Sending Baby J Home

He was worth the wait!

I have been putting off writing this blog not because I don’t want to share the beauty of saying goodbye to Jack or because I am trying to hold my cards close to my chest but because in writing this story down it somehow makes the goodbye real. I believe in my heart that this goodbye is just a goodbye for now, as you will hear, I have been beyond spoiled in the connection I have been gifted with Jack’s parents. Due to the unique set up of his adoption I can have as much contact with his Forever Family as they desire and thankfully they are happy to let me still be a part of their son’s life. I have been the grateful recipient of messages, pictures, videos and have even been able to video message with them several times since they have been home! I am overjoyed that he is now beautifully settling into his new family, his new name, his new life and have been ecstatic to see bits and pieces of the beauty through the contact we’ve had. My grief has been tempered with peace, comfort and joy with the confidence that seeing Jack so settled and happy within the arms of his new family. But the grief has been unlike anything I have experienced before… and that is why I have been dragging my feet in sharing this bit of his beautiful story with you. It is going to hurt but prayerfully in pushing the open wound into the bright light of day will usher in deeper healing and less scaring over time.

    

Whenever I start telling people about what I get to do I am almost always asked, “Do you have children of your own?” or most often, “How many of your own kids do you have?”. I think it is obvious that I love my babies and it is inconceivable to most people that I don’t have any of my “own”. It is a strange calling; to love babies that are sure to leave you with true and ardent love despite the impending, inevitable goodbye. I have never been pregnant but there are parts of this experience that mirror what being pregnant must feel like. As Aunties we daydream about who will come next: a boy? A girl? Twins? How old will they be when they arrive? Will they be healthy or easy; sick or loud? We hope and dream and wait. As I have shared previously, long before I met Jack I dreamed of loving him, or someone like him. For some God ordained reason, I always wanted to have a baby with Down Syndrome and when I scooped Jack up for the very first time my heart almost burst. It is a divine joy to be able to hold and name and kiss the hope differed that has finally arrived. There is always joy and wonder when we receive any new baby; beautiful, redemptive hope wrapped up in a little stranger but holding Jack was different because I had been pregnant with the hope of him for years.

     

I think the first time I cried at the thought of saying goodbye to Jack within the first 24 hours of meeting him. I’ve cried that way over a handful of littles and their inevitable goodbyes before. A hazard of the job, I guess, but my heart has figured out that the grief of goodbye is best doled out over time rather than sitting unexpressed until the actual day of departure. My current screensaver is a quote by Brian Andreas that says, “She said she usually cried at least once each day not because she was sad, but because the world was so beautiful & life was so short.” I feel like that is something I would say. Somehow the beautiful disaster of this calling has turned me into weeper. Those of you who know me well know how much I used to, and sometimes still do, hate to cry in front of other people. Even those closest to me. Mostly because my voice gets two octaves too high and I can’t clearly communicate why I am crying and often when I cry once I can’t stop crying over everything for the rest of the day. I am also sure my prideful spirit and desire to seem put together must have something to do with it as well. I wanted to keep Jack for my very own more than any of the precious babies I’ve loved on before. Partly because I waited for him, partly because of the trauma we experienced when he first arrived but mainly because he is just so special! Everyone who meets him loves him. After I shared his arrival story I had many people from all over the world inquire about how he was doing and if they could be the family to take him home. All the Aunties mooned over him and I think were secretly glad when I was out of the house for any extended time so they could have him all to themselves. I wrestled with my desires knowing that there really was no easy way for Jack to stay with me. People who loved me and could see how much I loved him asked if I would try and keep him, despite the obstacles and impossibilities in the way. For months, I pushed away the thoughts and comments until one day I put them before the Lord and in His mercy, He made the answer incredibly clear. Fighting to keep Jack would be selfish and thinking that I could love him best was incorrect and worse, incredibly prideful. Not all the Father’s words to our hearts feel good but they are all true. I am beyond thankful He spoke clearly to me that day; He knows my wayward heart and exactly what I needed to hear and rehear even today.

     

One thing I love about adoption is that in its very nature we see God’s redemptive story and how He chose us to be His children. He gave us the right to be called sons and daughters and through Christ we now have access to the Father and all the benefits of being His children. Adoption also depicts the pain of the Gospel; a Son surrendered, a Father who turned away the good of all humanity, sacrifice that in the end brought victory and eternal joy. As our children journey towards their Forever Families there is pain, sacrifice and surrender that marks the way. The mystery of pain that Jack’s birth mother must feel when she allows herself to think of him. The sacrifice of the Aunties who loved and cared for him for his first year and miss him even now. The surrender of a baby you love knowing that you are not the best or only thing he needs to become the man he was made to be. I eternally thankful that the Father and the Son loved us enough to see the joy that lay beyond the cross. I pray that with their help I will willingly embrace not only the joy of adoption but the pain as well; knowing that beauty lives in both.

   

As we received word of Jack’s match to his delightful Forever Family and began to wait for a court date it became clear that my prearranged trip home for Christmas in California was going to set me back in South Africa a day after his Forever Family landed in South Africa. The last thing I wanted to do the few weeks before Jack left us was to be 10,000 miles away! Now that I think about it, God also had to use a trip home to kick Jack out of my room two and half months after we got him. If not for that trip, I probably would have found some excuse to keep him in my bed until he got adopted! I see now how God arranged this all perfectly; not just for my heart but for Jack’s as well. I was able to say my goodbye weeks before his family was to arrive; not because he left me but because I left him to fly to America. God used our time away to prepare both our hearts for the arrival of his parents. My main prayer was that I would be able to make the placement about Jack and his new family, not about me and my grief. God used my few weeks back home to process enough so that when we were together for his placement my prayers could be answered. We had the joy of being able to host his parents, Jake and Rachel, on site for 10 whole days before they left for Cape Town to sort out all the legal parts of the adoption. We spent those days slowly introducing and transitioning Jack into his new family. I only cried in front of them once as we prayed on the day he officially left our house to move to the guest flat on the other side of the property. Jake and Rachel were kind and humble enough to honor our bond and invited me to spend time with him almost every day after he left our home. They invited me to come to the court date where he officially became their son. We enjoyed a celebratory dinner together, did a fun photo shoot with my friend Antoinette and graciously, humbly accepted that Jack still reached for me when we were together. When they were in Cape Town they sent me pictures and videos and added me to their private “Bringing Baby J Home” Facebook page. It is hard to explain how, but somehow when I saw those pictures and videos God miraculously allowed my heart to see this precious boy I loved like my own as their son. I could close my eyes feel his chubby hands on my cheeks, feel when his tiny newborn head tucked perfectly under my chin but when I opened them and saw him in the arms of his new mom and dad he no longer looked or felt like mine. It was the craziest and kindest gift, joy and sorrow wrapped up beauty. Just like my whole year with Jack; a gorgeously refining miracle straight from heaven.

     

I still miss Jack, now beautifully named Jaren Parker. I still cry when I talk about him and his miraculous story. I am sobbing now. There are days when I feel perfectly well adjusted, grateful for this chaotic calling and other days when the grief is so real I feel like my heart is breaking all over again. I am working to wade through the waters of grief being as honest as I can. Doing my very best to be vulnerable and admit when I am having a sad moment and reminding myself of truths previously revealed. God has brought me new babies to love, new adoptions to walk through and placed within my heart a desire for another baby with Down Syndrome. Maybe a girl this time? Actually, I have repeatedly told all my people that I want ALL the babies with Down Syndrome who need a home on their journey to their Forever Family. I happily pour over and shamelessly share every new picture, video and story Jaren’s family shares; rejoicing over every new accomplishment, praying over every challenge. Just like I do over all my biological nieces and nephews; happy to be an Auntie to someone so special. I love being an Auntie, it’s one of the best, hardest things I’ll ever do!

   

Thank you for your faithful prayers and love for me and Jack while he was in our home! I appreciate the way God uses your love, prayers and support to uphold me and all our babies. All my love!!!

Little Moose Heads Home

I am not sure how time flies by so quickly but somehow 712 days seems like they flew right by! It feels like just yesterday we got this snuggly, kissable little person and now he is in the arms of his Forever Family... enjoying a mommy, daddy and big sister! 

When I try and articulate those first few weeks of "getting to know you" I remember most feeling grateful that this precious little moose had been rescued and feeling extremely humbled that God would bring him into our arms. Right after birth this precious bundle was tied in a plastic rubbish bag and abandoned in a local dumping area. Thankfully our good, good Father allowed his newborn voice to be heard and he was found before he was lost to the cold morning. I had the honor of naming him and gave him a name meaning "God has heard" -- beyond grateful that he had been heard!!

The lessons that each child's unique story and personality bring are as varied as the babies themselves. I think "S" taught me many things. As a newborn he brought the reminders of God's mercy; His willingness and ability to rescue and save. As a toddler he reminded me the importance of consistency and patience as he continually (and loudly) pushed against the boundaries set around him. He reminded me of a little moose... pushing again and again; just too see if his will and desire could change the boundary lines around him. Oh, how he reminded me of me! 

 

During S's first year with us I spent time memorizing Psalm 16... my favorite bits reminding me: 

The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup;

    you hold my lot.

 

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

    indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.

I bless the Lord who gives me counsel;

    in the night also my heart instructs me.

 

I have set the Lord always before me;

    because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.

Many a season I have found myself complaining about where God's boundary lines placed me but the truth reminds me (and most days I can see) that the lines have fallen for me in pleasant places. That my inheritance is beautiful and Christ is my portion. Our little moose sometimes forgot that the boundaries of napping and finishing his food were good lines that had actually be created for his overall growth, joy and success -- not to torture or tease him with what "could be" if things were different or if he could have his way. Out of love, it was our job to remind him of the boundaries and the freedom and joy that would become available to him each and every time he chose to listen and obey. 

Some boundaries of my current call are uncomfortable and taxing but God has placed me in a community where we get to witness story after story of God's grace, mercy and beauty! Including 712 days with a Mister who's giggle would brighten the darkest day, a little parrot repeating words perfectly not having a clue what they meant. A little person who would call for kisses and once in your arms lean in for not one but twenty kisses at a time. We bore witness to many of his firsts... two Christmases, two birthdays, first steps, words, foods, temper tantrums and smiles. How lucky were we?!

 

And even with this precious placement there is joy and pain, growth and faith all being developed within the boundary lines of this little person's story. We joyfully experienced a gorgeous match with a family specifically handpicked and prepared for this little man and painfully had to walk 3 older boys waiting for their families through another goodbye. Our faith was bolstered after watching a new family born over a two-day placement after 712 days of waiting, wondering and hoping for God to make a way. And we ask God to help our unbelief as we trust and wait for families for all of our kiddos... even in the face of "impossible" challenges and ridiculously frustrating roadblocks. 

I am a better Auntie because of this little man and even today sorting pictures for this blog I teared up missing his boisterous, joyful and loud presence in our home. I know that God rescued this little man for divine purpose and I hold in my heart hopeful expectation for the other side of eternity when I can see the whole of his life unfold for the glory of God and the good of his generation.

Thank you to all of you who have contributed to our little man's life! Without your prayers and love, financial support and provision I would not have been able to bear witness to this person's life. I am a better Auntie with you on my team... I love and thank God for each of you! Until next time!!!

Tiny but Mighty -- Part Four

By this time, I was beginning to look worse for the wear and was so tired that I literally fell asleep sitting in my uncompromisingly rigidly hard plastic chair with a cup of coffee in hand! My fantastic support team at Refilwe worked it out that I would be able to go for a few hours each day to a nearby hotel to take a shower and lay down flat for a nap. It made all the difference in the world. I am not sure if I would have made it without that kindness. We were attempting to wean J off the oxygen and had managed to get him to the lowest setting available, “really just bubbles” said one doctor. The problem was that the “weaning” process began to look like this: take him off the oxygen, bring around the only semi-working SATS machine on the ward to check his blood oxygen saturation level, get one bad number and then put him right back on the oxygen only to be forgotten for the rest of the day. After a few disheartening days like that, I asked Auntie Cindy to bring our own SATS machine to the hospital so I could monitor him more closely myself. I clipped J’s little big toe into the machine, removed his oxygen and then would watch. If he dipped too low, on the oxygen would go back on and I would give him some time to recover then we would start the whole process again. Slowly but surely he was able to go for longer and longer without oxygen. We spent the weekend working up to a whole 24 hours without oxygen and then on Monday morning we were able to start the 10-hour process of being discharged!

As I began to pack things up and say goodbyes on the ward I was able to see, in part, some of the reason why J and I were allowed our stay on the ward. We had made friends and allies; we had been able to encourage and speak hope to hurting and frightened mommies. We were able to share hard truths and open conversations with sisters, doctors and administrators on the ward where observations and concerns were carefully shared. We made friends with another precious little on the ward with Down’s and were able to leave her with a smile and a quilt made with love all the way from California. We shared our story with so many and God’s goodness towards J was recognized by everyone we were able to share with. And the story of God’s love, goodness, provision and favor for J (and his family here at El Roi) has just begun! He is thriving being at home and has captured all of our hearts. I have to sneak in early to his room in the mornings to catch his first smiles before another Auntie beats me to it! I can’t wait to see all the God has in store for this extra special, tiny but mighty, ridiculously loved and wanted, little sunshine of my life. 

I will share more about his current wonderfulness in posts to come but in general he is rocking it!!! As of today he weighs over 5kg and just moved to drinking 150 mLs every four hours. Thanks for all the prayers and kind words about our sweet boy. Love you all! 

And J? You were made for amazing things, my boy, I can’t wait to see what they are!!!

Tiny but Mighty -- Part Three

Jokingly I told J when we finally got home after two long weeks that we had just gotten home from our very first short term mission trip! The patience, endurance, hope and wisdom that was required during our stay was only accomplished by the power of God living within me. After about seven hours of waiting in casualties we were finally were given a spot in a room with two other babies and mommies. J was transferred to a bassinet, I was given a hard, straight back plastic chair to sit in and a small metal cabinet to store our things in. The next few hours were spent sharing J’s medical history with the sisters, doctors and students on duty. Thankfully there were several familiar faces I recognized which made our unique setup more easily understood and accepted. For better or worse I have spent enough time on hospital wards to understand my “style” of dealing with the sisters, students and doctors. I know what are my “must haves” are (my own kettle and coffee supply) and how to somewhat gracefully navigate the choppy waters of ward life pushing for J’s best amidst antiquated and poorly preformed policies and procedures. But every ward is different and the environment of care (or lack thereof) can change from shift to shift. Thanks to my fabulous team of Aunties our supplies and required items quickly made their way to the hospital and we began our stay.

During the Monday through Friday of a hospital stay your days are filled with sisters, administrators, students, doctors, specialist, cleaning staff and more students. The weekends are just as quiet as the weekdays are busy so we spent our first day on the ward getting to know our roommates and the current layout of the land. We spent our first week with two young mommies under the age of 22 and their ill infants. It was those first few hours on Sunday that I began to sense that our time on the ward was going to be more about the people around us than about J and myself. Throughout our weeks on the ward the Lord opened door after door for us to pray for and encourage those around use. For example, I probably answered dozens and dozens of baby care questions posed to me by these young moms. I was able to share my hope in Christ and the call that He placed on my life to care for littles like J.

During the days at the hospital I fed J every 3 hours, kangarooing him and enduring the unrelenting stiffness of my hard plastic chair. I spoke to sisters and students and saw our “head doctor” once a day. The students come by to work out a care plan and prepare J's file to be ready when they are quizzed about him by their attending physician(s). J was put on precautionary antibiotics after his chest x-ray showed the milky white shadows of his aspiration. They would pull him away into the “procedure room” to draw blood and do any procedure that was deemed too aggressive for mommies to watch. It was during his lumbar puncture (to test for meningitis) that I heard J actually cry for the first time. It is not my first, or even my 20^th lumbar puncture I’ve witnessed but hearing J’s broke my heart into a million little pieces. J was quick to forgive and after a few minutes of snuggles he was his regular self once again. During the first week or so at night I was allowed to lay a blanket and sheet on the floor to sleep next to J. He continued to eat every 3 hours through the night which provided me the opportunity to wake up the mommies in our room to feed their littles, too.

Nights on the ward are difficult. Any baby without a mommy to care for them are left to the sisters to care for. These sisters, to the best of my observations, spend a bulk of the night sleeping at the nurse’s station while the babies cry and cry. After a few days another baby was brought into our room (there was often shuffling of beds and rooms depending on the needs of the day or night) who was without a mommy at night. He spent his first night with us screaming the whole night long. Our room was located directly across from the nurse’s station. The next night the same team was on duty and they decided to move this little one down to the end of the hall and brought in a baby with a mommy. I heard that little cry the whole night long again only slightly muffled by the distanced created by his move. We had another little man move into our room a few days later straight from another hospital’s NICU weighting less than J and looking way more fragile. He, too, spent his first night and day without his mommy. He was left unattended for hours at a time, no matter how loud he screamed. He was supposed to eat every 3 hours and he only ate that night twice after I chased down a sister to feed him. He pulled out two GT tubes and his oxygen cannula was never in his little tiny nose properly. In a desperate effort to keep J from contracting another illness or infection I never allowed myself to handle the other babies in our room, even when I could obviously see the root of their distress or discomfort. Like I said: a perfectly designed torture.

When we were first admitted onto the ward we were given an apnea mat for J to sleep on. It basically was a mat that monitored his breathing and an alarm would sound if he didn’t breathe for more than 20 seconds. After all we had been through it was a safeguard that gave me peace lying down at the foot of his bassinette for two hours or so at a time. A few days in the battery of the machine died and even though I asked every sister, student and doctor I saw that day no one could procure a battery for our dead apnea mat. It was that night that I faced the fear that J’s ordeal had been implanted in my heart head on. I am not anxious person by nature and that night I felt like it took every ounce of faith to lay myself on the floor, with J out of sight and no alarm to warn me if he stopped breathing. I cried and prayed that God would uproot the seeds of fear that were threatening to take root in my traumatized heart. As I prayed I felt the peace of God meet me as I forced myself to close my eyes and will myself to sleep and I did. Two days later Auntie Cindy was able to bring me another battery which helped me rest as well. However only a few days later a sister came to me and practically begged me to give up the monitor to a new admission who she was very worried about. Thankfully, because of the work God had begun a few days ago I was able to surrender the mat without fear… well without overwhelming fear.

J was scheduled for quite a few tests the first week we were there. He had a Cranial Sonar, which came back normal. He had a CT Scan, which came back normal. He was able take an EEG test and was able to see the Cardiac Clinic. Many babies with Down Syndrome have mild to serious heart conditions. Our doctors at the hospital wondered if his apneas were rooted in a probable heart defect. Happily, we discovered that J has two very small holes in his heart that do not require medication and that the cardiologist says are likely to close on their own as he grows! His blood work all came back within normal ranges and they were not able to grow anything on his cultures so after 5 days they stopped his antibiotics. He was visited by the dietician who was pleased with his growth since being admitted into our care and by an OT who was very impressed by his active little self and came by every day to see him more for enjoyment than actual “work”. The only test that proved insightful was the Milk Scan where we were able to identify that J has severe and silent (meaning he did not present with typical, outward symptoms) Acid Reflux. Our doctors concluded that his apnea was caused by his Acid Reflux which caused milk/vitamins to be breathed in during an episode. We started immediately on a daily medicine to help treat the symptoms of his Acid Reflux and a feeding regime that kept him upright feeds and after each feed for at least 20 minutes. The second week’s x-ray showed no more shadowing and we began the slow process of weaning J from his use of the oxygen. Our doctors promised that once J was off the oxygen and if he continued to gain weight we would be discharged and so we began to work and pray!

Just as we began to wind down our 9^th day on ward I began to sense that something (or rather someone) was about to change things on the ward. The Head Matron of all the pediatric wards arrived around 4:00pm and began to dish out rebuke and reform in all sorts of problem areas on the ward. Her main complaints (as far as I could ascertain) was that mothers who were not breastfeeding were allowed to stay the night and that the mothers that did stay the night were sleeping on the floors. She claimed that it was unhygienic (which it wasn’t, just ask the cockroaches) and that it made the ward look untidy. She then went from room to room with the ward’s head sister and decided which mommies could stay and which would have to leave. Considering I am not even a mother, let alone a lactating mother I began to pray over and over, “Lord, hide me in the shadow of your wing”. As they came by the head sister pointed to me and said confidently, “This mommy is kangarooing so she will stay”. Out of 30 mothers, only 13 were allowed to stay the nights and only 3 of those 13 were able to stay on the ward the whole night and I was one of them. The only caveat was that the 3 mommies that were allowed to stay on the ward were only allowed to do so if they stayed sitting in their unrelentingly uncomfortable hard plastic chair. As the other mothers were led to another floor to sleep 3 mommies to a bed on another ward I cried half out of relief and half out of desperation. I didn’t know how I would manage without those hours lying prostrate on the floor. I sent out a few “pray for me right now” messages and set in for one of the longest and hardest nights I’ve had in a long time. Each room contained littles who screamed for their mommies. Sisters who were used to letting mommies do the feeding, reminding and soothing were left to care for a whole ward of unattended babies. I know babies went without feedings, meds and oxygen as the sisters bustled about for a few hours but still somehow managed to fit in lengthy naps while the crowd wailed around them. Women, in particular, are hard wired to have a biological response to a babies’ cries. Having to forcibly ignore cries from babies in the very room you sit while straining to listen for the cries own child is, wait for it, a special kind of torture...

Part Four coming soon as I can get to a spot to upload pics! Lots of love!