Brat Fit

Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a
stone?
Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent?
If ye then,
being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall
your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?

Matthew 7:9-11

THIS sums up what's so difficult about what we're going through. We know what we want. We've met and loved and held Lexi and Nathan. These are good things to want. These are righteous desires. Yet, sometimes we are told "no" because there is a bigger, though currently unseen, picture.

All we can imagine is Lexi and Nathan. They are all we've ever wanted, really. How could anything possibly be better for us than that happy, giggling, gleeful boy and that beautiful, sweet, tender little girl?

That doesn't mean that there isn't something better than we can imagine in store for us. But our experience of 10 years of childlessness and trials and feeling spiritually "bricked in" at times (like your prayers are bouncing off the ceiling) make it nearly impossible for us "deal".

People say that God doesn't give us more than we can bear. Perhaps He actually gives us EXACTLY more than we can bear so that we'll remember to lean on Him- to kneel so we can stand with Him.

I guess I'm having a tantrum, wanting what I want and "knowing" that only that will make us happy. I'm still OK with tantrums. We have to feel and we have to experience. That's also part of what it's all about.

Wishing and Hoping and Thinking and Praying

I heard someone speak today about trials. His mother died of complications from a liver transplant when he was 15. He made a comment while he was telling about the process they went through when his mom was trying to get a liver transplant that really struck me. He said they weren't religious at all, but you still get brought to prayer in a situation like that. But, at the same time, what is it you're praying for? It's not like you can in good conscience get on your knees and say, 'Dear God, please kill someone today so that I can get a new liver and live."

I kind of feel similar about our current situation (although neither of us has to physically die). Can I blame Bernadette for wanting to be the mom to her children? For heaven's sake - I want to be the mom to her children! We're much more similar than it might appear. I guess, in a way, we're each "the other woman" to the other. The one true threat. The one that makes you feel like less of a woman because she takes away your children. Bernadette is the only one with control in this situation, and yet ironically, she's the one that has the fewest options afforded her as far as what she's going to do with her own life. I don't know that she ever got to decide "what she wanted to be when she grew up." I would never want to live in Haiti and I'm forever grateful that I was born in America.

How do you have faith and move forward in this situation? Faith doesn't mean that we don't feel. Feelings are relative. We have good days (or weeks) and bad ones. I think we're supposed to grieve. It doesn't mean I don't have faith because I'm human and feeling. Faith does mean that I believe that somehow this will all work out. Whether or not that means that Lexi and Nathan are ever ours again - I don't know. There will be some sort of resolution at some point.

The only way I can think of to "have faith and move forward" is to book tickets for the trip in June and trust that by then, we'll have OUR children - whomever they may be.



We're grieving. We're also Wishing and Hoping and Thinking and Praying.

Gloria Gaynor, Where Are You When I Need You?

I might have to make "I Will Survive" my ringtone. I need some reminders.

We got word yesterday that SUDDENLY Lexi has a father in the picture again. When we were in Haiti, her father was listed as unknown.

He apparently, is in favor of Lexi being adopted, but not of her being in an orphanage. Unfortunately, in Haiti, you can't exactly have one without the other. If you don't have a steady home or even a telephone, there's no way for the adoption process to move forward.

I think I'd become fairly adept at dealing with infertility. I'm not sure how to deal with this. Many people have said, 'Maybe you were only supposed to be in their lives to help Lexi when she was so sick." I'm not OK with that and I'm not sure how to resolve myself with that. Does emotionally crawling on your hands and knees still count as bearing your burdens? It seems like the only way this burden could "be made LIGHT" is to quit caring about the situation.

The strange thing about being a parent in Haiti for week – I'm not sure we were prepared for the JOY we had. It seemed like there was a purpose to all the STUFF in life and that we could do this. That's really the first time I think either of us have felt anything close to that type of joy.

If it were my brother beating on me, I'd just cry "Uncle" and he'd leave me alone. Can't figure this one out.

It's Been Two Weeks Today...

We still haven't heard anything further on the kids.

I wonder all the time if Bernadette is able to feed them. If they're healthy. If they have a place to sleep (a lot of the women the orphanages deal with are homeless, from what we're told).

I keep hearing there are wonderful people out there who are praying for our little family. I know there are people who check every day hoping for some sort of update or news. Thank you for your support. It's amazing what a small world the internet has created. I see that there are people in Brazil reading my little blog, as well as my dear friends from my old work located in Taiwan, the Netherlands, France, and Ireland. I love that little map at the bottom of my blog that shows me where our readers are located.

My best friend was telling me tonight that she's often tempted to hop a plane to Haiti and try to find Bernadette herself. Thanks, T. :)

I wish I had happy news.

We haven't heard anything further on whether Harry was able to get the letter to Bernadette. I find myself wondering often if Lexi will recognize herself in the pictures we sent - or if she remembers us. That whole week may well seem like a fuzzy dream to her - she was so sick.

The agency is going to Haiti again in June. We've told them we want to be on that trip. It will be interesting to see how this one turns out.

I realize that in the big picture, all of this is just a blip.... a tiny moment. For me, right now, it seems like a self-contained eternity.

Brent's been amazing. He always takes such good care of me. He's very patient and is good to let me lean on him. I know this is terribly hard for him. I wish you could have seen him when we first met Nathan. I think back on what he told Nathan that last night in Haiti - "Daddy's going to miss you something terrible, Little Man. You're definitely someone special."

At some point, I'll be able to view this with hindsight and I'm sure it will be a lot clearer. In the meantime, thank you for your prayers, hope, kind thoughts, and support. There may yet be a miracle in all this somewhere.

Spackle

There's really no point to the title, other than that I enjoy the sound of that word.

WIAA confirmed that Harry got the letter and pictures we sent. Harry has promised to do his best to find Bernadette and deliver them. I've given myself a "goal" that we'll wait until Harry has confirmed he found Bernadette and delivered our letter and pictures and then give Bernadette a week before I completely despair.

Harry also spoke to the other orphanage directors in the area and let them know the situation. Hopefully if Bernadette takes them somewhere else, we'll still hear about it.

We did ask WIAA for some additional referrals of children from Nadia's orphanage. I think we just needed to see how things felt. There are some boys that Brent can't get out of his head. We'll see what happens. We're both still feeling like somehow someday things will work out with Lexi and Nathan. Maybe we'll have another little boy as well.

Ours is not to question why, I guess.

Thank You

We're very grateful for all the prayers, emails and kind words we've been given this week. It's comforting to know that other people are thinking about our little family and have also been touched by our children in Haiti.

As I told a friend this week: It’s been rough. It’s like the one side of your head knows that the Lord never cheats anyone and that this will work out and we have to keep moving forward. And the other side of your head (and a bigger part of your heart) just wants to pull the covers over your head and stay there wondering WHYWHYWHY and it remembers all the other times that you’ve been hurt and wants to quit trying so there will be no more hurting.

Those children changed our lives. They changed us as people. They changed our marriage. And quite frankly, a lot of it had to do with Nathan’s joyfulness and Lexi’s illness. Two other children couldn’t have done this for us. But the WAYS we were changed hinged on them coming with us at some point. And now we’re feeling lost. Like a screen door banging in the wind, we’re moving, but there’s no real point to the movement. Yet, you keep getting up - One day at a time - and try to remember the small thoughts from the faithful side. "TheLordNeverCheatsAnyone. TheLordNeverCheatsAnyone.”

Thank you for sharing your strength with us at this time when we need it. We are grateful for to be blessed with such caring friends, neighbors, and family.

Coping

Believe it or not, there have been entire years of our life together where nothing much has happened. We don't usually have this much drama.

Someone told me the other day that there was a point in the life of her family where they wondered what else they could possibly lose. They ended up moving across several states and things worked out in the end.

In the last few weeks we've found out that we're losing a job, I lost an ovary, and now we've lost our children.

It looks like Brent will be going back to school. It turns out that was a blessing and good timing for us after all.

When I finish healing, I'll feel a lot better with all these cysts removed - ovary or not. That is also a blessing.

I don't know how to reconcile Lexi and Nathan. It still feels like SOMEHOW this will work out and we'll end up with them.

We wrote a letter to their birth mom (Bernadette) and our agency is having it translated into French and Creole and they'll get it to the orphanage who will get it to Bernadette. We also sent a few of our favorite family photos. I don't know if it will make a difference. One of our case workers felt strongly prompted to have us write the letter and we certainly were willing to do so. I think that's all we can do.

And so... we wait. We distract ourselves. We keep getting up every day. And we keep thinking about them. Praying for them. Hoping. I don't think you can fill a hole the size of Lexi and Nathan without Lexi and Nathan.

A friend reminded me that when you can no longer see, faith is continuing to move forward and trusting that the light will move with you.

In the words of my one of my favorite hymns:

Fear not, I am with thee, oh be not dismayed

For I am thy God and will still give thee aid

I'll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand

Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.

When through the deep waters I call thee to go

The rivers of sorrow shall not thee ov'rflow

For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless

And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.

Renmen ou, Lexi and Nathan. Come Home Soon.