While we wait...

In case you missed it, our family is growing! You can read about it here. And we are merely waiting for the ICPC to be cleared so we can travel to meet him! The last five days have been insanely surreal. Processing the quick decision of the adoption conference, the reality that we will have another child in our family, gathering all the things. Basically...


N E S T I N G


I have become a cleaning machine, an organizing goddess, a KonMari queen. Our trash can was nearly overflowing onto the curb the 24 hours after garbage day. I know myself. I'm going to want to come home to a spotless home, a breath of fresh air from travel and an extended say. I know, I'm crazy. My husband would agree with you. I've made peace with this part of myself. I'm also a packer. We will undoubtedly be packed for a week long stay by midnight tonight. I get it. There is something wrong with me. I also know I'm not going to want to do or be doing anything but chasing kids and snuggling.


Really, though, I think I just need something semi-productive to do while I wait. This time of waiting is my favorite. We didn't have this time with our first adoption. There is certainty and joyful hope in this wait. We wait, not knowing at all when we will leave, but we do know soon. And he is out there. He is real. He is breathing the air. He is laughing and crying and sleeping. And soon, so very soon, we will hold him. It's excruciating! And amazing and overwhelming, and dripping with joy.


So aside from the crazed cleaning lady I've become, life is pretty normal. We wake up, read, play, clean, go out and about...dinner. Except it's completely not normal. I'll find myself doing new weird things -- like registering at Target or Babies'R'Us. I'm literally holding the scanner and just stare at it then laugh out loud. Like, What am I doing here? I have no business here. And the excitement return, butterflies in my stomach just thinking about what we could be doing in a just a couple of days!


There is a buzz in the air. We are waiting, it is coming, and we feel it every second. I CAN'T WAIT!!


We would love your continued prayers. Pray for us as we prepare for this new adventure with all it's joy and adjustment. Pray for our girl -- she is so excited, yet has really no idea how much life will change. Pray for our little guy who is waiting, that this process is kind to him, that the Lord would prepare his heart for the things to come. Pray for the foster family, his birth family, and also the other families weren't chosen, and are still waiting. Pray too for anyone who is coming in contact with the ICPC -- that they feel inexplicably completed to push it through immediately. The offices are open tomorrow and I am praying for an answer by the end of the day!


Thank you so much for your love and support. It is felt, needed, appreciated, treasured, and such a blessing to us as we continue to grow this tiny tribe. We are so grateful for you. Truly we are.

Our Tiny Tribe is G R O W I N G !!!

I'll get to the pertinent info immediately because I know it's all you can think about right now!

IT'S A BOY!!

12 months old

Healthy, Handsome, Absolutely Gorgeous! 

Out of state

(We have not chosen a name yet, we cannot share his current name)

Here's the full story:

As always with this tiny tribe, the story is long with many twists and turns, so settle in if you want all the details! (Or scroll to the bottom to read about our next steps!)

We had been waiting since May 2015 to be matched. Being open to adoption out of foster care as well as domestic infant adoption, the possibilities were almost endless...and so were the potential match calls. Some weeks we'd get information on 4 cases, say yes to 3 cases, and for various reasons out of our control, none of the cases we were matched too. Then there was the failed match in January.

But God is good. So faithful. And His plan is always best. I don't say this lightly, like slapping on a smile and a bumper sticker. No, I say it from the depths of struggle and despair, and hope deferred, and would still shout it even if this post ended very differently. God is so good.

October 2015 || For the past 5 years I've been perusing adoptuskids.org. It's an online database of profiles of waiting children in the United States – with resources, articles, stats. SO much. Anyway...every once in while I check it out to see if any matches come up. I was up at midnight and searched, just to see. And this little sweet face with big brown eyes was staring at me. *swoon* He had my heart and I was in love. I just knew we were supposed to be together. I immediately completed an application and profile form...and at 3 am I submitted them! I began to pray for him daily, multiple times during the day. I prayed for his workers, his birth family, his foster family, and everyone who saw or touched his file. I prayed for the judges. I prayed.

The next day the social worker messaged me and asked for our home study. I did a dance in the dining room with praise hands all the way.

And we waited...and waited...and waited.

And prayed...

At the end of October his file was updated and put on hold – meaning they were done taking submissions and reviewing home studies. Pretty soon they would make a decision. We waited again. Any day now...

November || At the beginning of November I did another search on adoptuskids.org and found a sibling group of 2. So I submitted our profile for them as well. And heard back almost right away asking for our home study to be submitted for review. In two months we had two cases in the works. My prayer has been since that day that we wouldn't have to make a choice. I never wanted to get chosen for both cases and have to make the most impossible decision of my life. Nor did I want to get matched with a baby and be chosen for one of these cases. We committed to saying Yes when we could and prayed that God would figure out the rest.

In mid-November I got an email for the little boy's case worker saying she had been transferred to another office and new social worker would take over his case...she would start the whole process over. My instant reaction was “Of course!! Of course this would happen to us! Nothing with this family is ever simple or easy or a straight line.” But I was reminded in so many amazing ways – chance encounters, messages from friends, sermons (thank you Jason Strand) from people who had no idea what was happening at this point – that God doesn't do His best work in the simple, easy, straight line. God works in the mess, the impossible, the mountains and valleys so we can't say we had anything to do with it. So I trusted that He would figure it out, because I obviously could do nothing but wait.

Thanksgiving…

Christmas…

New Years…

Silence.

We heard absolutely nothing from either worker. I tried to be patient during the holidays because everything basically shuts down. A new year begins and no one wants to start something and have it unfinished at year end. But I kept thinking of these kids who are spending one more holiday season without their forever family.

It was agonizing. We felt more like a “normal” family as we were one year post finalization but through all the celebrations and gatherings I felt like we were so incomplete.

January 2016 || I sent emails to both workers stating our continued strong interest and asked if they needed any more information. And I heard next to nothing. Then on January 11th we were sent into our whirlwind failed match experience which left me completely drained, empty, heartbroken. I was a zombie. A mombie with empty hands.

My mother-in-law asked if I wanted to go to a retreat and said I could be a vendor to sell my hats. When she asked all I wanted to do was crawl into a hole and cry. I must have looked just plain pitiful. But I gave a tired yes. And a fire was set ablaze somehow. I was a knitting machine. I made three hats in one day. I made tags, created a logo, started an etsy shop, and made soap. Of all things. I just made and made and made. I have no other reason than that God was working in me, preparing me, restoring me, healing me. Giving my hands something to do while He worked on my heart. And I was back into fundraising mode, for the first time this journey. I couldn't explain it then, but looking back now I knew in my soul something was brewing.

AND THEN...|| On January 20th, two days before the event, one week after our failed match, I got a call from this little boy's social worker. After four months we got a call. Sixteen home studies had been submitted. They narrowed it down to three families. Us and two others. I started crying on the phone, and answered her questions like a babbling idiot, praying all the while God would somehow take the nonsensical words I was speaking and make something good.

In 19 days, on February 9th, there would be an adoption conference and they would make a decision. All his workers, advocates, foster parents, supervisors would gather together, look over the home studies and choose his forever family. I fell to my knees and pleaded with God. “You know the best for him. Open their eyes to the best. Even if it's not us. If not us, YOU are still good. Give us peace.”

I sold soap like a boss before the retreat. I sold soap and hats at the retreat. Looking back I don't know how I did either with all this going on, but hey, God is bigger than me and my frazzled brain.

We kept the information about the meeting close to our chest. My mind was telling me that we had a 33% chance. My soul was screaming HE IS OURS! But I knew it was in God's hands and His plan, though beautiful and perfect, could look starkly different from my desires. About 5 days before the meeting I told our small village to pray. Pray for him, pray for the workers, pray for the foster family, pray for us.

It is no accident I had watched War Room a few months before. No accident I had bought the book Fervent. No accident we watched War Room at the retreat. Prayer. Specific, strategic prayers. I posted them on my mirror. I carried them in my purse. I wrote them on small sheets of paper everywhere. In the past I would have probably binge-watched my way through Grey's Anatomy, again, or Downton Abbey, again. Not that my prayers, by any means, wafted their way up to the heavens and changed the course of the future. No, or, maybe yes? I dont know. But what I do know is that I felt peace. I was held by my faithful, good Father instead of leaning on myself, wanting to take control, or pout. I let go and it was so much better.

THE MEETING || At 10:30 am I got an email from the worker of the sibling group. My heart skipped a beat and dropped at the same time. I prayed, Oh, please don't make us choose!! I opened the email and it said a different family had been chosen within the state. I cried a bit, sad that we lost them too. But I kept thinking, maybe I got the email today, of all days, for a reason. This is part of a bigger plan. A prayer was answered. We don't have to choose.

At 1:00 pm I got a few messages that friends were praying, which is the most amazing thing in the world. I sent the Bea to rest time and played some music. I prayed. I didn't really know what to pray for – just that we'd have peace, this boy would be in the best home, and that God would be glorified no matter what.

At 2:00 our case manager told me her part of the meeting went well. She said she'd let us know if she heard anything. I assumed from our first experience with meetings like this it could be a few days before we heard their decision. Then, if we were chosen I expected another agonizing wait to make it official in court. (With our first we waited two months)

I resigned myself fully to the wait and resolved to be done adulting for the day. I settled our girl in the big bed with a movie and made a little nest for myself at the foot of the bed. I was going to sleep and dream and wait. But first, I had to run into the garage to get the meat for dinner. And then the phone rang...and I missed it!

“...You were picked...” I listened to the voicemail again and again “...YOU were picked...YOU WERE PICKED!!! Before that moment I have never in my life been full on laughing and ugly sobbing at the same time! I danced, I cried, I said a lot of, “WHUUUT”s.

Then I called Jason. He was sitting in his office at work and praying too. I had been updating him all day – the meeting started, Anita said it was good. And I told him the news. “Really? Are you serious?!” I could hear him choking up as tears streamed down my face.

Yes. We have a son and he is waiting for us.

.    .    .    .     .

This is what I learned when I was able to talk to his worker: Right now we have been chosen as his intended adoptive family and will soon take placement as his adoptive placement. There is NO court hearing that needs to take place. Praise Jesus! Only the ICPC (Interstate Compact on Placement of Children), basically the agreement between the two states stating we will take placement and Minnesota will supervise the rest of his placement until finalization. Red Tape. I had to ask her three times – ONLY the ICPC??? Yes. Once the ICPC has cleared we will be traveling to meet our little boy.

Let me just say that again…

Once this piece of paper is signed,

WE WILL MEET OUR SON AND TAKE HIM HOME!

So we wait. Again, but with so much excitement and anticipation I can barely contain myself.  We don't know when we will leave. Could be a week, could be two weeks. We are praying sooner than later!!

Please join us in prayer for this ICPC to get passed lightening fast, that all the workers who come in contact with it will be filled with an unexplainable sense of urgency to get it through. Pray that we prepare ourselves for the travels, as well as the enormous adjustments that will take place, especially our little girl. And pray for this sweet, little, gorgeous little boy who is waiting for us.

We will be in his state for about a week – with all the travel expenses and keeping a preschooler slightly entertained. So please also pray that the Lord will provide everything we need to meet our boy, get to know him, bring him home without a financial burden hanging over our heads. We trust He will provide, He always does. We just don't know how all the time.

Our Failed Match Story

It was a Monday morning. The day we were swept onto the fastest, craziest emotional rollercoaster of this second adoption journey.

Let me just back up a bit here.

We have been actively waiting, meaning our home study is updated and our profile is being shown to potential birthmoms and social workers in the foster care system, for almost 9 months. In those 9 months we have been contacted about 15-20 cases. Of those cases we have said yes to about 10. Sometimes we have to say no because the placement fees are too high, or there are needs that are beyond our capacities, or there are risks that we can't take on. We have to be honest. Brutally honest with ourselves and our worker about our fears, abilities, finances. Completely honest despite our incredible longing for more children, despite the time that has been ticking by, despite our knowledge of our calling to adopt. We have to be honest about every situation. Talk about self-awareness! My goodness.

This "ready and waiting stage" is also hard because it is so unpredictable and the waves are intense. One week we could get emails about 3 different cases, and have to wait a week to hear back about their decision. Sometimes a birthmom changes her mind about the adoption plan. Sometimes DHS has to step in and the baby/child is placed into foster care, for whatever reason. (There really are so many different situations.) And sometimes we could wait an entire month before we are contacted about a new case.  

Every time we say "no" our hearts break a little because we wish we had more finances available, or that we had a wheelchair accessible home, or hundred million things. We so wish we could say yes every time. And I cry and pray over those little ones.

Every time we say "yes" and it doesn't work out, for whatever reason -- another family is chosen, the birthmom chooses to parent, extra fees are calculated and much too high -- we are crushed. I cry and pray over these as well. I remember their due dates, their birth dates. And I will probably carry them with me forever.

And maybe you're wondering why you haven't heard about the 10 cases we have had said yes to? Honestly, sometimes we don't even tell our parents. It's hard enough looking at each other each morning we wait to hear about a birthmother's decision, and to tell him that she chose another family? Heartbreaking. Defeating. (Not that it's a contest by any means and anyone "wins." But defeat. despair, sorrow? I don't know what to call getting some hope knock out of you.) Maybe it's selfish. Maybe it's self-preservation. But sometimes I can only handle one other person knowing our hope and hurt. I don't want to answer the hard questions over and over again. I don't want to get the well-meaning, extra-long comfort hugs at every family event. I would cry. At every hug. At every event. And be the crazy cousin that never stops crying!! Really. And I cry ugly so...we keep it all close and keep moving forward.

And I know God has the best in mind for every one of those little babies, which is probably the one and only thing that keeps my head up and from spiraling into some sort of depression, so we trust Him and know He also is holding our family in His hands. And one day, one day, OUR child will come home to us.

Okay, so we've been waiting for 9 months. And then the email. Our case manager at Legacy of Adoption emailed about a birthmom out of state who had had her baby in December and they needed immediate placement. A stork drop, we in the adoption world call it. A baby boy already born, three weeks old, waiting for his forever family. We said Yes! And waited to hear back from Anita about the birthmom's decision. We didn't tell anyone. Because, I mean, we've been here so many times. Three stork drops before. Three emails exactly like this one -- baby already born, waiting. And three times we've been crushed. So the good man and I talked about what we might do in the off chance (ha) we were chosen (giggle giggle).

And I don't mean to make light of this wait time or being chosen. We were excited. We were thrilled. We were mentally and emotionally preparing to go see this baby. But we were cautious. We were hesitant to throw ourselves with reckless abandon in love with this baby. Because, chances are, as history had taught us, we wouldn't be chosen. And sometimes the only thing you have left to do is laugh at the craziness of the situation. All night we prayed and held our breath. But what if we ARE?

Tuesday morning my phone died. And I had small group so the Bea and I were rushing around the house getting ready. I jumped in the shower and yelled, "Eat your food!" over the sounds of the water. And looked for my comfy pants as I yelled, "Go potty!" across the house. And charged my phone a little while I brushed massive tangles out of beautiful, curly hair. I mean, you know how it goes...

And we ran to the van. In the garage I got a text from Anita that said, "CALL ME!" So I called her while I buckled in the squirmy, cranky, just had my nest of hair brushed and I hate everything kid. With phone pinned between my ear and shoulder Anita says, "It's you!" And I was speechless. Dumbfounded. And the tears were already escaping and running. All I could muster was, "Whuuuuuut?!" And she says, laughing, "that's not the response I was expecting!" Then I gathered myself and said, "Yes! Yes!"

So I got in the van and started to back out, because we were running late to small group. Then I said, "What am I doing?!" And thought, we've got to get our baby boy! And called the good man to tell him the news. And he was just as flabbergasted as me.

Not the expected response. || This is hard. Because everyone expects that we are giddy and joyful and have been waiting sooooooo long we've got to be stupid happy. But really, we hold back. Much like the pregnant-again woman who recently endured a miscarriage. Excited, yet...we know. Life has been ugly and we are no longer ignorant of loss. Every minute I am on the verge of tears. Even right this morning I brushed my teeth and nearly sobbed because of it all. The waiting. The paper work. The calls of hope. The calls of hope shattered. Let's face it, buckling a cranky girl in her car seat was not the moment I expected to learn I would be a mother again. And when we say "Yes!" we do wholeheartedly, but in the back of our minds we know the truth. We know nothing is guaranteed. We know this all could turn on its head in an instant.

And it does.

We made a game plan, as I sat in the van half backed out of the garage while the Bea whined in the back about having to be in a car seat when the car isn't moving. (and bless her little heart, she had no idea why everything changed in that moment) The good man and I planned our next moves. The rest of the day involved rushing to the bank to take out a loan for the placement fees. Packing all the things I could think that we might need for a hotel stay for a week (while the ICPC cleared). And calls to family because we need people ready to care for our little girl when we travel for a week!

I had a quick phone call with the out-of-state adoption agency and they said they were expecting placement to take place on Friday. FRIDAY. Three whole days of waiting to meet and hold our little boy. I gave myself a pep talk. "You can do this!"

The packing. Rather, the unpacking. Years of baby things bought, collected, prayed over, cried over. Things I had bought giddy and blissfully ignorant of a silly thing called "infertility." Things packed away some 9 years. Things I had forgotten about. Things I had thought about every. single. day. In the rush and hurry of the day, the crazy levels of anticipation and scurry, time stood still as I opened the lid of this special blue tote and dug inside. And for the first time in almost a decade there was actual hope pulsing through my veins.

The next two days flew by in a slow-motion frenzy. Holding my breath every second, remembering I'm traveling to meet our son and having a giddy/anxiety attack every time, packing, coordinating with family, looking at hotels flights, picking up baby things from friends...It sounds so simple and carefree typing it here. But every moment was bathed in anticipation. Every second counting down. I actually had the hours marked and was waiting for the call to travel. We have a son. He is in a different state. And we can't go meet him for the first time yet. I mean, time. is. frozen.

Thursday afternoon I sat in a pile of baby clothes and swaddles and I was stupid happy. I let go. I let myself go there. Stupid happy. Imagined the weight of his little body in the onesie I had bought 10 years ago. Imagined life in the hotel with him -- sleeping, cuddles, changing, bathing. And nursing. A friend gave me a Lact-aid, a nursing supplimenter system, and I just stared at it in disbelief. I'm really going to get to do this?!

I got up from my pile of baby treasures and called the case worker. Hoping for a good word.

Good news! The birth mom had signed the papers! I danced in the dining room.

But there was another glitch. Medical bills. The birth mom had been in the ICU before and after the birth, and it is agency policy that adoptive families pay the cost of the birth not covered by insurance. She didn't have insurance. And might not get Medicaid. And we won't know for sure for months. Could we pay her medical bills?

I stood in the kitchen and scolded myself for even opening that stupid box of baby things. For getting to my stupid happy place. And I thought, Jesus, why? What on this god-forsaken earth are you doing?! I could feel the rug being ripped out from under us. We couldn't pay. We could barely pay the placement fees, let alone the travel expenses. And the case manager said something to the effect of, "I hate to say no. I hate to let families down, especially when we get so far into it, but if I'm honest, I'm not sure I would be comfortable moving this forward with anyone at this point, just because we don't have a clear view of what the medical bills actually are." And it was comforting. Not comforting to the fact that we were losing this baby, but that it wasn't simply our lack of finances, just the overall unknown. Then I felt so guilty and sad. That little boy is still waiting and how long will he have to wait to go to his forever home? And I wanted to say, "Screw it!! We'll leave now." But I know that would be impossible. And we didn't feel any peace with the medical bills. Once that was an obstacle, we knew it wasn't right for our family. It wouldn't be fair to Bea, it wouldn't be fair to him.

[pause] Let's talk blame. Some people might read this and get mad. "Why would they get your hopes up?!" "How could they do that?" "Why didn't she have insurance if she knew she was pregnant?!" And my response to all those questions and comments is this:

It's not about us. It's not about me. It's about the baby who needs a family and the birthmom who is making the most selfless, self-aware decision of her life -- she is not able to give proper care. They, adoption agencies, don't mean to get our hopes up. It just happens. It's part of what we sign on for because we are parents at heart. They need to find families who can take placement now. This second. Who are willing to step up even without all the details. Because that baby is waiting and every second counts. As far as the insurance or the choices the birthmom makes -- I think it's safe to say that if she had made the all perfect decisions for all of her life she would not be in this situation. And we would not be getting this call. And we pour out grace and mercy and love, rather than anger and judgement. Because none of us is perfect. It's not my place to judge whether or not she has done the responsible thing in the past. It's not about me or what I think or my convenience. We don't know her story or the reasons she has for choosing adoption, or why she waited until the birth. She already has more courage and strength than I could ever hope to gain. No one is to blame, least of all the birthmom. So please, choose grace. Grace. Grace. Abundant grace. [unpause]

So we said our goodbyes. She had our profile on file and would call if anything came up. And I made my way to the bathroom because, in that crushing minute, I just got my period. Thirteen days late and of all days, at the moment I lost my baby boy, it shows up. How...fitting. And I packed up all the baby boxes and shoved them in the spare room.

I called Jason and told him. I put in a movie for the Bea. I made coffee. I did laundry. I fixed my bed. Like a homemaker zombie. I called my mom. She had scrambled at work to get some time off for when we traveled. She said she was still coming down the next day, just because.

For the next two days I was living in a shadow. I would think, I need to pack my diffuser. I need to ask Mom for her luggage, I need to get a new pack of contacts. Then I would remember, No. No, I don't. Because I'm not going anywhere. 

Friday...the day we were supposed to meet our boy.

My mom. Thank the Lord for my mom. She played and played with the Bea. All day Thursday and all day Friday. And I did laundry, ran the dishwasher, cleaned my room...and wept, sobbed, threw things without worry my little girl would see and wonder what Mama was sad-mad about. I lived as an emotionally and physically exhausted, crampy, weepy, shadowy zombie and it was okay.

Saturday we planned to go to an outdoorsman event downtown with Jason's family. And I was happy for the distraction, although being able to go to the event meant we weren't holding our baby. And it was hard to live with that hovering over every moment for the first few days. The future of us had looked different and now it was back to the same, which, don't get wrong, is amazing. I love our little family. I love our life. But man, we were so close. An almost mama zombie walking through the crowds and booths of fishing and hunting equipment.

Jason went that night to visit his grandma and I went to church with the Bea. Probably the most restorative worship I have ever experienced. Is that even a thing? I think so. It should be if it isn't. God sweeping down from heaven and healing part of my heart that felt dead, giving me just enough strength to feel less like a zombie. Reminding me of the purpose I have now, in this little beautiful life we have, not in the shadow of what would have been. God seeing me -- the woman who had a baby she never held, and bleeding. Sometimes we feel forgotten. Okay, a lot of the times. We grieving ones feel forgotten, unseen. And although no one talked to me that evening, and I'm kind of glad for a big church in that way, I felt seen by the Father.

And Sunday...Sunday was good.

ICPC Approval

Happy May!

When I got the phone call from DHS in January that we had been deemed the intended adoptive family for our little girl, and then getting another call saying we would have to wait until May for the possibility of bringing her home -- May could not come fast enough. And now it is here. And I am wondering how on earth that happened so painfully slow and crazy fast at the same time. The odd and eery time warp that is parenthood I guess. It is May and although our adoption journey is far from over, I breath a deep sigh of relief.

We have survived winter.

It is M A Y.

.     .     .     .     .

It occurs to me that I have not updated ya'll on our progress lately!! Maybe because every time I sit down to do so I get another phone call or email that changes it all again. Seems there is always something going on, but nothing really happen...until NOW!

Our ICPC has been approved!

An ICPC (Interstate Compact for Placement of Children) is a contract agreement between two states or agencies when dealing with state-to-state placements in foster care. It's an agreement between the child's state of origin and the new placement state (MN) stating that MN and our agency will take responsibility for the child and will facilitate post-placement supervision and visits.

Let me just tell you this: It's a HUGE step completed and moving in the right direction. . Piles of paper work filled out, completed, sent in, filed and finally APPROVED.

And...We are currently preparing for our third trip south for some visits and an important court hearing. Prayers are greatly appreciated.

If you have not yet seen it, we have launched a new fundraiser through giveforward.com. You can visit our fundraising page here. I have also included a link to the right. If you can't give anything financially right now, that's okay! Please so think about taking a few moments to click the SUPPORT button to drum up some more traffic for us! Thanks!

The Single Most Moments

The last two weeks, like the weeks before, have been a rollercoaster.  It seems that just when good news, or any news at all of movement, reaches our ears news of a new possible obstacle comes into the other ear. I told the good man that I feel like mountains are sprouting up all around us. And in the moments of no new obstacles, no new mountains there is silence. I am emailing a brick wall.

But before we get into all the mess and aggravation of this journey…lets rejoice over the wonder and miracle and the beauty and the best week of our lives thus far.

. : The First Visit : .

Two weeks ago, on the late evening of February 17th, we packed up the car and headed south on mostly vacant winter roads. We are forever grateful for Bean and her husband Eric for the great distraction they offered us over the weekend before we made the trek south. Eric and Bean came down for a visit, their first getaway since starting their new life together. We had a wonderful time playing games, eating good food, and being distracted from the impending visit.  I know that without this weekend of fun and family  the good man and I would have been complete wrecks, just waiting with each other and nothing to do.

So there we were, just the two of us, headed into the dark and unknown. We’ve been here on this road before, headed to Colorado, back to school, a new chapter. But this, this was different. This was like nothing else. Driving down to meet our little girl for the first time -- completely herself grown and personality formed away and separate from us! And how many parents can say they've taken this trip? We passed truckers and families traveling, people going to work…and I couldn't help but think, How many times have I traveled this road? Hundreds. And have we ever passed a couple making the same pilgrimage? God forgive me for not seeing them. For not offering them a cup of coffee. If nothing else, this journey has taught me you never know. You never know the story of the person in the car beside you. And to offer grace, shovel grace, to be kind because your everyday could be their life changing day.

As morning broke my heart skipped beats again and again. The sun had never looked so bright. The air had never smelled quite so fresh. Newness. We could feel the change in the air, the very tilting of the earth. We entered the city, her hometown. This was a day to remember. And as we ordered our breakfast, I wondered how the people around me were going about their day like nothing amazing, life changing, magnificent was happening today?? And how many times have I gone about my day like any other while that particular day change the course of life for another? How little we think of those around us. How blind am I?

After a trip to the mall, a drive around town, and lunch, we finally checked into our room with enough time for me to run a brush through my hair, change my shirt, and put on deodorant. If there had been time to be upset, I would have been Momzilla. This was not the plan, to meet our little girl without a shower, fresh makeup, and a clean face. But no, there wasn't time to get ready or to get mad. We were clicking in our seat belts and headed toward

The Single Most Defining Moment of Our Lives.

We found the DHS office where our first visit would take place. We took deep breaths together before walking  up the sidewalk. The good man grabbed my hand tight and grounded me. I was in management mode. Managing my breathing, my walking, my every expression. Just to make sure I didn't fall apart from nerves. He opened the door and the super friendly security guard greeted us, thankful for his smile. And as we stood, shifting our feet together, the good man tapped me on the shoulder and nodded to his right. And there….right there next to me sitting backward on a chair was the most beautiful face I had ever seen. Everything in that room fell away. It sounds cheesy and cliché, but oh-so true. Perfect cuteness. Perfect dark brown hair with bouncing curls and big brown eyes. And that was it. I was undone. I was determined. I was focused. She had me for the rest of my life. With one look. My heart opened wide all the nooks and crannies, corners and hidden places. There was no turning back now. And I knew in that moment that she would be mine for the rest of my life even if this all went sideways and all we got with her was this short week. She would always be mine. i was undone with one look. 

And I had to turn away before the tears started streaming then and there in that DHS lobby. Tears of joy -- for this is the the daughter we have loved and prayed for for nearly two years, her specifically, and she is sitting next to me. Finally. Tears of sorrow and weight -- because she is so close and so far away, I can't hug her, I can't pick her little self up into my arms. She doesn't even know who I am. Yet. He grabbed my hand again and squeezed strength into my soul. And as we sat down to wait the good man whispered our hearts' prayer into my ear. We were crying out to the Father together in that room.

Our names were called and I put face to the voice who called on the phone for weeks and weeks. The social worker and I was shaking. This is the moment. She took us into a room with a window to look into the room with HER. And we will call her Sweet Girl. The social worker talked about her and told us what would happen. And I choked back tears. This moment. The moment we meet our daughter. This only happens once. And finally, FINALLY, we are here. We walked around the corner and walked into the room. The first word I said to her, our little sweet girl, was "Hi." And the first word she said to me was "Two." She was two years old. We read books and the good man made her giggle with monkey noises. She traced my hand with pen and paper and we made it into a turkey. We played with a ball and colored pictures. And it was the most magical two hours of our lives together. And also the most awkward first meeting of our child we could have never imagined. We left for the hotel and were floating.

Over the next few days we would spend a total of 20 hours with our sweet girl and loved every minute. We played at the park, flew a kite, played with bubbles, fed some geese, played at the PlayPlace, went to the hotel to read every book we brought in less than 30 minutes. (The good man finally agrees we need more books, to which I replied, "You can never have too many books!") We played with playdough, colored a birdhouse, read more books, went bowling, played at the park more, took a nap (She cuddled up to me and fell right asleep at the hotel and my heart melted!). We also went to the Science Museum, the library, and ate at the most amazing cupcake shop in the world.

We were told she is a little uneasy about men. So the fact that she runs to the good man, lets him pick her up, giggles with him, and likes to play games with him at the park is a good sign for us.

And how can I explain to you how this has changed me? Changed me, yes, and still not quite. At peace. Brought out something within me that I never knew existed. Finally knowing and understanding what it is to be content. With this girl laughing and smiling and giggling in my arms I have felt . :completely myself: . I did not know it was possible to feel this way. Not to say that this completes me, that she fixes what was broken or hurt, that she makes we whole because that is not her job. She has no job. And also not to say that my life with the good man had been incomplete or less. Just that…I know now that motherhood is my life's calling, this is my purpose. This is what God has made me to do. And to be doing what you were made to do…there is no better feeling. I didn't care that my hair was messy, that I was smiling like a fool. I didn't care what others thought of me, if I was being too goofy or silly. I wasn’t trying or forcing it, I didn't feel awkward or uncertain. And maybe I was just to full of joy to remember those parts. I don't care. And I know that motherhood is not all giggles and smiles. But in these moments, I felt whole, content, at peace, knowing. To be doing what you were called to do, purposed to do, there is no better feeling.

And the single most heartbreaking moment finally, inevitably, came.

We dropped her off with her foster father for the last time that week. She hugged us goodbye and we took the most difficult steps of our lives. We turned away, walked away, and drove away. Drove home without our daughter. My heart was bleeding every mile. We got home to our home, unbelievably empty and impossibly quiet. And it was as if the last week was a dream. We had to talk about her to make it real, real in this world we live in day to day and not just real in her world, in her town. We had to talk about her even though every word tore at my soul. Every word a tear fell and I just could not believe that we had left her, that we came home without her. Home is not home anymore. Not without her. I know we had to but I just can't believe this page of the story.

And now…we are counting the days, the hours, until we see her again. In two short and impossibly long weeks I will see her most beautiful face again. And sadly, the good man will stay home to work. And I will again hold her and smile with her and play with her and read with her and say goodbye to her and drive away home. And my heart will bleed with every mile.

We know that just as God has placed her in our lives almost two years ago, with the first phone call, that he had not kept her in our lives only to have her leave us forever. We know that he will work it all out, in his time and his way. We trust that she will one day be riding home with us. And home will be home again with her. We know and believe this. But we do need your prayers. There are many details that need to be worked out, many people involved -- and not all are helpful. I have not talked to the social worker in the last two weeks, since the visit, which is a little disconcerting. I have basically been emailing into the void about questions and concerns and updates. We're trying to make final plans for the next visit at the end of the month, or at least I am, because no one is responding to me. Maybe this is a lesson in trust and surrender. So I am learning to trust and believe that God is working out all the details behind the scenes, working in hearts and minds, softening hearts, and working out the paperwork, the details. And I may not see it, but I can know he is active and faithful.

And if, IF, bringing her home is not His plan, because I do not know his infinite ways, I know we will see her again. Somewhere, somehow and I will tell her I had loved her from the start, and she had me with one look. 

I can't tell you specifics, but please pray for every step of this process, for everyone involved -- social workers, the foster parents, judges, for this sweet girl, and for us. Pray that the family is blessed and that God would work in their lives, that this little one would be protected and grow stronger each day, that she would remember me and all that we did. That she would adjust well to this new transition and be protected from anything negative from this new situation. Pray for us, that we would have faith, trust in the Father to work out the details, that we would be able to find and see the joy given on this journey.  Pray also that God would work financially. We are cutting into our post-placement money raised to work out these cross country visits. It's a little worrisome, but I know that He will provide more than we need, when we need it, just as He has before. And pray too that the Lord would prepare us and equip us for the chapters that lie ahead. That we would be grateful and praise Him for whatever He brings and gives, knowing all is in His grace. 

A Grand Adventure

In glancing over my most recent posts I find myself a tad unemotional. And perhaps so have you. Maybe I'm being hard on myself. This whole process has taken me through the wringer emotionally and sometimes (okay, maybe a lot of the time) I hold it in. Smiles, tears, anger. I hold it in, tight like it's the last few cents to my name. And it a way it is -- bits myself and I can't afford to lose anymore. 

And it could be that I process everything internally for a good few days before I write about the feel of it. So there is a lag time, which is probably for the better, as I like to use kind words and share joy rather than raw frustration and anger. 

But here's a little more of myself.

I spend a bit of my time each day in the bedroom set up especially for a specific child in mind. I can't believe we've gotten to this point! And I touch the toys, run my fingers over the pages of the books chosen with care over, what seems like, a lifetime, and squeeze the stuffed animals. And I smile a smile I wish I could capture on film. Yes, film. Real, touch with your hands, film. Because this is suddenly becoming real. These toys will be loved. These books will be read. This bed will be slept in. There will be little toes and little hands and wide eyes ready for adventure. My heart jumps!! I can almost smell it. Dreams cracking into reality. 

And I cry. Tears so full. Because some days the wait is just too much to bear. I wonder if we'll ever get there. Some days the emptiness of this room, these arms, weighs too heavy. I work, hard, to count the joy. And maybe each day is made both easier and harder because we know the little one for whom we wait and prepare. She is out there, right now, playing eating smiling laughing crying. And I smile at the thought of her and my heart breaks a little more for the ache and waiting. Yes, that smile with raw joy and sorrow. 

I find it easier to talk about her with family as if the possibility is way off. The pages of the mental calendar are stretched to great distances in my mind. Because if it's far off, and if IF it doesn't happen, it was never within my grasp in the first place. Less loss felt? Maybe not logical, certainly not less loss at all. But this is how I cope. This is how I live both present, and emotionally contained. Because one cannot run errands and bawl without looking like a mad woman. And nothing gets done so well with tears and snot in the way. So I cope. And more than cope. I hunt for joy, count joy, share joy, and hopefully grow a little bit here and there.

If there was only one thing infertility has taught me it is this: There comes a time in any experience with grief and loss that one must get back to the living -- living, real people. living a life. the simple daily tasks of living. How? I have no idea. It doesn't hurt less but we've got to keep moving, simply because...we must. And however you can is good enough for the now. So I'm not too hard on myself for seeming detached or matter of fact. But I do understand it might seem weird to others.  Grace. shovel grace on me. I have learned to heave grace on others -- the hard and heavy, and fluffy light. The hurting, the angry, the misunderstanding, the ill-informed. Just pile on the grace. 

And now to. . .

. : The GRAND ADVENTURE : .

Something magical is happening pretty soon. And when I'm alone and speak it out loud, without the holding it together, without the coping, without restraint or care for the tears, I dance. 

The good man and I are going to visit our little girl!!

In a few weeks we travel to her hometown and will meet her, get to know her, play with her, hold her, hear her laughter, and see her beautiful face!! We can hardly contain our joy and excitement. We are not sure how the visits will go, how much time we will have, or what's going to happen at all. But we are going! And that's all that matters, that's all I can think about. And God help us when we come home. 

We could really use your prayers. We are preparing for a long trip and have virtually no idea what will happen. We're hoping and praying to meet the foster parents, to visit with the social workers and have at least one unsupervised visit. We could use your prayers as we head down and as we come back home again leaving to continue the wait. 

Thank you for your continued support and prayers as we make our way through this adoption journey. We are grateful to have such a wonderful community around us, our village, who love adoption as much as we do. 

We are hoping that our travel costs will be reimbursed. We think it's best to go for at least one visit, but financially, we hope we aren't stretched. We have complete faith that God will provide for this little family spread out so far. But if you do think of us and feel called to help, or if you have been looking for our fundraising website and noticed it completed, I started a new fundraiser. Go to the link listed to the right. And again, as always, we appreciate every bit. Pennies and more. And prayer.  Yes, prayer is always accepted, treasured, and the best.

. : T H A N K : Y O U : . {again and again}

I don't even know how to begin this post. So much love shared and felt...showered on and stood in awe. Undeserved kindness and support, mountains moved and a village made.

When we took the leap onto this path, hand in hand facing unknown and giants, we had no idea the wonderful, beautiful we would encounter, even in the darkest corners and deepest forest.

And amazingly...

HOME STUDY PAID

and what's more?

  

we are

  

 HOME STUDY APPROVED

.     .     .     .     .

Can we just take this moment to scream and cheer and cry and faint because, people, this is HUGE! And I am breathing a lot easier these days...

Family, friends -- new and old, friends of friends I've never met, and complete strangers who stumbled upon us and our story: we could not have done it without you. All of you. From the penny found in the driveway to the first and most mind-blowing donation -- each stops my heart and roots my belief deeper and deeper that adoption is a community event.

We didn't know what we were doing when we started and adoption fundraiser. Really. We wondered if anyone would respond. We wondered if people might think us rude, or at least inappropriate, to air our "private" business and have the audacity to mention money. I was seriously scared, with no idea what might happen.

But as I filled out the application and shared my dreams of fundraising, I felt a sense of urgency and the weight of truth:

We, children of God, have all been adopted. And as believers we all can relate to the orphan, alone and forgotten, the need for family. And the fact of our adoption only brings to light the fact that adoption is God's plan.

And all this trinkled down to reassure me, bring me hope -- when there is an orphan, a child in need...they will come. The village will surround.

To  simply say that the village did surround is a gross understatement. The village, YOU, did more than surround. You encouraged every day, supported every step, cheered every victory, even the small; groaned with us when we needed to vent, and gave comfort when we were all but defeated. You offered your time, your projects and even opened your homes! And you prayed. You PRAYED. And we are still in disbelief of the miracles seen last fall. 

Together. we + you = completed a home study, raised enough to completely cover the cost of it all, PLUS the post placement visits!

Thank you, those two simple words, seem to be less than enough. I want to hug each of you, bring you a favorite drink, jump up and down with you all! Thank you. THANK YOU!! We are so grateful for you and none of this could have happened without you!!

I wrestled with the idea of sharing the breakdown of raised funds. Is it appropriate? Is it bragging? Is it too personal? But you know what, I don't care about all that. As we said when we started out on this journey, you are all apart of bringing this family together. And we want you to see what you have so generously and selflessly, cheerfully accomplished!

 Funds Raised                                                   Adoption Fees

Online Fundraiser      $1585                       Home Study    $3000

Checks in mail              450                 Background Studies   140

Photography                 265              Post Placement Visits  1400
Bird Bath Sales             225                          Total:        $4540
Garage Sale #1            1751
Garage Sale #2              350
               Total:      $4626

Can I just tell you that, honestly, I thought we might raise...$1000?

We raised 4 times that. I am still spinning. 

So there it is: the majorly-overdue-awesome-news-filled update. With the home study completed and approved, and paid for, we are onto the waiting. People call it the fun part, but as a large portion of my adult life has been spent waiting, I'm not entirely thrilled by it. 

I am thrilled to be onto the next adventure our Good and Great Father has in mind for us. 

If you are still interesting in helping us out as we get closer to bringing our family together, we are continuing to use GiveForward to raise funds for travel expenses, when the time comes. Our new fundraiser page is here. 

Thanks for reading, as always...
and thanks again for all your prayers, support, and encouragement.

An Update LONG Overdue...

The kitchen sink is clogged. And that dead black goo is coming out the drain. Dropped an egg on our carpeted kitchen floor. And the jelly knife fell onto my just-washed-and-dried hair. And…did I mention I ran into the garage with my car?

What can I say? It's been one of those weeks. Full of those stupid, small, little mishaps -- until they pile up and you think you're going crazy. What else can possibly happen now? I walk around with a dead stare in my eyes, learned helplessness at this point. Like playing dodge ball in high school. I just stand at the line ready for the inevitable hit. At least they are foam balls. At least I'm still standing. The house is still standing. And the bills are getting paid. I think...

So what better time to write an update. Life has been crazy-gone-nuts for the past three months and I thought with the new year that things would settle down. Nope. And I was silly to think that my life would reach some sort of calm, therapeutic lull. I mean, come on, my life?

If I had a reality show, I would sing this update to you. I can see it now. Family and friends dancing to amazing and weird choreography…Man, I wish I had my own show. But alas…

So what happened??

. : o c t o b e r : .

We were well into the home study process with two visits completed. And we also started the home buying process! So the paper work was flying and our files are still recovering from that. Amazingly, though, both processes require almost exactly the same bits (or piles) of information. Our kitchen table turned into file pile central: one for the house, another for the agency.

We also started cleaning and painting in our soon-to-be home. It's the good man's grandma's. This was perfect! Painting for two weeks straight without furniture to move and make messy. And I am so glad the good man encouraged me to keep going. I can't imagine doing any painting now!

And we were thrown for a crazy wonderful loop when we got a call in September about a little girl who would be available for adoption soon. (!!!) We hadn't told hardly a soul and didn't want to get our hopes up to quickly, only to have them sink like an anchor. So we kept going, one step and then another.

It was a crazy couple months by then end of October -- calling social workers, adoption agencies, DHS workers, state offices, realtors, mortgage lenders…and trying to maintain some sense of sanity...

Our final home study visit was on Halloween night at our house. Still empty and freezing, we finished up some paper work and high fived! One step closer!!

. : n o v e m b e r : .

Pretty much more furies of paper work -- always one more thing needed. And still trying to get the house ready to move into.

A staffing was conducted to decide the future placement for this little girl. And we were decided as the intended adoptive family!! We expected to hear immediately after the staffing what they decided but it was a couple of days later and several phone calls away. But we are excited and beyond thrilled. We were told to look forward to phone calls and emails with her current foster parents in order to establish a bond with her. 

We closed on the house at the end of the month, right before Thanksgiving. Needless to say we had

plenty to be grateful for this year. And we moved into our new home with the amazing help of family and friends. 

And fresh venison was had by all.

A stack of crazy paper work still sits in the corner, but we are relieved that all that file hunting is behind us!

. : d e c e m b e r : .

…was pure craziness!! We unpacked, cleaned our apartment, signed the end of lease papers and were waiting for a special traveler and new family member -- a new brother-in-law!! Bean was eagerly anticipating the long awaited arrival of her fiancé, from Cameroon, who she met in Moscow. I know!  After he was told again and again to keep waiting for his visa, it finally was time for him to pick it up and get on the plane!

So for the first time ever, we met him and welcomed him home. And the timing was perfect because the wedding was set for two weeks later! I'm telling you…Pure. Craziness.

We hadn't heard anything from any social workers or DHS staff at this point since the staffing in the beginning of November. I was feeling really low and kind of defeated. Sent out several emails with no reply and wallowed into a ball of yarn.

On Friday the 13th, after climbing the ladder of DHS staff by way of emails and phone calls, I finally got the amazing information we had been longing for! Contact information for the foster parents and…A PICTURE!!! The good man was home when I opened the email and I just bawled with joy all over his shirt. That cute little face and that perfect smile!

Then I packed my bags and headed to the tundra called Northern Minnesota to help with the wedding. I was the matron of honor…and self designated bossy planner! Sure there were crazy moments, like when everything Bean touched broke -- her coat, her necklace, her capo. Or when we had to practically make a seating chart for the cars every time we left the house. But it was a beautiful wedding. Not a dry eye in the place, except for Dad, but he never cries. IF he did cry, I think all of us girls would stop the wedding and post it on instagram. For. Real. The happy couple rode off into the blistering cold to enjoy their honeymoon!

 And back to the real world. Can I just say that my struggle to hibernate was made only worse this horribly frozen year? Oh, it was terrible. I wrote the foster parents an email just after Christmas, not wanting to jump into their holiday celebration. "Hi, you're foster daughter, whom you love, is now going to live with me." No, I didn't write that, but how does one write one of the most bittersweet letters there can ever be? I did my best and sent it off.

. : j a n u a r y : .

The sink is clogged. And stinky. And I still haven't heard from the foster parents. But I'm told that they have been busy with family these past few weeks. Grace, I am giving grace.

But more, I have just been informed that this little one will not be cleared to leave her state until May. Five more months of waiting. And I am just really struggling to be positive about this. Okay, positive is not the right word. There is no positive to this. She was mine, in my heart, from the moment I heard about her and no mom wants to be away from her child. So, really, I am just trying not to be negative about this. I got myself a coffee when I picked up the plunger and I am listening to Coldplay and the Karmin cover of Look At Me Now.

How strange. This confusion of feelings.

Never have I felt it more than today. Excited and overjoyed to think that this summer we will have a little one, our little one, running around our house and our backyard. And the heartbreak and pain of waiting another season to bring her home.

I feel happy and grateful to be celebrating my Dad's birthday tomorrow -- so thankful to have his love and silliness another year. And the sorrow as today marks 18 years my grandma, his mother, has been gone. I think as I get older and remember childhood, the things that I missed, that went over my head, are hitting me now. Singing happy birthday in the van as we traveled to Grammy's funeral…just shatters my heart this year.

And as the mistakes of a friend are made known to the world, I want to show compassion yet I am angered. I have seen this news before, many times, and never once felt so conflicted. Should I have been more compassionate to others? Should I be harder now?

But for right now, I sit in my new house, which has seen the growings up of many others and has been loved well, holding tight to the knowledge that there is a plan and gathering courage to wait and hope and let the joy flow freely, celebrating the fact that we are one step closer to growing our family…and in awe that life could look so different in just a few months. October to now, now to May...

I will pull up the bootstraps and unclog the sink.

And wash the jelly out of my hair.