It's crazy to think that 3 years ago I became a mother. It wasn't how I expected. My water didn't break in the middle of the night. I didn't need to call my doctor. No one rushed me away to the hospital. My husband wasn't even actually with me. No, I didn't spend hours in labor or have a swaddled newborn thrust into my arms after birthing them. My motherhood experience started at McDonalds. Seeming perfect, right?!?!? Ha!
I remember the days after getting the call. Planning, making sure I had a few clothes in their right sizes and mostly praying. As most new mothers, I was very anxious. Unsure what to expect. I prayed. A lot! Asking God to help me...unsure of this task in front of me, but wanting it with every fiber of my being. What if they hated me? Cried when I took them home? But at last, I was there. Parking my car and looking through the playplace windows.
I saw what seemed to be a whiz of a boy (sort of think Flash from The Incredibles) whirling around the room. I'm pretty sure I didn't even get a great look at his face until I gazed at it through the rear view mirror on the way home as he was finally strapped still. : ) But I do remember as he ran past me giggling thinking, I never heard a sound so sweet before. I can also squeeze my eyes real hard and picture her tiny face. The big brown eyes gazing at me, her puffy little cheeks and the sweetest little fountain of hair held by a small bow on top of her head. I remember picking her up for the first time....so confused about what laid ahead, but knowing our lives would never be the same.
It's hard to remember those first days and I will not lie. Unlike, the hazy yet quiet sweetness of bringing home a newborn, our beginning was tough. Adoption is a beautiful gift born out of a tragic loss. We do live in a broken world, scared by sin. Adoption shows those scars, but just like the world Christ comes in with rays of hope. Good things, joyful hearts and bonds that only He can forge are the other side of those scars.
Isaiah 61:3 says...
to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified.
I like to think that is the story of us. My ashes of my sick heart because of hope deferred...their ashes of a childhood torn apart was made into a beautiful headdress that is now the Thompson family. I will never forget the pain in waiting for children, or the struggles of our adoption because to me it only increases the delight and glory of the power of our God. He took a sad, childless woman and two children without a home to make them whole as a family. That is the beauty of adoption...taking something broken and making it whole. That is what He did for me through salvation. I was broken, sinful and stained by this world around me. But PRAISE to HIM for not leaving me alone. Instead, through the sacrifice of His son, He adopted me. Made me His child. Made me whole. A sweet friend got me this necklace and it says it best in why we wanted to adopt...
I remember the days after getting the call. Planning, making sure I had a few clothes in their right sizes and mostly praying. As most new mothers, I was very anxious. Unsure what to expect. I prayed. A lot! Asking God to help me...unsure of this task in front of me, but wanting it with every fiber of my being. What if they hated me? Cried when I took them home? But at last, I was there. Parking my car and looking through the playplace windows.
I saw what seemed to be a whiz of a boy (sort of think Flash from The Incredibles) whirling around the room. I'm pretty sure I didn't even get a great look at his face until I gazed at it through the rear view mirror on the way home as he was finally strapped still. : ) But I do remember as he ran past me giggling thinking, I never heard a sound so sweet before. I can also squeeze my eyes real hard and picture her tiny face. The big brown eyes gazing at me, her puffy little cheeks and the sweetest little fountain of hair held by a small bow on top of her head. I remember picking her up for the first time....so confused about what laid ahead, but knowing our lives would never be the same.
It's hard to remember those first days and I will not lie. Unlike, the hazy yet quiet sweetness of bringing home a newborn, our beginning was tough. Adoption is a beautiful gift born out of a tragic loss. We do live in a broken world, scared by sin. Adoption shows those scars, but just like the world Christ comes in with rays of hope. Good things, joyful hearts and bonds that only He can forge are the other side of those scars.
Isaiah 61:3 says...
to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified.
I like to think that is the story of us. My ashes of my sick heart because of hope deferred...their ashes of a childhood torn apart was made into a beautiful headdress that is now the Thompson family. I will never forget the pain in waiting for children, or the struggles of our adoption because to me it only increases the delight and glory of the power of our God. He took a sad, childless woman and two children without a home to make them whole as a family. That is the beauty of adoption...taking something broken and making it whole. That is what He did for me through salvation. I was broken, sinful and stained by this world around me. But PRAISE to HIM for not leaving me alone. Instead, through the sacrifice of His son, He adopted me. Made me His child. Made me whole. A sweet friend got me this necklace and it says it best in why we wanted to adopt...
we love because He first loved us.
1 John 4: 19
So happy "Gotcha Day" (back on July 18th) to our first and second born children.
July 2010
June 2013
1 comments:
The years go by fast for sure. While I don't have children of my own, the one I lost in 1995 (3 months into the pregnancy) still holds a special place in my soul. I will one day be a mother of adopted children; in God's timing and His alone. I am certain of this. I am grateful to be able to read blogs from women such as yourself who have lived the dream of becoming a mother through adoption.
Thank you for sharing...
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