A Waiting Family

The words have a long shelf life for us. I never thought I would be so happy to hear that I was an approved waiting family.  After all, waiting isn’t really my style in the first place.  

And then I found myself staring at the books, the books that would sit in the hands of birthmothers that have our picture on them.  how odd. how difficult. how wonderful. the message is, we can’t wait to welcome a child into our home. the courage for the woman holding our book is beyond my comprehension most days.  The guts to say, I can’t. 

The images for me have roamed in and out of my mind for years. the longing for my own swollen belly, touching so many others along the way, and then to picture this one. This one swollen belly on the body of a stranger. the feeling of the growing baby kicks and turns are one woman’s dream and one woman’s most frightening moment. What to do with this baby? I wish….. we both say. 

Hannah jots down two lists of names, one in case it is a boy and one in case it is a girl. How do I celebrate her joy and imagination while pacing her hope? How do i allow her to rearrange her room in her mind to make space for this baby’s clothes and toys and also let her know that by the time this baby arrives she may have no interest to share a room?  How do i explain that my heavy wet tears represent loss and dreams come true?  I have imagined even the approval day for so long , that now that it is here I remember my true longing more clearly. For one very tiny second I get totally lost. and I see myself holding a baby again, and I see a family of four and I am DRENCHED with sobs.  

How foolish hope seems. How long desire stands. 

I pictured for years you wearing a shirt that says BIG SISTER. I know you too dream of that belonging title, and all I could offer you was a sign that says Big Sister SOMEDAY. And you received it joyously. 
So here we are. An official waiting family. An approved adoptive family. A family of four - SOMEDAY. a big sister - SOMEDAY. 

Thank you for joining us in hope and prayers for all the birthparents that will hold that book. That there heart at just the right time will be drawn to our little family. 

heartbroken and hopeful

Earlier today my phone rang and I looked down to see it say, "Mom Cell."  It is so infrequent when I see those words on my phone anymore.  Dad Cell is always calling to report, translate and update.  I found myself so happy to say, "Hi, Momma!" I was hoping she was going to go to the movies with us tonight to see Cinderella, the way she loves watching her grandkids dream and imagine, she is always a good candidate to join for a Disney flick.  Unfortunately, she was calling to say she couldn't join.  A long night of headaches and leg pain. And more unfortunately is how painful the conversation went as she LONGED to tell me multiple things, but could not find the words.  Over and over again, she wanted to tell me something but gave up after the maddening nature of knowing exactly what you want to tell you daughter but not being able to express them.  I quietly choke up listening to the battle. 

Then tonight, after the privilege of being in another world (vis a vie Disney's Cinderella) for a couple hours I catch the 60 minutes episode interviewing recurrent glioblastoma patients who have been a part of a new trial at Duke.  This is the trial we have been learning about and thought we may even be headed for before the last appointment.  I see these patients from 22 to 70 years old and they are in remission. For years.  They can speak and walk. I wonder if they can even write and drive.  They are so happy after total desperation.  After all you cannot be in the trial until you are totally desperate.  It's amazing. It's hopeful.  It's science and research at its finest. And I am so very hungry for a taste of it.  

I see the patients that are doing well and I think, I WANT my mom like that again.  And then I think, WHAT ever do you do with a second chance like that?? I want to go straight over to mom's house and tell her, start thinking now of all the things you want to say to the world after this. Start thinking of all the things you really want us and the world to know, and get ready to shout them from the rooftops.  Because I want to hear your clear voice again. I want my cell to receive a call from "Mom Cell" five years from now.  Damnit I want to know what you have to say. And I want Hannah and Sadie and Beatrice and Oliver and Isaac to know your voice in their teens.  And here I am again, Heartbroken and hopeful. 

Afraid of Monday. Again.

Tonight when I walked down the few steps into your basement apartment, you came around the corner and so much of you looked like you. I am always eager to be around you these days. Sometimes though, once we are together, i lose track of myself a bit as I pay more attention to all the change. The change that in many ways dad and you so gracefully live into now. Here we are in this foreign basement apartment in the Pacific Northwest with someone else's furniture and plates, with little more than strong acquaintance within 300 miles of where we sit. Sometimes I feel so foolish on behalf of us all that I can hardly tell the truth of our days. And oh goodness, how we are each in our own ways trying so very hard to keep our hearts from breaking apart in this unfamiliar terrain. 

"You can't bring that up. You just got to be thankful she is not frustrated," my brother tells me as I mention to him on the ride home that I wasn't sure mom completed three full sentences that night. I mean with the words that would traditionally go in those sentences.  "I just want her to be peaceful in it," he says with this odd mix of contentedness and angst.  And then I ask how you are feeling about Monday, and you mention curiosity to learn about this one other cancer treatment someone mentioned to you earlier in the day. "We don't have a lot to lose at this point, " he says and I think to myself, except everything. Or have we already. 

When mom took her hat off tonight, I saw that her hair was thinning again and the chunk in the back was bald again. Freakin radiation. She had the thickest dark and then gray hair you could ever touch, I try remembering 20 months ago. 

Hannah, me and you sit on the sofa for Hannah to get her reading time in and I try so hard to hear what Hannah is reading but find I've missed pages at a time. I reach to hold your hand, because all my heart knows is the comfort of being near you even when all of our sentences are so imperfect right now. Hannah is watching everything closely, she loves you and she is trying to navigate the changes. I wish she had at least 10 more years of your clear minded sentences speaking truth and soaking her in compassion. 

I come home and find how afraid I am of not being able to remember all the different years and perfect things you used to say to me. I try picturing you over the years and I am so afraid to forget.  I don't want all these foreign feelings ones to be the ones that last the longest and so i am hungry for more story and memories. I pray I get the chance to hear more from you soon. 

I am so afraid of Monday. The foreign yet familiar routine and knowing the there will be one moment where we will see the screen comparing January to today. God please let it be smaller. Please. 

To sooth or not to sooth

I am looking out the airplane window at the wings with great intention. I have convinced myself that this is the time where I will have to use my exit lane prowess because our plane is going to go down in the water. I can just feel it. I have already read the information on how to pull out the door and the slide happens automatically. The power flicked off and on on the plane and I was making my mind up something was going to happen. 

3 chapters and a little snooze later I hear the announcement that we are beginning our descent into the Seattle area.  Still a strong chance to land in water I think, but i laugh at myself, and before I know it we are bouncing on the runway. 

I was so ready to see my people, and especially because Hannah decided this was her time to quit sucking her thumb.  Over the last few years, there has been a lot of encouragement from us and from her dentist, and I was beginning to wonder if she would just settle for buck teeth for the chance to keep this habit. Her accompanying lovey, Monkey, head fell off a couple years back and his arms are without stuffing and dangling. It was surely time. I haven’t wanted to push it because there was so much I understood about her need for this soothing. For 6 years, monkey and her thumb have been a really happy consistent place. She was caring for herself in many ways, so in some ways it felt ridiculous to encourage it to stop.  Four houses in four years amidst truckloads of grief, I want to suck my thumb too. So I understand sweetie. 

Tonight after we finished our prayers, she was so restless. Her body wasn’t sure how to rest with the new plan. I told her to close her eyes and think through her day or talk to God. She wasn’t having it.  In fact, she said to me with incredulity, “i’m only on my 2nd night of breaking a habit mom you think i can just close my eyes and sleep?” I smiled. Right you are brave girl. Breaking habits is no easy gig. The carrying on last for another 10-15 minutes of tossing and restlessness and whining and “can I just have my thumb for one minute?” I understand. 

I wrapped my arm around her and held her hand even though i really wanted to say, sure, go ahead. I recognized that in that moment I wanted comfort for her more than i wanted health for her mouth and sleep. And that we are at the beginning of a lifetime of moments like this of wanting to encourage healthy ways to care for ourselves and to rid ourselves of the oh so attractive but unhelpful soothing we will want in the course of a lifetime.  So, i stare at her and scratch her back and I think, please Lord, let her be able to do this. A few minutes later, her breath deepens and I realize as much as I wanted to throw a lifeline, she can do it.  

For each day we need a great deal of courage. For the dark plane rides and the release of a 6 year habit, we find ourselves again in all of these moments. Much truth is revealed in the middle of pain as well as once we realized we have survived. I am so proud to see her strength and determination.  You can do it sweet girl! Cheers to day 3! 

Debunking & Remapping

I hang up the phone, zip up my rain jacket and take off into the dreary rainy morning to run.  My head is already half way around the lake, I am so desperate for the feeling of sweat and my body to feel good. Instead as I begin the run my legs feel like lead weights and I begin to wonder if I am running in slow motion. I had no idea all the toils of leaning into grief.  All of my body carries it from my head to my feet. 

Air is not as easy to come by in my sleep either, i find myself even when sitting saying, breath in and let go. The pain of living in the world and watching your mother change and suffer is quite enough, but I feel we are also deep in the labor of adoption, house-sellings and move-ins, feeling displaced and in the last weekend loving a dear friend through significant loss. 

I sat in the far corner of the felt greenish therapy sofa with no energy and a sore throat and found myself saying, "how could anyone ever say God never gives us more than we can handle?" Horrible old lessons that have repeated themselves for 30 years forcing me to relay on hollow verses and personal rallying - bull.

In fact, It is when we can hardly recognize the ground beneath us that we are most sure a God exists. That He is mighty to save and His spirit is comforting and leading. He doesn't show up to give us the last cheer to push through one more thing; it is the relinquishing of our own control and warring that we can enter into His . I cannot handle this current set in life. Period. No doubt I have far exceeded my ashley rallying capacity. And because of that I am learning more of God. I see His face more clearly. This is not because I am standing on solid ground. 

I am renegotiating so much and in the redrawing aware of my humanness in a new way.  And she says, "you know how to run fast Ashley, that is not the problem." And I think OH, right, where is the love and grace for this winded weary pace? this day by day offering of what is possible and knowing that the possible is far smaller than many many days before. Can I be kind to myself and can I believe I still have value to my people with this limited capacity and sight? 

Maybe. Now that I know its hardly up to me. Now that I recognize this isn't the mustering and guts of mine to rally through this. This is the remap of having more than I can handle. And that being where I know my true need for a God. 

Undone

When the doctor came in, he looked around the full room, greeted each one of us by name, and then looked over to mom.  She and dad were sitting in two chairs closest to the doctor's seat and the computer screen, and the three of us kids were sitting on the patient bed with Oliver in Amy's arms and Aunt Nancy beside me. He asked mom how she was doing, and she said, "not great". As he loaded the MRI scans on the screen I wasn't totally sure what I was looking at until he said that the one on the left with the big white looking ball was this today's scan and the one on the right with no perceivable white circle was October. 

At that moment, my mom looks glassy eyed straight at us with a face that almost looks like she is saying, "i'm sorry". At the same time, dad lets out a small almost choking sound as the tears catch him in a sob. I stare at the screen with a quick flood on my face.  We knew that moment was going to happen at some point, but that never makes you ready for it. Time stood still again as our hearts raced, tears cascaded and we tried to take in all the information after the news of the tumor return of what we could do now. It was so painful. 

That moment was 13 days ago and I sometimes wish I could transport myself back to 14 days ago - the evening before, the salmon dinner with everyone gathered around the table - it was normal family chaos and gladness to be with one another. Once the next morning came, we've entered a different place, each personally and as a family unit. Some moments of the last two weeks are unrecognizable as the Wilsons crew - It's like intensity was waiting on the front porch 14 days ago and then it broke through, shattering the glass on its way in and consuming every room of the house and leaving unknown materials scattered all over the house.  I hardly know what exactly we are solving for each day, there is so much to consider, and everyone has a different way of bringing order to the the materials strewn about. 

I'm fighting now to regain a normal level of consciousness rather than the operational fogginess that life has been since getting the difficult news from the doctor but even more since watching my mother lose speech abilities each and everyday. Nothing, nothing, could have prepared my heart for what it would be like to see my mom lose access to her words, to stutter, to not be able to read a book to Hannah. It has been excruciating for me, and I cannot even imagine what that has been like for my capable amazing mother to grasp. 

I have no way to even wrap up this post because it all feels quite undone still. We are all quite undone. Heartbroken. I accept this is part of life, this is part of God's revealing glory even as we do not see it now, i truly believe that, so I am fighting to stay alive in the battle.  It's hard to sit still. Its hard to believe I'll hear God in prayer with the wildness of my head these days.  I'm hoping to not just survive this this season but to live into it. I'm hoping for moments with mom that are full of memory, kindness, comfort and peace. 

frailty and fear

In the morning when I rise, in the morning when I rise - Give me Jesus. I am singing this in my head and trying to wonder what of Jesus I need today. Apart from everything. I need strength of mind and the comfort of heart to trust and know that God is near and He sees the Wilson family. We do not know what today holds for us, but we have some fear and we we sense unchartered teritory to navigate.  My mother is showing more signs of cognitive disruption and unease. And we head to the doctor today for scans and conversation.  

What does it mean to be together in a day like this? Our frailty and our fear, our faith. How do you sleep and wake with all the unknown of the day. I fell asleep begging God for peace to rest and I wake foggy and heavy.  You cannot really think through all the worst case scenarios of someone you cannot picture getting sicker and sicker.  It is quite difficult to walk myself through how I will do knowing I may actually lose my mom.  This in-between has been so good. I have so much more in this life that I want to do with her. and with my daughter.  So here we go off unto this day, afraid and confident. 

New Wings. How and What now?

Last year my new year offered the chance to commit to a new way to face the day -  by not hoping the day avoided bad news, inconvenience, grief or loss - but to know the day included my being able to navigate and embrace what was my life.  It felt a bit like life with new wings.  Wings with tears, slashes even, wings that don’t feel my size, but wings that are just mine to fly with for now.  And that I will do so with a blessed assurance of a Spirit of the Living God to be with me. So I was not in despair waiting for the circumstantial hell to come to conclusion but moreover asking, how now can I wade into what is before me? 

It has been done imperfectly. i have absolutely tanked some days. I have fantasized of comfort and a different life. i idolized prior joy in a way that did not offer gratitude but bitterness. i have wanted to shrink myself and my wings and ask for a different journey because i was not so sure perseverance was mine. 

In the middle of the church service the other night, I saw the image of Mary and Joseph looking over the tiny baby Jesus in his crib. The picture was tiny, almost like a footer on the slideshow for the Christmas carols but it really drew me in to their story. The way they were postured in their gaze struck me. The simplicity of the scene struck me in a way it has not done before. The idea of their bringing, by all unlikely circumstances, the Son of God to life in a chaotic, messy barn got me. And these tiny shapes on the screen paved the way for me again. It is so far from life being about order and comfort. It is about life willing to gaze back at Jesus and say, how now and what now? 

It is almost a new calendar year. how now and what now? can i this year continue to be reminded of my seemingly (compared to mary and joseph) tiny and particular offering to the world around me? And will i offer it barring all the discomfort and inconvenience that it may cost me? Even writing that, let me tell you, makes me want to press delete for a bit. I am uncomfortable more often now and unsure more frequently. I am feeling like throwing in the hat in quite a few areas. And maybe in some of those, the path will illuminate to follow a new way, but the courage I feel I need to commit back to these wings and ask where they shall soar this year, I am both eager and afraid.  

These words strike me today as I close out Christmas night on a plane ride from East to West Coast. They can be the launch to this year's openess to new courage of asking, how and what now?

“TIL HE APPEARED, AND THE SOUL FELT IT’S WORTH.  THE THRILL OF HOPE, THE WEARY WORLD REJOICES.” O HOLY NIGHT

Indeed, with this wild belief in Jesus, my soul does find its worth and purpose.  it is absolutely thrilling to consider then the hope of what is before me as I attempt to live into what He has for me to participate in this year.  And yes, i come weary but rejoicing that I have a lead I can trust to be faithful and near. 

Homestudy

With only the lights from the Christmas tree on, I make room in my head and heart this morning. It is very dark out with heavy clouds and rain this morning and I sort of want to go back to sleep for a couple hours.  My hope however is begin to invite myself and others to enter into Hoping for Little 2.O. 

The fire ladders, medicine boxes, and childproof locks were purchased, the crib was rebuilt and a bath mat added to the tub.  Good thing our house is kid ready now that Hannah is 6.  Ha ha!  A dear friend gave me great perspective during our home study that their must be some really hard stories behind each of the seemingly bizarre rules and questions of the homestudy.   That really helped me enter the night as best I could because I do want to give a child a second story.  The whole will make them as beautiful as they can be, and I am willing to go through the ringer keeping perspective of the chance to invite a new little one into our home.  

We are not fully approved yet, but in some ways I lost faith we would even get to this point. 90% through the paperwork, 50% through making our books, 20% through training and 100% through the homestudy visits. The homestudy process is not for the faint of heart for sure. You offer answer after answer to questions of past harm or decisions or you predict your future as a parent - what your discipline plans are for when the child is 15, what type of child will be best for your home, and what you do if they don't attach to you? With the energy that is left after the drilling you work hard to fend of bitterness of the process and you hope the interrogations and paperwork protect children. 

Our final homestudy and home inspection went well. We felt tired but very peaceful. I know it was because people were thinking and praying for us. I admire the social workers who balance the significant weight of hope with reality of the process and the uncertainties.  They let us know that they can't see anything that wouldn't have us be easily approved. I felt relief. Thankful. Now on to letters to birthparents and the book. Thanks for being with us. 

Bright Garment of Dew

"Forever Fresh and Refreshing Source, Living Water, Bright Garment of Dew, descend now and always in one endless, life-bestowing flow.  Bring to us those waters that forever quench our thirst. Bring those waters, we pray to the deserts of our hearts, that from their parched soil, life may sprig a new. And more than this, enable that life-giving flow to pour from ourselves to enliven all around us.  In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen. "

Scott Cairins, God With Us

I love this prayer as I feel I can taste and feel the water as I read it. The imagery is so sweet here, so clear. Bright Garment of Dew, the deserts of our hearts. A needed prayer for me on this Monday morning. I am refreshed from moments of the weekend of rest and play; yet overall I remain in years longs longings. And the exhaustion of longing makes the appeal of the living water so attractive.  

This week we have our third and hopefully final homestudy visit. Hannah's dreams of sisterhood continue to strengthen and while she doesn't frequently ask questions about the adoption which surprises me, when we talk about it, you can tell she has been thinking it through. She rearranges rooms and closets to make way for them. She lets us know all the things she can do to help if we get a baby (diapers, back patting) or the other things she'll help if we get a toddler (play with them, help them walk).  Its so precious and my hope for her is big. 

Im not sure I have thought through before that the word long is inside of longing... duh, and urgh. the long hope for more members in our family has worn me down for sure.  I have so many guards up against really hoping for goodness in this realm that I sense myself going through motions. My heart is a bit cut off because I am so very afraid. Afraid of things working out as much as I am afraid of them not working out.  My imagination for us as a family of four has become less clear and that hurts me so much. But it is very much the truth of where I am, where I think we both are. So, if you happen to read this and think of us, pray for God to pour water into this desert area of our soul in a way that increases our imagination of what He could have planned for us. And pray for us to persevere as we finish homestudy, birth parent letters and our book over the next few weeks. Thank you.