Not a Birth Story

Five years ago today, I went to see a lawyer about a little girl. I've told some of you my story, our story, but I don't think I've ever written it down. It seems like it was a lifetime ago. It basically was another world. I was living in Bolivia, South America and everything was in Spanish and on laid-back Latin time. I went to ask Dr. Freddy (lawyers in Bolivia are called Doctor) if I could adopt an eight-year-old girl from a local orphanage. It was the fleece I was laying out before God after two months of praying and seeking wise counsel. Since August, when my dear friend, Heidi, told me that my sponsor child, Angie, was becoming adoptable, and I felt the nudging of her elbow in my rib cage, or maybe the tugging of the Holy Spirit on my heart, I'd been asking God and others if I should take her home. 

At first, I prayed for Angie to get a family, as every good sponsor would. Then God answered with a question, as He often does, "Why not you?" 

Some people told me 'not me' because I was single. Others said 'not me' because I was a foreigner. Still others told me 'YES me.' So I went to talk to Freddy on the recommendation from my pastor and friend who had used him to adopt his son. I was ready for the lawyer to tell me it was impossible so I could have some closure on this chapter of my prayer life, so I could begin to pray for Angie to get another family, an easier family, easier for me at least. But that's not what God had in mind. After an hour-long consult, Freddy's words were "I'll have your daughter to you in a month." 

I'll never forget those words, or the state of near hyperventilation that consumed me as I descended the steps from his office. I remember making sure that she wouldn't have the chance to be adopted by a two-parent family, because I didn't want to stand in the way of her having a father. And I remember only half-joking that other mothers get nine months to prepare!

So, our story began. December 1st, one month later, I was granted custody of a beautiful eight-year-old girl. Six months from then, the adoption was final. But it wasn't as simple as that. The process was all in Spanish, and legal Spanish may as well have been Chinese for me. More than the paperwork and the hoops I had to jump through though, the struggles were emotional. Angie and I had a 12-day honeymoon period. Followed by six months of intensifying stress. The books I read said the first six months were the worst, so we held on. But it didn't get better in six months. It didn't get better after a year. At a year and a half I got married and it got worse. After three years, I read Jen Hatmaker's  blog post about their two years since adoption.  And I cried. I cried because she was giving others hope that at two years things would get better, and that had not been our story. And I cried for the dozens of commenters who hadn't found peace for their families after years and years either. 

Today, marks five years since the day I asked if Angie could be my family. And today, we've finally hit our stride. It's nearly guaranteed that seconds after I post this, we will have a monumental breakdown, but for the most part we've found our groove. It wasn't overnight, there wasn't a magic formula, but for those of you who've been asking and praying; the Lord has brought us so far.

I'm writing this now, for two reasons. 1) Because I owe it to Angie. After years of telling people how much we've struggled, it's time I tell people how far she's come. How far we've come. How much we've improved, she's improved and I've improved. How the tantrums have subsided almost entirely. How the fear has mostly been replaced with trust. Not with the trust that means just enough comfort to act out, but instead enough comfort to ask questions and be vulnerable, and stay calm. Trust that maybe we really do have her best interests in mind. And although the trauma's never gonna disappear, the scars it left are fading and its hold on her is loosening.

And 2) To give others hope. There's been a campaign going around social media to end mommy wars, to normalize the differences in parenting little ones. I want to add to that conversation. Not only will everyone's birth story, baby story, and toddler story vary, but everyone's adoption journey will look different too. 

It's quite possible your honeymoon period will never end. Or it's very likely your first six months will be the hardest, just like the books say. Maybe your path will smooth out in two years like the Hatmakers'. Or there's a chance it will take five like ours. And honestly, maybe it will never get easy for your family. But precious adoptive mommies and daddies, even if this last version becomes your story, you've still done the right thing. No matter how hard life seems now, I can almost guarantee your child's journey would have been darker, so much darker, if you weren't in it.

I believe in the ministry you're doing 24 hours every day, I believe it is the most holistic ministry anyone can do. And because you probably haven't heard it enough, Thank You.

Thank you for serving with your whole self, ALL the time, with no end coming. Thank you for loving as an action and not a feeling. And thank you for doing the hardest work that should be so rewarding but sometimes isn't; parenting a child someone else has hurt. Thank you.

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” -Galatians‬ ‭6:9‬ ‭NIV‬‬