I am not cut out for this

Some days I'm jealous.

Our foster son has been in our home and our hearts for 365 days. He was 17 days old when we picked him up, and I would be lying if I said these past 17 days haven't been sopping in jealousy.

Reflecting on the days of his life before I knew him has been uniquely joyful and grievous. I wish I could have been there on his birthday, I wish I could have held him close in his first moments and watched him take his first breath. I wish I could have gotten to know him as a brand new baby, and I wish I could have seen the joy on his siblings faces the first time they met him. I know those days were sweet. I know there were a lot of unanswered questions amidst the celebration, but I know the joy stood tall and mighty over the questions and the unknowns. I wish I had been there to celebrate. I'll never have those moments for myself, and the jealousy is sometimes consuming.

Some days I'm frustrated.

Frustrated that it would take so long to provide such a precious child with some type of permanency. Frustrated with a system that still surprises me after so many months of trying to figure it out. Frustrated that so many questions remain unanswered.

Some days I'm fearful.

Because even after being this boy's mommy for a year, I know things could still change at the drop of a hat. I've become what all who utter the words "foster care" fear the most... I've become too attached.

Some days I'm angry. Some days I'm bitter. Some days I'm sad.

Those are the days that I know I'm not cut out for this.

But God...

Melissa Breedlove Photography

God in His grace has called me to this boy and his family. Oh, His love for us in doing just that is incomprehensible.

In His grace and His love He has shown me how I need Him.

How could I be jealous? In my jealousy of baby boy's first 17 days of his life, God has reminded me of the 365 days his mommy has missed. This day holds great joy for our family, but we know that it holds great devastation for his family. That has knocked me on the ground today. The tears have flowed as I've thought about the events that transpired one year ago today to bring him to our home, the emotion and fear that was felt when one mommy walked into a hospital to visit her son, but he wasn't there... How she must envy the year I have spent with him and how much love and grace she has shown me over these twelve months. God, give me that kind of grace toward others.

HOW could I be frustrated? In my frustration, He has reminded me that one year is such a blip in the years ahead for this child. He has reminded me that over this past year I have built friendships that will last a lifetime. I have gotten to know and love this boy's birth family and I have been shown so many times why it's important that this process is not quick. He is not my son, he has a mommy who loves him so very much. She gave birth to him, he has her genes and she deserves time.

How could I be fearful? Too attached?? Can there be such a thing? I've battled those two words every day of this journey. Of course not. You could never become too attached. That's absurd. This baby boy needs attachment, he needs as many people as possible to go all in for him. And for us, going all in means going all in with his birth family as well. How could I fear losing him when I know that these wonderful people I'm blessed to call friends will never be far from my heart or my life. No matter what happens, we are part of this child's life forever.

Angry... Bitter... Sad... yes. Some days I am all of these things. I cry, I rage, I over think....

Melissa Breedlove Photography

...and I praise.
Every day I'm thankful. So thankful that even while I was not cut out for this, He cut me out for this. He shaped my life just so that this precious boy would spend his first night in our home one year ago today. Every day I'm joyful. How could I not be with the smiles and laughter this child has brightened my life with! Every day I'm blessed, so blessed that I was given the opportunity to love this child with all of my heart, to the deepest part of my being, forever and ever.

And what a blessing even the trials have been. They have shaped me, molded me more and more into the image of Christ I was made to bear. I have been shown my sin on a deeper level and been brought to repentance, to love, to grace. I have been shown love on a deeper level, grace on a deeper level. I have been shown Christ through this child and this journey we were given with him.

I hope you will not let fear keep you from taking this journey of growth and grace. If you have ever considered foster care, please, please contact me or someone you know who is a foster parent. You may not be cut out for this, but I can assure you, HE. IS. And with God all things are possible. (Matthew 19:26). You will not regret loving sacrificially, your life will change, you will know God's grace in a way you never have before.

Happy anniversary, Baby Boy. Thank you for loving us, for changing us, for your smile and the laughter you have filled our home with. Thank you for your cheeks, for peekaboo, for sloppy wet kisses. Thank you for your adventurous spirit. Oh, you keep us on our toes, constantly reminding us of the adventure we are on with you, an adventure that has left us awestruck by the grace of an amazing God, that He would choose us to be loved by you for this season. YOU are a true blessing.

Heather.

May I share a story with you?

You know when I get emotional I have to write... and today, I have to write about Heather.

I met Heather when I was the Program Coordinator at a food bank in Mandeville. She happened to come in on my first day of work while I was training for my position with the previous Program Coordinator.

I was told that Heather had suffered multiple strokes and was very hard to understand. Not very many people in the office could communicate with her. In fact, my friend who I was replacing was just about the only one.

Amazingly, that day as I sat with these two women, I understood just about every word that came from Heather's mouth. Over the course of the next two years I got to know Heather more and more. She rarely came in, but when she did she met me with a sweet embrace and was always SUCH a breath of fresh air, sweet medicine for my heart.

"Your hair looks pretty!"
That was her top compliment. She never complained, only complimented, asked about my family, showed me pictures of her three beautiful children, and asked for prayer.

She had such a heart for prayer. I'll never forget the sweet moments that were spent holding Heather's hands and praying to Jesus for her health, her children and for peace in her circumstances.

The more I got to know Heather, the more I learned about her illness. Over the course of the 12 years before I met her she had suffered nine strokes and many seizures. She struggled financially but rarely asked for help. She raised three children who have been successful in school, one will graduate college soon!

Despite her very severe illness and very desperate financial situation, Heather's smile NEVER faded, her gratitude never ceased. I think that's why she so rarely came in, she truly understood that she lacked very little, her selflessness was amazing. She only wanted for her children and she was so very proud of each one of them.

When Mercy's little life began in my belly, Heather was so excited. She and I both knew that this would mean my time at the food bank was coming to an end, but we also knew this didn't mean our relationship would end. Several times after Mercy came, I was able to coordinate our visits, and even got to introduce Mercy to Heather.

Recently I received news that Heather had another stroke and was not doing well. It had probably been close to a year since I had seen her and I was so blessed with the opportunity to visit her in her home with some friends from the food bank.

We walked in and I wept. She was lying on the couch and looked so very frail. She smiled at me and I hugged her and kissed her forehead. She complimented each of us and smiled from ear to ear as I showed her photos of my kids and told her all about them... and then she locked eyes with me and uttered something I could barely understand. She repeated and I knew, I saw a familiar look in her beautiful eyes. She was asking me to pray with her.

What an honor, to sit on the floor by this beautiful soul, grasp her hands in mine, and pray that Jesus would hold her, hold her children. To sit there next to her and praise Him for allowing me to be part of her life and for the work He did on my heart by showing me her precious heart.

Heather died this morning. Her sweet daughter called me minutes after she took her last breath and we wept on the phone together. She has been released from years of suffering into the glory of her Savior, standing as upright as can be and singing His praises clearly and beautifully. Sixteen years of suffering that led to this glorious day of her new life, sixteen years that to her were not seen as years of suffering, but blessed moments that she was able to spend with her loved ones. Sweet moments to share her heart and the love and grace that Jesus offers.

We are grieving, friends, but not as those who have no hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13). Heather has shown me what it looks like to find joy and contentment no matter how dyer our circumstances (Philippians 4:12-13) and how to have hope when life looks terribly hopeless. Will you join me in praying for this sweet family today? Will you join me in praying that we may each have a heart like Heather's? A heart that desires to bring joy and love to others no matter what our personal circumstances may look like?

nine months in

This week marks nine months of caring for our foster son.

Nine. Months.

...and it just occurred to me: we have cared for him for as long as she carried him.

Maybe that's why she called this week after so long. Maybe she's grieving, maybe she's missing him a little extra as she sits on the gravity of what happened nine months ago.

Half of his life he was with her more intimately than he will ever be with me. I'll never feel his kicks and hiccups or see my body growing as he grows inside of me. He was perfectly knit together in her womb, life moving through his body with every beat of his heart, each day becoming more and more of who he is today. I'll never see him take his first breath, see the world for the first time or hold him close in those intimate precious moments immediately after his birth. Those moments were reserved for her. She loved him, no, loves him so very much. That has never been in question and never will be. He is perfectly who he is because she is his mom.

Half of his life he's been with me in a way that he will never be with her. He will never be as little tomorrow as he is today. He will never again need to be rocked to sleep as a newborn after his 3am feeding. She will never soothe him and wipe his tears as he cuts his first tooth, or crawl on the floor next to him on his first crawling adventure... the many firsts we've celebrated this year will never be firsts again. He is growing and changing so fast, each day he's becoming more and more of the little boy and man he will be one day.

...and while I'm sitting here wishing he wasn't growing up so fast, how I'll miss these sweet baby days... she is grieving because she has missed all of this. She is grieving because she has missed half of his life and she misses him still.

Nine months ago this precious boy's mommy showed up to the hospital to visit him on his 16th day in this world... and he wasn't there. He was here, with me. And she wept.

This. Is. Devastating.
This is LOSS in its greatest form and it's tragic, friends.

Please remember birth parents in your prayers over foster care. Please remember that foster parents and the children we care for are not the only ones affected by this process and that despite the events and choices that led to these circumstances, there is often deep heartache, remorse and fear. Please pray for healing... for redemption, grace and mercy.

And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God.
Philippians 1:9-11

the precious mundane

Me - "How can I spend every day with you but miss you so terribly?"
Baby - giggles and grabs my face

Don't let an unexpected medical emergency {no matter how minor} be the tipping point... the kick-in-the-butt reminder to revel in the preciousness of the mundane.

I am SO grateful to be nearing the end of recovering from this event and that my mommy-duties have increased daily... but may I share what has been the hardest part of this ordeal?

Missing them so much when they are here with me every day...

Not being the one squatting the baby to sleep or feeling the inevitable soreness in my legs when he finally rests his eyes.

Not pulling the toddler out of bed when she calls in the morning, "Where are you, mommy?"

Not rubbing butt cream all over the babies bottom when it's red... that's what mommy's do.

Not being at church the first time the two year old left the sanctuary for children's church instead of the nursery. There will only ever be one "first".

Not turning around in the passenger seat to watch their raspberry competitions in the back seat.

Not scooping up and comforting the toddler when she wakes up crying from who knows what.

Not sitting on the floor to practice pulling-up-to-stand with the baby.

Not picking up her fit-throwing self and placing her in time out.

Not crawling around the floor with the baby and big sister when she yells, "'mon mommy!"

Not picking up twenty-two pounds of the sweetest baby on the planet to kiss his cheeks, buckle him in the car, take a family photo, change his diaper, travel the house with his cuteness attached to my hip. My hip misses his frame so very much.

Not squatting down to help her get dressed, put her shoes on, use the potty, play with her toys, pick up her toys.

These mundane parts of everyday life that I didn't even realize... how could I not realize?

They are so precious. Each one is fleeting and so. very. precious.

My heart is heavy for the mommies who have a more difficult road to walk, who would read this and beg for my two-three week recovery over their own journey. Please know that if this is you, we are covering you in prayer as you miss your babies so desperately. I have seen only a glimpse of your path, and my heart weeps for you.

Friends and mommies, please enjoy each moment with your children, please know that each one is a gift. A precious everyday opportunity to love your children by treating the mundane... the diaper changes, the bath times, the school pickups... like a winning lottery ticket.

Watching somebody else do these things for me when I have so longed to do them myself has humbled me and blessed me. My beautiful sister who is a phenomenal aunt has done this job so well, she has celebrated the mundane with her niece and nephew and has opened my eyes to a world of precious mundane moments I've been missing all along. I will miss her SO much!

...but I believe I have four days before I can pick up that twenty-two pound hunk of sweetness and I do not believe I will put him down for days!

And just like that...

Mercy started school last week.

Let me repeat that.

My 2 1/2 pound baby girl walked her 2 1/2 year old self into school last week.

How can this be??

Of course I cried. I did not expect myself to...

...but something about watching her walk into the school with her teacher and not even look back when she waved goodbye... something about that got me.

She's just a big girl now, doing big kid things like all the other two year olds.

I hope I haven't missed a minute.

...and I grieve knowing that I have.

This week, as I lie here recovering from surgery watching my amazing husband and sister take care of these babies who are barely babies anymore has made me terribly aware of how much I've missed.

Sweet baby boy crawled up to my feet and plopped his little bottom down. He looked up at me smiling from ear to ear as if to say, "Here I am!" Oh how I wished I could scoop him up!

Tooth #4 must have made it's appearance when I blinked at some point, he showed me at dinner through his big not-so-gummy grin.

Moments later, I said "no" to my precious Mercy and I broke.

"Help, mommy!"

She was getting out of her chair at the dinner table and I couldn't help with this simple task.

It's amazing how much you realize you've taken for granted when you can't do even the simplest things to help your children. To me, this simple task was a giant. It was a "help, mommy" denied, a moment lost, a chance to meet this one simple need one more time. Before I know it she won't need help getting out of that chair, she'll be bouncing out and running for toys. How many times have I encouraged her to do it on her own because I was busy doing whatever... cooking, dishes, cleaning, eating, texting, being lazy...

How many times has baby boy needed to snuggle and I've not been there to hold him close? How many firsts have I missed because I was looking the other direction? Did I miss his very first crawling step because I was reaching for the camera? Have a noticed every different smile and precious face he has made, knowing that our days together may be numbered? Have I enjoyed every sweet moment shared between he and Mercy, cherishing these days of them being 9 months and 2 1/2 years old?

Tomorrow they'll be older, tomorrow they will be learning new tasks. He'll be walking soon and she'll be reading. The days of carrying him on my hip and reading book after book to her are quickly coming to an end. They will need me less and less and I must hold onto these minutes before I miss one more.

When I broke at the dinner table tonight Mercy saw my tears.

"Ok, mommy?"
"I'm ok, sweetheart."
"A hug, mommy?"
"I would love a hug, baby."
"Ok, I get down and hug you, ok?"
Daddy helped her down, she ran around the table, hugged my neck and whispered in my ear, "ok, mommy. ok."

Oh sweet girl, I promise to stop taking our minutes for granted. I promise to cherish your hugs, your needs, your wants, I promise to hear your voice and treasure each word. I promise to experience every minute with your baby boy like it was our last minute with him, cherishing each one to it's core and creating memories with you both that will last when the minutes pass. I promise to put the dishes and the laundry off when I need to, to put the phone down, turn the computer off, read books, play outside, listen to y'all squeal and giggle and enjoy your raspberry competitions agains each other. I promise to learn to tickle you as laughably as your daddy does, and to sing with you until my voice is gone.

The minutes are passing too quickly and I've missed too many already.
I promise to make our next lifetime of minutes count, sweet babies.

Friends, these days with our little ones are going too fast.  Can we take a break, s l o w down for a minute? When our lives are spinning let's be available to each other with gentle reminders to pace ourselves. Let's commit to praying for each other and holding each other up in our parenting journeys, to loving each other and not judging. Let's make a commitment to encouragement and let's appreciate the minutes we have before they are gone.