Blog Therapy

My thoughts won't flow as easily from my brain to the computer as my husbands did last week.  I really don't have a lot to add to what he said, but I would say that he is in a different stage of accepting things than I am.  He has a lot more clarity and I'm oh....just a tiny bit a whole lot more emotional about things than he is.  He said sharing was therapeutic for him, so I figure I'll give it a shot. I apologize in advance for the lengthy post.

Yesterday I started out my day just basically feeling sorry for myself.  I normally feel genuinely happy for people who are experiencing a lot of joy in their lives, but yesterday I just couldn't do it.  I fought all morning with being angry and bitter about other families getting referrals and leaving for Ethiopia to go get/meet their little ones.  Pure old-fashioned ugly jealousy I suppose.  Then, as I am prone to do, I felt ashamed of myself and guilty for feeling angry and bitter.  By 10 am I had already filled my daily plate full of anger, bitterness, jealousy, impatience, and guilt.  All of that mixed with sorrow and fatigue from not sleeping well and working night shift just pushed me over the edge.  I'd say the term "despair" would be putting it lightly.  I held it together long enough to make PB&Js for the tiny people who run in circles around me everyday and then I phoned a friend.

With less than 30 minutes notice this kind soul agreed to watch my sweet kiddos while I took "some time for myself".  I barely made it home before my emotions completely took over.  I literally lost an hour of time laying on our deck face down crying hysterically.  I hit rock bottom.  I mean, I've been treading water for about 3 weeks here, trying to be strong and pretend I'm fine.  I avoid conversations and questions that might upset me, I refuse to make eye contact when people ask me how I am.  I don't know if it is pride or just not wanting to bother people or not trusting people with my feelings, but I've been holding everything in for so long and it just came rushing out.  If I keep using the treading water analogy, basically yesterday I just quit kicking.  I just laid on the bottom of the pool and drowned in my sorrow.

I cried.  I prayed. I got mad and refused to pray. Cried again. Gave up. Prayed again. Cried.  It was awful. Just awful.

But you know what?  When I was done, even though I was exhausted mentally and physically, I somehow felt a little bit better.

I've been having trouble talking to God about what has happened.  Just like I've had trouble talking to other people about it.  But I finally just said it and put it all out there.  I told him I was angry and bitter and that I need help with that.  I told him that I don't understand how this fits into His plan for us.  I told him I was tired and weary from worry and working.   I poured out all the grief and anger I'd been storing up in my heart, and I'll be honest with you...it was ugly. I am so grateful that no one there to witness it and it was all between me and God.  I told him it was just too much for me.  I asked for help.  I asked for answers.

You know what I did NOT get?  A vision.  A voice from Heaven giving me insight into His plan for me. Writing on the wall.  My Bible magically opening to a comforting passage. None of that.  (Maybe a good thing, remember Job?

You know what I did get? Relief. From being honest with Him about the state of my heart.  Relief from finally addressing the grief that I was holding inside.  Peace. From turning it all over to Him, even though I can't explain it.  Peace from acknowledging that I just can't do this on my own and letting someone else help.  Freedom.  From pretending to be strong enough to deal with it on my own.  Freedom from acting like my faith and hope haven't been shaken.  And comfort. I know that all these feeling won't magically disappear but I believe it will get better. Comfort from knowing that there are people that God has placed in my life specifically to be supportive and kind and help me get through this.

Today?  I was still tired this morning when I was ambushed by my kids asking for story-time in my bed.  I still wasn't interested in eating, but I enjoyed my coffee. I still felt sad when I read about another family traveling to meet their little ones today, but I didn't feel angry.  I still counted it a blessing when another friend offered to watch my girls for a few hours because I'm still not back to my old self.  I will still cry when I look at that tiny picture and see those big brown eyes. 

But I am not overwhelmed. God has restored my hope and renewed my faith.  And I can't quite explain it.

I read this from "For Instruction in Righteousness" by Pam Forster which I had pulled out to use in homeschooling this year.  I had to read it several times to let it sink in.  It says "We should also help our children realize that obedience is not always clearly blessed in the ways we perceive blessing.  Sometimes God blesses us by sending us more trials that will help us continue to grow, or challenges that will help us better comfort others who go through the same sorts of trials.  We must simply obey God and trust the results with Him.  We know that ultimately, even if not clearly apparent here on earth, He will reward us for our obedience when we stand before Him."

I know there are more rocky days to come. But today I thank God for the sunshine and the rain.  For a wonderful husband who holds me up when I can't keep going.  For my three precious girls and their joy for life.  For the body of Christ who has lifted us up in prayer and sent cards and made calls and helped with the girls.  For a second chance.  For God who will not turn His back on me, even when I refuse to look up to Him.  For His patience. For His promise that I will get to see that little boy someday and that my Caleb will be protected from the heartache of this world. For a Father who knows my heart and promises peace if I will just hold tight to Him and my faith.

Today I am better than yesterday.  I'm not sure what tomorrow will bring but trust that I will get through it.

My Thoughts on the Death of My Son

Adam here…

This may be a little random in places, but I need to get some thoughts out where someone can see them.

It’s been a hectic two weeks. To say the least. Amanda and I want to say thanks to everyone who has shown kindness and concern for us. It is greatly appreciated.

I haven’t said much since Caleb’s death, partially because I don’t know what to say, and partially because having my feelings on record means that they’re real and everyone can see what happens inside my head, which is not something I normally relish.

First, allow me answer a question or two that continue to come up:

•  Yes, we still intend to adopt. Just like I would imagine with a family that suffers a miscarriage, we still intend to keep working toward bringing home a child that needs a family. Our family.

• We’re doing okay. Working with the teens at camp last week was a wonderful experience and served as a good distraction, but coming home again brings it to the forefront. We had begun to amass supplies/donations in expectation of an imminent travel date, so having all these things ready to go just reminds us of the disappointment that we won’t be taking the trip according to plan.

• Where to from here? As I said, we still intend to adopt, so for the moment we have asked our agency to place us “on hold” so that we can grieve and process the situation. We may decide to go back on the list sometime in the next few months, so it is feasible that we could bring home a child closer to the holidays.

One of the hardest parts about this whole situation is all the “I don’t knows”:

• Could anything have sped up the process? I don’t know.

• Would the result have been the same? I don’t know.

• Will we get any more information on what happened? I don’t know.

• How long am I supposed to grieve for a child I never met? I don’t know.

• Is it appropriate to tell people that I lost a son? I don’t know.

• In the distant future, will I remember him as having been one of our family? I don’t know.

• Will I worry every waking second about another child that is referred to us? When it happens, can I express the joy that I did with the first one? Will hearing the name “Caleb” in any context from this point forward continue to remind me of the hole in my heart? I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know… 

I’ll tell you what I do know:

I trust in God. I told Him so over and over again on that horrible, stormy day....

I don’t know His plan for us, other than that He will be glorified in all circumstances, whether they are to our benefit or not.

I keep trying to tell myself that death is all just one of those circumstances. It’s a part of all of our lives and we’ll all go through it.

However, we’ve experienced a lot of death in our family, and frankly, I’m tired of it. Fathers, brothers, grandparents, friends…  For years, I have looked at the phone with dread anytime it rang and I wasn’t expecting a call. It’s like when someone comes up to you and says, “Can we talk for a minute…?” Dread.

I’m done with getting these types of phone calls. Calls where I have to rush home to share news that no one wants to hear. Calls from which the physical, mental and spiritual repercussions linger for days, months, years.

But they are in our plan for a reason, even if I can’t see it.

I think we’re good people. We trust in God and we try to do right by Him and by others. Why do these things happen to us? Were we just being used in some greater cosmic plan?

The short answer is: yes. We were. And I mean that in the best way possible.

I’m sure Mary felt the same way at some point: “God, was I just a vehicle to bring a baby into the world who was ultimately going to die? Why me? Did You think that I could bear it more than anyone else? You said I was blessed among women? I certainly don’t feel like it!” 

But you know what? No matter what amount of suffering Mary went through, the result of her son’s death sent ripples through the lives of people everywhere. The death of our son has already had an effect on a few, I hope.

Can I blame God for what has happened to our family?

I just can’t bring myself to do it. What good would it do? He is the Supreme Creator of the universe and everything in it belongs to Him. I can’t accept good and not adversity. It’s all a part of the human condition.

But I can tell you that Jesus experienced every bit of grief and endured every hardship so that Caleb could be with Him. And so that we could too.

And so that you, reader, whoever you are, could be too.

Caleb, I loved you, even though I never saw you. I look forward to the day when you and I can finally meet in a place that will never keep us apart again.

Thanks for letting me get my thoughts out.

Emotional Week

I didn't want to rewrite this so I pulled it over from facebook.

I'd really love to skip the post altogether but without it our path from here won't make sense to anyone who might be following along on our journey.  Also, right now I will take all the prayers I can get.

I'm not sure how to write this. I sure know I don't want to write this. Three weeks ago we accepted the referral of a 5 month old baby boy in Ethiopia. We received a picture and his information. We named him Caleb. We washed and folded and sorted tiny blue clothes and prayed for a court date to get him home soon. We fell in love.

We received a phone call from our agency last Wednesday telling us that our little boy passed away, he had pneumonia.

Even though we never got to hold him or meet him, we loved him. And even though we know that he is in Heaven where he will never be hungry, cold, sick or abandoned ever again, we still grieve the fact that he won't be coming home to us. Adam and I and the girls need your prayers right now as we struggle to make sense of the situation.


July has been a very emotional month for me. In the last two weeks I have helped a momma welcome her beautiful daughter into the world and helped another momma say goodbye to her tiny sick son. I have given a baby her first bath and I have given a baby his last bath. I have rejoiced as Caleb was added to our family and wept when he was taken away.

I can't say I always understand God's plan, but I can say that I believe and trust in a God who loves His children and always keeps His promises. This life is just so hard sometimes and I am so glad I can look forward to something better someday. I pray that I can turn this all over to God and may my grief become a blessing to someone else someday.

3 All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. 4 He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.
2 Corinthians 1:3-4

My heart aches because I didn't get to hold him or tell him he had a family. I know he knows that now. We are so sorry we didn't make it in time sweet boy. We hope you know how much you were wanted and loved.

Amanda