This Way, Mom
"He's not gonna make it and I don't want him to make it," the doctor informed my husband Ron and me. Assorted medical staff had worked on our three month old son, Christian, for over forty minutes. It was official. Our baby had died.
Christian had been born with a severe heart defect. His underdeveloped heart had been discovered in utero and we were told that our child would not live much past birth. Ron and I chose to trust in God's plan for our lives and to celebrate the pregnancy, as this would be our only time with our son.
It was not easy. We grieved the news while the miracle of life grew inside my body. I dreaded the day of Christian's birth; how do you say goodbye while you are saying hello? But I was also very excited to finally meet this precious little guy.
And our faith grew. My whole life I had heard about people going through difficult times and how God had used those very times to prune people so that they could bear more fruit. Could this be true of us too?
My water broke three weeks before my scheduled C-section. Because of his condition Christian was born with a dozen medical staff in attendance. He was assessed and sent on to Children's Hospital.
He did not die that day. We met a surgeon who told us that our son could be a candidate for risky, corrective surgery done in three different steps. Christian had his first surgery (unrelated to the heart, this one was on his stomach) when he was one day old and then another when he was twelve days old. He was nicknamed, "Steady Eddy."
Christian made progress and after six weeks was able to come home. What a blessing! What unexpected joy!
Ron and I created a blended family when we married. He had three children and I had one. We were very excited to bring Christian home to be the newest member of our expanding brood. I had always dreamed of raising a child with the man I love and now I was.
There were many precautions that we had to take with Christian at home and many changes were made around our house to keep him healthy. We all made sacrifices but we were all too happy to do so.
We had Christian home for several weeks before that day in December of 1997. It seemed like an ordinary day - his coloring was a little off, but there was this insistent prompting to take him into the hospital. It became a blessing that God allowed Christian to die there with trained staff attending to him. Surely if he had died at home I might have spent a lifetime wondering what I could have done to save him.
As is so often the case with special needs children, Christian touched many lives while he lived and even more after he died. Our family received wonderfully touching letters from people, some we barely knew, who shared with us the impact Christian had on them. I guess this was some of the fruit that God had pruned us to produce.
There was healing; it was slow. Time marched on but I could not let go of the dream I had started out with to have a child with Ron. We shared four children (three of these half time) and one in heaven. Wasn't that enough?
After much consideration Ron and I decided to pursue adoption. This was a decision of trust; if the Lord wanted another child in our lives it would be so, and if he did not, we would accept his decision. We filled out forms, attended classes, were fingerprinted, went to scheduled appointments, had recommendations written and were successful in jumping through the hoops as required. I couldn't help but wonder, Would the committee that matches the child with the family even choose us? We already had kids. Were we being selfish in wanting another one?
The next part was waiting for "the phone call." This would be when the social worker calls to tell the prospective parents they have been matched with a child. The routine of everyday life took over any anticipation of this event and as time went by I didn't think about the call as much. After months turned into one year and then two I didn't really think about the call at all. About this time I told God that I surrendered my dream of having a child with Ron to him. I would let go completely. For good. Initially this was difficult and then I felt a peace so sublime that I rested in it - trusting.
About a month later I was praying one morning and I had a very clear impression. I heard the Lord say to me that there would be joy, so much joy around the corner. I responded, That would be great. I look forward to the joy, not knowing what it meant and intrigued by my impression as this was not a typical prayer response for me.
Two hours later I received a phone call from our social worker. They had a daughter for us, six weeks old with brown hair and brown eyes, unnamed and born on December 30. The hairs on my arms went straight up. The 30th of December is Ron's birthday. Most of our kids including Christian had brown hair and eyes. A daughter? A baby? We would have the privilege of naming her? Was this possible? This had to be the joy the Lord was telling me about this very morning. I wept. I had lunch with Ron and told him the news. We agreed that only God could be behind this so we made an appointment to see this baby girl.
Several days later, full of excitement and butterflies, we drove to where the baby was staying. We turned onto the street and noticed it was called Amor. Not only does this mean love it is also a family name on Ron's side of the family. Going back at least four generations Amor has been used as a middle name. It just seemed like a divine sign. But nothing could have prepared me for what I saw as we drove up to the house. Hanging outside was a banner of an angel with tousled brown hair and a reddish gown on. It looked exactly like Christian did in our Christmas card the year he was with us - lots of brown hair with a bright red jumper on. It was as if Christian had modeled for the banner. And in that moment I felt the presence of God. I felt as if Christian was saying, This way, Mom and Dad. Come meet your daughter.
There she was waiting for us at the front door in the arms of the foster mom she was staying with. Those big brown eyes, brown hair. We fell in love, as parents do, when they gaze upon their children for the first time.
It has been over eight years since that day. We adopted Taylor into our family and into our hearts. Once he taught us more about trust, God used her to be the bridge in connecting this blended family. Taylor continues where Christian left off. And, yes, there has been much joy.
member since 2007