Adoption Update!

Our background check cleared! We've been waiting since the end of March and now it is done which means we are officially a waiting family! We got the first copy of our profile book last week and have several more ordered.

When our social worker called, she asked if we could send our one book down to an adoption agency in Oklahoma. There's a woman whose baby is due at the end of June/beginning of July and she is looking to have a Christian couple adopt her baby. We have no details about who she is, anything about the baby or how many other couples she is considering.

We know that this is the first time anyone is looking at our book and it's likely that we will not be selected and will have to go through this whole roller-coaster process again. So...we're not getting our hopes up. We're NOT getting our hopes up.

We're getting our hopes up a little.

The Maybe Baby Fund

And now, for a guest post written by one of our oldest friends and Lydia's god-mother!

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Dear Friends,
There have been so many times I’ve sat down at my computer to read this blog and I have been overwhelmed by the generosity of Jen and Micah. They have been so open in sharing both Lydia’s beautiful life and their journey through grief. With every entry there is this renewed yearning within me to do something for my friends, to somehow comfort them with the comfort I have so continuously received from the Lord.

After talking to others who love Jen and Micah, I have learned that I am not alone in this desire. That is why I am so excited to share with you an opportunity to bless them in a tangible way!

An account has been set up to help defer the substantial costs that accompany the adoption process. I have asked Jen to make this accessible on the blog so that those who feel led to come alongside this couple would have that opportunity. Thank you for taking the time to read this, I am so not as eloquent as Jen!
God Bless!
Sarah

If you’re willing to help Jen and Micah bring their Maybe Baby home, here’s how you can:

1. You can write a check to Micah Thompson and mail it to Church of the Apostles, P.O. Box 320791, Fairfield, CT 06825, ATTN: Micah Thompson

~or~

2. You can click on the lovely and brand new “Donate” button to donate with a credit card through PayPal.

We were hoping to be able to have donations sent to the adoption agency,but since the adoption is domestic, there is a chance the baby might come from a different state through a different agency. If that happens, there is a possibility the money sent to the adoption agency in CT won’t be transferable and the money donated would be lost. If we hear differently, we will let you know.

Thank you for taking time to consider giving and sharing in this journey!

Adoption Update

Remember a hundred years ago when I told you we were going to adopt and then didn't say anything more about it? Allow me to say some more things about it.

We have finished our homestudy! What this means is that all of our meetings and paperwork and health forms and financial statements have been compiled into one very lovely document put together by our social worker. The only thing that we are still missing is the completion of our background check, which can take a rather long time. We were told not to expect it to be done until sometime in June. Our social worker has come to visit the house and we are working on making a room for our Maybe Baby. That's what I'm calling it because I won't be convinced of it until we've had a baby in our house for probably at least a year.

Having decided to do a domestic adoption, once our background check has cleared, we will submit our Profile Book. This is a compilation of pictures of our life. I'll probably put some pages of it up before too long so those of you who don't live in adoption land will know what I mean. The Profile Book will go to our adoption agency and they will have several copies of it to give to other agencies as well. Once our book is submitted, that's when the real waiting starts.

We wait to be chosen by a birth mother. This could take two weeks or it could take two years. Micah has told me repeatedly not to get my hopes up that we will have a baby soon, but people, my hopes are up. I am trying to remember the lessons I learned before and after Lydia was born and this is what I keep repeating to myself - We will have exactly the child God wants us to have. If it takes two weeks or two years, I know our child is already set in the mind of God. And I don't want just any child. I want the child God has for us. So if Maybe Baby comes immediately or after a long wait, I am confident that it will be the right time for all of us.

That's pretty much it. We're so excited for the day when we can share that we will be bringing a new life into our home but until then, we hope that you will pray along with us for something things:

1. For patience and peace as we wait.
2. For our baby, wherever they are that they will be safe and protected from the time of their conception to the time of birth.
3. For our baby's birth mother - I've been thinking about her a lot. I don't know specifically what has happened in her life that will cause her to give her baby up, but I know those are probably not all good or easy things. I've been praying (and hope you will join me in my prayer) that she will be safe and protected in this time, that she would be surrounded by people who love and support her, and that she would be aware, even if she doesn't know Him, of God's love for her. I'm so excited to meet her.
4. That our background check would be completed soon.
5. That God would provide the funding needed to help us bring our baby home (there will be a guest post later in the week regarding this issue).
6. For wisdom and discernment - we are not without some decision making in this process. If we get chosen by a mother, there is still the opportunity for us to not adopt. Pray for a clear answer when the time comes.

I know there are more things, but I think that's enough for now. Thank you, friends, for being interested and for asking and for praying without being asked.

One Year

Before you read this post, I wanted to say thank you to all of you who wrote e-mails, facebook messages, sent notes or simply prayed for us as April 28th passed. As always, we felt sustained and comforted by your prayers and the knowledge that Lydia's life is still a part of yours. A special thanks to our friends Dawn and Ole who remembered our girl in this beautiful way while they were in Germany.

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We passed one year since Lydia died. It passed quietly, except for the twenty minutes I spent hysterical because the flowers we bought to put at her grave ended up being hideous. It is the only thing I can give her now and they were hideous. It caused a fairly substantial meltdown, but then the day was quiet. Micah and I spent the day together, watching the video of Lydia’s memorial service, the slideshow we made, videos of her. It was sad and difficult but it was OK. We made it through.

Then, not magically or with any fanfare, but slowly and quietly these past days, I’ve felt something lift. It’s not a lot, but the heaviness feels just a little lighter. We made it through one year. We’ll be able to make it through another.

I feel like I’m finally settling into a place of comfort with my grief. In Pilgrim’s Progress, Christian has a burden he carries around. By the grace of God that burden falls away when he comes to the cross. I thank God that burden of death is taken away when I look to the cross, but I know that as long as I live I will carry this other burden of grief. When Lydia first died, it was heavy and cumbersome and back-breaking. Now, it’s lighter and easier to carry as I’ve become more familiar with it. I know (at least I hope) that as we move forward it will get lighter and easier, but I don’t think it will ever not be there. Maybe it will get to be a mostly empty backpack slung across my shoulders, or maybe it will be a little wallet that only comes out with me on some days, but it will always be there. I’m understanding that now. I feel like I’m finally learning to live my life carrying this grief with me. And praise Jesus He is there to help me carry it, no matter the weight. How I long for the day when I come to my true home and cast it off forever.

But until then, I will carry on. I will think of her every day and be thankful. I will wish that she was with us wherever we go. I will write her name in the sand on a beach where I wish I could have seen her running around collecting rocks on Mother’s Day. I will let my heart rejoice in the prospect of new things and new life on this earth, but even more I will rejoice that there is a Savior and a heaven and a sweet little girl who wait for me when my days on this earth are done.

Thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Good Friday

The day we buried Lydia, our bishop’s wife and my dear friend, Erilynne, gave me this. It’s called a holding cross. The angles are skewed and the edges rounded so that it is easy to grip. She held onto it as she struggled through health issues that doctor’s weren’t sure she would overcome. In the moments before we got in the cars to go to the cemetery, she gave it to me.

I don’t remember in detail much about that day. Always I will remember the way it felt as my fingers curled around that cross and gripped it so tightly I had difficulty straightening my fingers when it was time to let it go. It brought Him close on a day He felt far away. It reminded me that I would be with Him one day and this empty, broken part of me would one day be filled and healed.

Today, for the first time since Lydia’s service, I went into the church where we gathered together. I went for a couple of the Good Friday services held there, the cross tucked safely in a pocket in my purse, where it has lived since that first day I held it. I listened as minister’s spoke of Christ and His sacrifice, as they focused today on what the cross means for us.

It’s a holding cross. We hold onto it for dear life on the days we don’t think we can make it through. It brings Him close on days when He feels far away. It reminds us that He has made it possible for us to be with Him, and that one day, He will fill the empty and heal the broken.

Should all else be taken from me, should I be wounded beyond repair, shaken to my core, hopeless beyond words, the Cross stands and I will cling to it. It is unshaken, eternal. It stands to remind me of a love that surpasses my comprehension, that will sustain me though I lose everything and that will one day restore me and make all things new.

I am holding on. On this Good Friday, I pray that you are too.

How I Am

People have been asking.

We’re twenty-two days away from the anniversary of Lydia’s death. I think anyone who is grieving a loved one will tell you that the anticipation of days like birthdays or anniversaries are often worse than the days themselves. This has been true of me as we’ve walked through the past 343 days.

I’ve been trying to explain to people why (beside the obvious) I’m having such a difficult time with this day. I think I’ve figured it out. Since the day she died, I’ve been trying so hard not to think about the day she died. It would be far too easy to play it over and over and over in my head. But if I had allowed myself to do that, I don’t think I would have lasted long. Reliving her death day would only bring another kind of death.

So, I put it away. That day and the day we buried her, I put those days away. They’re always there, kind of sadly waving at me from the dark corners of my heart. I look, wave back and keep my distance. But now, they’re coming close. The closer they get the more I can see into them. I see the last things and the empty where there was so much fullness before. I see goodbyes and and quiet that nearly kills.

And I am afraid. I wish that I wasn’t and it’s all well and good to say that I shouldn’t be, but I am. I’m afraid of barely healed wounds being torn open again and of desperate doubt growing again in places that I’ve only recently weeded it out.

And I’m sad. A year is no time and so much time. We’ve barely begun life without our girl but every day is one day further away from our life together. My memories are less vivid now than they were and I will sit and watch video after video of her to remember more clearly how she turned her head to look at me or the sound of her little gaspy breaths.

I just want the 28th to come and go so I can look and say, “I made it through a year. I can make it through another one.”

In these days, I’m so thankful for moments of hope. I do not think it is coincidence that made Lydia’s death day and Easter fall within less than a week of each other this year. Easter is another day I’m eager to get past but the proximity will not let me ignore this one thing: Because He lives, so does she. All of the memories that I’ve been trying to keep at bay, the agony of letting her go and carrying on without her - this is not the end of her story.

And it isn’t the end of mine. There is life for me. There is life for Micah. And hopefully our lives will mean life for someone else. I have hope that our arms will not be empty forever. I have hope that all this love we have to give is not for nothing. And even if these things never come to be, I can still have hope because He is alive.

Unfortunately, staring down this month, hope isn't always my first response. If you think of it, please pray that the hope would make its way through the fear, that a light would shine in the dark places and that as we approach this death day, we hold on to the promise of the life she has with Him.

The New Room

I wrote on my other blog about changing Lydia's room into what I am now calling the New Room. I wrote about it from an excited crafters perspective, but I wanted to write about it from a grieving mama's perspective too.

We had barely passed nine months since Lydia died. We had been toying with the idea of changing it for a while, especially in light of the possibility of a new baby somewhere down the line. I didn't want to bring a new baby into the house with Lydia's room still as her room. Also, my crafting stuff had kind of taken over the dining room, so it seemed like we were getting close to the time.

Then, my friend Lisa was crashing out our house for a couple days and said that if it were easier and she'd be more out of the way, she could just sleep on the couch in Lydia's room. I was unprepared for my reaction, which externally was no big deal but internally...wow. Inside it was all, "NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ONE CAN EVER STAY IN THERE. EVER. EVER. EVER. It is HER room!" While I know this reaction may be justified, it surprised me.

I got in bed that night, wrapped my arms around Micah and told him we needed to change her room. Soon. I could feel myself starting to hold on too tightly. It was the last thing...the last bits of her left and I knew that if we didn't do it soon, I wouldn't be able to let go. The further away we get from the time she was here, the less I can remember clearly. Things are getting hazy, and I know that's just the nature of loss, but when I went in her room, I could still remember things. As much as I wanted to hold on to that, I know myself well enough to know that I would make it into a shrine - a holy place where no one else could go. And I could not do that to myself, my husband or any other children we might one day be blessed to bring into our home.

So, that weekend we both had a three day weekend and knew we could get it done. We made a plan. He and I alone would take everything down on Friday night. Then on Saturday, we'd have people over to help us get the room painted and everything set up.

On Friday night, I decided to just let myself feel all the emotions of everything. I allowed in the wretchedness that comes with the remembrance of our hope that she'd grow up looking at these things to wash over me. I remember putting up the butterflies on the wall, thinking that when she was crying I could show them to her and let her pull them off the wall. I could picture her as a three year old, playing on the rug covered in toys. I imagined turning her crib into a toddler bed and calling it her "big-girl bed."

I let myself feel it all. And let me tell you, friends, it hurt. Deep into my soul, it hurt. But we did it.

I got up the next morning, and it was OK. We painted the walls and it was OK. We got the furniture up, and everything in its new place, and it was OK.

I brought back in some things that were in her room, so that all around me all the time I can remember her. Here are some pictures.

Above the bed, you can see I hung back up the butterflies that were in her room.

On the cabinet is the door knob hanger with her name on it. Above my desk are pictures of her.

A close up so you can see how I kept her name banner. It was one of my favorite things from her room, and I wanted to keep it around.

This is my favorite little section of the room. The verse on the wall is the hope of my life and I'm thankful to have it somewhere I can see it every day.

This giraffe lived in Lydia's crib. The shirt it has on was one Lydia didn't get to wear but my mom bought it for her before she was born. It is also a giraffe, but the letters to Lydia's name are the pieces that make up the giraffe. Also, there is the book of Lydia's life that I made.