Chapter fifteen- In which God says, "I will save," and "I do hear."

A lot of people have asked me if having a baby of my own is much different than adoption or foster care. Nope. It's not. It's as though God says, "Here are the children I want you to take care of." It makes no difference. I do love looking at Molly and seeing who's features she has- Justin's ears, my eyes, his nose, my mouth.... But I don't love her because she was made in our image. I love both Josiah and Molly because they were made in God's image. They are both such precious gifts and I would in no way trade one for the other.

It stings a little when I tell people that we won't get to keep Josiah and they say, "Well at least you have your own kid now." I'm sorry...would you want one to give up one of your kids because the other one looks more like you?

It's going to be painful when he leaves. There's no way around it. Like a piece of me is missing. I love him like I love Molly. And should it be any different? He has been grafted into our family, just like I've been grafted into God's, and he will forever be a part of us even if he doesn't end up calling me "mom." I love that little boy to pieces.

Since Molly has been born, we've been able to establish and build a relationship with Josiah's family. Some days, he would go over to his grandfather's so he could spend the day with them and his brother David. When he would leave, I would miss him like crazy, but it felt different than when he would go to his parents'. I knew he was completely loved and coddled and fussed over. And it felt great to know that we were blessing his family with the happiest healthiest little boy that we could.

One day, Aunt Brenda (the aunt that was adopting Josiah) came up to New Jersey from Georgia. His grandparents and David and Brenda came to the house to pick up Josiah and I got to meet her for the first time. You could tell just the way she looked at him how much she loved him. When we picked him up after he spent the day with her, we were telling her how blessed we felt to have him in our lives. I can remember her saying, "We feel just as blessed to have you look after him. You didn't know that when you were praying for him, you were actually praying for me." That felt like she opened the door for us to talk about how great God had been to us. Justin said, "You know, it was our prayer that if Talen ;o) didn't get to stay with us that he would go to a Christian home." "Oh you don't need to worry about that!" she said. "This boy is going to know the Lord. He's going to go to church every Sunday and sing in the choir." I asked her if I could give her a hug. She said she was hoping I would.

I think I cried all the way home. I was so thankful that no matter where he is, he was going to know who God was. To know that God saves and God hears.

A few months later, Fred was dropping him home after a day at his house and he stayed to talk a while. He told us that Brenda was almost done with all of the paperwork that she needed to be approved to get Josiah. My heart sank. I just wasn't ready to lose him, and I didn't want to have to send him on a plane with a case worker that barely knew him. Justin and I went to get family pictures done- something I wanted to do and knew I would regret if we lost him soon and I never did it.

It was a magical time. Molly was a tough baby- nothing like Josiah. She was colicky and would scream if you didn't hold her upright. She knew the second we would sit down and get comfortable. She did her best to make sure that didn't happen often. But for 20 minutes she cooperated and was the cutest little lady when we got our pictures taken.

In December, Fred told us that Brenda wasn't going to be calling the baby Talen. (When we met the dad once, he had told us that the name "Talen" was the name of an old wise dragon, and was also the name of his dead cat. I think once you name your children after your dead pets, your parenting rights should be revoked.) Justin and I looked at eachother. "Go 'head, tell him," I nudged Justin with my shoulder.

"We have sort of been calling him "Josiah," he said tentatively "...when we first got him, they told us we could name him. And once we heard why his dad named him Talen, we didn't want to call him that."

I could feel my cheeks getting red. I felt so bad. He wasn't ours and we treated him like he was.

Fred laughed. "That's okay. Nobody likes that name."

I asked Fred for Brenda's number. Now that our secret was out, I felt the need to explain and apologize to her.

I called her on a Wednesday. I was so nervous as I dialed the number to Georgia. I was relieved when I just got to leave a message. On Saturday, she called me back. She had been busy at her church's daycare and volunteering for meals on wheels. I laughed at myself for thinking she was angry and didn't want to talk to me.

I told her the story of how we prayed about his name and how important it was for us for all of our children to be able to share the goodness of God with others. I told her we would start calling him anything she wanted and how sorry I was for not asking this important question about his name sooner. I felt guilty- like I had stolen such an important honor away from the person that would be raising him.

She said that all of them hated the name Talen. "Listen, all of my grandchildren have Biblical names. You go right ahead and keep calling him Josiah. I don't care what his birth certificate says, or what the state says, or what his parents say, that is his name."

Weeping. Lots of weeping. I tried to hold it in, but it came out in blubbering bursts over the phone. It was an answer to prayer. God told us that that was his name, and now it forever would be. No matter where Josiah went, he would always have something that WE gave to him. I will always be grateful to Brenda for allowing us to have this great honor.

We talked for about a half an hour, sharing prayer requests and me gushing how proud I was of our baby boy. And then she asked a question...

"When I come up to New Jersey to visit, I hate missing worship on Sundays. Could I come to church with you and Justin?"

If I were a cartoon, my mouth would have dropped clear to the floor. My heart just warmed inside of me. I thought back to when we had Josiah dedicated at church back in July when we thought we were going to lose him in a matter of weeks. At the time, Justin and I stood up on the platform and told the story of how we had lost so many babies and how God blessed us with this little boy. Everyone was so happy for us and applauded. But through gushes of tears, Justin told the congregation how they had found a family member who was going to take him. Our Pastor had prayed that somehow Josiah would know Jesus as his Savior one day.

We had a party for him after church at my parents' house. It didn't feel like a celebration to me. It felt like a farewell. Months later, we would find out that he was going to a strong Christian home...

And now Brenda would be coming to church with us. So now everyone could see that God really does save and He really does hear.

2-Chapter eleven- In which God loosens my grip by handing me more (Part 2)

Lesley (or Nino, as his parents nick-named him) was a Dominican little boy. He spoke no english but had an infectious smile and inquisitive spirit. I was very thankful that I had to take spanish in high school and college. I had about a 22 month old's vocabulary, so I could ask him if he wanted jugo, leche, o agua. We made it work. I quickly learned the difference between an immobile 4 month old and an almost-2 year old who never stopped moving and could lock himself in the bathroom. twice. To say that he was challenging would be inaccurate. Exhausting. Near- impossible. Patience-testing. Maybe that paints a closer picture. He did not like women (most likely because his abuser was a woman I think) but would be an angel when my husband was around. My forearms were covered in scratches and bruises from him testing his boundaries. Even with ever-growing circles under my eyes, I loved him like our own.

He quickly adjusted to life with gringos. We taught him how to count to ten and how to say grace before he ate. He was like a little parrot. This would be our lesson before each meal:

Us: "Dear God,"

Nino: "Diego,"

"Thank you for"

"five"

"Our food."

"food."

"Bless it to"

"Three"

"my body."

"body."

"Amen."

"Aaaaaameeeenn."

He would continually make us laugh. Although life was busy and difficult, having Nino was a blessing. I was too busy and distracted to even think about my pregnancy or if today was the day we were going to lose Josiah. I only had enough energy to make it through the day and none left over to waste worrying.

On one particularly trying day after struggling with Nino to change a diaper, and then chasing him to get his pants back on, he ran into my bedroom. All of a sudden his feet went out from under him and he hit his head on the floor. After drying tears and kissing boo boos, I saw a puddle of water on the floor. Then I looked at the ceiling. There was a steady stream of water trickling down from the bulging drywall overhead.

For months our air conditioner in the attic had been leaking and we didn't know it. When our house had been renovated in the 80's, someone had put sheets of plastic in between the drywall and insulation, blocking any moisture from soaking through to the wall. However, the plastic had also allowed the moisture to fester and fill the insulation and studs with mildew and mold.

As soon as Justin uncovered the array of colors hidden in our bedroom walls, I quickly packed up the kids and their clothes and toys and high-tailed it to my parents house so we wouldn't have to breath in the dangerous air. We had to call DYFS to let them know that the kids would need to be picked up at a different address for their weekly visitations. They flipped. They told us that they would need to remove the children from our care because we were no longer in an "approved home."

I just lost my house. Now I was going to lose my kids.

My heroic husband begged and pleaded for DYFS not to have to find another home for Josiah and Nino. They decided that they would allow us to get my parents' home temporarily approved. Crisis averted.

Atleast one crisis.

There was extensive water and mold damage in our bedroom wall and ceiling and the ceiling and wall of the downstairs living room. By the grace of God our homeowners' insurance covered the damage, but I was not a happy camper. All I wanted to do was "nest" and get ready for my baby that would be here in 2 months. And now I had no tree.

Chapter nine- In which God says, "See?" and I exhale

"Does this look like an outfit that a mom would wear?" I asked Justin on Monday morning. "I know we're going to take a lot of pictures today, and I want to look like a mom in the pictures."

He laughed at me and said I looked fine.

We pulled up to Shore Memorial Hospital in Somers Point at around 2:00 on Monday afternoon. With the car seat all strapped in in the backseat and my diaper bag in tote, we braced ourselves for the windy March weather and walked inside of the automatic sliding doors. We sat which seemed like for hours in the foyer, waiting for the DYFS workers to meet us there. (In actuality it was probably ten minutes, but it seemed like FOREVER!) We checked into the front desk and received passes to go up to the maternity floor.

I couldn't stand still in the elevator. I was gushing and bubbly and talking about how excited we were. We rounded the corner into the nursery and saw about five plastic cribs filled with babies wrapped up like sausages.

"Which one is it?"

"He's right here," the nurse said proudly as if she was showing off her own baby.

Can we just talk about moments in your life that will forever be freeze-framed in your mind? This was definitely one of them. He had thick black hair and chubby cheeks and an adorable pudgy nose. He was sleeping peacefully. I had the feeling of wanting to scoop him up in my arms and tell him how much we loved him, how fervently we had prayed for him, how much pain we had to go through to get to this point, but how it all seemed worth it now. I felt dizzy.

For a few seconds everything tunneled. My husband told the nurse how I was four months pregnant and that this was our first foster baby. I had to sit down. I felt like I was going to pass out- half from exhaustion, half from elation. The nurse got me a cup of juice. I felt ridiculous, but I didn't care.

The nurse patiently went through the discharge routine with us. She showed us how to change his clothes and diaper, how to bathe him, feed him, burp him. I felt equipped for the task. All that reading and stressing the days prior, and all of it seemed so natural- it just took a little bit of common sense.

The DYFS workers met us again in the nursery. As we were walking out of the hospital, they gave us the bad news. The parents changed their mind. They found a great-aunt who lived in Georgia that was going to take the baby. They named him already. Talen Lee. Justin and I looked at eachother and scrunched our noses. I felt that same sick feeling I got in those cold, dark ultrasound rooms. Like God was giving us a child again and then going to take it away.

They said, however, that inter-state adoptions take a long time. With fost-adopt babies things change a lot, they said. That it happens all the time that they find a long-lost relative who is willing to take a baby and that most of the time it falls through.

"So what would you say are the chances of us getting to keep him?" I asked.

"Pretty good. I'd say 95%."

I breathed a sigh of relief. He was my son in my heart already. The one I had prayed for for so long.

I sat next to him in the car seat all the way home while Justin drove and asked, "What's he doing now?"

"Sleeping."

"What about now?"

"Sleeping."

I took a lot of pictures of him on my camera phone and sent it to my sisters. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

"What about the name?" Justin asked me. "I guess we have to call him Talen."

"You know," I said, "I feel so strongly that Josiah was the name that God gave you to give to him. I don't care what DYFS says. In our home, as long as he's with us, I think we should call him the name God gave you."

He was our Josiah. God saves.

But he would also be my Samuel, like Hannah's son in the Bible, that I would have to give over to God before He would bless us with other children.

"I just want to keep my baby," I said to God.

And God said, "I would rather you know who I am."