I debated whether or not to post this as I’m not totally sure what this post is. Definitely not a birth story. Maybe a pregnancy blog? It’s not even written that well - parts are just my ramblings so hopefully it even makes sense (and it’s kinda long). If it offends you, I’m sorry, this is my story and this has been my experience. My experience does not invalidate yours. But yours does not invalidate mine. Whatever it is my hope is to be real and raw and hopefully someone finds it helpful.
The early weeks of carrying Micah were difficult - I was hemorrhaging and my doctors didn’t know why. At each ultrasound I kept waiting to see that empty black space I had seen a year before or be told something was wrong. But it never came. That first trimester was trying: between the extreme fatigue, nausea, and the constant fear of the unknown. I always felt like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Add that to my own ambivalence about bringing another life into this screwed up world and my emotions felt muted and flat. At times I was so excited- imagining what our little baby would be like. Other times I was trying not to think about the pains of miscarriage, knowing we had failed yet another foster child, or how we could possibly afford an infant we had never saved for.
Foster care and adoption was always “Plan A”in my mind. It wasn’t a “Plan B” because of my infertility issues - I think a lot of people assumed it was. Family and friends were “so excited for us” when we finally announced our pregnancy. They didn’t exactly say it but we knew what some of them meant: “now you have a real kid, you don’t have to worry about fostering/adopting”. I thought people were supportive of us fostering until we got pregnant. It made it obvious that most people consider fostering “a nice idea” to help kids when you can’t birth children but why would you do it if you could have “real” kids? It was so frustrating. It made me question why God would give me this Plan A for foster care only to knock me up 9 years into marriage? and to be honest, I’m still not sure. I felt embarrassed that things had failed with yet another foster child yet so relieved because she was just so challenging and I didn’t know how I would’ve been able to parent both. However, that relief just led to more embarrassment - I truly believe in the value of foster care, it’s not for me, the adult - it’s for the child. And we had failed yet another child.
In many ways my pregnancy was fairly easy but not perfect. Due to health issues I was high risk and needed to be put on insulin. Learning to give myself shots 4-5 times of days was lots of fun. The stress of not knowing what birth defects Micah could have due to my high risk kept me up most nights. I kept expecting the worst. But it never came. My doctor recommended a cesarean and we agreed. At 38.5 weeks, Micah came into then world: perfect in every way. All of our fears for birth defects were quickly put to rest.
I know everyone’s experience is different with both biological and foster children. But for me, fostering children with attachment issues was so emotionally difficult in ways I never understood as a foster care caseworker. Yet, I know better than most how needed foster/adoptive parents are. Parenting Micah has been effortless (and yes I realize we are in the easy stages) and the sting of guilt never really leaves me as I think about the 10,000s of children waiting for homes. We want to try fostering again. Starting with young children this time. I know that we are still called to foster even if it is on pause for the time being.
As much as I am so incredibly in love with my baby boy, I still feel uneasy about bringing new life into this world. I feel pain knowing the world we give to Micah is so much worse off than the world I was born into. I struggle to understand why God would bring another life into our home when we wanted to give our home to other children who need a safe place. Now we have one less bed to give. I’ve also struggled deeply with the problem of pain. Specifically child neglect. It’s no secret that every day for the past 10 years I come face to face with child abuse and neglect. It has always pained me but I pushed through to serve my clients. As a new mom I would feed my sleepy baby and think about all the infant clients I had who I knew weren’t being fed on a regular basis. The ones left in dirty diapers for hours. The ones left in their car seats all day. The ones laying next to needles. The ones being hit and screamed at. The one with 16 broken bones at 2 months old - the only explanation a shrug from mom and dad. The list goes on and on. And I would look into my sweet son’s face and wonder: “why was he chosen to be born to parents who would love him and meet all his needs? why wasn’t Sara and Emma so lucky? What about Victoria and Trina and Delaney and Jacob and August and Peter and Ivan and Liam and Drew*? What about them?” They didn’t ask to be born into this world. And they certainly didn’t ask to be born to mentally ill and substance addicted mothers who forgot or didn’t know or didn’t care enough to take care of them. I saw their faces and remembered their stories while I rocked my baby. And I didn’t understand. And I still don’t. I don’t know if I ever will. But I’m determined to press forward.
Press forward:
- to love Micah and instill in him Christ’s compassion and love for all.
- to fight for children and for their mothers and fathers
- to open our home to others even though it might be painful and stressful.
- to live and give sacrificially
A year ago today I could not even slightly imagine what the positive pregnancy test would bring and what it has taught me. Ultimately, I am selfishly so thankful to have my little Micah boy. I hope one day he reads this blog and knows how incredibly loved he is but ultimately sees my vulnerable heart that allows him to be unapologetically himself but also points him to Jesus. I hope he knows that life is rarely black and white but all shades of gray.
We were careful in choosing Micah’s name. Micah means “who is like our God?” Micah is a constant reminder that there is none like our Jesus: He is too wonderful, too compassionate, too mighty, too awesome, too unimaginable, and too loving to our broken and weary race. Even though sometimes it doesn’t feel that way.
Micah was also the prophet who penned my life verse. Forever tattooed on my foot and my heart:
He has told you, O man, what is good;
and what does the LORD require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God?
As I always say: “Love God. Love Others. The End.”
I still don’t have the answers to problems of pain in our world. I still don’t know why so many children are born to mentally ill and substance addicted parents not equipped to care for them. I don’t know why God chose us to give us new life instead of allowing past fostering to succeed. But I will continue to Love Him and Love Others.
