A birthday party for Jesus at my house this afternoon got me thinking about gifts. We had a cake, sang 'Happy Birthday' and went around the table and told Jesus what we'd like to give Him. I gave my plans. I have lots of things going on and I like to think I can anticipate His next move in my life. He keeps trying to let me know that He can outwit me with out so much as a blink of an eyelash but I like to frustrate myself by playing the game anyway. This year, I'd like the plans to be solely His. My 5 year old daughter wanted to give Jesus a telescope so He could see all the stars.
"Don't you think He can see all the stars from Heaven, Honey?"
"Yes, if He closes one eye.", she replied squinting and contorting her little face to show me how.
As we wound down the party I started to think of who wasn't there. My late husband was one. He would have liked the tradition. Carli was too young when he died to start it but we did talk about it one night. Next I thought of Alex. I thought of what a gift she was to her parents and how much they must have realized that last year, which was their first Christmas with her. I thought about what traditions that she would have with her parents and would they maybe have a birthday party for Jesus as well? It's been a while since I've heard from Alex's parents. Maybe 4 weeks or so. I've been so wrapped up in Christmas chaos that I hardly noticed, until today. I've been evenly keeled about everything but emotions sneak up on me once in a while. I run at too fast a pace for anything to catch up usually.
After everyone left I decided that I needed to head to the gym. My brain was going too fast for comfort and a good workout always does the trick for me. I loaded myself and Carli into the car and headed for the 'Y'. As I drove, I noticed the twinkling Christmas lights adorning the neighborhood houses and shrubs. My mind recalled a recent picture of Alex. She is 14 months now. She was sitting on a hillside in the grass. Her mother had dressed her a prim purple pleated skirt with grey knit tights and brown riding boots. Her hair swept back and to the side by a matching plum colored bow. I focused on her face. Her round chubby face has the sweetest cheeks. I thought of what it would be like to sit her on my lap like I used to do with Carli and kiss her baby little face over and over again. As I continued to daydream, I could almost smell baby lotion and feel her skin on my lips. Before I could bring myself around, I was sobbing in the driver's seat trying to contain myself so I didn't upset Carli.
How am I going to workout like this? I wanted to turn the car around and come back tomorrow. Thankfully my sensibility took over and I resigned to the fact that the workout may be just what I needed. I could cry later. I tried to get the images out of my mind as I checked Carli into KidWatch and walked onto the gym floor. In my distraction and disorganization from being lost in thought, I put everything every where and just sat down in the stretching area to try to get myself warmed up. As I leaned this way and that, I wandered through my social networking sites on my phone and glanced at posts. I came across a post from a man that I highly respect. It was shorter than most of his usual and it didn't look funny so I clicked to see what needed reflection. "God...Your love makes it worth it all" came off of the screen at me. I think I stopped breathing for a few seconds. My mind started rifling through images of what 'it all' was to me. Was His love worth it? Yes! I don't even recognize my relationship with God. I thought I had God all figured out and stored in a tidy box before Greg died. My pregnancy and adoption journey with Alex was what drew me near to Him and got me to ask the one question He was waiting to hear from me, "Who are you, really?". I could never have what I have in Christ today if not for those trials. I didn't choose this but I am strangely grateful for what I gained in the endurance.
I typed a reply but I heard myself say "and I lost a spouse and a child in the same life" most find it puzzling who don't know Jesus to hear me say that I would do it again to have what I have in Him. I wanted to reply again when I was struck by a recollection of a conversation that he and I had in my car in the summer. He had lost a child and a spouse too. The events weren't the same but the pain was. He knows what I mean. I have some idea as to what makes makes him post that statement and know that he can stand behind what he said. Because it's true.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
The Final Countdown
Tests, final paperwork, phone calls to make arrangements and my mother's arrival signaled that I was really at the crest of this wave. Save any early contractions, I had a date and a time for the arrival of Alex. Her parents were deliriously happy. Why wouldn't they be? The end of 5 years of waiting was almost over for them. They were at a crest too. For me, it wasn't as happy as I was waiting my wave to come in to shore. I'd been riding this one for 9 months and I was frankly anxious to get off my board.
I picked up my mom at the airport. The Arrivals area at the Key West International Airport is about the size of a finished basement in a large split level house. You can't miss the luggage carousel, it's the only one they have not mention, it is right next to the door as soon as you walk in from the tarmac. I knew she wouldn't miss me. I was the size of blue whale. I sat and waited until I saw her come through the automatic doors. We hugged and chatted about her trip but it wasn't a happy greeting. We both knew what was coming. It wasn't so much what was happening but the anticipation of the unknown when something big is about to go down.
I wanted to put it out of my mind and just focus on the fact that soon, Alex's father would be out of my life. No more drunken phone calls, tirades, threats, sobbing pleads, and frustration. The idea that I would never have to speak to him again should have made me giddy. When ever I'd get sad, I'd talk out loud to my mom about how happy I was for Brett and Kayla. It was a happy time. Two people were going to become parents! No one was forcing me to do anything, it was my decision so why was I so sad? No matter what I tried to do to rationalize that being sad was selfish, my heart wouldn't have it. I had to accept what I was feeling.
The morning came when it was time for me to go to the hospital. I had to report at 5AM for my c-section. Brett and Kayla would be meeting me there for the big arrival. The plan went that my mom would stay home with my daughter until later and my wonderful miracle of a friend, Angel would drive me to the hospital. I had my bags packed for the hospital from the night before. I sat on my bed in the dark and waiting for Angel's text message to let me know that she'd be downstairs waiting for me. I couldn't help but think of my first pregnancy. The contrast was polar. Carli was not only planned but prayed for. My late husband and I were so thrilled to await her arrival. My onset of contractions kept us up all night and the excitement was tangible between us as my body let us know that our little girl would be joining our family in a matter of hours. It was such a special moment as we drove together in the car to the hospital. He was by my side the whole time and his face let me know that he was elated to share in this and didn't want to miss a moment. This morning, I never felt so alone. I wasn't going to welcome a new baby with her father and bring her home. I wasn't fantasizing about what it would be like to take her into her new room and rock my new little precious as I placidly stared down at her. I was going to deliver a child that would be leave with someone else. The sadness and the reality covered over me like a canopy.
I lumbered down the stairs with my bag after briefly waking my mother to tell her that I was leaving. I made my way into the car and we drove to the hospital. It was still dark and and silent on the island. The revelers and bar staff were all gone. Just me, Angel and her car.
We pulled up to the front door and the bright lights of the main lobby beckoned us from the black of the empty parking lot. I hugged Angel good bye and walked toward the light as the doors parted for me.
I picked up my mom at the airport. The Arrivals area at the Key West International Airport is about the size of a finished basement in a large split level house. You can't miss the luggage carousel, it's the only one they have not mention, it is right next to the door as soon as you walk in from the tarmac. I knew she wouldn't miss me. I was the size of blue whale. I sat and waited until I saw her come through the automatic doors. We hugged and chatted about her trip but it wasn't a happy greeting. We both knew what was coming. It wasn't so much what was happening but the anticipation of the unknown when something big is about to go down.
I wanted to put it out of my mind and just focus on the fact that soon, Alex's father would be out of my life. No more drunken phone calls, tirades, threats, sobbing pleads, and frustration. The idea that I would never have to speak to him again should have made me giddy. When ever I'd get sad, I'd talk out loud to my mom about how happy I was for Brett and Kayla. It was a happy time. Two people were going to become parents! No one was forcing me to do anything, it was my decision so why was I so sad? No matter what I tried to do to rationalize that being sad was selfish, my heart wouldn't have it. I had to accept what I was feeling.
The morning came when it was time for me to go to the hospital. I had to report at 5AM for my c-section. Brett and Kayla would be meeting me there for the big arrival. The plan went that my mom would stay home with my daughter until later and my wonderful miracle of a friend, Angel would drive me to the hospital. I had my bags packed for the hospital from the night before. I sat on my bed in the dark and waiting for Angel's text message to let me know that she'd be downstairs waiting for me. I couldn't help but think of my first pregnancy. The contrast was polar. Carli was not only planned but prayed for. My late husband and I were so thrilled to await her arrival. My onset of contractions kept us up all night and the excitement was tangible between us as my body let us know that our little girl would be joining our family in a matter of hours. It was such a special moment as we drove together in the car to the hospital. He was by my side the whole time and his face let me know that he was elated to share in this and didn't want to miss a moment. This morning, I never felt so alone. I wasn't going to welcome a new baby with her father and bring her home. I wasn't fantasizing about what it would be like to take her into her new room and rock my new little precious as I placidly stared down at her. I was going to deliver a child that would be leave with someone else. The sadness and the reality covered over me like a canopy.
I lumbered down the stairs with my bag after briefly waking my mother to tell her that I was leaving. I made my way into the car and we drove to the hospital. It was still dark and and silent on the island. The revelers and bar staff were all gone. Just me, Angel and her car.
We pulled up to the front door and the bright lights of the main lobby beckoned us from the black of the empty parking lot. I hugged Angel good bye and walked toward the light as the doors parted for me.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Waiting Room Jitters
After my trip to Disney the only thing left to do was wait. I had to sit around for a whole three weeks and think about what was going to happen next. My mother would be coming to stay with me in a few days. She wanted to be there to support me but also to help me care for my daughter. I had an extraordinary church family at Fifth Street Baptist, but I needed more hands on deck than the occasional sitting. More than that, I needed my mom like you do when you are sick in the middle of the night as a kid. I remember my mom sitting next to me, right up close when I would wake with a fever. She'd rub my back and help me get to sleep. The slow, rhythmic stroking, with a warm, light pressure that let you know that she cared. That is the kind of comfort only someone who loves you uncontrollably can give you. I was desperate for soothing.
The days went on like months. I was sometimes counting days by the half day just so I could feel like I was accomplishing something in the waiting. I did have a lot of appointments to keep me busy. Those were also markers of progression. Blood work, pre-registration, doctor's visit, all lined up for the countdown. Out of curiosity I drove across the island to get a view of the hospital. I drove down a long winding road that wrapped around a golf course until I reached a much-smaller-than-expected building that looked dated and lacking in expertise. "I'm gonna die here", was what I surmised after my inspection. My perspective of what a community hospital should be like was off. I am from Boston where you can throw a rock in any direction in the city and hit a world-class medical facility. It is a near impossibility to not get great health care and access to a renowned specialist there. At this hospital, I would was certain that most of the staff had likely just passed their board certifications. I drove home wrought with anxiety over what my care would be like.
My first one appointment on the list was the pre-registration. I needed to go to the hospital and give them all the gory details of who I was and what was going to happen. My counselor prepped me over the phone and sent along paperwork ahead of me so that, hopefully, they would have some semblance of what to do in my case. I was pleasantly surprised at how the inside of the hospital differed from the outside. The inside was clean and new. The staff was smiley and helpful, cheerfully directing me to where I needed to go. I got to the Maternity desk and found a nurse who sweetly directed me to the room that someone would do my interview in and asked me if I wanted something to drink. "Water would be fine", I didn't know what else to ask for anyway.
I dark haired, well groomed nurse, about my age, announced herself and pulled the curtain back as she stated her name and sat down, promptly fluffing the papers and inspecting everything before she turned her eyes to me. I sat blankly, wondering what she would say when she finally stopped her organizing.
She slowly read the information that my adoption counselor faxed over. "Oh, you are going to give the baby up for adoption", she trailed off as she kept reading. I hate that term, "give the baby up". It sounds so much easier than it actually is and I wasn't giving a kitten away because I was moving into a new apartment, I was deciding the fate of a child! Isn't there a better way of putting it than what most people would say? I struggle with it still. Sometimes I say, "processed for adoption" that just sounds so clerical. I sometimes also say, "surrendered for adoption" but that sounds legal. How do you state it in terms that people can understand the gravity but the love that was involved in the decision? I tried to respond to confirm her realization but instead I heard myself gasp as the rushing heat of tears warmed cheeks. My ears burned from embarrassment. She made sympathetic faces as she reached over for tissues. I didn't know what to say. I didn't owe her an explanation but I wanted to plead my case that I wasn't some aimless screw up that couldn't get her head on straight. Instead, I rallied in silence as she patiently waited for me to compose.
Once we got over the adoption hump of the interview, it was a lot easier. The usual stuff, my medical history, the father's history. "Will he be joining you?", I tried not to explode into laughter. I did list his name as a potential visitor but with a caveat that if he showed up intoxicated that he'd need to be escorted out of the building and he would, under no circumstances, be allowed to be alone with the baby or leave my room with her. I made her write it down. I just couldn't underestimate the craziness of a raging, desperate alcoholic.
The days went on like months. I was sometimes counting days by the half day just so I could feel like I was accomplishing something in the waiting. I did have a lot of appointments to keep me busy. Those were also markers of progression. Blood work, pre-registration, doctor's visit, all lined up for the countdown. Out of curiosity I drove across the island to get a view of the hospital. I drove down a long winding road that wrapped around a golf course until I reached a much-smaller-than-expected building that looked dated and lacking in expertise. "I'm gonna die here", was what I surmised after my inspection. My perspective of what a community hospital should be like was off. I am from Boston where you can throw a rock in any direction in the city and hit a world-class medical facility. It is a near impossibility to not get great health care and access to a renowned specialist there. At this hospital, I would was certain that most of the staff had likely just passed their board certifications. I drove home wrought with anxiety over what my care would be like.
My first one appointment on the list was the pre-registration. I needed to go to the hospital and give them all the gory details of who I was and what was going to happen. My counselor prepped me over the phone and sent along paperwork ahead of me so that, hopefully, they would have some semblance of what to do in my case. I was pleasantly surprised at how the inside of the hospital differed from the outside. The inside was clean and new. The staff was smiley and helpful, cheerfully directing me to where I needed to go. I got to the Maternity desk and found a nurse who sweetly directed me to the room that someone would do my interview in and asked me if I wanted something to drink. "Water would be fine", I didn't know what else to ask for anyway.
I dark haired, well groomed nurse, about my age, announced herself and pulled the curtain back as she stated her name and sat down, promptly fluffing the papers and inspecting everything before she turned her eyes to me. I sat blankly, wondering what she would say when she finally stopped her organizing.
She slowly read the information that my adoption counselor faxed over. "Oh, you are going to give the baby up for adoption", she trailed off as she kept reading. I hate that term, "give the baby up". It sounds so much easier than it actually is and I wasn't giving a kitten away because I was moving into a new apartment, I was deciding the fate of a child! Isn't there a better way of putting it than what most people would say? I struggle with it still. Sometimes I say, "processed for adoption" that just sounds so clerical. I sometimes also say, "surrendered for adoption" but that sounds legal. How do you state it in terms that people can understand the gravity but the love that was involved in the decision? I tried to respond to confirm her realization but instead I heard myself gasp as the rushing heat of tears warmed cheeks. My ears burned from embarrassment. She made sympathetic faces as she reached over for tissues. I didn't know what to say. I didn't owe her an explanation but I wanted to plead my case that I wasn't some aimless screw up that couldn't get her head on straight. Instead, I rallied in silence as she patiently waited for me to compose.
Once we got over the adoption hump of the interview, it was a lot easier. The usual stuff, my medical history, the father's history. "Will he be joining you?", I tried not to explode into laughter. I did list his name as a potential visitor but with a caveat that if he showed up intoxicated that he'd need to be escorted out of the building and he would, under no circumstances, be allowed to be alone with the baby or leave my room with her. I made her write it down. I just couldn't underestimate the craziness of a raging, desperate alcoholic.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
The Brethren
Everyone loves a good solid friendship. The kind of friend who will listen to you for hours and doesn't mind overlooking your flaws. The Brethren are different. They are committed. They are in it for the long haul, no matter where the adventure of life takes you. They know the road gets messy and they've got their hip-waders on. You know the ones, you say I need you and they come running, no matter where or what time. They are like the Special Forces that God sends in when you are in it up to your ears. He sends them to either coach you out of the pit or drag you from it. You have to appreciate another human being who is that willing to invest in you, I found a whole church full of them.
Lest I even dare not to mention the Fifth Street Baptist Church in Key West, Florida, the heart and the love of Jesus billows out of their windows. I walked into their church with my little one in tow and barely showing my trial. I wanted to slide into a pew unnoticed but God had other plans. Within seconds, I found strangers approaching me with warm smiles and outstretched hands. Women gathered around me to direct me to where my daughter would have Sunday School and another asked to me join her family for service so I wouldn't have to sit alone.
It didn't take long before I had gotten to know a few and with my impending breach of belly from my baggy clothes, I felt the need to confide in one, to let them in on my secret. I was met with a wonderful, compassionate reception and a kindness I hadn't felt in years. I needed to be loved and to feel accepted and there were 4 key women in the church who wanted to love me with all they had. Who couldn't be just speechless when you recieve such compassion. I felt more open to letting them in on my hidden life down on their island. I was waiting for someone to give some kind of reaction, a sign that I didn't sit well with them but it never happened. I wondered if they would think that someone in my situation shouldn't still call themselves a Christian but no one ever questioned my faith. I kept waiting for my own judgements against me to materialize in the faces and out the mouths of this congregation but they refused to oblige. I felt cared for. I was desperate for it.
Here it was, after 8 long months with them seeing me every week, loving me through my hurt and my decision and it was winding down to my due date and everyone knew it. There was a little sadness in the air and an uneasy feeling of 'what comes next?'. I was approached by a dear friend there one morning. She gently told me that she was asked to see if I would be okay with the ladies in my congregation throwing a baby shower for Alex's parents. They wanted to bless this couple with gifts to show that they loved me and this child all this time and that this was there way of showing it. They wanted them to know what a gift it was for them to share in this experience with me. I was silent for a lot longer than I should have and her eyes started to dart and her shoulders rolled in as a sign that she was afraid that she'd injured me. I just didn't know how to put to words the awesome sense of gratitude and humility I was feeling that they'd want to do something like this for them. I agreed and we worked out the details of gift giving and how they would get to Brett and Kayla. I couldn't wait to email Kayla to let her know what this sweet group of ladies wanted to do for her. I was bursting with pride over the outpouring of love from my Sisters.
Such and amazing experience, to see these women love on me unconditionally and every bit like the love of Christ. My most humbling and confirming moment in these women came as I was substitute teaching bible study on Sunday. I had finished up and one of my favorites raised her hand and said, "It has been such a blessing to see you live out your testimony". My tears wanted to flow. I had come to that church just hoping I could fade into the crowd, ashamed of what I'd become and completely unaware how greatly I'd be blessed. I couldn't have ever fathomed that I'd be a blessing to others.
Lest I even dare not to mention the Fifth Street Baptist Church in Key West, Florida, the heart and the love of Jesus billows out of their windows. I walked into their church with my little one in tow and barely showing my trial. I wanted to slide into a pew unnoticed but God had other plans. Within seconds, I found strangers approaching me with warm smiles and outstretched hands. Women gathered around me to direct me to where my daughter would have Sunday School and another asked to me join her family for service so I wouldn't have to sit alone.
It didn't take long before I had gotten to know a few and with my impending breach of belly from my baggy clothes, I felt the need to confide in one, to let them in on my secret. I was met with a wonderful, compassionate reception and a kindness I hadn't felt in years. I needed to be loved and to feel accepted and there were 4 key women in the church who wanted to love me with all they had. Who couldn't be just speechless when you recieve such compassion. I felt more open to letting them in on my hidden life down on their island. I was waiting for someone to give some kind of reaction, a sign that I didn't sit well with them but it never happened. I wondered if they would think that someone in my situation shouldn't still call themselves a Christian but no one ever questioned my faith. I kept waiting for my own judgements against me to materialize in the faces and out the mouths of this congregation but they refused to oblige. I felt cared for. I was desperate for it.
Here it was, after 8 long months with them seeing me every week, loving me through my hurt and my decision and it was winding down to my due date and everyone knew it. There was a little sadness in the air and an uneasy feeling of 'what comes next?'. I was approached by a dear friend there one morning. She gently told me that she was asked to see if I would be okay with the ladies in my congregation throwing a baby shower for Alex's parents. They wanted to bless this couple with gifts to show that they loved me and this child all this time and that this was there way of showing it. They wanted them to know what a gift it was for them to share in this experience with me. I was silent for a lot longer than I should have and her eyes started to dart and her shoulders rolled in as a sign that she was afraid that she'd injured me. I just didn't know how to put to words the awesome sense of gratitude and humility I was feeling that they'd want to do something like this for them. I agreed and we worked out the details of gift giving and how they would get to Brett and Kayla. I couldn't wait to email Kayla to let her know what this sweet group of ladies wanted to do for her. I was bursting with pride over the outpouring of love from my Sisters.
Such and amazing experience, to see these women love on me unconditionally and every bit like the love of Christ. My most humbling and confirming moment in these women came as I was substitute teaching bible study on Sunday. I had finished up and one of my favorites raised her hand and said, "It has been such a blessing to see you live out your testimony". My tears wanted to flow. I had come to that church just hoping I could fade into the crowd, ashamed of what I'd become and completely unaware how greatly I'd be blessed. I couldn't have ever fathomed that I'd be a blessing to others.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
The Pregnant Elephant In The Room
If you are expecting my story to be all smiles and smooth sailing, stop reading right now. When you are in a situation like this, there are many facets to the problem. I was lulled into a sense of isolated eutopia in Key West. No one really knew what was happening outside of my family and a few scant church members from home. I never ran into anyone unexpectedly. There were no awkward meetings with people who hadn't seen me in a while. I was anonymous on my southernmost island and I rather liked it that way, that is until I drove up to Orlando to see my friend and her family.
She was very supportive, I had filled her in early on in my journey so there were no surprises. It wasn't the conversation that I was hesitating on, it was the body language and the awkwardness of her seeing me face-to-face that I was dreading. People can give away much more in their posturing and facial expressions than they can ever realize. I spent 10 years in sales negotiations as a career. I was paid to translate the unspoken conversation and I was exceptional at at it. Most of my successes in business transactions were because I positioned against what was never said. It was great for my commission checks but it can be a bummer in real life. Sometimes, I lament that I notice so much more than everyone else. This was one of those times I that wished my eccentric talent would vanish.
The time came for our meeting. I drove to her parents' house and Carli and I piled out of the car after 9 long hours on the road. There it came. Not from my friend, from her husband. The painted smile. It was something more of a grimace. That 'No, I don't notice anything' smile that lets you that they don't know what to do with the situation. She greeted me with a warm smile and compassionate hug. I'd later find out that her kids were verbally threatened against asking and questions or making comments. The children said nothing but they avoided me like I had a scary disease they might catch. I wasn't hoping for much more than that. I settled in and hoped that the weekend would go by faster than I could wish it away. I wanted to go home already. I longed for my island bubble that I could hide in until Alex was born. It was safe there and free from judgement.
Her parents arrived a few hours later from work. Everyone avoided the one topic that would usually garner it's own conversation, my giant belly. Women who are great with child can usually command a room. It is a nice jumping off point with a person whom you don't know. Talk about the baby. When are you due? What are you having? Do you have a name? Easy things to start with but not if you know that the mother-to-be isn't keeping her child. Where do you go from there? You avoid the conversation all together. It's kind of like pretending not to notice that someone has a prosthetic limb. You know it's there, they know it's there. You know it's diffferent, they know it's different. Everyone tries to avoid looking at it or pointing it out. I know how amputees feel now.
I played along with the long pauses while everyone asked how my drive was and if I'd been to Orlando before. I think we were all glad that I was staying at a hotel that weekend. There was only so much you can say when you'd rather have another conversation instead. Carli played with her long lost friends from home, completely unaware of the sorrow that I was enduring in order to make her birthday special. I emailed Kayla to say that I'd made it safely. I was desperate to hear from someone who was in my corner. I became alarmingly aware of how alone I felt in all of this.
She was very supportive, I had filled her in early on in my journey so there were no surprises. It wasn't the conversation that I was hesitating on, it was the body language and the awkwardness of her seeing me face-to-face that I was dreading. People can give away much more in their posturing and facial expressions than they can ever realize. I spent 10 years in sales negotiations as a career. I was paid to translate the unspoken conversation and I was exceptional at at it. Most of my successes in business transactions were because I positioned against what was never said. It was great for my commission checks but it can be a bummer in real life. Sometimes, I lament that I notice so much more than everyone else. This was one of those times I that wished my eccentric talent would vanish.
The time came for our meeting. I drove to her parents' house and Carli and I piled out of the car after 9 long hours on the road. There it came. Not from my friend, from her husband. The painted smile. It was something more of a grimace. That 'No, I don't notice anything' smile that lets you that they don't know what to do with the situation. She greeted me with a warm smile and compassionate hug. I'd later find out that her kids were verbally threatened against asking and questions or making comments. The children said nothing but they avoided me like I had a scary disease they might catch. I wasn't hoping for much more than that. I settled in and hoped that the weekend would go by faster than I could wish it away. I wanted to go home already. I longed for my island bubble that I could hide in until Alex was born. It was safe there and free from judgement.
Her parents arrived a few hours later from work. Everyone avoided the one topic that would usually garner it's own conversation, my giant belly. Women who are great with child can usually command a room. It is a nice jumping off point with a person whom you don't know. Talk about the baby. When are you due? What are you having? Do you have a name? Easy things to start with but not if you know that the mother-to-be isn't keeping her child. Where do you go from there? You avoid the conversation all together. It's kind of like pretending not to notice that someone has a prosthetic limb. You know it's there, they know it's there. You know it's diffferent, they know it's different. Everyone tries to avoid looking at it or pointing it out. I know how amputees feel now.
I played along with the long pauses while everyone asked how my drive was and if I'd been to Orlando before. I think we were all glad that I was staying at a hotel that weekend. There was only so much you can say when you'd rather have another conversation instead. Carli played with her long lost friends from home, completely unaware of the sorrow that I was enduring in order to make her birthday special. I emailed Kayla to say that I'd made it safely. I was desperate to hear from someone who was in my corner. I became alarmingly aware of how alone I felt in all of this.
Monday, September 12, 2011
The Second Meeting
Circumstances were going to bring me north of Key West again. I was going to visit with a friend of mine and her family from my home town. They were traveling to Orlando for a trip to Disney and asked Carli and me if we'd like to join them. I had to consider carefully. I wanted to take advantage of my proximity to Disney World while I was in Florida. I didn't know when I'd be able to take Carli again. I wanted to bless her with this trip for her birthday. When I asked her if she'd like to visit with Terri and her family instead of having a birthday party, she exploded into 'Hooray' and lept up and down with excitement. My thoughts turned to my condition and whether or not it would be feasible for me to walk around an amusement park all day. The trip would be three weeks from my delivery. I wondered if the stress on my body, not to mention my size, would cause any complications. I decided that Orlando probably had hospitals and chuckled a little about how funny a story it would be to deliver this little princess at the threshold of Cinderella's castle. I wanted to make it happen for Carli. I told Terri that we'd be joining her and her family for the trip.
As I reviewed maps online to plot our trip, I realized that I would be passing within miles of Brett and Kayla. We had made a promise on the last visit to make every attempt to see each other once more before Alex's delivery. I wanted to make good on that. I panged when I went to doctor's visits, knowing that Kayla would have loved to have been there but distance just made it impossible to really share in my pregnancy aside from emails. I would have felt comforted by more of her presence. Thinking of her always brought me so much peace. I asked them in an email if they could meet me for lunch. I thought it would be nice to get some personal time in, just the 5 of us. We were about to embark on such an important union between our families. It seemed a shame not to give it more effort if we could. They quickly agreed and we settled on a shopping mall that we both could locate and that was not far from their home.
I think I was more excited about the lunch than I was Disney. I wanted to see them again. In my mind, every email or invite was assurance to them that I was as committed as they were and that I wasn't going to back out. I needed them to feel safe in that I had made my decision and it was final.
Carli and I entered the mall that day and walked toward the restaurant that we agreed on. I waddled down the long, echoing hall towards the eatery with a blathering toddler, asking a question every second about why we were and what we were going to do. I was trying to spot them and her yammering was distracting me. As we got closer, they stood up from the bench that they were sitting on. I saw their heads pop up from behind the greenery of the planters. I was grateful that they'd located me first. Their beaming smiles made me emotional as I choked back tears and just tried to look happy. It was another reminder of the realness of what I was taking on. It could feel so heavy on my heart sometimes. The burden seemed to weigh down at inappropriate times. I didn't want them to think that I was sad. We hugged and paused for them to make small talk with Carli. We made our way into the Rainforest-themed eatery that we thought we could tolerate and that my daughter would enjoy. We were wrong. Carli recoiled at the mechanical animals that would suddenly come to life following thunder and a pretend rainstorm. She coward in my lap with each episode. I felt sorry for us all, we tried to make this fun for her but to little avail. Brett was able to mildly entertain her with his attention and her ruffled feathers seemed to smooth so we could continue our visit.
We finished up our meals and Brett had to return to work. Kayla and I could sit together and visit as Alex's mothers. I felt like I was floating as we strolled the outdoor shopping concourses and talked about motherhood. We reviewed our first meeting. It was fun for us to recall our thoughts and feelings on what that was like. It went better than either of us had dreamed it would. I offered to see if we could get Alex to kick. I was desperate to have her experience what it felt like to feel her move. I tried walking, sitting, pushing, poking, ice cream, but alas our little bundle was content to relax. I was disappointed. I knew it would be my only opportunity to try.
The time came and we both had to leave. I needed to have Carli and me up to Orlando by sundown. I wanted to cry. I wanted more time with her. I wondered what it would be like to be her friend. I wished that I could hear what this journey was like before she met me. I thought that it was probably a long and painful story. I wanted to fully understand how joyful it to receive this gift.
As I reviewed maps online to plot our trip, I realized that I would be passing within miles of Brett and Kayla. We had made a promise on the last visit to make every attempt to see each other once more before Alex's delivery. I wanted to make good on that. I panged when I went to doctor's visits, knowing that Kayla would have loved to have been there but distance just made it impossible to really share in my pregnancy aside from emails. I would have felt comforted by more of her presence. Thinking of her always brought me so much peace. I asked them in an email if they could meet me for lunch. I thought it would be nice to get some personal time in, just the 5 of us. We were about to embark on such an important union between our families. It seemed a shame not to give it more effort if we could. They quickly agreed and we settled on a shopping mall that we both could locate and that was not far from their home.
I think I was more excited about the lunch than I was Disney. I wanted to see them again. In my mind, every email or invite was assurance to them that I was as committed as they were and that I wasn't going to back out. I needed them to feel safe in that I had made my decision and it was final.
Carli and I entered the mall that day and walked toward the restaurant that we agreed on. I waddled down the long, echoing hall towards the eatery with a blathering toddler, asking a question every second about why we were and what we were going to do. I was trying to spot them and her yammering was distracting me. As we got closer, they stood up from the bench that they were sitting on. I saw their heads pop up from behind the greenery of the planters. I was grateful that they'd located me first. Their beaming smiles made me emotional as I choked back tears and just tried to look happy. It was another reminder of the realness of what I was taking on. It could feel so heavy on my heart sometimes. The burden seemed to weigh down at inappropriate times. I didn't want them to think that I was sad. We hugged and paused for them to make small talk with Carli. We made our way into the Rainforest-themed eatery that we thought we could tolerate and that my daughter would enjoy. We were wrong. Carli recoiled at the mechanical animals that would suddenly come to life following thunder and a pretend rainstorm. She coward in my lap with each episode. I felt sorry for us all, we tried to make this fun for her but to little avail. Brett was able to mildly entertain her with his attention and her ruffled feathers seemed to smooth so we could continue our visit.
We finished up our meals and Brett had to return to work. Kayla and I could sit together and visit as Alex's mothers. I felt like I was floating as we strolled the outdoor shopping concourses and talked about motherhood. We reviewed our first meeting. It was fun for us to recall our thoughts and feelings on what that was like. It went better than either of us had dreamed it would. I offered to see if we could get Alex to kick. I was desperate to have her experience what it felt like to feel her move. I tried walking, sitting, pushing, poking, ice cream, but alas our little bundle was content to relax. I was disappointed. I knew it would be my only opportunity to try.
The time came and we both had to leave. I needed to have Carli and me up to Orlando by sundown. I wanted to cry. I wanted more time with her. I wondered what it would be like to be her friend. I wished that I could hear what this journey was like before she met me. I thought that it was probably a long and painful story. I wanted to fully understand how joyful it to receive this gift.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Wandering in the Desert
Alex's parents continued to email me. I was desperate to hear from them and prayed that we'd keep our connection. There were moments in the quiet, barren emotional places where I'd hear whispers that they didn't care about me. I was a means to an end and they'd do whatever they had to in order to apease me so they could have what they wanted. The whispers wanted to make me something of little value in all of this. I'd cry thinking that I was being used. I was a means to and end and the whole adoption industry was out to take advantage of people like me. I would be stripped of what was priceless and tossed in the garbage like wrapping paper on Christmas morning. Thankfully, there would be a great fortitude that would rise up in those moments where I just couldn't accept that this was the truth. I'd rally and carry on, especially when I would get another sweet message from Kayla.
I continued to enlarge. There were moments when I wondered if I'd just burst at the seams. My walk became a waddle and my feet started to swell. My toes looked like little pork sausages. Despite my doctor's warnings, I wanted to wear flip flops every day. I couldn't tolerate shoes on my feet any more.
People started to ask questions. Carli's classmates at pre-school asked her if I was having a baby while I was standing there. I would answer plainly and hope that it would end the conversation. It usually did. The adults in my midst hardly said anything at all. I would imagine that was because I never said anything about it. I kept my pregnancy and my plans to myself and avoided discussing it outside my circles unless it was something that I just couldn't avoid. There was always the random old lady in the grocery store who would ask the usual questions. The occasional "congratulations" always felt strange. Who would want to be congratulated for getting herself into this mess? I would weakly smile and pat my belly, trying to get out of the situation as quickly as possible. Carli would always remain silent at my side.
I thought that Carli was just unobservant of my pregnancy. For an astute child, she seemed quite oblivious that anything was different about her mother. I wondered about it. I had actually tried to explain how my belly had gotten bigger one evening as we were watching television but she quickly hushed me and changed the topic. I swung between relief and concern for her. I was glad to not have to deal with any negative emotions but concerned that she might be harboring something that would explode later. I tried to pay as much attention to her moods as possible but she refused to let on.
The truth started to materialize when Carli came to my bedside one night. She would do this on occasion and my usual routine was to flap the covers back and let her crawl in, pressing up next to me in a little ball. I would cover her, tuck her in snugly and rub her back until we both fell asleep. I cherished these moments. That night turned into a few times a week, then every night. I started to wonder what was going on. One night she crawled in to bed with me but this time she wouldn't settle. I tried to calm her and tell her it was night time but she wouldn't stop talking. I threatened a return to her own bed if she didn't stop but she just kept right on going. Something came to me as I lay in frustration over my interrupted sleep.
"Carli, do you have something you want to talk to Mama about?"
"Yes." Like a dam breaking, she started to sob.
"Are you sad?"
"Yes, Mama!"
"What are you sad about?"
"You!"
Her sobs turned to wailing as I pulled her close to me and wiped her tears. I was heartbroken for her. I had hurt her and I couldn't fix it. As we sat talking in my bed, I gleaned from 3 year old speak that she was upset with me and didn't know how to tell me. She thought something was wrong with me and she wanted to doctor to fix it. I reassured her that Mama wasn't sick. I needed to go to the doctor because there was a baby in Mama's belly. My lack of talking to her about the situation had injured her and I felt so guilty about that. I fell short of knowing how to approach her with as little damage as possible so I didn't say anything. I cuddled my little one close to me and prayed that I could redeem myself with her and that God could make her understand. I didn't have the ability to communicate in her language, but He did. He was my only hope for her.
I explained to her the next morning that God had put a baby in my belly for Brett and Kayla. The baby was not for us and she wouldn't be staying with us. I went on to say that sometimes God puts babies in Mommies bellies so that He can give them to a Mama who can't have a baby. I told her that Kayla couldn't have a baby so I was having the baby for her. It seemed to smooth over what ever scariness at this had to her. It also made me feel better. I was on a special mission for God and even though it was hard, it was for a great purpose. I felt special and hand picked by Him to do this for such a beautiful and deserving couple. In my moments of doubt, when the whispers would try to speak, I hushed them by thinking of myself as someone set apart for something truly remarkable.
I continued to enlarge. There were moments when I wondered if I'd just burst at the seams. My walk became a waddle and my feet started to swell. My toes looked like little pork sausages. Despite my doctor's warnings, I wanted to wear flip flops every day. I couldn't tolerate shoes on my feet any more.
People started to ask questions. Carli's classmates at pre-school asked her if I was having a baby while I was standing there. I would answer plainly and hope that it would end the conversation. It usually did. The adults in my midst hardly said anything at all. I would imagine that was because I never said anything about it. I kept my pregnancy and my plans to myself and avoided discussing it outside my circles unless it was something that I just couldn't avoid. There was always the random old lady in the grocery store who would ask the usual questions. The occasional "congratulations" always felt strange. Who would want to be congratulated for getting herself into this mess? I would weakly smile and pat my belly, trying to get out of the situation as quickly as possible. Carli would always remain silent at my side.
I thought that Carli was just unobservant of my pregnancy. For an astute child, she seemed quite oblivious that anything was different about her mother. I wondered about it. I had actually tried to explain how my belly had gotten bigger one evening as we were watching television but she quickly hushed me and changed the topic. I swung between relief and concern for her. I was glad to not have to deal with any negative emotions but concerned that she might be harboring something that would explode later. I tried to pay as much attention to her moods as possible but she refused to let on.
The truth started to materialize when Carli came to my bedside one night. She would do this on occasion and my usual routine was to flap the covers back and let her crawl in, pressing up next to me in a little ball. I would cover her, tuck her in snugly and rub her back until we both fell asleep. I cherished these moments. That night turned into a few times a week, then every night. I started to wonder what was going on. One night she crawled in to bed with me but this time she wouldn't settle. I tried to calm her and tell her it was night time but she wouldn't stop talking. I threatened a return to her own bed if she didn't stop but she just kept right on going. Something came to me as I lay in frustration over my interrupted sleep.
"Carli, do you have something you want to talk to Mama about?"
"Yes." Like a dam breaking, she started to sob.
"Are you sad?"
"Yes, Mama!"
"What are you sad about?"
"You!"
Her sobs turned to wailing as I pulled her close to me and wiped her tears. I was heartbroken for her. I had hurt her and I couldn't fix it. As we sat talking in my bed, I gleaned from 3 year old speak that she was upset with me and didn't know how to tell me. She thought something was wrong with me and she wanted to doctor to fix it. I reassured her that Mama wasn't sick. I needed to go to the doctor because there was a baby in Mama's belly. My lack of talking to her about the situation had injured her and I felt so guilty about that. I fell short of knowing how to approach her with as little damage as possible so I didn't say anything. I cuddled my little one close to me and prayed that I could redeem myself with her and that God could make her understand. I didn't have the ability to communicate in her language, but He did. He was my only hope for her.
I explained to her the next morning that God had put a baby in my belly for Brett and Kayla. The baby was not for us and she wouldn't be staying with us. I went on to say that sometimes God puts babies in Mommies bellies so that He can give them to a Mama who can't have a baby. I told her that Kayla couldn't have a baby so I was having the baby for her. It seemed to smooth over what ever scariness at this had to her. It also made me feel better. I was on a special mission for God and even though it was hard, it was for a great purpose. I felt special and hand picked by Him to do this for such a beautiful and deserving couple. In my moments of doubt, when the whispers would try to speak, I hushed them by thinking of myself as someone set apart for something truly remarkable.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)