The Strongest Women I know

They are my children’s birthmothers.

With the recent celebration of Sarah’s 4^th Forever Family Day and Samuel’s 1^st birthday quickly approaching, I have been reflecting on these three little lives (running around me in circles as I type) and the beautiful women who gave it to them.

This summer we submitted a request to search for Sarah’s birthmother. For so many years we wondered about this name without a face. Who is she? What does she look like? What does she do to make ends meet? What would she think of Sarah? It always seemed like it would be an impossible endeavor to find her, but it turns out that our adoption agency was able to find her quite easily. I wondered how she would feel being found 4 ½ years later. She was proud….proud of beautiful and vibrant Sarah in the pictures. She showed them off to her neighbors. I was proud to share Sarah with her. She graciously shared Sarah’s story……Grandma was present, too. A photo of these two women – their eyes, the lines etched on their faces - told their story beyond the words. They have experienced life in a way I mercifully have not, and probably never will. Through hardship and pain they press on. She put Sarah before herself. An inner strength most will never know.

A family reunion in Minnesota this summer meant Andrew and his birthmother would get to meet again. It had been a while. It is hard to get a 3 year old to be interested in these things. It took two days and a gift from her, a dump truck, to get Andrew interested. Now we have a beloved dump truck and a memory….he knows who gave it to him. At this age, the reunion was more for the adults. During a walk by the lake, I shared with her all the things that make Andrew, well, Andrew. It is not hard for me to brag about my children, especially to the young woman who brought him into this world. She had a hard choice to make over 3 years ago. She knew she wanted this baby to have a dad- something she never had. She knew she needed to get herself well. She made a plan for this little guy. It took guts. I’ve never had to have guts to make a choice like that.

Samuel is turning a year old next week. This has been the fastest year of my life! We see his birthmother a lot. And, his biological brother who is 15 months older. This also happens to be Andrew’s best friend. She will be moving away soon and we will miss her. I have selfishly liked her being close and present. This young woman had inner resolve. She knew the decision she needed to make – one in the best interest of herself, her first born son, and the unborn baby. She made a plan and pressed forward. Hard as it was, she pressed forward. She is tough. I don’t know what it feels like to have to be tough like that.

All I had to do was be on the receiving end of their decisions. Receiving the blessings. Experiencing the joy. Who am I that I should get this privilege? What I have experienced over the past 4 years is humility. A feeling of complete humbleness and gratitude for being chosen to parent these little angels. Okay, two angels and one rascal!

I also know that this is bigger than three women. The Lord’s hand has been all over this. He is always at work redeeming the most broken of situations through his Son, Jesus Christ.

Sure, being a mother is tough work. I am not diminishing that at all. I know that my children’s birthmothers would not, either. But, still, I stand in awe. And I am proud of them. And you know that I like to share what I am proud of!

Who's the real baby?

Man, this Andrew kid. I don't know what I am going to do with him. I just want his future wife to know that I had nothing to do with this. Nay, I've done everything in my power to avoid raising a young man to be this way. His requests fall of deaf ears. Blame it on his nature, not the rearing please.

Wailing, "Put the baby down and take care of me."

Only this morning, the following, through tears: "Get a washcloth and dry up the bubbles in case I don't slip again, Mommy!"

"Put my jammies in the dryer and warm them up, in case I get cold if you don't."

One morning at breakfast, "Oh no, I made a mess. Don't worry Mommy. You can clean it up."

In regard to his wet undies, "Don't worry. I'll just get a new pair cause you can wash these for me."

Whining, "My hands are too sticky."

Whimpering, "These (baby) wipes are too cold. Warm them up." (And, that was the day we potty trained. I showed him!)

After spraining his knee this summer and taking an entire week off from walking (no kidding), "I guess you'll just have to carry me everywhere."

With a firm voice, "I wanna be the princess!"

I know he is cute, ladies. But, you've been warned.

Steer Roping a Dinosaur

As I watched Andrew (quietly - let me emphasis quietly) roping and reeling in this dinosaur with a shoelace during the sermon today at church, I couldn't help but think of the Toby Keith song, "I Shoulda Been a Cowboy." This poor little city slicker kid is just one misplaced county boy.

Here is another example of his roping skills.


Based on the first two exhibits, I think we can safely point a finger at Andrew for this unfortunate event. Never fear, Dora, you will continue to be loved and adored in our home. My son would like your portrait on his next birthday cake, adorned with pink candles.

This all surely begs the question - what kind of kid are we raising?

Hair Club for Babies

Wouldn't you know, this little punk-haired baby (Rod Stewart, Billy Idol?) went and caught himself a fever so that I can spend another week of my life in seclusion from society.

In an unrelated photo, this is Andrew sound asleep Saturday night. Apparently his face was cold.