The Story of Us- Part 2- The Beginning

Oh sweet girl, how I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again and a million times more if I need to: You were never, ever plan B.

How often does the world of adoption and foster care get assumed on the infertile and barren? As if God said, the child-losing should take care of the parent-losing. But no, He said His children should care for the orphans, and there’s more than enough of us for them and yet they languish in lonely wait because God’s children view His command as someone else’s backup plan.

God’s children view His command as someone else’s backup plan.

Baby girl, you were never my back-up plan. And though barren and wounded is where you found me, it is not where I began looking for you. Where did we begin?

I look back, see our journey start with caring for you; look back farther, see our journey start with the fostering process; but I must look back even farther to see where we begin. Look back, to me as a little girl, hearing that call to adopt, and it pressing on me because I knew my mom was a foster child who was then adopted.

Little one, we began when Grandma was born.

Growing up, knowing my mom’s experience, it made foster care and adoption real to me, tangible to me, personal to me. In ways, I also felt the care of fostering and the place of adoption. The mystery, strangeness of it all that so many wrestle with, was gone for me. This was not an out-there system of strange faces and confusing statistics. This was a system that reflected the face of my mother and held her name.

I knew from watching her, the pain that came. The pain of unknowns and loss, of reading files and identity questioning. This was never an undefeatable monster to me, but a journey to be walked, wrestled with, and won. I knew also from watching her, the hope that came. The new story written, the grafting in, the path that God laid out for her through one placement.

I felt that call so strong even as a little girl. It’s almost like it was never even a question to me- more just a part of who I was, an “of course” of my life.

I knew I had to grab that torch and run with it. Run and pass it on.

Your daddy and I, when we dated, talked about wanting to foster and adopt. It was part of our story from the get go, part of our plan.

We got the first round of paperwork when we lived in Greenville. Found out a few days later we had 2 weeks before his job transferred us to another state. Put the paperwork down.

Then we came to Baltimore, got the paperwork again. And this is where the wounding began, the upending and dark places of loss that I thought kept me from you. But you weren’t there yet. You were still coming, and I know now God was keeping us for each other. Another year, another million rounds of paperwork, and this time the full process of training and home studies and certification. But I wouldn’t hold you yet, because as He was forming you in creation He was forming me in breaking. And the loss increased and the barren body came, and then, then I found you.

You were never my plan B.

Though by the time I had you I was infertile and grieved two babies gone, Baby you were never a replacement child. You were always plan A, always my dream, and I don’t know why God had to break so many dreams in the meantime, but Love, you were a dream come true.

I remember the day our home opened, the anticipation of the phone call. And then, a few days later, the call. For a baby boy. By the time we called back with our answer, they found a relative to care for him. We waited again.

And then, the call came. For you.

And we began again.