“Where’ve you been?

I’ve looked for you forever and a day

Where’ve you been?

I’m just not myself when you’re away.”

The first time I heard this song was in about seven years ago in the fall.  I was a sophomore in college.  I had moved into my first official “college house,” that was a dump for lack of better words.  It was cheap, but it wasn’t pretty.  I was floating high and happy as could be. I was going to college, had found the love of my life, and was pursuing my dream degree of Elementary Education.  In the midst of all of this, my mom had a doctor appointment in Hays.  She and my dad received the devastating news that she had colon cancer.  Colon cancer that was quite measurable in size and would require surgery, soon.  What many of you may not know was that my mom was already a breast cancer survivor.  She had been in remission for over 5 years and was just starting to relax and not worry with every passing day.  We all were shocked and terrified to hear that she had colon cancer.  And it was not recurrent, it had nothing to do with her breast cancer.  But you know who the strong one was?  You guessed it, Mom. She always was the strong one.  She scheduled her surgery over Thanksgiving break and spent a week in the hospital.  

The song I referred to above was my ringtone on my phone at the time, that’s why I remember it so well. I remember bursting into tears when I heard it, thinking of how terrible it would be to lose my mom.  I made the song my ring tone to remind me how lucky I was. How lucky we all were to get one more day, one more month, one more year, and soon to be over 7 more years with her since that first diagnosis of colon cancer. 

Intravenous chemo, radiation, scan after scan, major lung surgery, ablations, high intensity radiation, oral chemo, trip after trip to Mayo clinic, prayer after prayer, and plea after plea for that miracle to heal her.  She tried everything. She exhausted every last effort to save herself from the fate of cancer.  We all did. We refused to believe that it could ever take her from us.  That is why I am angry. I am angry that someone with such love, zest, and hunger for life could be taken from this world, away from those who love her more than they love themselves.

Mom kept a journal sporadically that you just were to share one sentence per day.  Every entry was about how grateful she was for her family, about the great day she had with her kids/grandkids/Dad, how thankful she was for life, and how appreciative she was to a God that was so giving.  It brings me to tears thinking of it.  How lucky we were, to have such a kindred spirit for our mother, grandmother, and wife.

I find myself searching for her.  I search for her touch, I search for her smell, I search for any moments full of her.  Going home to visit Dad, I find myself standing at her dresser, looking in the mirror, hoping to see her face.  I smell all of her perfumes, look at all of her jewelry, and look at her clothes. Oh what we wouldn’t give for one more day.  I keep hoping, wishing and praying that one of these days she’s going to be back. And like the song says, “Where’ve you been, I‘ve looked for you forever and a day…where’ve you been, I’m just not myself when you’re away.” 

I’m not myself without her. In my 28 years, I had maybe only gone 3-4 days without talking to her, sharing with her, telling her I loved her.  That’s what I miss. I miss her unconditional love, her encouragement, her laugh, her strength.  I miss her smile, her perfume, her quiet way of talking, the way she carried herself with such grace, her kind way of doing things for us, and her simple ways of telling us she loved us with gifts, message rocks, emails and cards.

I have to find a new me, one that must be strong and prevail when I feel like hiding.   I have to find a new normal.  Her spirit will live on in in us, her family.  Her heart lives in ours and her touch will be our conscience and our guide, leading us to the right paths to follow in life. 

Even though I am still so angry at the circumstances, I thank God. I thank him for welcoming Mom into his loving arms.  I thank him for granting her eternal life with Him.  I thank him for washing her body of all the pain, and most of all I thank him for giving her to us for as long as he did.  Even though she is no longer here in body, she will always be here in spirit.  We will meet again, and I can only imagine the tears of joy that will stream down our faces.

A letter for Bella on her 2nd birthday...

Dear Bella,

Today you are two years old. Two!  Your dad and I can remember the day you were born so vividly. We got up before the crack of dawn to rush to the hospital to be there with your birth mom during her c-section.  We shared laughs and conversation with your birth mom as they prepped her for surgery.  She knew, without a doubt, that she was making the absolute best choice by making us your parents.  Only one of us was allowed in the operating room, so I had to deck out in all the gear.  I held your birthmom’s hand through the entire surgery, consoling her when she got scared, squeezing her hand back when she squeezed mine.  We both cried as we watched the doctors lift you up, claiming you a healthy baby girl.  In all honesty, I was so nervous. I wanted to be there and hold your birthmom’s hand and console her; but I wanted to hold you and watch you be weighed, measured, cleaned, and swaddled.  My heart was torn in that moment.  I was feeling the intense love for my daughter, and the heartbroken love and empathy for this mother that I would always share a lifelong connection with. 

Fast forward a few minutes later, and there we were in the room with your Dad and our social worker, Teresa.  I handed you to your dad and saw him wiping tears from his eyes.  He loved your wild hair.  Nothing else mattered in that moment but you, our sweet Bella.  We couldn’t wait for you to meet your big sister Liberty, who was still a baby herself at 17 months old.

Bella, never once doubt how much you were wished for, prayed for, and most of all, wanted.  We never doubted our decision to have our two girls so close in age, because what better gift can you give your children but siblings?  Many thought we were crazy to adopt again so soon.  I have to tell you, Bella, your Grandma Jane pushed and encouraged me to no end to pursue you.  She listened to me, hoping and praying, daily that Liberty would soon have a baby sister.  She consoled me when I worried that you two would be too close in age before you were born.  She told me time and time again, how happy were you with your own sister, Alyssa? You were only 18 months apart…and look at the relationship you have.  Best friends, for life.  I see you and Liberty today, Bella, and my heart swells with joy and love.  The two of you are mine and your dad’s entire life, and you fill our entire hearts.

Bella, your headstrong spirit scares me sometimes.  Your dad always says that it will get you SO far in life.  I am quite sure you get this from both your Dad and your Papa John.  You will find true success in life because of that spirit.  Your love for babies and your sweet heart are most definitely from your Grandma Jane.  It breaks my heart that you will not grow up knowing the mother that I was so blessed to have in my life for 28 years.  Your love for dancing and music must come from Grandma Alfreda…and since Sue was among many of your favorite first words, I think we know the joy your Grandma Sue brings you.  That curly hair of yours, Bella, didn’t you know it matches your Papa Melvin? His used to be just like yours. J Your blood may not match our blood, Bella, but your spirit, your personality, your heart, it most definitely matches and is a part of ours.

Bella, when you turn your nose up in the air and do exactly what I told you not to…oh how that irritates me…but more than that it makes me laugh.  The way you yell “Mo—mmy!” as loud as you can in the mornings when you wake up…I never want to forget it.  As annoying as it can be some early mornings, I know the day will come when you no longer want me to come get you and rock you when you wake up from a good night’s sleep. The way you care for your baby dolls by feeding, burping, changing diapers, and wrapping them in blankies…makes me know without a doubt that you will be an amazing mother someday.

Watching you and Liberty wrestle on the floor, kiss each other good night each night before bed, and insist on wearing matching clothes…that is what makes me happy. Arguing with you two about why you can’t share a bed at night time yet, that is what brings me joy on days that my heart is full of sorrow missing your Grandma Jane.  Laughing when you tell us to “shh! Baby is sleeping” (your doll)… that is what makes your dad and I know that we have done something right. We are your and Liberty’s mom and dad…and that is by far our favorite job.

Thank you, Bella, for bringing even more spirit, joy, love, and life into our family. You are you, and we love you so very much. Your zeal for life will take you up and across many mountains, and the stars will be your limits as you dream of your future.  Never forget how much you are loved, by so many.  Never forget that you have a sky full of guardian angels watching out for you and your sister, Liberty.  Make them proud.

We love you with all of our hearts,

Mom and Dad

Sunday is our Bella’s 2^nd birthday.  The past two years have been filled with so many emotions, so many firsts, and so many lasts. Bella wasn’t “planned” for, she was “prayed” for.  Just like with Liberty, we were chosen and by God, were we thankful, grateful, and oh so immersed with joy with their arrivals.

I knew about Bella for a few months before she was born. Not many know that.  I knew of her birth mom, of her birth family, and I felt that intense yearning whenever I thought of her.  My mom was the only one that truly knew how much I prayed for that little girl to come into our life.  All my mom and I knew was that there was a half white/half black little girl that was due in March.  All we knew; was that we had to leave it in God’s hands, even though all we wanted was to manipulate the situation into our favor.  I was so unsettled for months before Bella’s arrival.  I wanted for our family to grow, and to grow NOW, even though I had no idea how that was going to happen.  Liberty was still only 15 months old.  Oh, how I had no clue how much another baby added to the chaos of life.  The chaos of life...that I can lovingly call my own.  To this day, I believe that the miraculous event of Bella coming into our family was all due to my mom’s fervent prayers.

My anchor in life was, and always has been, my mom.  She is the one that I always picked up the phone to call with every last detail of life, whether it was happy or sad.   She is the one that consoled me through the years of infertility, through years of anxiety, through years of stress in school.  She’s the one I shared my biggest fears, my goals, and my dreams.  She’s the one who taught me how to be a mom.  She taught me to always be grateful, that life could always be so much worse.  She taught me that faith in God is the most important thing in life.  Without faith, what do we have?  Without God, where would we be?  She taught me to walk with grace, no matter what life throws our way. 

I find myself staring into space, not knowing where to turn.  My encourager, my believer, my inspiration, is no longer here.  I truly never imagined how much a broken heart could hurt, how grief would suffocate my soul, and how life would lose so much of its beauty.  Some nights the grief truly comes in like waves, and on the worst nights, I feel like I’m drowning.

I know that I can’t allow myself to drown. I know that I must push on and prevail for my family.  When I need comfort, I look high to the heavens and talk to mom.  The day that mom passed away, I was sitting on a bench outside, watching the girls play happily.  I felt such warmth over my body, in spite of the crisp January air. I felt peace. And not even a minute later, the phone rang, and I received the news that Mom had peacefully passed away. That warmth and peace…I know that was Mom.  I know that it was her telling me that she was okay.  She is happy, she is loved, and she is no longer hurting. 

My aunt told me that I should ask for mom to come to me in my dreams.  So I did.  And you know what? She came. And oh how it hurt to wake up the next morning and realize that she was only alive in my dream.  But it was so good, so good to see her.  She was alive, she was vibrant, she was healthy, and she was happy.  Jake told me last night that a lifetime can go so fast…and he was right.  I will see her again, and in that homecoming, the heavens will light up like never before.

 

This year Bella’s birthday party won’t hold near the cheer that it did last year.  But our family will continue to live, and to live in a way that would make mom smile.  We will hold her in our hearts, and we will raise our children to possess kind hearts the way that she did.  Bella will be dancing at her party for Mom again this year, just like she did last year.  Only this year, mom will be cheering her on from heaven.    

With you went so much of me.

“The death of a mother is the first sorrow wept without her”.

Time has stood still now, since December 30^th. December 30^th, the love and light of our life, my mom, was admitted to the hospital.  December 29^th at approximately 4:15 was the last time I spoke to my mom on the phone. I have replayed these memories, thoughts, and conversations over in my mind so many times that my head spins.  I had so much left to say to her.  I have so many questions for God. Why did you have to take her?  My heart hurts, because I’m terrified that she is missing us so badly in heaven.  How can she be truly happy in eternal life without her family?  

The nights are when the grief strikes. It kicks us in the stomach, stabs us in the heart, and brings us to our knees.  The tears roll when we don’t even realize it.  They roll down so many times until we have no tears left to cry.  The worst part of waking up every morning is to re-realize each day that she is gone.

We want her back. Oh how we have cried and prayed for God to give her back to us.  But in that same thought, we know that we would never want her to suffer again in the way that she did on Earth.  Her strength was unstoppable. The things she endured to buy herself more time with us were beyond admirable.  Her faith never wavered, and her big heart never stopped giving. 

I see her pictures hanging in our house and some days I smile, other days I cry. I cry because the pain of missing her is almost suffocating, it fills my entire chest and heart to the point that I feel it could just shatter into pieces.  I miss every piece of her.  I miss her in every part and aspect of my life.  The hardest thing to bear?  It’s the loneliness.  The loneliness for her voice, her laugh, and most of all, her presence. 

I can hear her in my mind. I can hear her laughing and telling stories with her grandchildren. I can hear her and my dad teasing each other about whether she should have put a little less seasoning on that steak.  I can see her in my mind when we were little girls, sitting at the table with her making bierocks and sugar cookies.  I can smell her every day when I put my perfume on because I wear the same kind she does.  I can feel her in my heart, the same way I felt a sense of peace the day God brought her home.

I know that she is everywhere there is beauty. I saw her when the snow fell in a huge blanket a few days ago.  I saw her in the beautiful yellow birds that visited our yard in the quite peace after the snow.  I saw her in the sparkling of Liberty and Bella’s eyes as the saw the snow for the first time after the storm. 

I truly never realized the impact of the words “I miss you,” until I reached out for my mom and she was no longer there.   

“A thousand words can’t bring you back, I know because I’ve tried.  And neither would a million tears, I know because I’ve cried…”  -Darren Heart

I saw you today.

I saw you today.  I saw you when I handed a homeless woman a ten dollar bill on the corner of the highway.  I saw you in her beaten down eyes, and I heard you in that heavy voice.  Those eyes have seen more sadness than happiness.  Those eyes lost their sparkle many years ago.  Tears ran down my face as I drove away, because I knew it wasn’t really you.  All I knew at that moment… is that I will never forget you. 

I saw you in the face of a stranger weeks ago in the grocery store.  I saw shades of you with a man that had beaten down your self-confidence.  I saw you with only a few meager things in your cart because that was all you could afford.  I wanted to rescue you. I wanted to take you home with me, feed you and help you start a new life. 

I hear your voice in my heart, saying good bye.  I hear it so often.  I see your eyes, locking with mine as we drive away, taking our beautiful daughter home.  Our beautiful daughter, a priceless gift from you and our heavenly father above.

I remember your words.  I remember our conversations about your family history.  Times that we learned about our daughter’s heritage.  Times that we will never forget.  Times when our nerves were raw and our hearts were on the line.

I remember the sobs.  Deep, wracking sobs that I cried.  I remember wondering where they were coming from, and realizing that they were coming from me.  I remember that torn feeling.  I still know it.  The best thing that has ever happened to us was one of the saddest days of another’s life.  A day does not go by that I don’t thank God for the immeasurable gifts he has given us.  A day does not go by that I don’t realize the magnitude of your gift to us.  It will never be forgotten. 

I smile today.  I smile because we were chosen.  We were chosen by you, to become our daughter’s mother and father. We were chosen by God to be a mother and father through the gift of adoption.  I smile today, because I’m remembering our sweet girl’s entrance to the world.  I smile today, because I am a mother.  I am a mother!  

Dear Liberty,

Today, you are three.  How are you three already?  I remember the day you made me a mother like yesterday.  Even though I didn’t carry you, I was there for your birth.  Your birth mom was so strong.  I held her hand as she received her epidural.  I encouraged her as she fought to bring you into this world.  I saw her eyes brim with tears as we shared our first look at what a beautiful girl you were.  I looked back after you were born and saw tears rolling down your dad’s face. There is no other moment in this world that will replace that one.  Your dad and I got to cut the umbilical cord and watch you get weighed, measured, cleaned, and wrapped into a warm blanket.  We got to wheel you into a private waiting room and stare at you, cuddle you, hug you, and love you.  We made a couple ecstatic phone calls to our parents. We brought you home 9 days later.

Liberty, I want you to know just how very much you were wished for and wanted. Your dad and I prayed for you for countless nights, days, months, and years.  Though you are not blood of our blood, your heart matches ours.  Your personality, they say, matches mine.  Your spirit, matches your dad.  Your stubbornness, most definitely comes from your dad. ..and your kindness, comes from your grandma Jane.  Your love for the land and animals, that comes from both of your Papa’s.  And your determination, that’s Grandma Sue. 

Liberty, the kindness in your heart makes me just swell with pride.  I pray that it only grows with your age…and that you will always remember the simplicity of your childhood.  Days spent from sunup to sundown outdoors, days spent with your family, building the best friendship with your sister and hopefully more siblings in the years that follow.

Liberty, the questions you ask make me smile so big.  I’m not sure how many 100s you ask a day, but the questions you ask can leave me stumped to find you an answer.  May you always have so many questions, and may you always search for the answers.  Be a learner, and know that you are never too old to learn more.

Your love for books…you are definitely your mother’s daughter.  Books will take you to faraway places, make the unimaginable possible, and they will fill your heart with emotions.  Never stop reading, and know that with every book, you are opening another door. 

My wish for you, my dear girl, is that you will blossom.  I hope that when doors close on your path you will keep searching for windows, and that you will never give up on yourself.  You are smart, strong, and beautiful.  You will go so very far in life.  Don’t let anything stop you.  The mark you will make in the world will be seen for miles. 

I love you, my precious girl.

Mom

“I breathe in my courage and out my fear”.

One thing no one told us about adoption was the fear that we would encounter. 

We learn fear at a very young age.  Fear of being away from our mother, fear of the dark, fear of snakes, etc.  As we age, our personalities take root and our fears change.  As I grew up, I was always afraid of separation.  I was terrified of being away from my mom.  Who knew what could happen in the hours we were apart?  I loved the fact that we were always in the same school until I reached 6^th grade.  I always knew exactly where my mom was and kept track of her closely.  

All the same, I was afraid of anything less than perfect.  In 5^th grade I threw up after getting a B on a science test.  I would make myself sick studying and obsessing over obtaining perfection.  Thankfully, I hit those magically middle school years and I stopped trying so hard to reach perfection with grades and instead turned to boys.  Now it was all about sports and looks.  How did our parents ever survive these years?  The years slipped by and my fears seemed to subside.   As high school passed into college, I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to find a man to spend forever with.  That fear quickly was engulfed as I met Jake.  Fear turned into bliss as we married and settled into life together.  How happy we were and how blessed we were!

New fears arose.  What if we weren’t able to get pregnant?   What if the fertility treatments didn’t work?  What if, what if, what if?  We learned to turn our fears into prayers and our prayers into actions.  We began to search (or I began to search, and reported daily all my findings to Jake).  You can’t just hand your lives over to the wrong agency, social worker, or attorney.  That is the one thing that I still have a hard time explaining.  The people who control how/when our family would grow hold our lives in the palm of their hands.  Our attorneys, our social worker, the birth parents, all controlled every aspect.  It was new to me.  I was not able to control this like I was the paper work, our portfolio, and our decisions of what outlet to use to grow our family.

I never knew fear like this existed.  A fear that caused heat to flood from my feet up to my heart to my eyes and face…fear that would stop me in my tracks.  Fear that caused my heart to pound so loudly that I swore someone standing next to me would be able to hear it.  Fear that made my stomach roll, and bodily fluids run rampant.  Fear that paralyzed my body and my eyes to leak without even realizing it. 

Adoption is not something we think lightly of.  It isn’t a second choice or a second option because we weren’t able to get pregnant.  Our family was destined to grow, just not in the exact way that nature explains.  Everything we have ever wanted is on the other side of fear.  In order to gain what we so desire, we have to wade through our fears. 

Fear cripples me even today when I think of our future.  We so badly want our family to grow even more in the future, but those fears crawl up my legs and into my heart.  I’m constantly praying to push those fears away and let God take over. 

Nothing worth having comes easily.  I pray that you, my friends, don’t let fear cripple you.  We have two little girls that wouldn't be here if we would have let our fear cloud our vision.  

“I breathe in my courage and out my fear”.