopted child won't look like you but they can have your values and even your mannerisms...and in the same breath says...wait for it..."Although none of my children could ever try and claim not to be mine because they look exactly like me."
I nearly lost my religion.
How she thought this was inspiring or encouraging is beyond me. Of course, as you read this you know I adopted Cati. My oldest. My heart in the flesh. Who is exactly like me and so gets me. So Bible lady with carbon copy kids meant well. And she was actually right. But I think of the bible verse in Proverbs 25:20 where it says,
"Like one who takes away a garment on a cold day, or like vinegar poured on soda, is one who sings songs to a heavy heart."
Needless to say, I never returned to that bible study. But for the next several months I just kind of coasted along, being a wife, being a Christian, and figuring out where God wanted us to go next. Because becoming pregnant was starting to become a far reaching dream that I would never realize.
Until one Wednesday, as I watched Channel 10 news with a segment called Wednesday's Child. A day that would begin a journey that would change our lives...
2 Shades of Pink Story: Part 3
Sit back because those of you who wanted to just keep reading and reading...this one is a little long.
So on that life changing Wednesday I decided to watch the news.
At that point in my life I was a Resume Writer and Interview Coach working out of my home office. Now if I had not been working from home I would have missed this segment. I think it started around 4 in the afternoon. So as I popped on the news for a reason only a supreme God would know, I saw the segment of Wednesdays Child where a child up for adoption was featured. This little girl with huge eyes and long brown hair was the most precious thing I had ever seen. The news anchor was at a playground talking to this little girl who actually asked Marty Matthews (the anchor) to be her Mommy and take her home. Marty hugged her and you could tell she was trying to remain professional. What a pure cry from that little innocent heart! And I sat there mesmerized. Compassion like I have never known invaded my entire being. I saw with new eyes, (God's eyes, I think) a child who needed parents to love her.
I literally wanted to adopt this little girl. Right then and there. I get on the website to check this all out and I am stunned to see something called The Heart Gallery where there are so many children needing a loving home. I literally had no idea. None. I read on about the need for foster parents right in our county and how there are more children needing to be fostered and adopted then homes to put them in. This was so devastating to me.
HALLELUJAH!!!!!!
I look at hubby and say, "I am not sure I want to do this." But I find myself filling out paperwork as if I am totally ready to do this. But I had no conscious idea that I was terrified. Out of my mind scared.
None of these thoughts actually came to my mind in clear sentences but rather I detected jumbled emotions and scattered impressions of thoughts. Like, how could I bond with a child only to lose him or her? Could I go through the pain of infertility only to feel teased with loving a child and losing that child too? Why go through this torment? Am I even worthy to do this? Am I being selfish and self serving? Is this actually for me or for a child? What will they think of me if I admit I only want Caucasian children since there may be the off chance we would adopt him or her? Will our family support us? Would they love a child in our home?
And how we loved him.
There are too many details to share and I also want to protect the confidentiality surrounding his particular case. But the summary of this was that within one month of his stay, we received the devastating news that his birth mother had been found dead in an elevator after overdosing at the age of 32. I almost fell to the floor upon hearing this news. He had no other relatives who wanted him and though they could not promise anything there was a chance we could have him long term and indefinitely.
Wow. As first time foster parents we were convinced that through such awful circumstances, this little boy would be given a chance at life and we would be there to give him a home and all the love we could give.
But what actually happened was the maternal grandfather and wife had wanted him all along. We just never heard that. They live in the Northwest and had already adopted her first 2 children for the last 10 years and wanted Anthony and his older brother who was also currently in care.
And that is what happened.
On July 19, 2006, we experienced heartbreak and pain like no other I have ever experienced. Ever. At 4 am we drove him to the airport to say good be to him. The night before I was rocking him to sleep, praying, crying, asking God for strength. Because as he peacefully slept in my arms I knew I would never hold him like this again, I would never put him to bed or sing him worship songs to sleep. I held him for over 30 minutes. Just swaying back and forth in the dark room, grieving that this child I wanted for my own was indeed not the child God planned for us.
As the case manager pushed his stroller away, Anthony looked straight ahead as he got ready to go home. Not once did he look back. Oh how God honored that prayer and a peace came over me. I knew we were going to make it.
One was to have a small infant.
The other was to be able to adopt the next child who came into our home.
I know. Tall order, right? When we took the MAPP class to be licensed as foster parents, I distinctly remember a day where they said small infants were a rarity and even more rare was to end up adopting that child. You know what else was rare? A girl. Statistically speaking, more boys than girls are fostered.
Are the details becoming more fascinating as you learn them since the very end is so obvious?
But I remember this day so clearly because when the instructor said this I instantly half prayed and half thought: God you are bigger than statistics and you can do immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine. I believe now that on a subconscious level I was there to adopt but I really did not know this at the time.
So then we get the call. Around mid August. There is a premature infant in the NICU at All Children's Hospital who needs a foster home. He is this tiny little baby, 6 weeks old. The first thing we are asked is if we are willing to adopt since his parents rights were about to be terminated.
What? OF COURSE WE ARE WILLING TO ADOPT!!!! This was such an answer to prayer that I was almost knocked off my feet! Wow! Wow! Wow! We were so excited!
This was in the first few minutes upon meeting her. What a tiny baby. A little over 5 lbs.
This is me and sweet baby girl.
Hubby holding this precious bundle.
This is her now...Her name is Cati.
I am a little panicked that it has her full name on it but I am counting on the fact that you are not a super hero and can't read it. But here is what we put as our prayer request...
1. To have radical faith
2. To adopt Cati, our foster child
3. To overcome infertility and conceive a child
Now at this point, I was seriously trying to figure out what I could do to be the naturally impregnated girl God was telling me I was going to be. So I decided to stop the infertility study and lose weight. I had been struggling with my weight most of my life and I was close to 200 pounds...the heaviest I had ever been. So at this infertility clinic, they had a weight loss clinic. Drastic means to lose weight but with drastic results. I lost close to 60 pounds. Here are my before and after pictures... Lord God, help me to remove the idol of vanity so that this testimony can bless others...
How mad do I look here? I lose weight and gain an attitude. Geesh, simmer down skinny chic.
Must tell you I so don't look like that now. I was a running fool then and consumed next to nothing. Now I run occasionally and enjoy an occasional donut. Much more chipper now.
My cycles regulated and after considering buying stock in ovulation kits, I realized I was ovulating. God is so good.
Around June of 2007, we find out that Cati's birth mother is ready to do her case plan and bring her daughter home. She wants a visitation, the first one since she came into care. What a punch in the gut! She had so many issues but a few months back we had heard she received Christ as her Savior while incarcerated. My prayer had been that if it was genuine then she deserved her daughter back if she would love her and give her what she needed. I prayed for God to make this come to pass if that was to be the case.
She had her visit with her and it went fairly well. I made her a photo album of Cati and told her how we prayed for her every single day. The following month she did not show or call for the visit. We never heard anything again.
OK. If at this point you were thinking of taking a break you must not. If your spouse's hand is stuck in the disposal, the damage is already done. So sit tight. The children may look pale and grayish from lack of food while reading this post for the last 30 minutes but just throw them a piece of gum and keep reading. It is too good not to...
Oh, alllll right. I will write about it in the next one.
We raise our heads from prayer and I look at hubby. So what is our answer?
He looks almost sad as he says.."It's no." That was the answer I got too.
A week later a termination hearing was scheduled for the birth parents. The birth mother would have an opportunity to surrender her rights if she showed up and if they were no shows their parental rights would automatically be terminated. Long story short, she was not surrendering (though she showed up) and the lawyer was trying to drag it out. A few days later, she tells her lawyer she is ready to surrender and sign the papers privately.
Now understand that for the woman obsessed with conceiving, the driving force is the hope of this moment in the loo. Everything is about the moment. Last month was negative so you spend a week depressed, and then the next week you get your period, the hope begins to spark to a flame, and then...you are in the bathroom again peeing on a stick like a kid waiting for the biggest ice cream cone ever. It becomes ritual.
And you have pregnancy test taker types. Some stare at the stick the entire 3 minutes...waiting and watching. Others can just leave the bathroom and forget about it. I am the sneaky checker. I would glance over at it hoping it would not catch me do it. I would leave the bathroom only to come back to re-flush and take another sneak peek. And if you were obsessed like me, you knew all the scoop on all the tests. I knew which were the stronger ones that could detect hcg (pregnancy hormone) levels the earliest. I knew which ones had frequent false results. I was the pee stick wizard. I also confess to taking a test to a lamp to see a possible faint line. Taking it outside in the sun. And taking it apart to identify the faulty manufacturing of it since it was not revealing the positive I wanted. Or so I could better see the faintest line that my eyes would create in desperation.
So testing just became this monthly thing. So the Monday I flew home I knew I had one of those Internet cheapy tests in the bathroom. The really, skinny, papery ones. But those suckers detect early! And if there was a test in the house I was going to use it. And it was the last one. So I thought about it the whole plane ride home. And before bed, I asked the husbter if I should test. He said wait until morning since the first pee after you wake up is the one with highest levels of hcg. See, you train hubby to know their stuff too so they hold you accountable within your obsession. I said, "You're so right. That is what I will do." Then I go in the bathroom and pee on the stick. Did I mention I was obsessed?
But I forgot to sneak up on it. I just plain forgot. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and put on my pajamas. Oh, the test! It had been about 5 minutes...
There were two lines...
Two lines?
And of course, I purchased the creme of the crop, the candid, tell-it-like-it-is test that you only buy if you are darn tootin' sure it will say...pregnant. Oh, glory. Bummer that the word eventually disappears, though.
So let's pause to recap the miracle of all of this by seeing God's hand upon every intimate detail. Because of course, this is when any uphill journey makes sense. This will be fun...
Another thing that became incredibly obvious to me. As someone with PCOS, you are pretty much subfertile rather than infertile. More specifically, it is difficult to become pregnant but not impossible. And statistics become such a discouragement. It is lovely to hear how someone with normal cycles or typical fertility odds have only a mere 25% chance at becoming pregnant due to all that is involved in the process of making a baby. And yours is less. Well, yippee for me. Always makes you look at the glass half full side of things, right? Especially since we got like 6 billion people roaming the earth. Clearly procreating is not this rare endeavor as stats like to make it out to be. Considering all the intricacies with timing and one sperm and one egg...I am sure you do not need this lesson. But. How can we get wrapped up in stats with the kind of God we serve? Because this is what I have concluded. With God, I have a 100% chance of getting pregnant. Not 25%. Not 73%.
100%.
Because it is God who gives and takes away. It is our glorious, mighty King who stitches a baby together. He still could have given us a pregnancy that may not have gone to term. But He deserves my praise and complete submission regardless if the outcome is not parallel to my heart's desire. So I had to realize it was He who decided to bless us with Ella. Only He. Not stats. Not my weight loss. Not throwing your legs up in the air like my grandmother told me to do. (I did do that but whatever). Only God.
And I praise His holy name. He made me a mother...again. He rewarded our faith. He heard the cry of a mother who wanted to carry a child within her. And He not only gave us one...He gave us two...
Those are my size 6 jeans that were falling off me...due to being bestowed with absolutely no derriere. FYI...thought I looked huge in this picture. Oh, to be insecure like I was then...
Look at Cati's short little body and hair. And look at the tummy that was not there and I was ashamed to even take this picture that day.
What am I seeing here? I mean, there is a little bump sticking out but come on!!!!
Woo HOOOOOOOOOOOO...a belly. I totally forgot Cati was always in the mirror pics. That is her pretending a calculator is a phone while checking her tonsils out. Or her tongue. What is she doing?
Wow. This camera is awful! I need suggestions on a good camera! Belly is definitely making appearances.
WHOA! Hello preggo! No need for the baby with downward pointing arrow to indicate pregnancy. Never had one BTW. My big, fat mouth told everyone standing within 2 feet.
Awwwww. Was so depressed I bought my first SIZE LARGE maternity shirt. I seriously think I would not fit in it now.
Hello BULLET BELLY! It literally came to point. Yikes. And I had bigger worries than my first large shirt. Sheesh...knock off the ice cream sandwiches girl and eat some sugar free jello.
OK, how was I still standing? I think this is 39 weeks. How funny is Cati cracking herself up holding her back and imitating me?
So that was my bloom. I would show you the ultrasound pics but we have all seen them and know what they look like. The 6 week one I cried because I had so many ultrasounds with no black oval with something in it. Seeing that little baby with the bigger than life heartbeat took my breath away and I cried and cried and cried. When I saw her at 12 weeks I was just so happy seeing her do a karate kid impression to the side of my uterus. I was pregnant. So happy.
Minutes after giving birth...I look like I just gave birth. Hey, what if that was the way people told you that you are not looking so good..."Oh, honey you look like you just gave birth."
Another one of God's way of illustrating His intimate mindfulness of details...look at 2 Shades of Pink Story: Part 4. Find the picture of Cati in the first minutes she came home. The look on my face is almost identical. I can only assume it is the smile reserved only for the first moments I hold my little girls.
My hubby is the strong silent type but when he saw his daughter during her evacuation, I think the man was 2 moments shy of cardiac arrest when he saw her cone head...he had no clue this was normal. Bless his heart.
Not one person saw her take home outfit (aside from my hubby and me) actually on her person so I included this...and you still can't see it.
Ella now!
Our first ever family picture (who all share the same last name)
This pic is us walking out of the courthouse. This balloon has a whole other story behind it but we will save that for another day. But this was a sweet picture of a day we prayed and longed for.
So on that life changing Wednesday I decided to watch the news.
I am not a news watcher. Probably due to the fact that the house I grew up in had CNN and later, Fox News on 24 hours a day. If we were in a car, then it was AM talk radio. So as an adult, I must say that the news was a way for me to catch up on the weather and maybe to see what time it was. So the fact that I was watching the news was completely divine intervention.
At that point in my life I was a Resume Writer and Interview Coach working out of my home office. Now if I had not been working from home I would have missed this segment. I think it started around 4 in the afternoon. So as I popped on the news for a reason only a supreme God would know, I saw the segment of Wednesdays Child where a child up for adoption was featured. This little girl with huge eyes and long brown hair was the most precious thing I had ever seen. The news anchor was at a playground talking to this little girl who actually asked Marty Matthews (the anchor) to be her Mommy and take her home. Marty hugged her and you could tell she was trying to remain professional. What a pure cry from that little innocent heart! And I sat there mesmerized. Compassion like I have never known invaded my entire being. I saw with new eyes, (God's eyes, I think) a child who needed parents to love her.
And who better to fill that need then a couple who want a child to fill their hearts?
I literally wanted to adopt this little girl. Right then and there. I get on the website to check this all out and I am stunned to see something called The Heart Gallery where there are so many children needing a loving home. I literally had no idea. None. I read on about the need for foster parents right in our county and how there are more children needing to be fostered and adopted then homes to put them in. This was so devastating to me.
I crank out an impulsive but heart felt email to my husband. I tell him that while seeing this news segment I have this deep and terrifying feeling that God is calling us to become foster parents. Of course, I ask him to pray with me about this to know whether I am reacting to emotion of if this really was God moving us. His reaction was not surprising.
"Where in the world did this come from?"
Um, God. Duuuuhhh.
But of course he is not a mind reader and he knows me. Thank you, Lord. And listens and takes it all in agreeing to pray about this. I am so excited because the knowing just continues to grow. By the end of that week, after praying together and on our own, hubby comes back to me and tells me he is as excited as I am about becoming foster parents.
HALLELUJAH!!!!!!
This is now around September of 2005. I send an email to get additional information and I find out about an orientation meeting being held at the Safe Children Coalition (now Eckerd Youth Alternatives) So we go. And an evil presence decided to carpool with us to the meeting. A presences who's intent is to steal, kill and destroy.
Oh, you should have seen me. This informational meeting is almost a means to chase those who are merely curious for the hills. They tell you everything in worse case scenario. How these kids come into foster care. What it might be like once they are in your home. How the primary goal is reunification with parents. That if you are looking for an infant to eventually adopt those situations are incredibly rare. And on and on and on. And if you were looking at me, I looked like a rebellious teen, slumped in my chair, my arms crossed and a snarling scowl on my face.
I look at hubby and say, "I am not sure I want to do this." But I find myself filling out paperwork as if I am totally ready to do this. But I had no conscious idea that I was terrified. Out of my mind scared.
None of these thoughts actually came to my mind in clear sentences but rather I detected jumbled emotions and scattered impressions of thoughts. Like, how could I bond with a child only to lose him or her? Could I go through the pain of infertility only to feel teased with loving a child and losing that child too? Why go through this torment? Am I even worthy to do this? Am I being selfish and self serving? Is this actually for me or for a child? What will they think of me if I admit I only want Caucasian children since there may be the off chance we would adopt him or her? Will our family support us? Would they love a child in our home?
On and on I anguish. For the next few months. But then the calm after the storm finally arrived. By December we were enrolled in a MAPP class, one of many requirements of becoming a licensed foster parent. By January of 2006, we were in the midst of having a home health inspection, filling out paperwork an inch thick, conducting two home studies, getting references filled out and mailed, redoing our guest room to be ready for a child between and ages of 0-2 and preparing our hearts for the child God would bring. Any child, I might add.
Often, we would go into the room to pray for the child who would come to us. And on March 27, 2006, we received the call that we had become Licensed Foster Parents.
That evening, little 6 month old Anthony came into our world.
These pictures were literally taken within 10 minutes of his arrival into our home. We carried him and his little bag into the house, grabbed the camera and started clicking. It was such an anticipated moment that we wanted to capture it forever.
How could you not just want to nibble on those chubby little cheeks? Was he not the most precious thing in the world? Oh that sweet little boy. My heart is beating faster at the love I still carry in my heart for him.
OK. Now I am crying right at this very moment. I am so shocked by this response even as I look at the blurry letters appearing on the screen. Looking at his face is so bittersweet that I have just stopped to ask God to help me breathe. This little boy swiftly entered our hearts within the first seconds upon laying eyes upon him. And every fear I had about fostering disappeared like a vapor upon the solid realization that this boy deserved nothing less than every ounce of love we could give him.
And how we loved him.
There are too many details to share and I also want to protect the confidentiality surrounding his particular case. But the summary of this was that within one month of his stay, we received the devastating news that his birth mother had been found dead in an elevator after overdosing at the age of 32. I almost fell to the floor upon hearing this news. He had no other relatives who wanted him and though they could not promise anything there was a chance we could have him long term and indefinitely.
Wow. As first time foster parents we were convinced that through such awful circumstances, this little boy would be given a chance at life and we would be there to give him a home and all the love we could give.
But what actually happened was the maternal grandfather and wife had wanted him all along. We just never heard that. They live in the Northwest and had already adopted her first 2 children for the last 10 years and wanted Anthony and his older brother who was also currently in care.
And that is what happened.
On July 19, 2006, we experienced heartbreak and pain like no other I have ever experienced. Ever. At 4 am we drove him to the airport to say good be to him. The night before I was rocking him to sleep, praying, crying, asking God for strength. Because as he peacefully slept in my arms I knew I would never hold him like this again, I would never put him to bed or sing him worship songs to sleep. I held him for over 30 minutes. Just swaying back and forth in the dark room, grieving that this child I wanted for my own was indeed not the child God planned for us.
At the airport we were a mess.
The picture is blurry but this is me getting Anthony out of his car seat at the airport. I was not holding it together well.
Anthony with Daddy Bamm. (I was Mommy Jess)
I was a little better here waiting for the Case Manager to check in.
This may sound so funny but when we had to say goodbye at Security I had one hope. I had told this to Brandon the night before. I said, "I pray as he leaves he does not look back." I would never be able to live with that being the last moment with him in my mind's eye. He was going to live with his 3 half brothers and Grandparents. He was going to be loved. And he was moving forward. It was symbolic for me. When it came time to say goodbye, we hugged him, kissed him and told him we loved him, the pain was more than I could ever have known. We were sobbing so loud. A chunk of my heart had been gauged out. Though there would be healing, I felt like my heart would never be whole again.
As the case manager pushed his stroller away, Anthony looked straight ahead as he got ready to go home. Not once did he look back. Oh how God honored that prayer and a peace came over me. I knew we were going to make it.
2 Shades of Pink Story: Part 4
The drive home from the airport was a quiet one. What else was there to say? Anthony was gone. It was difficult to say that he went home. Because we were his home. At least that was the truth in our hearts.
I have to tell you that the pain of this hit hardest in the silence of the house. Everything was neat. Everything where it should be. No baby giggles. No hunger or sleepy cries. Just the deafening, loud silence.
We had a going away party for Anthony the weekend before he left. One of my friends left us a little bag with packs of tissues and gourmet cookies. I got that bag and put it to good use. Brandon took off the whole day and wonders even now why he did not take off the day before to be with Anthony instead of the day he left only to be confronted by his absence. But I know he did it for me too. It would have been so hard to be there all alone.
The one thing I did not share with you is how God prepared me so much to let him go. The strength, the peace, the trust was so supernatural. I wish I had more words to convey this knowing that was there. Pain and grief, of course. But a knowing that my God had not left us, that he was still working and still coordinating our journey.
I do not remember much of that day except the silence. It was a Wednesday he left and on Friday something surprising happened. We initially were going to take a break from fostering but we found ourselves ready for another child. Amazing. And we actually got a call and the sweetest but most frightened little boy came to our home.
Oh how he broke our hearts. He had been left alone by his mother and she unwisely bragged at a bar one night bar about leaving him at home. The bartender, God bless this person, called the police who found this precious child on a dirty mattress, among glass bottles, caps, and other debris. When he arrived in our home he had bug bites covering his body and smelled strongly of urine. I did not care while hugging and kissing this child. He was only 17 months old! We had to give him two baths just to remove the smell from his hair. And he would cry in the crib with this whimpering cry that would soften the hardest of hearts.
By the end of the weekend he was smiling, laughing, and playing ball. Sadly, on Monday we let him go because it was a weekend placement. I was also traveling alone to see family up north and surprise a friend for her birthday. They called us that Monday to ask us to keep him long term and we would have loved to...so much...if I was not leaving for 10 days. Obviously, they needed to find a home for him. My sweet husband still thinks about him to this day.
You may wonder why I am telling you this. But you will understand by the end. I am giving you significant events and time lines to support the final chapter of this miraculous journey. A lot of you may already know this story but I am being very specific here in these posts. Because my testimony would take hours if I told it exactly how it all played out. And these details matter oh so much.
So I come back from visiting family. It is just us for awhile and I even struggle with the feelings of freedom I am experiencing. Along with guilt. Like I am so glad I can go sit and drink coffee somewhere. Go for a bike ride alone. Walk the dog. Whatever. But if I could choose it would be to have Anthony back. Even as we continued praying for the time when the next child came to our home, we began asking God for specifics. Two actually.
I have to tell you that the pain of this hit hardest in the silence of the house. Everything was neat. Everything where it should be. No baby giggles. No hunger or sleepy cries. Just the deafening, loud silence.
We had a going away party for Anthony the weekend before he left. One of my friends left us a little bag with packs of tissues and gourmet cookies. I got that bag and put it to good use. Brandon took off the whole day and wonders even now why he did not take off the day before to be with Anthony instead of the day he left only to be confronted by his absence. But I know he did it for me too. It would have been so hard to be there all alone.
The one thing I did not share with you is how God prepared me so much to let him go. The strength, the peace, the trust was so supernatural. I wish I had more words to convey this knowing that was there. Pain and grief, of course. But a knowing that my God had not left us, that he was still working and still coordinating our journey.
I do not remember much of that day except the silence. It was a Wednesday he left and on Friday something surprising happened. We initially were going to take a break from fostering but we found ourselves ready for another child. Amazing. And we actually got a call and the sweetest but most frightened little boy came to our home.
Oh how he broke our hearts. He had been left alone by his mother and she unwisely bragged at a bar one night bar about leaving him at home. The bartender, God bless this person, called the police who found this precious child on a dirty mattress, among glass bottles, caps, and other debris. When he arrived in our home he had bug bites covering his body and smelled strongly of urine. I did not care while hugging and kissing this child. He was only 17 months old! We had to give him two baths just to remove the smell from his hair. And he would cry in the crib with this whimpering cry that would soften the hardest of hearts.
By the end of the weekend he was smiling, laughing, and playing ball. Sadly, on Monday we let him go because it was a weekend placement. I was also traveling alone to see family up north and surprise a friend for her birthday. They called us that Monday to ask us to keep him long term and we would have loved to...so much...if I was not leaving for 10 days. Obviously, they needed to find a home for him. My sweet husband still thinks about him to this day.
You may wonder why I am telling you this. But you will understand by the end. I am giving you significant events and time lines to support the final chapter of this miraculous journey. A lot of you may already know this story but I am being very specific here in these posts. Because my testimony would take hours if I told it exactly how it all played out. And these details matter oh so much.
So I come back from visiting family. It is just us for awhile and I even struggle with the feelings of freedom I am experiencing. Along with guilt. Like I am so glad I can go sit and drink coffee somewhere. Go for a bike ride alone. Walk the dog. Whatever. But if I could choose it would be to have Anthony back. Even as we continued praying for the time when the next child came to our home, we began asking God for specifics. Two actually.
One was to have a small infant.
The other was to be able to adopt the next child who came into our home.
I know. Tall order, right? When we took the MAPP class to be licensed as foster parents, I distinctly remember a day where they said small infants were a rarity and even more rare was to end up adopting that child. You know what else was rare? A girl. Statistically speaking, more boys than girls are fostered.
Are the details becoming more fascinating as you learn them since the very end is so obvious?
But I remember this day so clearly because when the instructor said this I instantly half prayed and half thought: God you are bigger than statistics and you can do immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine. I believe now that on a subconscious level I was there to adopt but I really did not know this at the time.
So then we get the call. Around mid August. There is a premature infant in the NICU at All Children's Hospital who needs a foster home. He is this tiny little baby, 6 weeks old. The first thing we are asked is if we are willing to adopt since his parents rights were about to be terminated.
What? OF COURSE WE ARE WILLING TO ADOPT!!!! This was such an answer to prayer that I was almost knocked off my feet! Wow! Wow! Wow! We were so excited!
The only problem was that he had to stay in the hospital until he would stop having episodes where he would stop breathing while eating. He was unable to coordinate sucking and swallowing simultaneously. There was talk that he would need to go to a medical foster home if these episodes continued. He needed to go 5 days without an episode before being released into regular care.
So we waited two weeks.
In the meantime, our parents sent care packages of little boy clothes. I went shopping for all the stuff I would need for an itty, bitty baby. How exciting that I had time to do this before he arrived. And I knew, I just knew God was healing this little boy so he could come home to us.
We get a call on Wednesday August 30th that he had been fine for 3 days and to come see him in the hospital in order to bond and know how to care for him.
That night we saw him in the NICU. I will call him J. He was so small and so sweet. We got to hold him, change him, feed him, love on him. We bonded and our hearts were his.
The next day, the hospital calls. J had another episode and it is being determined that J will go to a medical foster home.
Devastated. God, why? It was so hard. We actually held this little boy in our arms. Why? My husband was ready to throw in the towel with fostering. He was crushed. And this is what the Lord did for me....He renewed my strength.
Devastated. God, why? It was so hard. We actually held this little boy in our arms. Why? My husband was ready to throw in the towel with fostering. He was crushed. And this is what the Lord did for me....He renewed my strength.
I looked at my husband and said that we HAD to believe God's purpose in this. We had to remember that God has never, ever let us down. Ever. And we are to forget not ALL of his benefits. This was one of them. We had to believe. For whatever the reason.
So we had to let J go. And welcome back grief.
So we had to let J go. And welcome back grief.
But wait...what was this? Well blessed be. We had hope.
Then on Friday we get another call from placement...
Then on Friday we get another call from placement...
"Hi. We have another child who needs care. We have a 3 week little girl, born 8 weeks premature who is still in the NICU at All Children's. Are you interested?"
But now, Lord, what do I look for? My hope is in you. Psalm 39:7
"YES! Of course we are interested!"
"Great. We can bring her tonight. The Child Protection Investigator will be bringing her."
"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and fault less is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world."
James 1:27
"Thank you so much for calling." I hang up. A little girl is coming. Wow. Just days after being told J would not be. Only God's goodness can explain it.
Against all hope, Abraham in hope, believed...Romans 4:18
Our only thoughts were the excitement of bringing this precious child into our home. To love her and care for her and give her everything she needed. God is always faithful, always working, never passive, intimately mindful of every person's needs. Every single one. Faith is where we are able to see God's might and power...
Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.
Hebrews 11:1
And even when we are faithless, His power is still there...
"If we are faithless, he will remain faithful..." 2 Timothy 2:13
On September 1, 2006 we welcomed a little baby girl into our home, our hearts...
But now, Lord, what do I look for? My hope is in you. Psalm 39:7
"YES! Of course we are interested!"
"Great. We can bring her tonight. The Child Protection Investigator will be bringing her."
"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and fault less is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world."
James 1:27
"Thank you so much for calling." I hang up. A little girl is coming. Wow. Just days after being told J would not be. Only God's goodness can explain it.
Against all hope, Abraham in hope, believed...Romans 4:18
Our only thoughts were the excitement of bringing this precious child into our home. To love her and care for her and give her everything she needed. God is always faithful, always working, never passive, intimately mindful of every person's needs. Every single one. Faith is where we are able to see God's might and power...
Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.
Hebrews 11:1
And even when we are faithless, His power is still there...
"If we are faithless, he will remain faithful..." 2 Timothy 2:13
On September 1, 2006 we welcomed a little baby girl into our home, our hearts...
This was in the first few minutes upon meeting her. What a tiny baby. A little over 5 lbs.
This is me and sweet baby girl. Hubby holding this precious bundle. This is her now...Her name is Cati.
Now the story gets goooooood...
Two Shades of Pink Story: Part 5
Oh, my precious Cati. How all the details, all the grief make sense now. Of course they do. If Anthony stayed longer, we would not have had Cati. If we had not opened our hearts and home two days later for that precious boy, we may have never been ready. If J had not gone through those 2 weeks of episodes and delays Cati would never have been part of our lives.
Here are some other little facts that cause goose bumps. When we held J in the NICU...ready? Cati was a few beds away. Can you stand it? Here's another amazing thing. Cati was born when they called us for J. It all was timed so perfectly that only our God could have orchestrated it; all so that I could put these words here now. Because God gets the glory. All of it. And here is a final bit of info that may make you sad. Five days after Cati came home they called to ask if J could come to our home because he had been released to regular foster care. Although Cati was embedded in my heart, it was the hardest "no" I ever said.
Guess what? Her name was not Cati. Not even close. It was actually another first and last name. I so wish I could tell you what it was but I need to protect her in light of all the specifics regarding her foster care and adoption. I would also love to share with you her name that was finally told to us a few days after she came home. Again, I must protect my daughter. The first part of that name, the first 4 letters is spelled C-A-T-I which is why her name is Cati and why it has such an unusual spelling.
That night when she came home, it was late at night and there were 4 other children in the van on the way to their foster homes. I remember peering into her seat and seeing her. Oh, she was so teeny, tiny in that car seat just sleeping so peacefully. But the woman transporting all these kids was on a schedule so I got her out of the seat and kind of held her one armed like a football. I was carrying her folder in my other hand and as I carried her into the house I was shocked at how comfortable I was holding her like that. My other shock was that the moment I held her I knew that letting her go would make Anthony seem like a cake walk. She was the child of my heart.
Here are some other little facts that cause goose bumps. When we held J in the NICU...ready? Cati was a few beds away. Can you stand it? Here's another amazing thing. Cati was born when they called us for J. It all was timed so perfectly that only our God could have orchestrated it; all so that I could put these words here now. Because God gets the glory. All of it. And here is a final bit of info that may make you sad. Five days after Cati came home they called to ask if J could come to our home because he had been released to regular foster care. Although Cati was embedded in my heart, it was the hardest "no" I ever said.
Guess what? Her name was not Cati. Not even close. It was actually another first and last name. I so wish I could tell you what it was but I need to protect her in light of all the specifics regarding her foster care and adoption. I would also love to share with you her name that was finally told to us a few days after she came home. Again, I must protect my daughter. The first part of that name, the first 4 letters is spelled C-A-T-I which is why her name is Cati and why it has such an unusual spelling.
That night when she came home, it was late at night and there were 4 other children in the van on the way to their foster homes. I remember peering into her seat and seeing her. Oh, she was so teeny, tiny in that car seat just sleeping so peacefully. But the woman transporting all these kids was on a schedule so I got her out of the seat and kind of held her one armed like a football. I was carrying her folder in my other hand and as I carried her into the house I was shocked at how comfortable I was holding her like that. My other shock was that the moment I held her I knew that letting her go would make Anthony seem like a cake walk. She was the child of my heart.
I wish I could explain to you every minute detail of those first few weeks. The fact that we experienced everything a parent experiences after bringing their baby home from the hospital still astounds me. Because we did it all not yet knowing she would one day have our last name. I laugh remembering as I looked at her for the first time, my first thought was, "Oh this bun is so not done. She needs to be put back in!" She was frail and her skin was transparent. Her cry was this small squeak and hardly audible. One day when I was feeding her and moved her I saw her ear bent in half and it stayed that way! I almost hyperventilated myself into a dead faint before I could fix it. You should have seen me. It was like playing hot potato with her teeny weeny little ear. I kept jerking my hand back afraid to touch it or hurt her. But I put it back and no damage done. Except for my heart palpitations.
Ah, but then the fertility fairy sprinkled me with her dust and I began the quest again. Around October of 2006, I looked into a fertility study being conducted. This study would test an ovulation inducting drug through the use of artificial insemination. I had to go through a series of tests beforehand as did my husband. Not a thrilling experience. But we both got the clear and we began the first of 3 attempts to get pregnant.
Here is the time to tell you something. God had been speaking to my heart for a very long time that I was going to get pregnant naturally. No, I did not hear an audible voice boom from above that I would be barren no more. I just had this knowing, that still small voice telling me to stop all attempts and believe Him. He was calling me to radical faith. My holy response?
Nope. Got it covered. You are so my plan B. But I am getting this womb filled and if all systems fail, theeeeen I will try the faith thing.
Understand that this was not me being flippant with my King. It was UNBELIEF. It was years of seeing nothing happen. I desperately wanted to believe this knowing. But I was still reluctant to believe that nothing was impossible for God.
So, onward Christian soldier Jessica moves herself forward with a highly embarrassing process of artificial baby making. I have no issue with anyone who has done infertility treatments. Insemination. IVF. God has blessed many of my friends this way. I think it is wonderful that there are options. Heck, I tried those options. But no one dreams of having an internal ultrasound with a doctor, nurse, and THREE INTERNS in the room staring at my ovaries. But I could only blame myself for signing up for this research study. I will add that the main doctor was ridiculously hot and I truly wondered if all of this was really worth this kind of humiliation. They treated me like I was being prepped to be a dissected frog. Awful. What made matters worse? The first cycle failed. Meaning an egg was developing to be released (definition: ovulation) but it stopped. I would have to wait another month to try again.
ARRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!
During this time I wrestled so much with my intense desire to be a mom. One day, I was walking Cati through the neighborhood, praying about her. I wanted her. With everything in me I wanted to be her mother and I felt guilty telling God this and praying to adopt her. As I prayed I kept vacillating between being totally honest and trying to almost carefully choose my words to pray like a good Christian should. As I foolishly tried to appeal to my God He spoke so loud that I thought I suddenly went crazy. I feel crazy telling this part but I make myself feel better that I do not have to make this huge boat after hearing it. Anyway, I distinctly heard God tell me...I am so being serious here..."She will be your daughter. But believe. Believe Me."
God? Is that you? Because if there was ever a moment in my life where I want that voice to be yours and not mine it is RIGHT NOW. Please. Let this not be my hope masquerading as your voice. Will Cati be our daughter?
"Believe me. Because there will be times where it will seem like you will lose her. Believe me."
I literally trembled as if on holy ground. But I knew I had never had a moment like that in my entire walk with God. So I decided to take Him at His word. And His word rang true because seasons of doubt and uncertainty did come.
So by now its Christmas. And celebrating my Savior's birth got me a tad introspective. Well, let's call it what it was. I was humbled. Ready to listen to that small voice. The one who had been getting louder. The one that has been saying...
STOP! BELIEVE ME.
So I did. That Christmas we went to North Carolina and visited our old church where we attended before moving to Florida. The message was amazing for a Christmas service and it talked about waiting. During the service they passed around this paper asking for prayer requests and the church promised to pray for these requests until Easter and then send it back to us. Here is that piece of paper...
I am a little panicked that it has her full name on it but I am counting on the fact that you are not a super hero and can't read it. But here is what we put as our prayer request...
1. To have radical faith
2. To adopt Cati, our foster child
3. To overcome infertility and conceive a child
Now at this point, I was seriously trying to figure out what I could do to be the naturally impregnated girl God was telling me I was going to be. So I decided to stop the infertility study and lose weight. I had been struggling with my weight most of my life and I was close to 200 pounds...the heaviest I had ever been. So at this infertility clinic, they had a weight loss clinic. Drastic means to lose weight but with drastic results. I lost close to 60 pounds. Here are my before and after pictures... Lord God, help me to remove the idol of vanity so that this testimony can bless others...
Whoa. So hating that I am posting this pic of me but whatever. Glory to you, Lord!
How mad do I look here? I lose weight and gain an attitude. Geesh, simmer down skinny chic.Must tell you I so don't look like that now. I was a running fool then and consumed next to nothing. Now I run occasionally and enjoy an occasional donut. Much more chipper now.
My cycles regulated and after considering buying stock in ovulation kits, I realized I was ovulating. God is so good.
Around June of 2007, we find out that Cati's birth mother is ready to do her case plan and bring her daughter home. She wants a visitation, the first one since she came into care. What a punch in the gut! She had so many issues but a few months back we had heard she received Christ as her Savior while incarcerated. My prayer had been that if it was genuine then she deserved her daughter back if she would love her and give her what she needed. I prayed for God to make this come to pass if that was to be the case.
She had her visit with her and it went fairly well. I made her a photo album of Cati and told her how we prayed for her every single day. The following month she did not show or call for the visit. We never heard anything again.
OK. If at this point you were thinking of taking a break you must not. If your spouse's hand is stuck in the disposal, the damage is already done. So sit tight. The children may look pale and grayish from lack of food while reading this post for the last 30 minutes but just throw them a piece of gum and keep reading. It is too good not to...
Oh, alllll right. I will write about it in the next one.
2 Shades of Pink Story: Part 6
Wow. It has been awhile since I have been doing this story but it has pushed me to revisit emotional places I really had not been in years. So to be honest, I needed a break from all the story telling. Just wanted to blog about life and normal stuff.
But I am back. Not sure if this is the final chapter because I never know what I will write until the fingers hit the keys. So let's see how far this will take us, shall we?
Where was I? Oh, yes. We kind of left off where Cati was around 10 months old and her birth mother had her first visit with her and her last. This is where it gets so good. I am giddy with anticipation.
So that summer, I was in a wedding which my weight loss paid off in that I felt like a normal bridesmaid. I had been in other weddings where I had to pay more money for extra material!!!! Does that not seem like the most horrendous thing ever? Hi, your fat. Pay up. Ugh. The dress was still a size 12 and I wore a size 4 pants. The sizing world stinks. All righty. I am on a tangent that needs to be saved for another post.
Then that July rolls around. And a day I will never forget arrives. The day my very best friend Kelly calls and excitedly tells me she is pregnant. Now please understand a few things that make this EXTREMELY significant. The first is that she has PCOS like me and struggled long to get pregnant with her oldest son. So if anyone understands the pain of this, it is Kelly. But now she is pregnant with her second and I have never been pregnant with my first!!!!! This phone call came and all time ceased. Was she kidding? I lost all this weight, periods are back and I am still not preggo? They were not even actively trying to have a baby!!!!!!!! I mumbled a quick, "Iamsohappyforyou" and got off the phone.
And began sobbing. Wailing, really. A mewling sound if you will. And I kept asking God to help me breathe.
"Please, God. I am so angry. This hurts so much. Why not me, God? Why?"
Now the fact that I could never get that moment back is not lost on me. But I seriously delved in to the deepest, pit filled depression for a week. And the most sinful, ugly, hidden parts of me came to the fore. Like not speaking to her for a week. Like a tiny, secret part of me hoping that her pregnancy would be lost (I am seriously choked up here because my anger turned to such sin and bitterness), or that I could never, ever be friends with her again. Because she was pregnant. And I was not.
About five days go by and I get an email with the subject line that says..."hi."
I open it to to the sweetest message that tells me how sorry she was for telling me the way that she did, for not being sensitive and that whenever I was ready to talk she would be there. It was compassionate and sensitive.
So the next day I called her to break up with her. Literally, to end our friendship. After praying all week, I was appalled by my behavior, reaction and thought life. I figured that the agony of watching her belly grow...again and having to go to the baby shower and hear about it every day was going to be too much for me to be nice. And I wanted so much to be there for her. But I could not.
This was my solution. I called her to thank her but to say I was an awful best friend and we could not be friends anymore. Now honestly, if the roles were switched I would have got in my car and parked myself at her front door telling her nothing was going to make the friendship be over. But she is not pushy like me. She basically said the friendship was not over no matter what I said and she could not imagine us not being friends. Then she said the loveliest, most selfless thing...if she had the choice she would have me pregnant before her.
That did it.
How can I not be friends with a person like that? Naturally, this is why she is dubbed my BFF. Plus, she is the kindest person I know, she makes me laugh and tells me I am pretty when I am not.
Then she tells me her progesterone levels are so low and the doctor was preparing her for an inevitable miscarriage. My world stilled in that moment because though I had those shameful, horrid, ugly thoughts in my head of this very thing, I never, ever would have wanted that. NEVER! So immediately I prayed for that tiny, forming life to be sustained to term. That life's name is Timothy and he is almost 18 months old now.
I am not sure how but God sustained me from that point forward to be the friend Kelly deserved and to enable me to be happy for her. I had genuine joy! I still ached to be pregnant and I still struggled with jealousy but Kelly's friendship meant more to me then my desire to be pregnant. Let's just throw a picture in to give you a visual...I am a visual kind of girl.
This is Kelly and me from her birthday dinner last month. My prayer is everyone have a friendship like she and I have. She is beyond precious to me.
Back to my timeline. It matters...you will see. By that August we had a wonderful first birthday party for Cati and all was normal but I still had this butterfly feeling in my stomach over the fact that birth mother was possibly going to be back in the picture. Would she pop up unexpectedly again? I was not prepared for more pain and the constant reminder that I was barren. Cati had been with us a year and my heart was hers. She was my daughter. I was her Mommy. We were a family. Period. And I did finally have peace that if Cati was the only child we had, I could be content. I would always want and continue to try to get pregnant but I knew Cati was everything to me and being her Mommy would be the greatest gift from God. Ever.
Meanwhile, the goal that year of her case plan had gone from re-unification to a dual goal of re-unification/adoption. The birth father was unable to be found and seemed to not want to be found. Then the birth mother was arrested and this time would be in prison for quite a bit of time. This process was so up in the air and worrying over it gave me insomnia and the desire to eat all the time. I did keep praying it up and giving it to God. But I worried too.
Yet, while the fostering and potential adoption of Cati continued I had totally focused on getting pregnant. I was using ovulation kits daily and having crazy cycles. Typically, someone who has a 28 day cycle, they ovulate on day 14. Not me. I would have 53 day cycles and not ovulate. Or ovulate late. The latest it will typically occur is by day 20-22. If it does not, you have missed your window for a viable pregnancy. This process is so frustrating. But we were trying, praying, and hoping.
On October 24, 2007, I received a call that has been pivotal in my life until this very day. Do you remember the infertility study I did and then finally listened to God about believing Him for conceiving naturally? OK. Well this time they called to invite me to participate in an IVF study. Money would be required but only $3000. If any of you are unfamiliar, this can cost a family anywhere from $10,000-$20,000 for one time. They told me that they had 40 slots and only 10 were left. They needed to know by morning if this is something I would like to do.
Whoa.
So I call hubby at work, tell him in like 2 minutes and ask him to pray all day, fast if he won't pass out, and we will pray together when he comes home. I then call my mom to tell her and she immediately says she will pay for it. OK, Lord is that you? Then I call Kelly who is literally like, "YOU HAVE TO DO IT! THIS IS SO GOD! WHAT AN AMAZING OPPORTUNITY!!!!!"
Yet. I had no peace. Strange that everything seemed handed to us on a silver platter. But no, no, no peace. I thought I was nervous. Or too excited. But hubby and I talked a little that night when he came home but we prayed. We literally got on our faces before the Lord believing that within the short window of time he would reveal what we should do. As we prayed I deeply sensed God's answer and kept questioning. The answer came loud in the midst of my 87th repetition of "God is that your will?"
Yet. I had no peace. Strange that everything seemed handed to us on a silver platter. But no, no, no peace. I thought I was nervous. Or too excited. But hubby and I talked a little that night when he came home but we prayed. We literally got on our faces before the Lord believing that within the short window of time he would reveal what we should do. As we prayed I deeply sensed God's answer and kept questioning. The answer came loud in the midst of my 87th repetition of "God is that your will?"
We raise our heads from prayer and I look at hubby. So what is our answer?
He looks almost sad as he says.."It's no." That was the answer I got too.
God so strongly impressed upon us both to say no. The next morning I called and told them no and thanked them for the opportunity. I then called Kelly and my mom. My mom was pretty disappointed and felt we may have missed a really great chance. Kelly understood and was believing God right along with us.
A week later a termination hearing was scheduled for the birth parents. The birth mother would have an opportunity to surrender her rights if she showed up and if they were no shows their parental rights would automatically be terminated. Long story short, she was not surrendering (though she showed up) and the lawyer was trying to drag it out. A few days later, she tells her lawyer she is ready to surrender and sign the papers privately.
The signing of her papers was to occur on Friday November 9th. That day, Cati and I were flying north to visit family. I found out that she signed the papers that afternoon after getting off the plane. We were now considered the prospective adoptive parents of Cati. It was just so exciting.
That weekend was a nice time spent with family and I flew home Monday afternoon. I was so itching to take a pregnancy test because I was at 9 days past ovulation (or 9 dpo for my infertility peeps who know all the lingo).
Now understand that for the woman obsessed with conceiving, the driving force is the hope of this moment in the loo. Everything is about the moment. Last month was negative so you spend a week depressed, and then the next week you get your period, the hope begins to spark to a flame, and then...you are in the bathroom again peeing on a stick like a kid waiting for the biggest ice cream cone ever. It becomes ritual.
And you have pregnancy test taker types. Some stare at the stick the entire 3 minutes...waiting and watching. Others can just leave the bathroom and forget about it. I am the sneaky checker. I would glance over at it hoping it would not catch me do it. I would leave the bathroom only to come back to re-flush and take another sneak peek. And if you were obsessed like me, you knew all the scoop on all the tests. I knew which were the stronger ones that could detect hcg (pregnancy hormone) levels the earliest. I knew which ones had frequent false results. I was the pee stick wizard. I also confess to taking a test to a lamp to see a possible faint line. Taking it outside in the sun. And taking it apart to identify the faulty manufacturing of it since it was not revealing the positive I wanted. Or so I could better see the faintest line that my eyes would create in desperation.
So testing just became this monthly thing. So the Monday I flew home I knew I had one of those Internet cheapy tests in the bathroom. The really, skinny, papery ones. But those suckers detect early! And if there was a test in the house I was going to use it. And it was the last one. So I thought about it the whole plane ride home. And before bed, I asked the husbter if I should test. He said wait until morning since the first pee after you wake up is the one with highest levels of hcg. See, you train hubby to know their stuff too so they hold you accountable within your obsession. I said, "You're so right. That is what I will do." Then I go in the bathroom and pee on the stick. Did I mention I was obsessed?
But I forgot to sneak up on it. I just plain forgot. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and put on my pajamas. Oh, the test! It had been about 5 minutes...
There were two lines...
2 Shades of Pink Story: Part 7
Am I jet lagged from a 2 hour flight? Am I seeing things? No way. It was the faintest line I had ever seen. Like I told you before, you stare at it long enough and ...POOF...you see a second line. I mean, do you see a second line?
My point exactly. So I ran into the bedroom and show hubby.
"Do you see a line? DO YOU SEE 2 LINES???!!!!! ANSWER ME!!!!!! DO YOU? DO YOU?
He looks and then looks at me with a sweet, crooked smile. "I see two lines."
OMIGOODNESS! OMIGOODNESS! OMIGOODNESS! I start running around the house and grab the phone as I frantically and aimlessly walk into each and every room of the house. I am dialing Kelly's number and it is late. I praise God that her hubby is out of town on business.
I hear my tired BFF (who had fallen asleep on the couch) answer the phone with a sweet "Welcome Home!"
I hear my tired BFF (who had fallen asleep on the couch) answer the phone with a sweet "Welcome Home!"
My response? No time for pleasantries here. "I see a line."
My pregnant best friend shoots straight up from the couch with a "WHAAAAT??"
"Kelly, oh my gosh? Am I pregnant? Could I be pregnant? No. No way. Really? I mean, really?"
Kelly says, "OK. What happened?" And I tell her everything. From the weird cramps over the weekend, a light spotting that I thought I had hallucinated, the fact that it was night time and only 9 days past ovulation, yada, yada, yada.
Her response? Um, the one that only your BFF is supposed to say.
"Jess, you are soooo pregnant." And we chic scream and get all excited.
Meanwhile, hubby knows me well and gets dressed and goes to Walgreen's for another test. He comes back with it and ice cream too. Because he is just too cute. I am all excited until he tells me I need to wait until morning to do it. Just to be sure. Of course, this is wonderful wisdom but I thought I was going to burst. But I submitted for once and went to bed.
7:00 am. I pop up like its Christmas morning more excited to pee then I have ever before...
++++ IT'S POSITIVE!!++++
The line was oh so obvious. I am pregnant!!!! Oh my word, I wish I could type the elation that I felt in that moment. I take a flying leap onto the bed with my sleeping husband and said, "WE ARE PREGNANT!" He hugged me and said he was so happy.
Then my next thought became a prayer...Two, Lord? You are giving me two children? Not just the one I had been praying for? Two? Oh, the sweet love I felt from my King in that moment. In that instant, I knew. I truly believed, on a cellular level, that I just experienced what it means when His word tells us how God longs to be gracious to us. In a precise moment, the timing that is in His hands, the pain, the journey, the growth, the sifting, the agony, the bitterness, the sin, the hopelessness...became pure joy. And my God patiently anticipated that moment. He delighted in my joy and basked in the praise He wholly deserves.
Funny how I initially had a plan of how I was going to do tell hubby I was pregnant. Years before I had purchased a pair of newborn yellow booties in this clear, little box. I was Super Wife then with no children and always made dinner each night with it waiting for him when he got home. I am peeing my pants at the moment as I recall my past idealism that I could do this once children came in the picture. I don't mean just cook dinner. I mean have the table set with cute little dishes on the table and candles, nice music, and a spotless house. Now the food sits on the stove in the pots I cooked it in and I bellow a "COME FIX YOUR PLATE BEFORE THESE KIDS HAVE TO GO TO BED!" Ah, how times have changed.
Anyway, these booties would go in one of these covered dishes to surprise him. That was what I planned. But I did not get voted Biggest Mouth for high school senior superlatives for nothing...How could I wait? I had been waiting 5 years for crying out loud!!! So I cried it out loud...of course.
Then what do I do next? Well duh. I bought 10 more tests to pee on. And took pictures. All those one lined tests I had to endure, take apart, take back out of the trash can all day long juuuuust in case it changed results while I was not looking...now I could get excited because there it was...
Is this not the most glorious and beautiful pee covered stick you have ever seen? I would hang it from the Christmas tree with ribbon if it was not...well...nasty. And yep, the top one is from Dollar Tree. I bought like 10 of those. And peed on every.single.one.
Is this not the most glorious and beautiful pee covered stick you have ever seen? I would hang it from the Christmas tree with ribbon if it was not...well...nasty. And yep, the top one is from Dollar Tree. I bought like 10 of those. And peed on every.single.one.And of course, I purchased the creme of the crop, the candid, tell-it-like-it-is test that you only buy if you are darn tootin' sure it will say...pregnant. Oh, glory. Bummer that the word eventually disappears, though.
So let's pause to recap the miracle of all of this by seeing God's hand upon every intimate detail. Because of course, this is when any uphill journey makes sense. This will be fun...
- God spoke to my heart that I would conceive naturally...and I did.
- The call for the IVF study came on October 24th. After figuring out the dates, we conceived Ella 1 week later following us turning this incredible opportunity down.
- The prayer card we filled out at the church on Christmas Eve, 2006 was to see three things happen within one year's time... to have radical faith (like turning down IVF and believing God through a hopeless time), to overcome infertility, to adopt Cati). These 3 prayer requests culminated within a two week period. 1. Oct 24, 2007 we got the call, prayed, and turned IVF down the next day believing God for natural conception. 2. November 9, 2007 the adoption process begins. 3. November 12, 2007 we have a positive pregnancy test. All occurring less than 1 year later.
Another thing that became incredibly obvious to me. As someone with PCOS, you are pretty much subfertile rather than infertile. More specifically, it is difficult to become pregnant but not impossible. And statistics become such a discouragement. It is lovely to hear how someone with normal cycles or typical fertility odds have only a mere 25% chance at becoming pregnant due to all that is involved in the process of making a baby. And yours is less. Well, yippee for me. Always makes you look at the glass half full side of things, right? Especially since we got like 6 billion people roaming the earth. Clearly procreating is not this rare endeavor as stats like to make it out to be. Considering all the intricacies with timing and one sperm and one egg...I am sure you do not need this lesson. But. How can we get wrapped up in stats with the kind of God we serve? Because this is what I have concluded. With God, I have a 100% chance of getting pregnant. Not 25%. Not 73%.
100%.
Because it is God who gives and takes away. It is our glorious, mighty King who stitches a baby together. He still could have given us a pregnancy that may not have gone to term. But He deserves my praise and complete submission regardless if the outcome is not parallel to my heart's desire. So I had to realize it was He who decided to bless us with Ella. Only He. Not stats. Not my weight loss. Not throwing your legs up in the air like my grandmother told me to do. (I did do that but whatever). Only God.
And I praise His holy name. He made me a mother...again. He rewarded our faith. He heard the cry of a mother who wanted to carry a child within her. And He not only gave us one...He gave us two...
2 Shades of Pink Story: The Conclusion
Well, I can tell you I went through quite the 9 month bloom as I fondly call it. I got BIG! Gained 55 pounds in fact. I justify this ridiculous venture to a 5 year culmination of the intense desire to be pregnant and my chronic cravings for sandwiches. Which I satisfied each day with a grand finale of 2 nightly ice cream sandwiches...because they were sandwiches. So watch that belly grow... Those are my size 6 jeans that were falling off me...due to being bestowed with absolutely no derriere. FYI...thought I looked huge in this picture. Oh, to be insecure like I was then... 
Look at Cati's short little body and hair. And look at the tummy that was not there and I was ashamed to even take this picture that day. 
What am I seeing here? I mean, there is a little bump sticking out but come on!!!!
Woo HOOOOOOOOOOOO...a belly. I totally forgot Cati was always in the mirror pics. That is her pretending a calculator is a phone while checking her tonsils out. Or her tongue. What is she doing? 
Wow. This camera is awful! I need suggestions on a good camera! Belly is definitely making appearances.
WHOA! Hello preggo! No need for the baby with downward pointing arrow to indicate pregnancy. Never had one BTW. My big, fat mouth told everyone standing within 2 feet.
Awwwww. Was so depressed I bought my first SIZE LARGE maternity shirt. I seriously think I would not fit in it now.
Hello BULLET BELLY! It literally came to point. Yikes. And I had bigger worries than my first large shirt. Sheesh...knock off the ice cream sandwiches girl and eat some sugar free jello.
OK, how was I still standing? I think this is 39 weeks. How funny is Cati cracking herself up holding her back and imitating me?
So that was my bloom. I would show you the ultrasound pics but we have all seen them and know what they look like. The 6 week one I cried because I had so many ultrasounds with no black oval with something in it. Seeing that little baby with the bigger than life heartbeat took my breath away and I cried and cried and cried. When I saw her at 12 weeks I was just so happy seeing her do a karate kid impression to the side of my uterus. I was pregnant. So happy.
Meanwhile, the adoption process officially began in about April of that year. We had to fill out all the same paperwork that we did when we became foster parents. Or so we thought. We actually did not have to. But we did it. And it draaaaaaaagged on. We were just so ready to have Cati officially be our daughter.
That summer, Ella was born.
This is the exact look she gave me when she checked out of Jessica's Womb. She lost all that dark hair. I was so sad. And she was predicted to be 8 or 8.5 lbs. Here is proof that doctors can be wrong. Was I ever grateful.
Minutes after giving birth...I look like I just gave birth. Hey, what if that was the way people told you that you are not looking so good..."Oh, honey you look like you just gave birth."Another one of God's way of illustrating His intimate mindfulness of details...look at 2 Shades of Pink Story: Part 4. Find the picture of Cati in the first minutes she came home. The look on my face is almost identical. I can only assume it is the smile reserved only for the first moments I hold my little girls.My hubby is the strong silent type but when he saw his daughter during her evacuation, I think the man was 2 moments shy of cardiac arrest when he saw her cone head...he had no clue this was normal. Bless his heart.Not one person saw her take home outfit (aside from my hubby and me) actually on her person so I included this...and you still can't see it.Ella now!
After 23 hours of labor I was pretty sure that was my first and last time I was experiencing that particular rite of passage. Um, babies sorta hurt coming out. A lot. I guess when your epidural initially numbs the left side of your body to the point your eyelid droops, it makes doctors a bit wary to give me more than a loading dose. Due to this, I had a pretty numb labor until I got to the end. You know, the time where it hurts the most with no meds. So when Ella starting her journey through a canal that has to be as long as the Mississippi River for how long it took, I would say I was a tad uncomfortable.
She popped out and never went to sleep again. For like 3 months. I endured a baby who enjoyed 10 hours of awake time, who gave a cold shoulder to my breasts for food, who cried all the time, and all during a time that I was unknowingly going through post partum depression. Had no idea until one day I had a panic attack and I mistook it for some kind of heart attack. I had been dealing with ridiculous anxiety where I was scared to leave the house and I don't think I ventured outside for more than 5 minutes for about 7 weeks. I was so scared and felt impending doom was going to descend upon me at any moment. What a frightening experience. Had no idea this was PPD. No desire to hurt Ella or me. I just felt like I was losing my mind every second of the day. I really believed I could not hack it with 2 kids. This was not the case but I was clueless. Post partum happened to other people. Not me. Not after so many years of wanting to be a mom and be pregnant.
I never factored in how I idealized this experience to the point of fantasy. I never considered that most people are pregnant for the first time with their first child...not their second. I never knew epidurals sometimes don't work and the ring of fire is putting it nicely. I never thought breast feeding was that hard. Even when everyone said it was. I thought taking a class was all I needed to do. I thought babies slept 18 hours a day like Cati did. I thought 2 kids was what everyone endeavored to have and maybe even more. I wanted 4! Do you see the past tense there? Though God is just hilarious in how he determines how that will play out. In all honestly, we don't feel done but the prospect of getting pregnant now is frightening. I really had no idea what was in store. None. And to my currently preggo peeps with your second babies...it gets sooooooo much easier and you will do beautifully. I am just a basket case.
So the initial months were hard. Really, really hard. I had no idea how to bond to this screaming infant and I honestly felt like a failure as a mother. I felt so connected and bonded to Cati yet this screaming little bundle was a quandary to me. Oh I loved her. But that connection, that invisible cord that enables mothers to take one glance and get instantly hooked on love for their baby was not there. What was wrong with me? Did I not appreciate this enough? Was I so self possessed? Nope. Just suffering from PPD, an affliction people don't talk about enough, give enough merit to, and do not deal with. My doctor's answer was Xanax which tranquilized me instead of make me feel normal. Twice I tried and both times I had scary complications. Finally, I fell on my face and said "GOD! I cry out to you and have to believe you for healing!" And praise be the miracles kept coming. He set me free. I kid you not, from that moment on the PPD dissipated without any meds. It was gradual but I was relying on the strength of God and it was my lifeline. I never took meds again.
Not to us, O Lord, not to us but to your name be the glory, because of your love and faithfulness. Psalm 115:1
In November, our family became complete. On the 9th, the Adoptions case manager came over and we signed the official papers to make Cati our legal daughter. We changed her name to match my middle name which was so meaningful to give her a family name.
Our first ever family picture (who all share the same last name)
On November 14, we adopted Cati on National Adoption Day. What a sweet, wonderful, incredible, long awaited moment to make her our daughter.
This pic is us walking out of the courthouse. This balloon has a whole other story behind it but we will save that for another day. But this was a sweet picture of a day we prayed and longed for.
I wish I had this amazing conclusion for you. This earthquake like proclamation of the goodness of the Lord. I wanted to go out with a bang and a boom but I realized something. God does that on His own and He did it with this testimony. Our testimony. Our little family saw a very BIG God do VERY BIG things. And I am so glad you came along for this ride with me to share in the miracles of my girls. I hope it encouraged you. I hope you can add it to your list when you find yourself in a storm and He requires of you to forget not all of His benefits. To remember that our God is one who deserves reverence, full and complete surrender, obedience, love and devotion, our CHILDREN, our everything. Because He is to be our all in all.
I will leave you with Psalm 113 which completes this whole testimony and why I tell it...
Praise the Lord.
Praise, O servants of the Lord, praise the name of the Lord.
Let the name of the Lord be praised, both now and forevermore.
From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets, the name of the Lord is to be praised.
The Lord is exalted over all the nations, his glory above the heavens.
Who is like the Lord our God, the One who sits enthroned on high, who stoops down to look on the heavens and the earth?
He raises the poor man from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap...
He settles the barren woman in her home as a happy mother of children.
Praise the Lord.
~The End~
Blessings and Hugs to all of you!
Jessica
Jessica
As a born-again Christian woman who has suffered two miscarriages over 3.5 years of trying to get pregnant your story is very encouraging. There are times when we need to be reminded to be faithful. Thank you for sharing your story.
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