God prevails...

"How does it feel?" I get this question a lot these days, in regards to what it feels like to be a mom. I try, I really do, to answer the question, but I always feel like my response is a mediocre attempt to try and explain what my heart truly feels.



Overwhelmingly joyful. Fulfilling. Rewarding. Happy.

Don't get me wrong. Motherhood is far from easy. The past six months have stretched me more emotionally, mentally, physically, and spiritually than ever before. The responsibility is huge, and there are many days when I just wanna get away for a while. My daily fragrance usually exists of spit-up, and because I'm terrified to wear my nicer clothes, I resort to a hole-y t-shirt and baggy jeans. My husband and I are lucky if we get to converse with each other about anything other than formula, poopy diapers, and whether we want a ham and cheese sandwich or a bowl of cereal for dinner. Exhaustion runs rampant, always. Caffeine intake is way up, and I've kind of been forced to drink my coffee cold now. Four out of the seven days a week, I don't even leave the house...or see another adult. I am in desperate need of a chiropractor, my house severely needs a deep cleaning, and most days we just have to laugh about finances to keep from crying. And I know our hardest days are yet to come.

As Selah grows, so will the trials. The questions will get harder. She is going to feel pain and heartache. She will struggle with something. Times will get harder. I know....

But every time someone asks me how it feels, all I can answer with is how I feel:

I feel blessed to be chosen by God to raise this little girl. Blessed. Out of all the possible outcomes, God saw fit, Selah's birth family saw fit, and all sorts of agents, judges, and specialists saw fit that she be placed in our hands.

I feel blessed to know that it goes beyond someone just seeing fit, but that is was divinely orchestrated that she is here with us now. Before we were chosen for Selah, our puny little profile was placed in the hands of two other families who were very interested. And both times we just knew that it wasn't the right fit. Both times, God closed those doors. The way He timed everything, and delivered on His promises could never be stamped as a coincidence or luck. It was His perfect plan.

I feel so thankful for the passion that grew in mine and my husband's heart for adoption. And I am thankful that God took the time that He did with our story to grow that passion...that He shut the doors for us toward fertility treatments and procedures that would have caused us to miss out on Selah. In many ways, the honest brutal truth is that I'm thankful that He closed my womb in the first place (oh the years it has taken me to even type those words).

I feel so overwhelmingly grateful for the match that was made between Jeremy and I, and Selah's birth mom. It is because of God's goodness that we were not only chosen by her, but that I was allowed the opportunity to be there for the birth, to hold my baby right after she was born. I will never be able to fully describe how grateful I am that I didn't have to miss out on that. I will forever cherish the things - the conversations, the building of trust, and relationship, no matter how big or small - that happened in that little hospital room over that one week.

I am so blessed to know God's peace that surpasses all understanding. From not knowing if we would ever have children, to then holding our baby girl in our arms and not knowing if we would be able to keep her...It is only because of God's peace that we made it through. There was a huge scare after Selah was born regarding paternity. The guy who was thought to be the birth father was very uncertain from the beginning as to whether he was or not. Once Selah was born, and another possible birth father came into the mix, we found ourselves in a very scary situation. With DNA test results pending, we were terrified that neither possibility would be willing to go through with the adoption. 

 I'll never forget the day we left the hospital with our baby. Before we could drive home, we had to meet at the agency to sign some final documents, and all I remember is our adoption specialist looking us in the eyes and telling us that she thought it would be best to place Selah in interim care until the DNA results came back. She wanted to do what she could to protect us from getting our hearts ripped out if the results didn't work out in our favor (one of the potential birth father's signed his consent regardless of the DNA results, and the other wanted to parent if he turned out to be the father). Anyway, the specialist looked at us and gave us her thoughts on what she would do if we left the decision up to her for interim care. I felt the fight well up inside and I told her through an emotional breakdown that I didn't care about my heart being ripped out. Tear this brand new baby away from me after all we just went through, put her in interim care, and you'll see my heart be ripped out anyway. Jeremy and I agreed that we were willing to take the "at risk placement", we signed the risky placement form, and we took our baby home to care for her for the three weeks we had to wait for DNA results. All that to say that I'm blessed to have had the peace of God during that time. It guarded my heart and gave me the strength I needed in that moment to make the best decision, rather that fearing the unknown and missing out on nearly the entire first month of Selah's life.

I am so blessed to be loved by this little girl. Maybe she'll question things later, but for now I just soak up the mother-daughter bond between us that isn't determined by strands of DNA. I bask in the love of a Savior that is blind to race and ethnicity. I give thanks that no matter what it took to get here, that God brought us here. Together. Our little family of three.

It's in my answer to people's question of what it feels like that it hits me:

It doesn't matter how hard it gets at times. It doesn't matter what it looks like. It doesn't matter how conventional or unconventional. It just matters that it's God's plan. And when it's His plan, it just works. Doesn't mean it is always easy, or that it won't be hard. But even in the midst of the difficult, when it's God who is orchestrating, not us, the good outweighs the bad. Light will shine no matter how dark sometimes. Joy will be present, and we will find thanks, because God prevails. Always.