Originally posted January 2010
Elias has been on this earth, breathing the same air we breathe for four days now. It seems like much longer. Nothing has gone as we had hoped, prayed, or expected. Not one thing.
Two days ago we expected to meet our son, to sign papers, to love on his birth mama, and then to take him out of the hospital with us. Three days ago we packed our bags for a hotel stay on the Kansas side while we waited for approval to come back to Missouri. We prepared clothes, food, and activities for a week’s stay. All the time our hearts breaking that we could not see him in the hospital or tell the birth mom how much we love her. It isn’t normal to not see him in the hospital, but she asked for some special time with him before we came. We honored her, though it was hard. In the back of my mind, I worried about her bonding and not being able to let go. But I packed anyway.
Friday morning, we loaded the car, took the girls to a friend’s house to spend the day and night while we met their little brother. We hurried to the attorney’s office to sign papers, stopped to get flowers for the birth mom, and hurried into the hospital at the appointed time.
To be met by the social worker with tears in her eyes.
She sat us down and said five words we didn’t really want to hear. “She has decided to parent.”
First shock and a bit of denial, then prayer, then a great sadness, more prayer, then not knowing what to do next. Friends loved us, prayed with us and for us, suggested we take some time and then get the girls, reminded me to cry as much as I wanted, cried with us.
And then we left the hospital carrying the diaper bag that was carried in with special home-coming outfits, tiny diapers, and a camera ready to record it all.
We walked out arm-in-arm. Being close helped. We drove a bit and then realized we needed our babies. I needed to hold them.
The next 24 hours we vacillated between numbness and sadness. We unloaded the car and put away the food, but couldn’t face unpacking just yet. We loved on each other, prayed, sat silent, and watched a movie because we couldn’t really face much else and the girls couldn’t really just sit and do nothing all day.
Throughout the entire time we clung desperately to His love and promises. We replayed the past month and the past days in our minds over and over. Were you there, God? Did we miss your leading, Holy Spirit? Why did you call us to this, Father? Help us, Jesus! Be with Elias and his family, Abba.
Paul was the strength. Despite how he was feeling he spoke scriptures over us, prayed out loud when I couldn’t utter a word, spoke God’s truth in our lives and over me as a mom. He was a rock for me, a covering even in his desperate sadness. He felt like a failure, but he led like a man after God’s own heart!
No, the past two days have not gone as expected. I would consider them a dark night of the soul. Waves of grief still come crashing, but there is light everywhere. God is good. God is love. My Father loves me. I love Him. This experience will produce deeper love in my family.
I’m reminded of a portion of one of my favorite songs (Simple Devotion by Misty Edwards)
“Angels o Angels, look and see. Through that dark night of faith she is gazing at me. Angels o Angels, look and see, through the cloud of unknowing, she is gazing at me.”
Yep, that sums it up.
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