Balance

Saturday we will be celebrating Isaac's fifth birthday. It will be a fun day with friends, Chicken McNuggets (Isaac specifically requested a party at McDonald's) and birthday cake. I'm looking forward to it.

Saturday also happens to be the day on which Isaiah will be the exact age (four months and two days) that Ava Rose was when she left us.

About a month ago I realized that this would be a hard transition for me. Isaiah is not Ava Rose, and does not replace her in any way. We are beyond grateful for God's provision of another child, and so quickly after we lost our daughter. But it has been a bit of a thing to balance our continued mourning with the celebration and joy of a new child. And I didn't realize at first, but having another baby so soon makes it a bit more complicated because we parents inevitably compare our babies to each other.

I remember vividly Ava Rose's first smiles, the first time she rolled over and when she began the dramatic transition from a newborn who does nothing more than eat and sleep and poop to a little person who has a personality and the ability to interact with others. Those things all happened less than a year ago. As I've watched Isaiah go through those same changes, I'm constantly reminded of her. When he got to be 6 weeks old I thought, "Ava Rose was this age when she first smiled." When we got out the Bumbo seat from the attic I thought, "I don't think we used this much with Ava Rose, I wonder if Isaiah will like it." When Isaiah yawns I remember how every time Ava Rose yawned she would do this adorable little spit bubble thing at the end.

When thoughts like this come, it's not that I'm comparing the two babies and deciding one of them is better. I just remember.  And those memories are hard, but I welcome them because they're kind of like a thread that connects us to the little girl we lost.

Sunday Isaiah will be four months and three days old, and it feels like we'll be losing that connection. Don't get me wrong: I'm excited to witness all the firsts that happen with a baby beyond the first four months. I'm so looking forward to crawling and solid food and baby giggles and all that. But watching Isaiah move into this new phase of babyhood feels a bit as though we're losing Ava Rose all over again.

So we continue to balance the grief and the joy. As I've said before, this is life right now, and we still feel God's presence in it.

Exactly one year ago Mark and I were at a hospital in Toledo snuggling with our newborn baby girl. The night before, I had witnessed her birth, cheering on her mother as she delivered this beautiful, dark-haired bundle.

It's hard to believe a year has gone by since we first held her, and 8 months since we found out that we would lose her. I think back to those days in April and I plead with God, "Please don't ever make me have to go through that again."

There's a specific moment I remember like it happened yesterday: I was in her room (the room that was Isaac's and is now Isaiah's) packing up her things, trying to decide what to send with her when she went back to her birth mom, and what to keep in case we ever had another little girl. I sank to the floor in silent sobs (silent because I didn't want Mark or Isaac to hear me). The grief was overwhelming, and in that moment I couldn't even form thoughts--it was just raw pain. I felt God's presence with me in that moment,

Though we were celebrating on December 18, 2012, our grieving really began then, too. We were hoping things would go our way, and over and over again we thought that they just had to, because it seemed so clear to us and so many others what was best. But we also knew that it wasn't within our control, and we knew God had invited us into a huge risk.

I suppose this is the case in all of life, but this year stands out as a muddle of grief and joy, with the grief overshadowing the joy much of the time. I've had symptoms of depression (difficulty concentrating, remembering details, and making decisions; fatigue and decreased energy; restlessness; irritability or frustration, even over small matters), though not severe enough that I've felt the need to seek help. We're still functioning, and I'd say in general we're doing OK, but there's a shadow over everything. 

I'm not sure how long that shadow will last. We are celebrating again today, thinking of Logan's first birthday (we were invited to her birthday party, which was last Saturday, but we chose not to attend--mostly because of the distance--and I sent her a package yesterday).  We rejoice in Isaiah, our new little one, and are so happy to celebrate another Christmas with a baby. But we still grieve. It's kind of exhausting, but it's life right now. And we still feel God's presence in it.

OK. So. I'm sitting here looking at this teeny tiny baby boy snuggled into his carseat because I didn't want to disturb him after we took his big brother to preschool.

It's October 11, ten days before we were expecting this little guy to arrive on the scene. Five days ago we were at church and I was still trying to convince myself that there was a good chance we'd be bringing home another baby in a couple weeks. I was finding it hard to believe at the time, and in spite of all that's happened in these last 5 days, I think a big chunk of my brain is still back there on Sunday morning, trying to convince my heart that this is happening.

The emotions of the last five days have included anxiety, fear, joy, grief, excitement, pure happiness and quite a few things here and there that I don't have a name for. This has been an overwhelming week.

I probably have about five posts in my brain right now, and I'm going to try to actually get them all written. There is so much I've been feeling, thinking and seeing that I don't want to forget. So I'm going to share here the subjects of some of the posts I want to write, so hopefully I'll come back and get them all down. Stay tuned to read about:

1. The awkward and anxious time between finding out the baby had been born until we could come home with him.
2. The ways I've experienced grief in these last few days.
3. What we're learning about our new son.
4. How God is working inside us through this experience
5. ??--I think there's more but I'm not quite sure what it is yet.

Restoration and Hope

Anyone who would be reading this already knows our news, but I wanted to share a little about how God has been with us in this new development.

It was five months ago yesterday that we said goodbye to Ava Rose, and we each continue to grieve in our own way. Probably 3 months ago Mark and I started talking about when and if we would try to adopt again. In the moment we didn't feel ready, and for a while Mark didn't want to go through the whole process again at all, but we did eventually come to the conclusion that though it might be hard now, we do want to have another child--and sooner rather than later.

We had several discussions about this, and at some point we said, OK, we'll call our agency and ask them to start showing our profile again. But then a few days would go by and I would realize I had forgotten to do it. Mark and I would talk again, and the same thing would happen. This probably went on for a couple of months.

In mid August I read an article from a mom who had lost a child. I resonated with her description of her grieving, and how it was always there in the back of her mind, even while she was busy with other things. But when everything slows down and gets quiet, there's the grief, waiting.

One Monday night late in August I told Mark about this article and asked if he wanted to read it. This led to a conversation about our grieving processes, something we hadn't talked about in several weeks. I told Mark that I think every day, often many times a day, about the situation with Ava Rose--not just about her, but about all the circumstances surrounding our losing her. I often think about the people involved and think about what I wish I could say, or wish I had said. My thoughts just go there, over and over.

I shared with Mark a teaching I heard recently on forgiveness, which was helping me work through these thoughts that just keep coming even though I don't want them to. A colleague of mine with InterVarsity shared at a seminar a list of things that forgiveness is not: it's not saying 'that's OK'; it's not saying it doesn't matter or that it doesn't really hurt; it's not understanding why the person did what they did; it's not excusing their behavior; it's not having a restored relationship with the person who hurt you.

What forgiveness is is acknowledging the wrong that has been done and the hurt it has caused. And it's acknowledging that the person who wronged you owes you a debt. And then it's asking yourself, "Will I insist that this person pay this debt, or will I allow Jesus to pay the debt for them?" Forgiveness is allowing Jesus to pay the person's debt.

When we allow Jesus to pay the debt, we also trust Jesus to restore whatever that person took or broke. This was the part that really resonated with Mark. After we talked, Mark spent some time in prayer, and focused on this idea of trusting Jesus to restore what was taken from us. The next morning he was still praying about this. He prayed, I don't know when, and I don't know what it will look like, but Jesus, I want to trust you to restore what was taken from us.

A few hours later Mark got a phone call from an adoption worker at our agency. She told him that she had just shown our profile to a couple who were making an adoption plan, and they liked us and wanted to meet us.

The timing for this was beyond coincidence. We had no reason to expect or hope that this would happen--we didn't even know our agency was showing our profile! For Mark, especially, this seemed like something God was doing. It seemed that God was reminding us that He hasn't forgotten us, and that He has been working to restore what was taken.

Now, we're still careful to remind ourselves that there is no guarantee here. Neither of them will be able to sign consent for the adoption until 72 hours after the birth, and they can change their minds up until that time. But keeping that in mind, this is still the most hopeful situation we could have. Both parents are completely on board, both of them have communicated to us that as hard as it is, they are convinced that they don't have the resources (financial, emotional, social) to raise this child, and that attempting to do so would have dire consequences for all of their children (they are currently raising 3 young children together, ages 1, 2 and 3).

So, we are hopeful, but we can't say we know for sure that we will bring this baby home. Given our recent history we are even more cautious than we would likely have been before Ava Rose. But we do trust God is walking through this with us. We will trust Him day by day, and try not to worry too much about the possibility of being disappointed.

We Can Do Hard Things

When we said goodbye to Ava Rose on April 20, we discussed with her mom the possibility of keeping in touch. We didn’t know what this might look like but Alyssa told us she was very open to our having some kind of ongoing contact.

We haven’t been completely sure we want this. As we told friends soon after saying goodbye, the thought of never seeing her again was excruciating, but so was the thought of ever seeing her again. And we weren’t sure what would be the best thing for Isaac. He loved being a big brother, and we know this has been difficult and confusing for him. Would it be better to just move on and let her live in his memory as a baby who lived with us for a while? Or should we give him, and ourselves, the chance to watch her grow up and still think of her in some way as Isaac’s little sister?

As we’ve thought and prayed about it, I’ve had a strong desire to continue to be involved in this little girl’s life, and also in her mother’s life. I can imagine that Alyssa, a young single mom, will have a need for someone to talk to, a friend to listen to her, give advice, pray for her and with her. I’ve wondered if I can be that person for her.

I still believe that God’s intent was for Ava Rose to be in Mark’s, Isaac’s and my family, that the best thing was for her biological father to understand the situation for what it was and make the best decision. God gave him the freedom to make that decision, knowing he might not do the right thing (just like He gave him the freedom to have an affair to begin with).

I believe this man’s choice prevented God’s original intent from being carried out. But, God is not caught off guard, nor has he abandoned any of us. And so I believe that now God’s intent is for Alyssa to raise her little girl, and to be the best mom possible to her. And I keep thinking that if there’s any way I can help Alyssa be the best mom possible to the little girl I loved as my own for those many months, then I want to do it.

So. That’s what I had been thinking in the weeks since saying goodbye. A few weeks ago we planned a trip to Chicago to visit Mark’s sister, and decided we’d stop in NW Ohio on the way home to visit Alyssa and Logan. I talked with Alyssa on Mother’s Day and told her we would like to do this, if it was OK with her. She was very open to it.

We never firmed up any plans, and then in the last several days, I decided I really didn’t want to go through with the visit. It was too painful, and as well-intentioned as Alyssa was to tell us she was open to ongoing contact, I had a hard time imagining what that might look like, and wasn’t convinced it’s what she really wanted.

While it’s true Alyssa had hoped we could raise her little girl, did she really want us to continue to be around as motherhood gets harder (and it will), and our involvement in her life reminds her that she could have been released from that? And on our end, we would have to watch Logan grow up but without our influence—watching her mom make different decisions than we would have made for her, watching her deal with the complexities of her family’s brokenness, and having to let her go again and again.

I didn’t share all of these thoughts and feelings with Mark, but I did tell him I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go through with the visit. Several times I asked if he still wanted to do it. He kept saying he did. But I continued to put off calling Alyssa to make arrangements, until finally she texted me Saturday asking if we were still planning to come the next day. I took a deep breath, talked with Mark, talked with Isaac, and called Alyssa to make plans.

It was a nice visit. We met at Alyssa’s house, where she lives with her parents and three siblings (two sisters and a brother, all in their late teens and early twenties). Logan was lying on the floor in the living room when we arrived, and when she saw us she smiled and laughed. We all held her and fed her a bottle. We took a few pictures. Isaac charmed everyone with his questions and smiles. It was a nice visit.

It was also really hard. I cried a lot on Saturday after talking to Alyssa. I cried for much of the three and a half hours from Mark’s sister’s house to Logan’s new home. I cried through most of the actual visit. (Every time I thought I had it together, I would look at Logan and her face would light up with one of her radiant smiles and the tears would come again.) I cried for a good part of the way back to Cleveland. I continue to cry as I write all of this.

It is really, really hard. But—

Behind or beneath or in the middle of all the pain, God is doing something good and important. He is saying to me: I called you to love Alyssa and Ava Rose by attempting to go through with the adoption, even though it was risky. Now I am inviting you to love Alyssa and Logan by continuing to be involved in their lives. This path will be hard for them, but I will be with them, and I’m inviting you to walk with them also. Your presence in their lives will encourage Alyssa on the hard path of motherhood, and will bring good things to Logan’s life as she grows up. There is pain now, but I will bring joy to all of you as you continue to love me and love each other.

It’s hard. But we can do hard things.

I still don’t know what an ongoing relationship will look like. But before we left I gave Alyssa a hug and told her, “You’re going to be a great mom. And I know you have a lot of support from your family, but if you ever need someone to talk to, or need advice or whatever, please call me.”

Then her parents walked us out to the car, and they said it was great we could stop by. We told them we were glad we had done it.  I also told them that if Alyssa ever felt like it was just too painful to continue ongoing contact, we would really understand, and please just let us know. Her mom said that no, Alyssa really was hoping she could find some way for us to be involved in Logan’s life. She said Alyssa had even researched the concept of godparents, and had considered asking us to be in that role for Logan. This was encouraging to me, since in the last few weeks I’ve also thought about the title “godparents”, and thought that seemed appropriate. We’ll still have to work out what that looks like, but it seems good to us.

As we drove away, in spite of the pain and the tears, that was the feeling I had: This seems good to me. It feels right that we should be a part of Logan’s life. It feels good that I should offer Alyssa the encouragement and friendship of a fellow mother.

Like I said, I don’t know what this will look like. We’ll take it one day at a time and see what happens.

I’m encouraged by the following passage, the one of which Jesus said, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” Jesus is binding up our broken hearts, comforting us in our grief, and will replace our mourning with joy.

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
    because the Lord has anointed me
    to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
    to proclaim freedom for the captives
    and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
    and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
 and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
    instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
    instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
    instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
    a planting of the Lord
    for the display of his splendor.

Eternal Life

Over the last few years God has been in the process of transforming my life with Him. If I hadn't gone through this transformation, I'm sure I wouldn't have been able to make it through these current circumstances with my faith intact.

Many teachers have helped me through this process:

• Philip Yancey
• Thomas Kelly
• The writer to the Hebrews
• Richard Foster
• Sharon Rowland
• Dallas Willard

Here is what they have taught me:

• Prayer is not simply conversation with God: it is communion with God. Even when we think it is we who have remembered to pray, prayer is initiated by God, because He loves us and wants to be in communion with us. When we pray, whether we realize it or not, we are simply responding to God's invitation to be in communion with Him. Each person's prayer life is unique to them. There is no one-size-fits-all approach to prayer.

• It is possible to orient our lives in a way that we can "pray continually", as Paul says in 1 Thessalonians 5. Ceaseless prayer is not a practice reserved for monks who are cloistered away from the mundane realities of day-to-day living. We can establish mental habits that allow us to connect to God's eternal Presence at all times. Our tendency is to focus too much on the past--past mistakes, hurts, choices--or be anxious about the future. But God exists in the Eternal Now, and in every moment we can transcend this ribbon of time on which we perceive our existence and experience the eternal life Jesus described--to know God. 

• Although grace and not works is the foundation of our faith, becoming more open to God does require effort. We must "fix our thoughts on Jesus." We must "make every effort to enter God's rest." Our effort is to be directed towards prayer (communion with God) and engaging God's Word (another way of communing with God), not toward trying to live a certain way, or follow certain rules.

• There are many ways to pray, and many teachers who can help us. Simple Prayer, Examen, Lectio Divina, Intercessory Prayer, Breath Prayer, Sabbath Prayer, Petitionary Prayer--there are many ways to connect to God's eternal Presence. Different kinds of prayer might work in different seasons of life, or with different personalities. Breath Prayer has been transformational for me in these last couple years. Examen and Lectio Divina are others that I would like to work on.

• It is possible to live a moment-by-moment interactive life with God. That kind of life is a life of freedom, beauty and rest. It is important to hold a vision of this life always before us, to motivate us when the effort required to live that life seems difficult.

• God exists, not as some old man in the sky, looking down on us from heaven. And He isn't a genie that we put in our pocket (or "in our heart"), to pull out whenever we need something. God inhabits the space around us. Heaven is not some far away place, but an unseen reality that exists in the air around us. God is always near and always available, by His grace. Grace is opposed to earning, but not opposed to effort. Almost everything in our visible world tries to prevent us from connecting to the Life Jesus offers--including, unfortunately, some teachings of the Church. It takes effort to connect with God, but that's not the same as saying that we earn anything by making that effort. 

The effort I have put in to cultivating my life with God might not seem like much. I don't spend an hour each morning in prayer and Bible study, or even 10 minutes, to be honest. What I have done is this: 

• Write a breath prayer and use it whenever it comes to mind--whenever I feel in need of God's Presence. 
• Practice Spiritual Direction--where I can share with someone ways I have seen God at work in my life, and where I can be reminded of what an interactive life with God can look like
• Read a lot of books--Prayer by Yancey; Prayer: Finding the heart's true home by Foster; A Testament of Devotion by Kelly; The Divine Conspiracy and The Great Omission by Willard. 
• Try to become more aware every moment of the reality of God's Presence

As seasons of life change, these practices may no longer be the best ways for me to connect with God in every moment. In the future I want to incorporate more time with God's Word, whether through Bible study with others or meditative reading. But in this season, I have had an ever-increasing sense of God being with me, being real and right here. It gives me confidence to make difficult choices and has given me hope and peace and joy even in the midst of the most difficult and painful thing I've experienced as a Christian.

I am so grateful for what God has done for my faith as I have opened myself up to Him. I want people to know, though, that I am not special. I have not earned God's favor. This kind of life is available to everyone who wants it, anyone who puts in the effort to connect to the Life Jesus offers. This is what Jesus came for! Not only to save us from hell and guarantee a life with God after death. And not only to restore creation and bring justice and shalom to the world. But to give us eternal life. "Now this is eternal life: that they know you, the one true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent."

Big Brother

One of the most difficult parts about the process of this risky adoption is wondering how it will affect Isaac if things don't go our way. He has loved becoming a big brother, and as Ava Rose gets bigger and has started smiling and cooing, he's having even more fun talking to her, entertaining her and comforting her if she's upset.

I'm not exaggerating when I say that Isaac prayed for a baby brother or sister for well over a year. I wrote on his adoption blog about his prayers for a sibling. That was in April of 2011, and he continued to ask us to pray for a baby almost every time we sat down to dinner until this past fall when we got the news about Ava Rose and decided to tell him he would be a big brother.

In fact, just a few weeks before we got The Phone Call, Isaac looked up from playing with his cars and said to me, "I want a baby sister." I said, "Well, ask Jesus to bring you one." A little while later, long enough for me to forget that little exchange, he looked up again and said, "He said yes!" I asked him who said yes to what and he said, "Jesus said he would bring me a baby sister."

Now, I don't know what went on there--but I do believe it's possible that a little boy with an innocent faith very well could have prayed to Jesus and received an answer. And then of course, a few weeks later, we get a call that we have been chosen to raise a little girl. Coincidence?

So, after watching my son ask God for a sibling for almost 2 years, and then having such an apparently clear answer to that prayer, I have wondered what it will do to Isaac and his growing faith if Ava Rose can't stay in our family forever. It's one thing for Mark and me to trust God that He'll be with us if we lose Ava Rose, but it's a bit harder to trust God with my little boy's heart.

Hard, but not impossible. As difficult as it is to fathom, God loves Isaac even more than I do. He invited our whole family on this journey, including Isaac, so we have to trust that He'll take care of all of us if we get bad news.

In the meantime, we will continue to enjoy watching Isaac be a wonderful big brother to Ava Rose.