I went shopping for my friend Libby’s baby the other day. Libby is due to have her sweet daughter very soon. What should have been a tearful trip down the baby aisle was an exciting, cart-loading experience for Caleb and I. There really isn’t anyone I could be more happy for in this way: Libby has been through her share of pain by way of miscarriage, and through it all she reeked of Godliness and wisdom. Quite honestly, she does this everyday, and if you know her, you would fully agree. She has been such a blessing and an example to me in my Christian walk, that–true story no lie–the name Elizabeth was on my short list. Top 5, actually. Our whole church can’t wait to meet Libby’s baby girl.
My little sister Jenny is also getting ready to have her baby–this week for sure. By Thursday evening I should have gained another awesome nephew, which is never not wonderful news.
There are babies popping up everywhere.
A ton of babies–and speaking of that, I’m so stuck on the thought of adoption that it’s scary. I am so lonely for my baby, but what about the children who have no mother to help them brush their teeth, or rub their backs and sing an off-key rendition of “Rainbow Connection” as they fall asleep? These poor, sweet little kids who don’t have a mommy to hug them when they cry? Who don’t have a daddy to toss them up in the air or tickle them until they beg for mercy? Those little girls who need a daddy to tell them they’re smart, and beautiful, and treasured? The boys who need a someone to play ball with; a dad to teach them about being a good man? No parents’ bed to run and jump into during a thunderstorm. No one who cares whether or not they make good grades, or whether or not they ate breakfast.
It just weighs my heart down like you wouldn’t believe.
Sigh. Some options I refuse to take off the table until I’m like 80 years old.
My doctor’s appointment on Monday went well–a simple Q & A session about what happened and about this tomorrow’s procedure. We have wrestled with her recommendation to have our baby’s body sent for testing: she assumed we want answers, and while I definitely understand the natural desire for closure through an explanation, I won’t lose any sleep at night if I don’t know exactly why this happened. I really won’t.
If tests did reveal a little something special, what would that even tell me? So far genetics have given me a fairly easy lot: I’ve had 3 healthy children. I’d take whatever God decided to throw my way. Baby with cranio? With Downs? No arms? No legs? Bring it. I will love my baby and I will get a kick out of his smile and he will make our family better, no matter what.
So…I was skeptical of my doctor’s proposal until I realized something yesterday: I am adopted and I know almost nothing of my genetic background. Common sense tells me that the health problems of my biological parents were most likely brought on by lifestyle choices. I don’t know what the future holds for me and Caleb; but the thought of being able to have solid information to pass on to my children convinced me to go ahead and have the testing done.
So Thursday is the day. I’m prepared. I’m at peace. And I’m ready for the awesome stuff God is going to do with our family.