Please fix Mommy's tummy!

Life is sweet with a 5-year-old.  Lydia is at the stage where she is just excited about everything, including learning.  We've been working on having her learn to say her own prayers.  It's a little interesting, because she is really shy at home, but not in public.  At church, she'll get up and say a prayer - no problem.  But at home, she's pretty shy about it.

We talked a couple months ago about how prayer is our chance to talk with Heavenly Father about anything that we want to.  We can thank Him, we can ask Him for things, or we could even just talk about our day.

Lydia thought and thought about it.  She really wanted to ask Heavenly Father for the things she wanted most in the world.  That night, when we knelt down to say our prayers, she said all of the stuff that you'd expect from a preschooler.  But then, she said something that really got to me - "Please, pretty please fix Mommy's tummy so she can have a baby."

Every night since then she's asked for the same thing.  Sometimes she'll add in the variant - "and pretty please make it a girl baby." :)

This is just really getting to me.

Oh, she knows she's adopted.  We affectionately call her birth mother her "tummy mommy."  She knows she did not grow in my tummy.  But, she is stubbornly holding out faith that somehow I can overcome the scientific odds of 0% chance to have a baby.

I want her to know that Heavenly Father does hear and answer prayers.  It's just that He sometimes has a different answer than we have for ourselves.

This truth has been made manifest to me time and time again.  I shared previously our long and difficult path to adoption.  I truly believe that my Father in Heaven answered my prayers to become a mother - but He answered these prayers according to His timetable.

Maybe I need to have the faith of a child.  We are told in the scriptures to become like a child - meek, humble, etc.  Lydia doesn't care that more than one fertility doctor has told us that we have no chance.  All she knows is that she wants to be a big sister and that Heavenly Father can help make that happen.  I guess I just need to trust in that.

Why I love/hate Mother's Day

Jaylene speaking:

Today is Mother's Day.  First of all, I would like everyone to know that I have an amazing mother.  She is super-mom.  She cooks everything from scratch, sews like a champ, keeps a clean house, fulfills her responsibilities, works hours and hours on an orchard that might not ever be financially worth it, and does all this while caring for her children and grandchildren.    She is truly a great example and I am so blessed in my life to call her Mom.  I have amazing grandmothers.  Though one is in heaven right now, I am so blessed that they were both present throughout my life.  I also have an amazing mother-in-law.  She is so fun, and I'm so glad she raised my husband right :)

My wonderful, beautiful mother

My amazing grandmother in heaven, Grandma Donna

My beautiful grandmother, Grandma Charlene

My wonderful mother-in-law, Cheryl

I also have 6 amazing sisters, 3 of whom are mothers right now.  I have wonderful friends and relatives who are also wonderful examples of womanhood and motherhood.

I am also blessed because I am a mother.  5 1/2 years ago, we got "the call"- there was a sweet baby girl in the hospital who needed a home.  We fell in love with our baby girl right away, and I am so happy she calls me "Mom."

And although I don't want to diminish any of these blessings that I do have, as I am so grateful for what I have been given, I also wanted to share why Mother's Day is very hard for me.

I was married at 23 to the most amazing man in the world.

We kind of knew, almost as soon as we started dating, that we both wanted lots and lots of kids.  Before we talked about marriage, we talked about names we both liked for kids.  I knew that I wanted at least 4.  Crazy, maybe - but we were young and full of dreams!

We got married and started living our lives.  Children weren't part of it yet, but we thought, "Hey, we've got lots of time.  They'll come when they come."  A couple of years after we were married, we thought we'd start trying.  Nothing happened.  We'd started to get the comments from well-meaning people, like "When do you think you're going to start having kids?" or "You two would make beautiful children - you should start working on that."  We shrugged it off with a smile, not letting people know at that time that we were trying but nothing was working.

Finally, after many months, we went in to see the fertility people.  I started taking a drug called Clomid that made me all kinds of crazy and hormonal, and Steve had to have the *pleasant* experience of having all sorts of tests.  The results came in on a fall day in 2006 - there will be no biological children.  It's actually both of us - we are both infertile.

To say I was devastated was an understatement.  We sobbed and sobbed for hours?  days?  years?  Here I was, young and otherwise healthy, but my stupid body couldn't make a baby.

I knew I was supposed to be a mom, but it was seeming impossible.  We decided to look into adoption.  My heart was telling me there was a baby out there that needed us soon.

That day came sooner than expected.  We have a relative who was going through some very hard times.  She had just had a baby girl, but the state was not going to let her keep the baby just yet.  So, all of a sudden, we were foster parents.

I loved being a mother - the late nights, the early, early mornings.  I loved the cuddling and the playing peek-a-boo.  But, just when I started feeling like I was a mother, we had to give that baby back.  It was the day after Mother's Day, 2007.  To this day, still one of my most horrible memories.

We moved to the Philippines.  We said that it was for Steve's work, but really, we needed time and distance away for our hearts to heal.  We started looking into adoption right there in the Philippines.  We met with lawyers, but the international restrictions would not let us pursue adoption there.

With broken hearts, we moved back to the States for grad school.  We started working on our home study and adoption paperwork.  It took so much time, but we were hopeful that we would become parents soon.  We finally were approved for adoption in December of 2008, and just a couple of months later, we got a phone call!  A birth mother had chosen us to parent her child.  We were so excited!  We met with the birth family, squared away things with work and school, and on a cold February morning, we made our way to the hospital.

We spent more time in the hospital with the birth family.  This was going to be an open adoption, and we loved getting to know them.  We got to take that baby girl home the next day, after tearful goodbyes with her birth mom (and from me).  I bonded with her instantly.  I was making plans and just loving my moments with this precious baby girl.

But the next day, we got a phone call from our case worker.  The birth mother had changed her mind and decided to parent that baby instead of placing her for adoption.

Worst.  Day.  Ever.

It was Friday the 13th.  Irony?  Maybe.  I don't think I've ever cried so much in my entire life.  When the birth family came to take that little girl away, I just lost it.  Even now, more than 6 years later, my heart still breaks for that child I had for just a moment.

Well-meaning people would say stuff like "Oh, I guess it just wasn't meant to be," or "Don't worry, you'll get another one soon."  I know they meant well, but my heart yearned to say - "I don't want another one.  I want THAT one!" Or "How dare you say it wasn't meant to be!  Can't you see that I'm broken and grieving?!" I had already bonded with this baby.

I learned from a grief counselor later that a failed adoption placement is similar to a parent who has lost their baby to death, at least with the sense of loss and devastation.  All I know is that my heart broke in two that day.  Even though we have moved on with our lives, a little piece of my heart was broken that I don't know will ever heal.

I stopped praying.  I was angry at God for this happening to me.  In hindsight, and even at the time, I know it is wrong to turn away from God, especially since He is really the only one who knew how I felt, but I needed to blame somebody for this awful thing.

I went through the motions of life, but felt hollow - like an empty shell.  I had been a mother - sort of - twice, but had nothing to show for it.  That Mother's Day, a couple of months later, I couldn't bear to go to church.  I felt that when all of the "mothers" were asked to stand up and be recognized, that I would just have to sit there - feeling like the one thing I wanted more than anything else was being flaunted in my face while being withheld from me.

Eventually, something in me realized that I needed to pray, because I needed strength I couldn't get from anywhere else.  I kept getting answers like "Be patient.  Your time will come."  I was having a hard time with this.  Patience is not easy for me.

Several months later, we did get the phone call.  Another baby girl was waiting for us in the hospital.  Her birth mother had decided to place her for adoption at the last moment.  I was scared to death.  Two babies had already been ripped from my arms.  We cautiously went forward with this baby.  I loved her from the moment I met her.  She was so precious.  But, I was still scared that something would happen.  Her birth mother might change her mind.  Her birth father might contest the adoption.  I couldn't really breathe easily until 6 months later, when the judge declared that she was legally and lawfully ours.

Finally, I was a mother.  The road was long, and harder than anything I thought I would ever have to bear.  But, it was so worth it.  That Mother's Day, I knelt down and I thanked my Father in Heaven for His wonderful blessings.  I thanked Him for my sweet baby girl.  I thanked Him for a wonderful birth mother who made the choice to give her child life.

We are trying to adopt again.  The road is long and hard again.  This time, we are going through different trials on our way to become parents again.  But I know it will be worth it eventually.

I have many friends and family members right now who are struggling with different things.  Mother's Day is especially hard for a lot of them.

To you women who are mothers, I celebrate you.

To you women who are not mothers yet, I celebrate you too.  If you have lost a child due to miscarriage, or death, or failed adoption, or hurt feelings, or placing a child for adoption, or any other reasons, I mourn with you.  If you have yet to find "the one" to help you raise your future children, I grieve with you.  To you who feel like this blessing will not be yours in this lifetime, my heart aches for you.  All I can say is that I know from personal experience that the only One who truly understands is waiting for you to turn to Him.  He has helped to heal my heart when nothing else can.

My heart will always ache for my 2 babies that will never really be mine.  I mourn for them on their birthdays, and on the days where they were taken from me.  But, I have to move forward with the hope that God will help me to understand all of this in time.  And for the moment, I need to enjoy the blessings that I have now.