We were ready. Well, let's be honest, we weren't ready. When the call came through that there was a 3-day-old baby that needed a home, I said yes before my thoughts could catch up with my breaking heart. It wasn't until after I hung up that I panicked. We had a diaper pail and a car seat—that was about the extent of our baby-ness. My husband reeled. A baby? You know that means no sleep, right? I thought my chest was going to collapse from years of wanting a baby so badly combined with the fear of having the responsibility of a newborn. But, we said "yes" anyway. With one text message, our village mobilized. A tribe of women—moms, moms-in-waiting, and dog moms—circled around us and moved at lightning speed. At one point when my husband and I were praying over the new addition to our family and home, I must have missed 13 messages. As I scrolled through I laughed out loud, "They're moving forward without me, they're good." And they were. Beyond measure. The next morning our home was a revolving door of baby items. Diapers, formulas, pack n plays, a swing, bibs, blankets...things I wasn't even sure how to use. {But don't worry. They also brought a baby doll to show us how to handle baby correctly.} Baby Girl hadn't even arrived yet and she already had a full wardrobe and was immensely loved. Even during a time of crisis, dealing with COVID-19 and quarantine, our community risked it to bless us and a child they didn't know. They sacrificed to help us set up and prepare for a baby that would arrive in a few hours. And then, we waited. We were told that Baby Girl would not be released that day. The doctor was monitoring her for symptoms and wanted to observe her a few more days. Understandable, given her circumstances, but my heart was filled with fear. The day came when she was supposed to come home to us and the silence was deafening. No one communicated with us the majority of the day. Until the matter-of-fact text came in. The baby began showing signs of withdrawal. She will be placed in a medical home. That was it. The child we had mentally and physically prepared just...wasn't. It's a weird feeling. To grieve for someone you've never met but felt like they were already a part of your family. From the moment you say yes, you begin to prepare. Clothes get put away or put out. Sheets are changed. You begin reaching out for items you may not have. Toys get changed around for what's age-appropriate for that placement. You live in a constant state of unprepared—because you don't know who is coming.
But what they don't prepare you for, is the ones that don't come. The heartbreak that comes from the ones that are "on their way" but never come through your door. This isn't our first call like this. In all likelihood, it won't be the last. God and I had a heart-to-heart. He created me. He knows me. And I might as well tell Him because he knows how I'm feeling anyway. And because He knitted me together, He also knows there are only so many of these types of calls I can take. I don't know why this would happen. Why He allowed us to wrap our heads around the idea of a newborn or involve the hearts of so many in the preparation for a baby that wouldn't be coming. But, I have to believe that maybe there's another child on their way. Someone else who needs a prepared home who won't have the luxury of a 3-day window. A child that needs a community like ours. A group of people that love so hard and so deeply that they will come out of quarantine to bring you diapers. xoxo Click here to be a part of our foster adoption journey!
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AuthorWriting is really my outlet, so you'll mostly see my prose on here. But William might occasionally make a guest appearance. Archives
May 2021
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