Day Nine: Girl Talk

I backed myself slowly onto Sandee's couch because Ashanti's body lay limply over me, limbs hanging in deep-sleep-relaxation. The women around the room smiled at us but they were already into the heart of their conversation. We were a little late for our Girl Talk meeting but I knew I'd glean some wisdom if we came anyway. My dear friend, Sandee, whom I'd taught with before we started having babies, then homeschooling, had begun this little "club" for moms and daughters. It's goal is to draw us closer to one another while teaching about purity and God's design for girls. We commenced writing in secret encouragement journals to our daughters and they were writing back. Sandee invites a special speaker some nights and last month's mom had older daughters, who'd been through the growing years together, and together they qualified as beautiful mentors for us and our girls. They shared their mistakes and their joys, their epiphanies about motherhood and their unrealistic expectations. It's been a sweet experience.

my "baby" girls

(on a sweaty hike :)

 

The mom who shared last night was weeping through her story, not because of its sad elements, but because of how far God had brought her from being a bulimic to a loving, non-judgmental mother who adores her girls and is careful to remind them how loved they are by God--no matter what. I looked down at the little one in my arms, her journey just beginning, and yet she'd been through so many changes already. I'm forever whispering prayers over her and in that moment, I realized how very crucial my influence is in her life, even though she's not my own. I shifted underneath her and her sweaty head flopped on my other shoulder. The woman spoke of finally "getting" who God was in her later years, after being raised in a Christian home. She said it was like the words of the Bible jumped out at her for the first time. She was so excited to understand that God accepted her with all her failures and poor choices. That's exactly the knowing I hoped my girls would embrace as they grow, this little one included.

sweet girls

 

The woman wrapped up her talk and we all shared homemade goodies and more conversation--us mommas, each striving to raise godly girls while sometimes lacking in godliness ourselves. We watched a short video about the evolution of the swimsuit. The message the Lord revealed through the whole evening was that His mercy is beyond our comprehension. It was a love memo I know well, but tucked in my heart pocket for further pondering. I slipped Ashanti into her car seat and the other kids clicked their belts. As we pulled away, I called back to my children, "Hey girls, do you know how God feels about you?"

Day Six: Unexpected Love

There was a knock at my back door and I opened it to a sweet couple from our church. They were laden with a large photo box and a huge, packed scrapbook. They smiled big and the wife extended her armload out to me and said they wanted to share a bit of Africa with my children. She knew it was an area of study for us and she lovingly granted her cherished work of art full of hundreds of trip photos so we could get a little closer to the reality of Africa. They also generously offered us to choose from their box of "extra photos" for our own projects. I nodded enthusiastically, thanked them and then they headed down to our nursery to support us in a second way. Unexpected love.

 

 

*** 

The girls had raced on ahead of Oliver and I as we blazed the trail in the spitting rain. Oliver was busy "killing bears" and seeking "new" birds along the way when I noticed a man quickly approaching from behind. As a woman in the woods with her children, I'm always praying for our protection. I peeked back again and the man was picking up speed but it seemed like he was simply taking a brisk walk on a beautiful spring day. He caught up to me and I turned and said hi. He did too and then we recognized each other. He was a Christian man in our community.

 

"Hi Peter," I voiced with a smile, and he tried to remember my name. I told him and he nodded that he remembered. Then he shared that as he was striding behind us, he was praying for the little boy ahead of him, that he would become a mighty man of God. I exclaimed "Thank you! That's what we pray over our son, as well!"

 

He turned to Oliver and said, "You already are a mighty man of God, right now." Oliver beamed.

Unexpected love.

 

 

***

 

She snipped the helium-filled balloons and told the kids this is what our decision to live for Jesus will mean... we get to spend eternity with Him! She cares so much about our kids--the whole homeschool group--that she came prepared with this object lesson for all of them before they presented the projects they'd been working on. A grandma who cares about the futures of kids, who explains so they get it, who mentors without being asked? Unexpected love.

 

***

 

Three times in a couple of days, unexpected love flooded in and supported the kids and me. I thanked each person profusely for their gifts of sharing, prayer and a lesson, but it wasn't until I took some quiet time that I praised the true Giver of each of these gifts. He blessed me through these people and love overwhelmed once again--unexpectedly.

Dear Children

Dear Children,

The days seem long, don't they? But you'll be growing up and you'll look back and feel like childhood was actually such a small piece of your life. You'll have responsibilities that are big and important. You'll be venturing out on your own and caring for others through your work, your ministries, and your own families. You might wonder where the carefree days disappeared to as you struggle to understand a suffering world and how you can be an agent of change for God.

(hand-holding as they walk? unprompted and unaware of me--love it)

As your mother, I'm endeavoring to lengthen your days, teaching you to drink life in, worship the Creator and notice the tiny details of His world. Our life isn't perfect but you're learning to love each other and to remember Who is guiding you. You already have compassion for others. I'm thankful for that. I love these times we are living through together, and so I jot down your funny sayings and your inquisitive conversations with me. I snap photos of your growing bodies and changing faces. I want to remind you one day how blessed and lovely these days were--the preparatory days.

The Bible says the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom. I'm praying that you will always have a healthy fear of Him, that you'll hear His voice and obey it--that I'll obey it, as I walk this road with you. I'm so grateful for Daddy, who also joins me in creating a loving and disciplined youth for all of you. When you see me mess up this parenting thing, know that I'm human and flawed and that I still love you and am seeking forgiveness from the Lord and from you, to begin again. It's that wisdom from Him that leads me to be able to do this.  

 

I pray that mentors will come alongside you as you journey. The Lord sent me many, and if I humbled myself to take their advice, my path seemed so much easier. One such mentor was my mom, your "Mama". She taught me to have a relationship with Jesus and to love people fiercely. Embrace this heritage and that of your other grandparents too and you won't lose your way. God gave them to you as examples of how to carry out His purposes and to help your fellow humans. They do this well.

 

 

When life gets tough, and it will, remember we were never promised things would always be easy, only that God would carry us in His arms. If you never let go of that knowledge, you'll feel Him, actually feel His arms tangibly around you when you're unable to understand why you're encountering hardship. I know this because I've been there. I believe I could feel Him in moments of despair because of my history of practicing prayer, worship, writing down thanksgiving and answers to prayer.  I was taught to remind myself when life was easy that God is good. As a result, I simply knew it as truth when life wasn't easy. 

I love you, my "babies". You're growing up so quickly. Sometimes I stop in my busyness and just stare at you and whisper gratitude that you're mine. I'm sorry I don't always articulate this to you, but it's true. You're talented, beautiful, kind and already fulfilling your purposes on earth, as God reveals them to you. Young people are valuable and being used by God too! May you always love the Lord with all your hearts and love your neighbor as yourself.

I adore you, every one of you.

Love, Mommy

 

 

Open-Adoption Love

She assured me the baby could say, "Ma-ma," so we worked really hard to get her to say it again for the video. I scooted in close to her highchair and that beautiful adoptive-momma and I leaned over her, me with iPhone in hand, encouraging new words from Julie's eight month-old girl. We elicited smiles and coos and yes, even a "Ma-ma" Then I realized I hadn't flipped from photo to video on my camera and we laughed ourselves silly over how both of us are techy-challenged. We ate from the salad bar of the quaint Dutch Mill and then attempted another video.

 

That gorgeous, dark-skinned, little one put on her show for us and babbled and bubbled all on my now-turned-on video screen. Adoptive-mom, Alicia, gushed over her daughter, cheering on each chattery sound, "Say, Mama," Alexandria! Say hi to Momma-Julie!" Allie babbled more and Alicia sweetly roused, "What else do you want to say to Momma-Julie? Come on, what else?"

 

I shot a quick peek from my screen to Alicia, and internally noted yet another moment of wisdom from this new mother. My husband and I had fasted and prayed and sensed that this baby was not to be ours and Julie had felt peace with that. The Lord led her to exactly the couple He had chosen. Every time I see them together, I perceive God's plan so much clearer. And now, here was this  woman sacrificially and lovingly sharing her child's first precious word with the birth-mom. Would I have been so accommodating, so giving and kind? I think I would have wrapped that baby in my arms, twisted around and wished away a birth-mom's consistent presence.

I gazed at Allie, who was now banging the highchair with chubby hands, while Alicia giggled at her beloved human gift. I ended the video that I had been creating for Julie and again God whispered in my spirit that His plan was perfect. I was to remain connected to spunky, quirky, loveable birth-mom as a mentor and friend and this prudent woman would raise her baby. I hugged Alicia and Allie goodbye in the parking lot and texted Julie to watch for a soon-coming video.

 

The sun sparkled on the snow as I drove home that day and I pondered the lesson God was teaching me that I would never have fathomed in my own limited experience. I had based all my reasoning on the culture's norm in these situations and not by His great love. Of course the Father's limitless love would intend for the inclusion of birth-mom and adoptive-mom lavishing affection on a child in harmony! If it's as beautiful a story as this one, of course! I'm astounded by how obvious this is, now that I witness Alicia's willingness to include Julie in Alexandria's life. Furthermore, she welcomes her knowing Allie's future questions are better answered with her birth-mom available. I remembered the photo I took of Julie that Alicia had developed and framed in Alexandria's nursery. I stood amazed then too.

 

All things work together for good for those who love the Lord. I am still learning, but I know I've become a better momma because of this entire experience. I believe healthy boundaries are important, but God reveals those in each individual, open, partially-open and closed adoptions. At this time in my life, though, I am fully aware He wanted me to comprehend openness so I could understand His all-encompassing love. He adopted me! I'm so grateful Alicia and her husband are teaching me so I don't have to experience a painful lesson or hurt a precious birth-mom in my selfishness. Although we are not pursuing adoption at this time, I glorify God for people who live in a way that demonstrates the Father's love.

 

 

 

 

Day Twenty-Four: Sibling Rivalry In Your Homeschool

"This is the worst day of my life!" she seethed and flopped like a sack of potatoes on my lap. I looked up at the clock. It was barely 8:30 a.m.

 

"Wow, Babe," I teased. "This day hasn't even begun and it's most notably the worst of all your eight years?"

 

"It's just that SHE did that thing to me again!" She draped herself upside down over the back of the couch.

 

"What thing would that be?" I asked, pulling her back down to face me.

 

"You know, Mommy, I've told you before... you know when she touches me with the hairbrush when I'm trying to brush my teeth! I can't stand it! She knows I hate it and I even said, STOP! She didn't listen and then I had to poke her with my toothbrush. Now she's crying in her bedroom when she's the one who started it. She's so mean!"

 

Now, some good mommas out there might gently take their girl by the hand and walk her to her sister's bedroom to have a sensible discussion about the matter. I, however, was not about to begin my day with such obnoxious drama. So I did what came to my mind immediately and I grounded both of them with a one-liner and that was the end of it. Not one of my finer parenting moments.

 

Although all children argue and it's normal for disagreements to arise between siblings, one child generally feels powerful in the fight, and the other, bullied. Although they think it's their right to harshly voice opinions in anger, they're most often left feeling despondent and having damaged their sibling. Since the Bible says, "Do everything without complaining and arguing," (Philippians 2:14) we need to take fighting seriously. And because Proverbs 18:17 says, "In a lawsuit (or tattling of a sibling) the first to speak seems right, until someone comes forward and cross-examines," we need to be careful how we judge matters with our kids. And because Hebrews 12:11 says, "No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on , however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it," we need to protect brothers and sisters by terminating unkindness.

 

I'd like to write about how beautifully amicable it is around here all the time, however, I would be doing myself and you a great disservice. How else do we learn about dealing with the issues of life without dialoguing with one another and being honest? If I let you believe it was gloriously tolerant in our home every moment, you might pull your kids out of school and start home educating, deciding that it must be the great cure for what ails your family. Or, worse, you might never attempt homeschooling, believing you could never be as perfect as the families you read about. I'm here to tell you, our family is normal (sometimes :) and children argue and boy, is it over nothing most days. When you're home all the time, you see your family's sin up close and personal. Other people take their sin to work or school with them and have a break from their family's for a time. But home, yep, that's where we all get to be our ugliest selves.

 

So, what do you do when you have multiple children who are related and who share space for twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week? By now, if you've been reading my homeschooling posts, you'll know that I rely on  prayer a lot. I'm whispering to God all day long because I know He's a capable problem solver. When I'm willing to listen (and not just jabber on to Him), He gives me wisdom in dealing with the kids. Usually, if  I sense that their arguing is a momentary dialogue that seems like it will quickly end with a solution, I allow it--as long as it doesn't escalate into meanness. Our home must be a safe place for hashing things out--in a productive manner. Sometimes things can get heated, but harmful is not allowed. God also places great mentors in my life to aid me in parenting through rivalry. Besides some wonderful people in my close circles, I've been inspired by families such as the Duggars, who have influenced two areas I'm working on. First, these parents try to praise ten times more than they correct and second, they foster a team spirit with their children. When you're a team, everyone wins when someone is choosing good and everyone suffers when someone is doing wrong. So then, that child must be encouraged by the others to do what is right. If you ask my children about the family as a team they'll be able to tell you it is our goal. Like the very human Duggars though, we don't always adhere to it at every turn. However, setting the standard of being a cohesive team and prayer are great first steps.

 

An example of how teamwork training has played out in our home: a sibling dawdled at getting her boots on and Sister stooped to help and bolstered the motivation of the younger one. Another example that happened recently: I left the schoolroom, started for the stairs and I overheard one child whisper, "Be quiet and do your work so she can see we're doing a good job when she gets back!" I paused on the step and praised God because I see glimpses of this training paying off. It's wonderful when you observe your children getting it. (I can't imagine how God feels when I finally learn something He's been trying to teach me!) I'll be honest, I've been downright embarrassed when my children have displayed behaviour that looked very little like the goals we've set. But, I love how Michelle Duggar has responded when TLC captured her kids fighting and then tried to "trap" her into unease. She sweetly laughed and said that her children were still in training and that they were behaving like adults might like to but have the maturity not to. Oh, the grace!

 

Besides being naturally inclined to sin, one contribution to sibling rivalry is the exposure to it on television and in movies. Lately, for our weekly family night, we've played movies where siblings exhibited less than loving behavior and words to one another. Much to our kids' dismay, we've turned the videos off and explained that if we don't condone those actions at home, why would we fill our heads with others demonstrating them? Our goal is to encourage and help each other with kind words but it's amazing how quickly those influences seep in and then I'm hearing the same phrases and name-calling in their disagreements. Another contribution is watching their mother. How many times have I heart my impatient, angry tone spew out of a small person's lips to their younger sibling? Too many to count! Modeling gentleness and a soft answer to their father, to the telemarketer on the phone and to them, is more persuasive than all other of their examples.

 

 

As a result of homeschooling, I believe, our family has come to love and respect each other more than if we were apart. I mentioned in an earlier post that my children call out that they love each other as they fall asleep in their beds. They stick up for one another (most of the time) when they witness one being bullied in a group and they don't like watching each other receive discipline. I remind them always that they truly are each other's best friends since they see each other the most. When everyone else is busy or gone, they will still have each other. Training children to serve one another in love takes prayer, teamwork, time and mentorship. I'm so thankful that I'm able to utilize these days at home to instill this in my kids as the Lord teaches me.  

 

Nearing The End Of The Journey

The epidural finally kicked in and she rolled to her left side and clutched her stuffed, green elephant. From the hospital rocking chair, I sighed deeply. We'd been awake together for many painful hours already and I knew we were still in for a long haul. But the smell of disinfectant, the sounds of nurses bustling in the hallway, the rhythmic swishing of baby's heartbeat on the monitor all pointed to one realization: this journey was nearly complete.

I pulled the warm blanket Sarah, the midwife, had placed over me, up a little higher. I pressed my head into the back of the recliner in an attempt to sleep. My mind flooded with memories of  this brave girl and all she had brought to our lives. Julie had called me nine months earlier after receiving my number from a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend who knew I'd help. She had just found out she was pregnant and was living far from home at a university in my area. Her parents had told her she must think of what's best for the family as a whole and abort the child or they'd cut off her school funding, as well as, her connection to them. I asked her if she wanted to meet with me and that was the beginning of our relationship.

The laboring woman in the next room yelled out in pain and my eyes flew open. It didn't last long and I readjusted myself in the chair. I remembered those early weeks when Julie struggled with extreme nausea, intense feelings of rejection, confusion over the decision she'd made to keep her baby and depression. She allowed me to share her story with the praying women of my Bible Study. They gave of their hearts, their prayers and their money for Julie and the other three girls at the maternity home I had moved her into. There, food, shelter and prenatal care was available. The women who ran the home truly loved the girls with their lives. But Julie was most at peace when she slept over at our place for a few days at a time. She ached to be with family and, as angry as she was with her own, she often spoke lovingly of her parents and how she desperately desired their approval of her choice.

Soon after the official amount of weeks for a legal abortion in Canada had passed, Julie's parents began the slow process of reconciliation with her. She chose adoption and told her parents she would not be keeping her baby, much to their relief. Although they were reconnecting, the pain of their daughter's choice to give her child life, still stung their hearts as they shared with her that knowing their flesh and blood would be growing up "somewhere out there" was a forever burden they would have to endure. But the decision was settled that they would have no part of this baby's life as they believed Julie would ultimately leave the child-rearing up to them. They were not prepared to live that stage all over again.

A door slammed in the hallway and I was jarred from my thoughts. Would I be able to get any sleep? At least Julie was motionless. She needed all the rest she could get for the monumental task she was about to endure. The monitor swished and the numbers flashed between 135 and 150. The baby's heartbeat soothed me as I pondered how this tiny life was going to look and how she would grow up. I allowed myself a moment to imagine she was going to be mine but I knew in my spirit she didn't belong to our family. For a few months though, she was almost ours. Julie had asked if we would adopt the baby. I drove her to midwife appointments and ultrasounds, quietly savouring the joy and beauty of viewing her precious life on the screen, finding out her gender and wondering if she'd be our new youngest. But it wasn't meant to be. My husband and I had fasted and prayed, waited on the Lord for an answer, and that day in the adoption agency we both knew she wasn't ours.

I was not feeling well the day my friend, Annie had taken Julie to her appointment to choose a couple with her wonderful adoption counselor. It was disappointing that I couldn't go but they texted me through the whole process and finally chose a Christian couple whose lifestyle appealed to Julie. Their profile photos of a home with two dogs and vacations and close extended family excited her. I smiled. It was for Julie that I sat in this chair but it was also for them. I knew I was acting as the surrogate momma for this little unborn girl, whom they couldn't yet touch and love. Just then, I remembered to keep the adoptive couple up on the news of the labour and so I reached for my phone. I shared with them that the epidural had allowed Julie to sleep and I'd let them know when the next dilation check took place. The anxiousness in the reply made me laugh out loud.

May had taken on new meaning this year as Julie made me aware that Birth Mother's Day was on the  second Saturday. She asked if we could do something special with the adoptive mom and that led to the Mother's Day Tea I prepared for the two of them. The relationship between these new mothers-to-be flowed easily and it was obvious Julie had made the right choice for her daughter. It was to be an "Open Adoption" and the wide arms of the couple that spread toward Julie blew me away. I loved them immediately and we shared visits in their home so Julie could feel comforted about what her child's nursery looked like. Much care had been taken for every little detail of the room, right down to a frame awaiting a photo of birth-mom. My children romped with their two English Setter dogs and Julie was thankful to be able to envision her little girl growing up at their place.

 

The woman in the next room yelled again, Julie shifted in the bed, opened her eyes and closed them again. Peace flooded the hospital room like a warm blanket and I was certain that peace had finally settled in her heart at the time she had made her decision about the adoption. She consistently told me her daughter was "God's child" and He would find her the family she deserved. With this couple's love for her and for the baby on the horizon, He indeed had begun a good work that He'd be faithful to complete. The learning process was, at times, a roller coaster ride--we, as a family, had witnessed it all as Julie moved in with us a few weeks before this day. But with the end of the pregnancy in sight, I prayed for the character growth to be embraced--by both of us. I praised the Giver of Life for this experience that was creating something new in me too. I finally faded off to sleep.

 

Not long after, Sarah came in to check on Julie. It was time to push. Julie was surprised! Her body had moved itself to readiness while she slept. After all that difficulty breathing through contractions and crying out in pain while we attempted to watch a movie the night before, we now laughed together. It was show time, we joked. The midwives, who had become our friends, hurried about in preparation for the big moment. Annie, who stopped by to bring us something to eat, was assigned to hold a leg for support. She happily obliged. Julie had decided earlier that she did not desire to have the baby placed on her after birth and so the privilege was granted to me. She also appealed to all present in the room to contain their emotions so that the event could be as simple and as easy as possible. I did my utmost to hide the surging feelings that were already overtaking me. I was like a boiling pot just about to bubble over--trying to keep a lid on the rush of sentiment I had concerning the profound beauty of a little human entering the world. How could I experience it four times myself and not express my heart? I tucked my arm under Julie's shoulders as the midwife requested, and I resigned myself to display no emotion--for Julie's sake.

 

That young woman, sacrificing her body, pushed the baby for an hour. The epidural began to wear off and the reality of all those months of hardship, laughter, rejection, confusion, and gratitude welled up into a big gush of crying out in desperation one last time. Julie wailed, "Why? Why? I can't do this! Take her out now. Get the forceps! No more!" She slapped her legs in exhaustion. I held her tightly and pushed up on her back when commanded to do so and turned my head to hide my tears. I locked eyes with Annie, who was brimming too. Julie relaxed in my arms for a moment. I glanced at Sarah, whose sympathetic, furrowed brow caused my emotions to flow freely. I shook my head. So much pain and struggle to bring a life into the world for someone else. It seemed so wrong and yet so perfectly wonderful at the same time. Then, with one final lurch forward, at 7:59 p.m. a nine and a half pound baby girl emerged into the room.

 

Julie collapsed back onto the pillow with a heavy sigh. Sarah rubbed the baby on the bed with some linens and she began to cry. I carefully scooped up the warm, wet, little body, still attached to her life-giving umbilical cord. Sarah handed me the scissors and I cut the flow from the one who had given nine months of her life for the life of one who would not be hers. Balancing her in my arms, I swaddled the hospital wrap around the wriggling, snuffling child and lowered myself into the rocking chair. "She's perfect, Julie," I whispered, "She has your nose."

 

Julie smiled and leaned my direction. "I know," she replied weakly, "it's the first thing I noticed."

 

I rocked back and forth and stroked the precious, dark-skinned cheek of the one I'd prayed over for so long. The one who's ultrasound photo I touched as I passed my fridge each day. Then, the song began to well up inside of me and I quietly sang to her, "Jesus loves me, this I know..." Oh, how I desired for her to know how much she was loved and wanted!

The midwives worked hard to stop Julie's heavy bleeding while she lay on the bed beaming with pride. Annie, being a nurse, hung out close to the new mom, trying to help her get comfortable. Julie asked me to call the baby's new parents and let them know they could come and see her. My eyes widened. "Are you sure you're feeling up to it?" I knew the adoption agency had told them it was likely they'd get to arrive the day after the birth.

 

She grinned, "I want to show her off! I want them to meet her."

 

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and proceeded to tell a very anxious woman on the other end of the phone that I was holding her baby girl in my arms and that she and her husband were given permission to come that very night. Her words gushed with elation. Could she bring anything for Julie? "Anything at all?" she asked. A big, blue freezie was all the patient wanted. The adoptive mom laughed. She was sure they could handle that.

They arrived with a camera, tiny, newborn clothes for their daughter and yes, a big, blue freezie. "Baby" became part of a family that night and was named, Alexandria Julie Danielle. Mom and Dad fed a bottle to their little girl, who would soon be too big for the soft, cozy sleeper they'd brought. Birth-mom, with a burst of adrenalin, chattered about the experience but soon began to tire. A kiss to Alexandria and a hug goodbye for the night to all in the room, and the new parents went home. An exhausted girl gazed up at me from her bed and remarked, "This all feels really good. It's meant to be. I just gave birth to their daughter." I squeezed her hand with mine, while my other held Alexandria. It had been a bitter-sweet journey together and the full plan of God was unfolding as an elegant rose, just like this little girl.

 

Since that day, we shared in an Entrustment Ceremony that was overwhelmingly lovely and unforgettable. It was for the adoptive parents and the birth-mom to promise to do their best to keep communication open for the sake of Alexandria and to raise her in a Christ-centred home. There were letters read to Julie and one to the parents by her, as well as, to the baby. There was not a dry eye in the tiny hospital room as we gathered around her bed before walking away and leaving the baby in the couple's arms.

At present, Julie is at home with her parents, rebuilding a relationship with them. She is looking forward to the end of the 29 day wait when she can officially congratulate the couple that she has not changed her mind! She's excited for them and also for the prospect of a bright future for herself (as well as, visiting her daughter when she is able).

Thank you to Lois, her pregnancy counselor, who gave me personal support, to Nancy and Lisa from the maternity home, to her amazing midwives, to my girlfriends who bought clothing and other special gifts, to Annie, who gave us both a break, to Bonnie and Kerry from Beginnings Adoption Agency, to Yvonne for the prayer blankets, to the adoptive parents, who've been fabulous, to Michele for bringing us together in the first place, and to all who prayed her through this journey. God bless you.