An Unexpected, Full Quiver – Katie’s Story

I’ve always wanted a big family. Okay, well, originally I thought that meant four kids. When I was in high school I felt God distinctly tell me that He would call me to adopt someday. Those feelings were solidified when I met my husband, Tim, and he felt the same way too. After we married, we said that we would have four or five kids, but joked that we would have ten or twelve. Our first, a daughter, was born in 2007 and I just loved being pregnant. I knew then that I could happily carry and birth four or five more, if God allowed. We named her Selah, which means to “pause” or “meditate,” and I adored being able to do just that as a mother to my little girl.

What I never anticipated was having trouble conceiving or sustaining pregnancies after Selah. We began trying for our second little angel the year after she was born, but instead, had three back-to-back miscarriages over the next year. By the time Selah was three years-old and all the rest of my mommy friends were pregnant with or already having their second and third babies, I began to despair, thinking that our hopes and dreams of having a large family were quickly dwindling.

We tried fertility treatments next and it was at this time that Tim and I also began to seriously consider adoption. We researched the costs, different agencies and countries to adopt from. I became so certain that adoption would probably be where the rest of our children would come from that I was surprised when we found out at the end of 2009 that the fertility treatments had worked and we were expecting a healthy baby boy. Elijah, meaning “The Lord is the one, true God,” joined our family in May of 2010 and I was overjoyed to have another sweet little one in my arms.

After Elijah was born, we looked into adoption again, but decided that we needed to wait for more consistent finances. I took the next year to enjoy motherhood and it wasn’t until the middle of 2011 that we felt confident in beginning the process of adoption when Tim’s job was more secure. We had just signed the official adoption paperwork, requesting to adopt a sibling group from Ethiopia, when we were surprised to find out we were expecting, AGAIN, this time without the help of fertility treatments! In April of 2012, we welcomed Isaac, which means “laughter” because of the huge surprise he gave us.

We knew we still wanted those two African children, though, whoever they would be, and we eagerly looked forward to word from our agency and dreamed of whom they would match us with. Selah hoped for a younger sister to play with and Tim and I tossed around what Old Testament names we would use once we got the news. But time seemed to drag on and with each passing week without word from our agency, we grew anxious. Finally, in January of 2013, just nine months after our surprise Isaac was born, we were matched with twin boys only five months younger than him. They were born in Harar, Ethiopia the previous September and then moved to an orphanage in Addis, Ethiopia.

In April, we flew to Addis and spent ten days meeting and holding our sweet, new additions to the family, touring the country and even taking a bus to visit Harar, 500 kilometers away from the boys’ new orphanage. By July, at ten months old, they were legally ours and we flew back to Addis and brought home Moses and Zechariah, which mean “drawn out” and “God has remembered.”

For years, we had prepared ourselves from agency classes, social worker visits and numerous books and resources that the biggest struggle of international adoption would be teaching these children how to bond with us as parents and siblings. However, their connection with all of us was as instant as if I had carried and born them myself.  Instead, it seemed to us that the biggest adjustment to adopting twins less than one years-old was that because Isaac was only five months older, we essentially have triplets. And since the twins were adjusting to a new home, new parents and a new routine than they were used to in their orphanage, it was much like having newborns again. They were up every three hours at night, often on opposite schedules. And once they started crawling and walking, along with Isaac, life only got crazier! Thankfully, our older two, Selah and Elijah, now 7 and 4 have been wonderful, big helpers and we have had many, many dear friends and family step in to help as well.

But, God wasn’t done with our family yet, nor His miraculous, surprising ways. Just when I was beginning to adjust to having four rambunctious and destructive boys, 3 of them under two years-old, we had another surprise pregnancy in January of 2014. We found out that we were expecting TWINS a month later and a few weeks after that, the ultrasound showed that they were BOTH boys. I grieved this news for a short time, but God continued to bring me new mercies each morning.

Our precious new set of twins arrived via caesarian section on September 14, 2014. Noah Robert and Josiah Paul, our smallest babies yet, weighed in at 7 and 5 pounds, respectively. Their arrival meant that as an entire family we could no longer fit in our eight passenger minivan and we are bursting at the seams in our 3 bedroom, 1 bath 1200 square foot home. However, this past summer, God provided Tim with a significant and long prayed-for promotion at work, which allowed us to get approved for a loan on a new, 2015 Ford Transit nine-passenger van. He has also blessed us with a large community of family, friends and even strangers who want to help us with meals, housecleaning, childcare as well as the remodeling to expand our small house to accommodate our large family!

We are amazed at God’s gift of seven children in seven years, and it has opened our eyes to become aware of our need for Jesus, family, friends and our church to help us. He has blessed us with the chance to experience and embrace the most beautiful picture of community and the powerful testimony of His provision as we open the doors of our lives, hearts and home to experience His grace, “do life” together, and raise this pack of children with the help and love of a multitude of others. And while I cannot even remember what life was like just seven years ago with only one baby girl, God’s grace and goodness has been abundant, and we continue to trust that He will provide for all our needs.

~~~~~

Made to Mother is partnering with the Evans Project to fundraise and build enough support to be able to help expand Tim and Katie Evans’s home and assist in funding the purchase of their new family car. For years Tim and Katie have played a huge part in and blessed the lives of so many people. They have opened their home and lives to everyone who has needed or asked for help. We now see this as an opportunity to give back to them that blessing, as we donate our own time and resources and ask others for help in supporting this family.

If you would like to learn more about the Evans Project, please visit the Evans Project Page for more information and to donate. 100% of your donations will go directly to the Evans family. Thank you so much for supporting this loving, godly family and being a part of the amazing work that God continues to do through them!

National Adoption Month Series – Christina’s Story

My husband and I tried unsuccessfully to get pregnant for 16 months before we pursued fertility options. At our first clinic visit they ran some tests and called me a week later with the results. They discovered that I have what’s called “diminished ovarian reserve” and told us it was unlikely that we would be able to successfully conceive on our own.

I was extremely saddened by this news, but I refused to stay depressed over it. I gave myself 24 hours to cry over it and then my husband and I discussed our options. Despite my disappointment, I felt relief amidst the pain. Neither of us can actually remember who thought of adoption, but we both always knew we were open to it and immediately decided to pursue that route instead of additional fertility treatments at the clinic.

My mother suggested meeting with her and my dad’s trust attorney, who was very passionate about adoption and could possibly represent us as we moved forward. When we met with him for a consultation we overwhelmed with the many different types of adoption to choose from. He encouraged us to sleep on it and see how we felt the next day. When we did, our hearts leaned toward private domestic adoption, so on Easter Sunday we announced to our family that we were pursuing adopting a U.S. baby through our new attorney.

I got straight to work on our paperwork and home study and I couldn’t help but also start to create a nursery for our hoped-for little one. The crib came first, and one of my best mom friends took me to Babies R Us to register for gifts. I was definitely excited! Since I hadn’t yet experienced any heartbreak on our journey to having a baby, I viewed an empty nursery with hope and it wasn’t painful for me. If anything it made me more joyful.

I must have emailed our attorney three different times, asking if there was anything I should change in our profile. I was politely reassured that we should be as authentic as possible and that someone would love us and pick us for who we are. Nine weeks later, we got a call with a match and were informed that we were their second choice. I have adoptive couple friends that had experienced failed matches and placements that fell through, so I tried not to get my hopes up, but I was still ecstatic.

We met with the expectant mother and father a week later, along with our attorney. We immediately hit it off, exchanged numbers and began texting. Over the next few weeks we took them to lunches, shopped for maternity clothes and even got to go with them to a doctor’s appointment and see the baby girl on 3D ultrasound! It was really important to me that they agreed with the name we had chosen for our daughter. I wanted them to see her in their minds and call her by the same name that we would raise her with, even though I knew we had the final, legal say in the matter after the adoption was finalized.

Not long after, our birth mom showed early signs of labor and was admitted to the hospital. Finley was born nine weeks early with minimal complications. In a normal birth situation in our state of California the birthmother will sign relinquishment papers upon being discharged from hospital. She then will have only 24 hours to change her mind. But due to legalities and because our baby came so early we had to wait about three weeks before she was able to sign. I was nervous, only because I was growing so emotionally-invested in this little baby that I could now hold and help care for. And I could tell that our birthmom was in love with Finley, too.

Our baby was in the NICU for a total of five weeks, and I was there around the clock the entire time. The birth parents also visited frequently and I realized that we were about as open as it gets. It was odd to most of the nursing staff and one social worker kept encouraging our birthmom to call and get updates on her baby. She made me feel like a bad person, questioning my reasoning for requesting that I be the only one to hold Finley skin-to-skin. I had asked our birthmom not to hold her this way because I wanted Finley to bond solely with me and to get used to my scent since we would be taking her home. But, for some reason the social worker continued to call our birthmom with updates, even after the medical rights were released to us.

Needless to say, I learned very quickly that some people just do not support adoption. I was filled with what-if’s and life-changing emotions that I had never experienced before. It was truly one of the most difficult times in my life. I also struggled with guilt as I watched our birthmom grieve her loss, and I literally cried myself to sleep one night over it. Who wouldn’t? Someone had placed their firstborn child in our arms. My husband and I believe it is the most generous thing one can do for someone else. It’s just indescribably amazing.

After the birthparents terminated their rights, they still visited each day and it was as though nothing had changed. The hospital staff was very confused, wondering why I would let the birthmother still see and hold the baby. I knew that some adoptive moms are very sweet and open with the birthparents but as soon as those papers are signed, they change their tune. I didn’t want to be one of them. I wanted to build trust. I knew we were going to be forever attached with this couple.

This relationship we share is unique; bonded by a baby. And on top of that bond, we also have a friendship. We discuss life, interests and experiences; probably more so than we discuss Finley. The first year after she was born we had visits about every six to eight weeks because we live fairly close and my work schedule was nonexistent. We have open communication and I text photos every Friday. Our open adoption works best this way. Of course, I understand that life can and will change things as time goes on, but as long as my daughter knows she was carried and placed in love then I am happy.

We finalized our adoption this past summer. Finley is now 14 months old. I’ve thought of her as our daughter from the beginning so I didn’t think that officially finalizing it would be that big of a deal. I literally thought it’s just signing another paper, but as soon as we sat down in court and the judge began to speak, it hit me like a ton of bricks! I cried the ugly cry and could barely get out my words. We were able to profess our love for our daughter in a courtroom. The official terminology they used alone is enough to make you cry and it was by far one of the best days of my life. I got to sign my first birth certificate. You can watch the court finalization video here.

Two days later we had Finley dedicated in our Christian church, and her birth family came to witness it. It was so beautiful to me because the first open adoption picture I saw on Pinterest was of birth parents and adoptive parents together at their child’s baptism. I still get emotional thinking about how I accomplished the exact moment that I longed for!

To say we are blessed is an understatement. Our placement happened very quickly and our daughter came so early. She’s a happy and healthy baby with many people that love her. I want to continue to create awareness about adoption and educate everyone I can on the importance and origin of open adoption. And we look forward to adding to our family through adoption again in the coming years.

~~~~~

Christina Smallwood is a 29 year-old business owner from Southern California. She loves God, her family and taking photos of everything. Her greatest joy is living a simple life as mom and wife!

National Adoption Month Series – Aubrey’s Story

Since the time I can remember, I have always wanted to be a mother. The day I married Craig was a joyous occasion and day of celebration for it marked the day I began my own, forever family. As time moved forward, the yearning to have a child more than consumed me. But one year went by, two years, three, and then four. My whole heart and soul longed for a precious baby, and instead I was left with the emptiness that seemed to fill my entire being. During our struggle with infertility, my husband supported me every step of the way, whether it meant having invasive surgery, another procedure done, more tests, or just holding me as I cried myself to sleep at night.

We had always talked of adopting one day, so in the summer of 2008 we finally decided to take the step and had adoption papers in hand. But for some reason unknown to me at the time, I felt that we should hold off on turning them in. I couldn’t understand such an answer as I had already waited long enough for a child, and we had been told that sometimes it could take years before a baby would be placed in your home. I knew there was a baby girl who was supposed to be in our family, and I tried to wait patiently for that time to come.

After much prayer and consideration, along with the power of priesthood blessings, we finally received the answer I had been waiting for. In May of 2009 Craig and I applied for adoption through LDS Family Services and were approved two months later. Soon after that we received an email from a birth mother who was due in December with a baby girl. Her name was Jennifer, and little did we know how much she was going to change our lives. Exactly one month later she announced that she was going to place her baby with us. During the next months ahead, I watched as Jen’s belly grew bigger, along with the love I had for her. She was going to give me something that no one else could give. She was giving me the gift of being a mother.

Before we knew it, December arrived and we were at the hospital awaiting the arrival of our little girl. On December 11, 2009 our precious baby was born. What joy and gratitude filled my heart when I held Elizabeth for the first time, knowing this special spirit was the answer to our prayers. I knew without a doubt that she was meant to be in our family.

When we returned to the hospital the following morning, and opened the door to Jennifer’s room, we found her sitting in a chair rocking Elizabeth with tears flowing down her cheeks. My heart began to break for the words I knew were coming but did not want to hear. With her head bowed, Jen said that she didn’t think she could sign the adoption papers. Since Craig’s parents had just arrived at the hospital, he left to go find them and explain what had happened. Feeling as if I could not breathe, I turned and left the room as well. Outside the room, I could not hold it in any longer and broke down in tears. Jennifer’s mother soon found me in the hall and wrapped her arms around me as we both cried together. She whispered words of encouragement, but all I could feel was despair.

A kind nurse found Craig and me a quiet room and offered me a box of tissues. The tears continued to fall as I stared out the window while Craig paced the floor, both of us feeling helpless and not knowing what to do. Suddenly I was overwhelmed with the spirit telling me to ask for a priesthood blessing. I immediately told Craig to find his father, and upon his arrival, the blessing was given. I cannot recall the words of this blessing, but never in my entire life have I felt such an instant feeling of comfort and peace as I had when they placed their hands upon my head that day. I knew then that everything was going to be okay, and that it was important to have faith in the Lord’s will.

A short while later Jennifer left her room to go for a walk with a case worker from LDS Family Services so they could talk things through. While she was gone, we stayed with Elizabeth and I watched as Craig held her tiny hand and touched her tiny toes, trying his best to hold back the tears. When Jen finally walked back into the room, she stood before us with tears in her eyes and said, “I can’t take her away from you…” The tears flowed down my husband’s face and we all embraced.

On a rainy Sunday morning two days later, Craig and I returned to the hospital to pick up our baby girl and bring her home. We both knew that the day ahead would bring tears of pain, tears of sorrow, but also tears of joy. Upon arrival we met with our caseworker while Jen spent time with Elizabeth, holding her, rocking her, and saying her goodbyes. After all necessary papers had been signed, we entered Jen’s room. Watching her hold Elizabeth with tears in her eyes, my heart swelled with the love for the mother who stood before me. Jen’s act of love, just like every birth mother, was putting the needs of her child above the wants of her heart. And when anyone asked her why she gave up her child, she simply replied, “I’m not giving up my child; I’m giving her something better.”

When the time came for Jen to place Elizabeth in my arms, I was softly reminded of the words she had once spoken to me, “from God’s arms, to my arms, to yours.” Many tears were shed and warm embraces shared when we said goodbye that day. After Jen had gathered her belongings, I watched as she walked down the hall with her parents by her side, never looking back. The sacrifice she had made that day was greater than any I have ever known in my earthly life. I looked down at the miracle I held, and felt my husband’s love surround me. I cried and thought to myself, “My arms are empty no more.”

Motherhood has been everything I have ever hoped for and more. It is not easy, but I would not have it any other way. As I look upon my daughter each day, I am reminded of Jen and the sacrifice she made. An adoptive couple we knew once said, “We believe birth mothers have a right to choose. If she has the courage to place, she has the wisdom and right to choose her child’s parents. Our daughter’s birth mother is her first mother.” And so we feel the same for our daughter, Elizabeth, Jen will always be her first mother. And as my daughter grows, I will always help her remember that Jen will always love her.

There is a special poem that was given to us on the day our birth mother announced to our families that she would be placing her baby girl with us. It is befitting of the two women who bonded over the love of the child they both share.

Once there were two women
Who never knew each other.
One you do not remember,
The other you call mother.

One gave you a nationality,
The other gave you a name.
One gave you the seed of talent,
The other gave you an aim.

Two different lives shaped
To make your one;
One became your guiding star,
The other became your sun.
One gave you emotions,
The other calmed your fears.
One saw your first sweet smile,
The other dried your tears.

The first gave you life,
The second taught you to live it.
The first gave you a need for love,
And the second was there to give it.
One gave you up,
It was all that she could do.
The other prayed for a child,
And God led her straight to you.

And now you ask me through your tears,
The age old question through the years;
Heredity or Environment,
Which are you a product of?
Neither my darling, neither;
Just two different kinds of love.

~~~~~

Aubrey, Craig and Elizabeth live in Highland, Utah. For the past three years, they have been hoping to adopt again and look forward to the day when Elizabeth gets to become a big sister!  Aubrey loves every minute of being a full-time mommy, and both Elizabeth and her daddy are working on their education.  Elizabeth attends preschool three days a week, while Craig will be finishing Nursing School this upcoming spring.

When Motherhood Doesn’t Come the Way You Expected – Lela’s Story

Motherhood is an interesting concept. When you are a young girl it consists of questions like, who will I marry? What will I name my children? How many kids will we have? And as we get older then it becomes, should we use birth control? When should we have kids? How far apart should they be? How will it feel to be pregnant? But I don’t think any young women ask themselves…will I be the one that can never get pregnant? Will I ever carry a child? How do I handle the pain? At least I never thought it would be me. But it was.

Infertility was easily the hardest thing I have ever gone though. It was hard physically, spiritually, mentally and especially emotionally. This is the ONE thing every girl is supposed to be able to do. God made us that way. Yet I can’t.   For four long years, my husband and I went through all the testing, medications, surgeries, and of course the ups and downs of each excruciating month, when I would realize once again that my body failed me. And I continued to ask myself, is this God telling me that I was not meant to be a mother? Should we just give up and focus on something else in life? Why is this happening to me, when everyone else in my family has no problem getting pregnant? What did I do wrong? I can’t express the grief and pain that comes with not being able to conceive a child. It was hard to watch others get pregnant and become mothers. To want something so bad and not be able to make it happen. To suffer during the many mother-oriented things like Mother’s Day, baby showers and others’ ultrasound pictures. To feel the guilt about not being super excited about the pregnancy announcements when they came in droves.

Somehow through all of this pain my heart began to warm up to the idea of adoption. In 2008, I prayed for six months that my husband would want this too. And, on Christmas, he gave me two books on adoption to let me know that he, too, was ready to go forward with that step.

Adoption is a long, tedious, hard and absolutely rewarding adventure! In January of 2009, we started the process of paperwork and getting our life story written out. We picked a local agency who worked with open adoptions from our city. Because of the stories we’d heard about children being given back to their biological parents, we were very nervous about open adoptions. But one weekend we went to a seminar where the agency had a few birth mothers come and speak about their decisions to put their child up for adoption. We were blown away by the bravery and love that these women had for their children. It opened our eyes to a whole new concept of what an open adoption was and how hard it is for these women to make a decision like this in the best interests of their child. It was a powerful day and I can honestly say now that these women are my heroes.

We finished our profile at the end of March in 2009. Ironically, only three days later, on April Fool’s Day no less, we received a phone call that we had been picked as the potential parents for a baby! One day later our little miracle girl was born and we were blessed to be in the room to watch the birth. It was exciting but to say this was a life change was the understatement of the century! Being prepared not to get our hopes up and convinced that the process would take a year or more, we had NOTHING ready for a baby. God amazingly provided for us through many friends and family members, and we managed to get our home and ourselves together with a new little girl. For various reasons (problems in the birth mother’s life and an inability to find the birth father to get a signature) it took eight long months for the adoption to be finalized, but we finally became legal parents. Two years later, we went on to adopt another child, this time a boy! Our son’s adoption took a more common route and we were able to develop a relationship with the birth mother over the last five months of her pregnancy. I was even able to go to an ultrasound with her and see our baby boy for the first time! As with any adoptions, there were ups and downs in our emotions. At one point, a few weeks before he was born, we found out that he has some Native American heritage, and as such, we were told that the likelihood of the adoption going through was very slim. But thankfully, the tribe signed off on his release and we were able to adopt him rather quickly, only two months this time!

Adoption can be very expensive and we decided that he would be our last one. We had entertained the idea of foster care but were overwhelmed with the process. However, God had different plans for us, and in October of 2013, we were given fifteen minutes to make the choice of taking a little six-week-old foster baby from a family friend. We felt that God was putting him in our lives when we have been too fearful to follow our hearts. And he is currently still in our care as a foster child.

While my journey to motherhood was very different from what I had seen growing up and what I had expected to happen, when I look at my beautiful children, I wouldn’t change it a bit. I still have many doubts and worries about bringing up my kids, along with some added pressure that they will not appreciate their life’s journey, but I am thankful that God did have children in mind for me, after all!

~~~~~

Lela and her husband, Ian, live in Washington State. She is a stay-at-home mom with her three kids, ranging in age from 7 months to 5 years old.

A Life Spent Loving Others – Mary’s Story

Mary was born March 12, 1980, the second child to Dan and Kathy. She became the younger sister and mentor to Leo-Paul (LP) and the older sister and friend to Tanika. From the very first moment of Mary’s arrival, she touched people’s lives physically and emotionally. At the tender age of 9 months while watching LP work with his speech specialist, she began mimicking the therapist through a two-way mirror. LP laughed at the sound behind the wall and then he too began to make the sounds that the therapist wanted to hear. Physically challenged from birth, LP learned to speak, walk and read following Mary’s lead.

When she was four, Mary’s family became a medical foster home for infants born to chemically-addicted parents. She became a voluntary consummate ‘mommy,’ changing diapers, diagnosing bottom rashes, redressing and feeding any baby that needed it. Burping them, burrito-wrapping them and singing them to sleep along with all her dolls and the dogs and the neighbor kids that routinely stopped in. By the time Mary was nine, she was carrying car seats and diaper bags and heading off to another hospital for another baby to bring home.
At 13 she met her sister Tanika, weighing only 3 pounds 11 ounces and measuring 14 inches long. Mary would soon call her “my shoe box baby.” Mary would take extra special care of this little bundle for the rest of her life. When she was fourteen Mary was the only person allowed to pick up and hold Tanika’s medically fragile twin sister, Tanisha. Tanisha lived in an infant hospice foster home and shortly after her visit with Tanika and Mary, Jesus moved Tanisha home. Mary held Tanika close to her for a very long time. She loved Jesus but she wasn’t ready to let Tanika follow Tanisha’s lead.

At 16 years old, Mary’s parents divorced, but that did not hinder her spirit. She was a cheerleader to all around her. She coaxed, prodded, pulled and harangued many people out of some of life’s deepest ruts. Two years later, in 1998 at the age of 18, she started doing foster care on her own while attending nursing school and became one of the youngest licensed foster parents in the state of Oregon. Over the next thirteen years, she would become a caregiver to more than forty children but ‘momma’ to only thirteen very especially loved babies of all ethnicities and all manner of health and drug-related problems. Her heart was always ready to love just one more little one. She was an encourager, inspiring babies who could not feel, to live and learn how to love. God blessed Mary with the gift to love those among us who are difficult to love.

After receiving her RN license, she continued doing foster care and began caring for the elderly and mentally challenged as well; the population pushed away from society. While physically caring for her patients, she also prayed mightily over them. She encouraged them and listened to their life stories. Every life mattered to the Lord and she wanted even those lost within themselves to understand how important they were to Jesus. She sang daily their heart-songs to Jesus.
God also blessed Mary with the gift to share Jesus with anyone needing to know Him prior to their earthly departure. One woman that Mary became especially close with asked her to pray that God would take pity on her and allow her a small place in Heaven. Mary assured her that Jesus already had her mansion built and that He was just waiting to bring her home. That evening, Mary’s friend moved into her mansion built with Jesus’ own hands.

Woefully, Mary had her own health problems. For years she had suffered from genetic endometriosis and ovarian cysts and the doctors had told her she would never be able to conceive her own baby. But when she had a miscarriage early on in her marriage, she was devastated. Not long after, in 2003, at only 23 years old, she was diagnosed with HPV and had to have a complete emergency hysterectomy. They would have never found out about the cancer if it wasn’t for that precious, lost baby.
Mary had also contracted a rare strand of bacteria during her second year of nursing school, which began to attack her vital organs causing sustained damage. The mounting health problems forced her to give up working as an RN. However, Mary’s joy and enthusiasm for helping others did not end, and so she worked more creatively at being a better foster mom to medically fragile infants. Her patience was limitless and her zeal for life inspirational.

In December of 2004 Mary picked up a two-day-old boy, Baby “J,” from the hospital with the intent to adopt. He was a drug baby, so she knew he would suffer from many developmental issues and probably have to have years of therapy and special education. Mary took it all in stride. She loved him as if he were her own flesh and blood. Two years later and two weeks away from signing Baby “J’s” adoption finalization papers, Mary’s husband abandoned them. After that, the state determined that as a single parent she could not adopt any child, but as a top-notch foster parent she would be allowed to keep “J” in her home as a foster child until he reached the legal age of eighteen years old. If he were allowed to stay in one foster home for seven years, permanency might be ensured. Her hope fervently changed to emergent prayers.
Mary kept and raised her boy and for the next four years he called her his momma and she called him her son. In fact, one time in mental health therapy, “J” was told that Mary was not the mom that carried him in her tummy, but he didn’t like that. He told Mary later that it made him mad at God because he loved her and wanted to have come from her tummy! Mary reassured him that she loved him with all her heart and that she couldn’t love him more if he had come from her tummy.

Just three months prior to his 7th birthday, in September 2011, after a state-induced whirlwind adoption process, “J” was placed in his “forever home” 2500 miles from where he had lived and grown up with Mary. She only got to say a quick goodbye before he was taken away by what seemed like the perfect family for him. Under the guise of an open adoption, the state caseworker told her she had to wait six months before contacting the adoptive family. Later, however, the adoption worker told Mary the family said there would be no more contact, ever. Mary’s heart was broken and she felt betrayed by the adoption worker, the state caseworker and his new family.
Months went by and then a year without any update on “J” from the adoptive family or his caseworker. Mary continued to grieve the loss of her son and wrote this to a friend:

“I know God will give me answers in time or when my time ends. I know eventually “J” is going to grow up beyond their control and want to seek out answers to those questions they could not answer, but that I can. So I’m praying that someday he will return to me with memories and we can be reunited.”

Mary did not foster any more children after “J” was adopted and her health began to quickly fail. She was devastated and heartbroken on the inside, and even though she knew that “J” was where God wanted him to be and the family was a good match for him, she confided in her mom quietly that she felt her life was over. She had no energy to date again or make many friends and she was lonely. What she didn’t realize is that through the thousands of people that she touched, she had more friends than many people would gain in a lifetime. Mary’s heart-warming spirit encouraged veterans, the disabled, first responders, medical personnel on all levels, patients waiting for care, patients exiting care, surviving family members of newly departed loved ones and people from sea to shining sea. But she still prayed daily that God would send her a good friend and He answered that many times over as she rekindled old friendships through the internet.

Mary’s health continued to deteriorate with each passing week. The bacteria had compromised her entire immune system. She developed Crohn’s and Sweet’s syndrome in her GI tract and pseudo tumor cerebrii in her brain which began multiple types of seizures. By the middle of 2013, Mary’s lungs weakened to the point where she was getting pneumonia ever couple of months and her kidneys were functioning only at a 20-30% rate. Her liver, pancreas, gall bladder and spleen were enlarged and she could not stop vomiting. The doctors could not seem to diagnose her worsening condition. The disease continuously ravaged her already scarred young body over the years, requiring multiple hospital stays, serious surgeries and demanding test after test after test.
Her struggles were grueling to say the least, but her words were always uplifting for those around her. She would pray for the first responders that were urgently called to her home. She would pray for her family, hoping they would forgive her this ‘one last time’ for making them rush her to the ER when her heart wouldn’t stop hurting. She prayed for the nurses, doctors and technicians and that their jobs would be a little less ‘crazy because of her illness this time.’ She talked to God all the time.

In mid-November of 2013, she was finally diagnosed with Atrial Septal Defect (a hole in her heart) and while she awaited more testing and the possibility of another surgery, Mary was near bedridden and had to have daily supplements of IV fluids and oxygen. She insisted on staying in the comfort of her own home, demanding that she not return to the hospital. Her family knew that under no circumstances were any resuscitation methods to be made if she slipped quietly away from them.

Although she was getting weaker and weaker, she still made the time to email a dear friend from grade school who was grieving a miscarriage. Feeling her friend’s deep pain of loss and the hopelessness of having to pick up the pieces after everything is said and done, Mary wrote this to her:

“I seem to miss my babies first thing in the morning. They are on my mind at noon, around dinner and then again at bedtime. They are the last thing I think of before I go to sleep and the first thing I think of upon waking. Each year seems to get better, but the pain doesn’t seem to go all the way away. Grief is so complicated. I can’t wait to get to Heaven to ask the Lord why He allows our Angel babies to be taken back to heaven and ask Him if we can touch them, hold them and smell them.”

On November 17, 2013 at 12:33 p.m., Mary, our daughter, sister, family member and friend solidly grasped Jesus’ hand and walked Heaven’s distant road home. She left a legacy reflective of a life filled with love for the Lord, a willingness to help no matter the chores because it meant doing ‘as Jesus would do if He were here.’ She left memories of her ability to laugh loudly, heartily and unashamedly. She left memories of her skill to sing off key, on key, or just forget the key and sing out loudly. And, she left us with the memory of her smile; her bright, enthusiastic, encouraging, dreamy and ‘you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me’ smiles. Mary believed smiling broke through armored, tough exteriors and she proved that action correct more times than not. How can you not smile when twin dimples and blue eyes are flashing you?

                       

Mary grew to become the woman Jesus wanted her to be. Her life lesson is twofold. First, her pain-filled illness was God’s rendering of Mary as a Masterpiece. The pain drove Mary into His open, embracing arms. He nestled her there, spoke loving kindness and mercy over her there, healed her a bit and returned her back to us. He honed her as only the Maker can. And secondly, her mother’s heart loved first her babies, but also that same heart loved the disabled, the hard-wrought, the lost and the found. Her mother’s heart beat with life for all connecting with her. Be rendered to God. Connect love with others’ heart beats.

Mary is whole, healthy and perfect in eternity. She is in heaven holding her angel babies and every other angel child up there. She is singing praises with the saints and dancing with her Savior. Her amazing, selfless personality is there blessing everyone in the next life.  And we, her family and friends still on earth, rejoice in the fact that we will one day see her face again. She will be there by Jesus’ side as one of the first to welcome us when we journey home as well.

~~~~~

In loving memory of Mary Jo Lippincott, March 12, 1980 – November 17, 2013.
To see her memory slideshow, please click here.

Now I Value Life – Guest Post by Jacqueline at Deep Roots At Home

There are days when I struggle to be the 60-plus-year-old mother of three active and involved young adults, aged 21, 21, and 23, but as my husband and I look back over what the Lord has done, we marvel at God’s grace and mercy! We can’t imagine life without these young people!
There is great joy in what the Lord has done for us…for you see, we were married for 19 years before we had the blessing of a child! The reason? We had not obeyed God’s commands, and we suffered consequences that would reach over many years. In some ways, those consequences still continue today, though forgiven.
I will tell you the sad story.
The early 50s, when we grew up, saw increasing prosperity. After the terrors and hardships of WWII, families in the U.S. were focused on getting that new dishwasher, television, and maybe, even two cars. Women were leaving home for the job market in record numbers to have the extras.

Then in the 60s and 70s, rebellion and ‘free love’ on college campuses exploded onto the scene. Most parents were totally unprepared to deal with it all, and thus, by default, didn’t. Busy with earning a living, many parents were out of touch with the social pressures their young people faced, the anti-God stance in schools, and the growing fractures between generations.

My husband and I both had parents who loved us, but their generation generally did not find it easy (or were unaware of the need) to discuss deeper issues with their young people.
While on campus, we ‘married’ ourselves (without family or friends) in a chapel before ‘God’ on the I.U. Bloomington campus, and I lived in the frat house from Thursday to Sunday night. Life was all partying or studying. This was not at all abnormal during those years (’69-73) in the middle of the sexual revolution, the Vietnam War, Woodstock, and the devaluation of life with the Roe V. Wade decision (1973).
Immediately out of nursing school, my boyfriend (now my husband of 40 years) and I lived together as did many, but certainly not all, of our classmates. We finally did get properly married, much to my mother’s relief. We were 21 and 22.
Upon graduation as an RN, I worked in open-heart surgery at a large metropolitan hospital. Occasionally, when there was a need for extra personnel in the abortion clinic of that hospital, I would be called on to assist as were other surgical nurses. Even after being raised in a private Christian school environment (and calling myself a Christian), I was unable to apply the things I studied in my catechism class to real life decisions. I was for all practical purposes “dead in my trespasses and sins.”
“And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience.” Ephesians 2: 1
I am ashamed to say that we had an abortion several years into our marriage. We had bought into the worldly view of living for ourselves, careers, money, and things.
Two decisions forever changed the direction of my life: first, breaking God’s protective commands regarding the sacredness of marriage (having sex before marriage) and second, disregarding the sanctity of life (participating in and having an abortion). I didn’t know it would affect my health, my fertility in years to come, or undermine our own self-respect or our respect for each other.
Nevertheless, God faithfully lead us to a solid Bible-believing church, and I finally accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior at 29. By this time, I was really suffering emotionally. The pain got my attention. You can’t tell me that abortion doesn’t mess you up! I had already had several miscarriages and knew there were other things wrong. The worst were flashbacks to assisting in a surgical abortion one day at the hospital where I found a perfect, tiny hand less than the size of a dime stuck to the side of my gloved hand. It is terrible to remember it. I ran out of the OR and refused to go back. It has taken years for those scars to heal. I learned the value of human life in a split second. It wasn’t tissue to me anymore; it was a baby!
Now slowly my perspective changed. My whole being desired to be a mother, to bring forth new life within our marriage and before God. And we could not! Years went by with several more miscarriages. We did two home-studies in order to adopt, one Korean, and one local, but the Lord chose to close the doors. These are stories in themselves…… Many, many people at our church and other friends were praying for us.
After 8 years of pursuing medical help to conceive (Clomid and surgeries for endometriosis), and then 4 years off, I got a call from a surgeon I worked with who told me about a new procedure called GIFT (gamete intra-fallopian transfer). I was working nights, 7 days a week, to afford the earlier procedures since insurance wouldn’t pay for infertility treatment. I felt the clock ticking the years off my life. After much prayer and many tears, we decided to go ahead. The first GIFT produced 2 tiny hearts beating, seen on an ultrasound at 4+ weeks. One was in the (wrong) fallopian tube, the damaged tube! We had a tubal pregnancy which is dangerous, but both babies failed to grow. It was so discouraging paying over $11,000 and nothing to show for it, but stress and grief and high levels of drugs (Metrodin, Lupron, and Pergonal).
I was determined to continue since there was a 36% chance in those days of delivering a live baby. We were told there was no other way. I clung to the verses of Isaiah 54: 11-15, especially verse 13.

The second attempt went perfectly in every way. Twins! We were SO excited! My middle quickly got big, but in the fourth month I realized I was not growing in measurement. I was getting smaller!

A hastily arranged ultrasound revealed that one of the little lives I carried had died several weeks before. We saw a separate sac with little bones, and were told our second baby might miscarry, too. We were crushed, and I was in anguish. I was guilty of all those earlier years, and just knew I was being punished. I almost forgot about the life within me as I focused on the loss. “Why God?” Satan almost destroyed my joy, except that Jesus is greater! “Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” (1 Peter 5: 8)
Later, even though our other baby would be fine, I felt such frustration because if we didn’t want an only child, we would have to go through another of these uniquely stressful procedures with all the costs, shots, and stress leading up to it. Then once the procedure is over, there is the waiting for that determining ultrasound to give you the news, good or bad!
Having a baby can easily become an idol! I had to get over it so I could focus on having a joyful heart for my husband and new son. It was the will of a loving, sovereign God, and His comforting presence was very real.

“…give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.”
1 Thessalonians 5: 18

Finally, the day arrived, and the Lord in His mercy gave us a beautiful, healthy son. My aching arms were filled, and we dedicated him to the King of Kings for His glory! I can’t describe the joy and wonder of it all. We had been married 19 plus years!!

My doctor said I was ‘jump-started’ with all the hormones, so we did a third GIFT to give our new son a little brother or sister. We were blessed with adorable, healthy twins exactly two years later. We praise God for His abundant grace and mercy!

Now I value life!

It has been a long road forgiving myself for assisting in and having an abortion, but I found the Lord has welcoming arms to forgive us when we come to Him in repentance. We are sinners, but by His grace, we have hope…and now can see His guiding hand in it all. Thank You, Lord, for birthing in us new life, spiritually and physically!

“…I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live.” Deuteronomy 30: 19

We have been able to share with our children (appropriately, through time) the curses we had brought upon ourselves. That has protected them, to a large degree, from repeating the same mistakes which we made. It is a blessing to tell them of the mighty things that the LORD has done for us while we were yet in unbelief and of the restoring power found only in trusting Christ Jesus. Today we enjoy a rich relationship with each of our children by the grace of Almighty God. I share this with you to encourage and strengthen YOU that no matter where you find yourself, our gracious God is always at work. Never, never give up hope, dear one.

For 38 years, Jacqueline has been a wife to her husband and a teacher of their children in the home. Now a new season has come, and with the blessing of her husband, she writes on the blog Deep Roots at Home an encouragement to herself and others. (Titus 2: 3-5) How important is this role of speaking into the lives of younger women

The Bitter Irony – Guest Post by Lizzi of Considerings

For the longest time, I was adamant that I didn’t want to be a mother. I had a horrible, tough childhood, subjected to victimization in a home ruled by depression, lies and the idol of marriage. Marriage was something which God had joined together, and no man, or woman, or child, should EVER try (or hope) to tear it asunder. Divorce was the vilest dirty word. And so, in our ways, for 12 years, my sister and I were daily sacrifices on the altar of that idol.

I determined that I would NEVER have children, because my experience of being parented was so hurtful, so poor (not in *all* ways, but in many) and so confusing, that I genuinely thought I would have nothing to give a child. In addition to which, LOOK at what parenting turned you INTO! Because with childish egocentricity (emphasized by the insistent message that I was a burden; something to be put up with and dealt with – never someone to be cherished or enjoyed) I assumed that somehow, part of the responsibility for that toxic home lay with my sister and I. I mean, it MUST, right? We were there, after all, being demanding and requiring input and attention, and getting things wrong and mucking things up and being in the way…some of the blame must be apportioned to us. And I never wanted a child of mine to feel that way for turning me into such a horrible person, and for ruining my home.
But I got a job working with children and gradually my heart unfroze. I realized the full extent of how horribly wrong my frame of reference for family life was, and on the day my sister announced her first pregnancy, I cried bitter tears of regret, because as the older sibling, surely it was supposed to be my turn first?

Yet marriage and children (I know not everyone feels the need to tie any knots before getting knocked up, but as a committed Christian, I wasn’t prepared to do it any other way. Which makes my story that much harder, I’ll admit) was not forthcoming. So I waited until I found the chap who had a touch of destiny about him. The first time we met, my gut told me “He’d be a good husband and a good father.” As I got to know him, I could see myself growing old and content with him by my side. And when he proposed, once I got over the surprise, I didn’t have a second thought about saying a joyful “Yes!”

If I’d known, would I have done things differently? If he’d known, would he?

You see, my dear Husby turned out to be sick. Sicker than either of us realized or anticipated or would fully know until three years down the line, when we received the official word that there’s no point trying for a baby anymore, because we will never be able to conceive naturally. We will (hopefully) be offered one shot at fertility treatment. And then we’re cast loose to figure out how to live our lives.
And in the meantime, to make matters worse, our marriage has been plagued by this sickness and its associated challenges, for its entirety. Three years of absolute hell; of suddenly having to manage a spouse who had succumbed to that dread beast, depression. Who often didn’t want to be alive by the end of the day. Who claimed he loved me, but rejected me on several very intimate and very painful levels, as a result of seeing the world through the dark cloud of mental ill-health.
His sickness also pervaded to other parts of his body, resulting in two miscarriages for us – the bitterest pills to swallow, that our first two children – our Neverborns – might be our only two. And each time I allow myself to think about that for too long, it absolutely devastates me and leaves me bereft.

In the time since, the gates have slammed down, one by one, on our options for parenthood. We can’t foster or adopt, as the depression has us (rightly) disqualified from their eligibility criteria. We can’t afford private fertility treatment.  And we have some of Husby’s sperm frozen, so why would we waste our one shot on donor sperm?
This is our final chance to realize our fragile, shaky, precious dreams of becoming parents to a live child, and it sucks beyond belief to know that the success rate for the treatment we might get – the BEST treatment – stands at 16%.

The irony of those miscarriages is strong. And each month when crushing disappointment claws at my heart as I realize that no, I’m not pregnant. Again. It is only balanced by the knowledge that at least I’m not LOSING another baby. Because there is no more profoundly painful feeling I have ever encountered than knowing that my body – designed to protect and nurture and grow – had been unable to hang onto my child. Or the knowledge that each of my tiny babies were defective, and were never going to grow beyond the point they reached, and so just gave up; zipped up wrong – abominations to be disposed of and expelled.

No pain EVER equalled this before.

And so I face life as an Invisible Mom – potentially forever. No one will see my children. I’ll never get to hold them close or smell their hair or kiss their scraped knees better. I’ll never shout at them or get kicked in the face by them, or embarrassed in restaurants by their behaviour, or have my heart broken when theirs is.
I’ll get to sleep in on the weekends. To do precisely as I want, when I want. With two incomes, I’ll be able to buy myself nice things, and enjoy them without risking the ruin of little fingers. I’ll be able to drink without worrying that I might need to be sober if one of the kids had an emergency. I won’t have to pay out for schooling fees or worry about bullies. My life will be my own.

And I’d trade it in a second.

Lizzi is a deep thinker, truth-teller and seeker of good things. She writes her thoughts on her blog Considerings. You can also find her on Facebook at her Considerings page as well as on the group Invisible Moms Club.