48 hours of thoughts

Blogging is therapeutic for me.  It helps me organize my thoughts, reflect, and process what has happened.  I've reread the post that I wrote after we lost the triplets at least every other month since we left Kenya.  It has helped me remember that place... those thoughts and emotions.  It's almost like past me is writing to present me.  I've seen how I've changed since that time, in what ways I have (or haven't) grown or matured in the last year and a half, and it also takes me back to the raw disappointment of feeling utterly lost in the world.  

The following are vignettes of my thoughts and emotions of the last 48 hours.  Please don't judge me by these paragraphs alone, but just continue to pray with us in this time.  I am hoping that I will be able to look back on this post from happy future times, to remember the past, see how we've grown, and to see where God was when I couldn't see Him at all.

*** The Body ***

We have been overwhelmed beyond words with the outpouring of sympathy, prayers, and support we've received from all corners, including many people that we have never met.  So many have shared our blog through our various communities, that we are blessed to have people  praying for us and for Asher from all over the world.

In unspoken half-thoughts on Monday night and Tuesday morning, I wondered... hoped maybe... if the sheer spiritual force praying on our behalf would turn the tide of tragic events.  We have grandmothers, aunts and others, who walk with the Lord in ways I can only imagine... surely if He wouldn't listen to my begging and reasoning, He'd listen to them, to everyone.

The empathizing of God's people is such an uplifting phenomenon... just knowing that other people know for sure that He is there, and realizing that they are beseeching Him on our behalf, lifts our spiritual connection and faith.  God designed a body of believers for a reason, and it is incredible to feel other parts move into action when we are hurting.

Thank you, thank you again for every email, text, phone call, message, post, and comment, and especially for every prayer.  Not all of the scripture or messages are easy to hear right now, but God's Word stands on it's own, and (though I may try) who am I to argue against it.  The support and encouragement we've received means more than you know.

*** What Happened ***

Monday morning with Colleen

First, a little more about what happened.  I said in previous posts that the birth mother, who we've had a great relationship with through this whole process, told the birth father that she'd miscarried and then deceived everyone else about his whereabouts.  On Monday, two days after permanently terminating her rights, she inexplicably sent him a text saying she'd had his baby, but that the child was going to be adopted through an open adoption.  He immediately came to the hospital, walking in on Colleen holding Asher in the NICU.  We waited for one excruciating night before Tuesday morning when the birth father talked to the adoption agent with his mother.  They made it very clear that he wants his son back and that continuing with the plan to give him up for adoption was not an option for them.  So, contingent upon his paternity test and a family court hearing, he will gain full custody of our Asher.  

The birth mother does/did not want the birth father to have Asher at all, but she fully gave up her rights on Saturday, and now will probably never get to see her son again.  As furious as we are at her for lying to everyone, she really needs prayer in this time, as I'm sure she's in extreme anguish. 

*** Not Again ***

Tears. Rage. Disbelief. Feeling I could vomit. A crushing weight in my chest. Endless questions... Deja vu. 

I've been here before.

The one theme that has been constant in my mind since we first got wind there might be problems with our adoption is, "This can not be happening... again."

About a year and a half ago, Colleen and I were in Kenya.  We had been fervently seeking the Lord about staying longer as missionaries and also asking for a way we could to adopt a set of triplets that we dearly loved from the orphanage where Colleen worked.  Against all odds, we found out we could adopt them as Kenyan residents, so we blissfully made plans to take care of them and continue our ministry in Kenya.

Never before in my life had God's will seemed so clear... we were asking for signs, and they were being answered... we were diligently seeking the Lord in prayer, and we felt more in tune with Him and His will than any other time.  Then, in an eerily similar fashion to the last two days, some family members who we thought had no interest in the children were discovered, saying that they had been lied to and deceived.  Just as now, they legally, rightfully, took the children out of our arms... and left us holding the pieces of our faith.  It is literally unbelievable to me that I can now talk about the most horrible time in my life as "this time," and "last time," as I caught myself doing on the phone today.

Here's the link to the post I wrote in November 2010 after that happened.  I could copy passages from that text and paste them right into what I am feeling now.  Many of the emotions are exactly the same, though thankfully, this disappointment has been less of a spiritual struggle (i.e. wondering "Why God?", "Is there a God?" and "What was/is my faith in?") and is more purely emotional/psychological desperation (i.e.,  "Why?...why again?").  Like I mentioned in the first paragraph, this blog has become a way for us to reflect and evaluate different points in our lives.  The second half of this post from just a few months ago is a reflection on how we've/I've processed and changed a little over a year removed from our disappointment with the triplets.  

I will always remember September 14th, 2010.  That was the day I was playing soccer with my team on a dusty practice field in Kenya and I got a call... our adoption of the triplets was beginning to unravel.  My few days of joyous happiness were starting to be crushed, and after an excruciating almost 2 months, it was confirmed on November 9th that we wouldn't get those beautiful children.  I will never forget those days.  And now I have some more to never forget: April 2&3, 2012.

*** The Curmudgeon ***

I am a cautious, cynical person by nature.  Sometimes this is a definite character flaw, but at others, it keeps me grounded, realistic, and helps me to balance Colleen's free-spirited, full-throttle outlook on life.  I'm convinced that the reason people love us as a couple is 80% to do with Colleen and, at best, 20% to do with me.  And that's only because a few people find my cynical, self-deprecating humor tolerable.  But that's why I married her... she's so genuine... she's the quirky dreamer who makes me laugh and who is universally loved...  and I'm fine being her curmudgeon. 

The two times in life that I feel I have really "let myself go," putting aside my cautious nature against my instincts and better judgment were with the triplets and with Asher.

With the triplets, it was the first time that I was really stepping out in faith... like I said before, I was praying, believing... asking, receiving.  It was genuine spiritual direction, and I decided not to try to control everything like I usually do, or to protect my heart, but to "work out" my faith by emotionally committing to taking action.

Sunday night was one of the happiest of my life

In Asher's case, I did it for him.  Colleen and I talked beforehand about how scared we were going to be during the 72 hour waiting period before the birth mom could officially sign over her rights, and how it would be hard to fully love and commit to our child.  But I kept saying that we had to... we had to pull a "Colleen" by jumping in with both feet for the sake of our baby.  And if that meant we got crushed, so be it.  I thought trying to halfheartedly love him would be worse than the disappointment of losing him.

Multiple people commented to Colleen how amazed they were that I was so "all in," excited, and loving from the very beginning.  I was... I knew I had to be for my son and so Colleen would let herself love him fully.  As you know, we made it well past the 72 hours, and still our hearts got ripped from our chests. 

Both of these times that I "lived by faith" or really put myself out there, that has been the outcome.  The two happiest days of my life - when we found out we were getting the triplets, and Saturday when Asher was finally, actually ours - have led directly to my biggest disappointments... times I have been absolutely crushed in every way emotionally and spiritually.  

There's no point or question in this section... just the facts.  I don't know what they mean, except that it might take something miraculous for a curmudgeon like me, with tendencies toward bitterness, to recover from being hurt beyond words in two separate moments of intentional vulnerability and faith.

 *** (Many) Tears ***

After the initial shock of the horrible news, the times I am getting the most emotional or upset is when I think about the happiness Asher would have brought to me and to others.  Maybe that means that I'm selfish in all of this.  I do love him... immensely... and thoughts of him spending his first few months in the NICU without a mother constantly at his side, or growing up in a single-parent home, are difficult to bear.  But the reality is, I am most distraught when I contemplate how these events hurt others that I love. 

I can't look into my wife's eyes without completely losing it.  She's going to be such a great mother.  Whenever she'd freak out about this adoption, I kept telling her that the one thing I had absolutely no doubts about was her role as an incredible mom.  She's been nesting and preparing for motherhood for most of our marriage, and really for her whole life.  She used to bottle feed plastic dinosaurs and play "family" with the chess set as a kid, and anyone who's met her knows that she is maternal to the core.  She won't be the cleanest or most organized mom in the world... and her kids definitely won't be the cleanest/trendiest (except immediately after Auntie Adrienne dresses them), but she'll have the happiest children in the world... she'll be incredible.  And every time I look into her eyes, I see that those moments were taken from her yet again.  I'm supposed to be her protector, the leader of his family... and I just feel weak and hopeless.

In the weeks before Asher was born, Colleen would say, "I just can't believe that it's real... that we're actually going to get him.  Sometimes it just seems impossible that we'll ever have kids."  I tried to be a reassuring husband, and tell her that everything was on course.  That God loves us and created us for family.  Now what am I supposed to say? 

The other thought that has sent me into hysterics is surprising to me; it's when I picture Asher with my dad.  I have an incredible father, who loves me so much.  We don't have the most intimate emotional relationship, but I never doubted for a second how much I was cherished.  He would tell me over and over again when I was growing up that he loved me...  It actually got annoying and embarrassing at times.  However, this week as I sat by Asher's incubator, I just kept telling my little boy how much I loved him, and about all the great times we were going to have together, just like I had with my dad.  An image of my father holding Asher flashed in my mind repeatedly, and it was one of the most perfect thoughts I've ever had... seeing him so proud that his son had a son.  

*** Heartbreak / Heartache ***

It is amazing how much love you can build up in six days.  I guess, before a few years ago, I thought that heartache/break were words made up by Hollywood or companies that make fancy chocolates - maybe that means I'd lived a sheltered, relatively pain-free life.  However, I learned that those descriptions are very much real and appropriate at the end of our time in Kenya, and as I drove to Cincinnati on Monday, that dark, familiar weight came back.  Like a boulder sitting on my chest, but somehow inside of me... and my heart literally aching in pain.  It's incredible that a person you've known for less than a week can make you feel like that, yet there I was, hardly able to breathe just because a father might want his son back.  His precious, beautiful son, who was supposed to be my son.  

I'm not going to ask all of the difficult questions flitting about in my head like "why," and "where God," and "what does prayer even do"... I've asked them all before and realize that they don't accomplish much.  However, I feel like we've done something wrong.  Like we're broken... as functioning people... as Christians.  I don't know what it is like to have children die, and I would never trivialize something so tragic by comparing it to our situation, but I do feel like we've lost 4 children in a year and a half.  How do you get over that? 

Maybe to get un-heartbroken, I really need to see God move, to do something.  I know He doesn't owe me anything, but if He really does love us as much as He says He does... shouldn't I be able to see it?  Maybe I'm not looking in the right places. 

*** Embarrassed ***

Of the the strangest emotions that Colleen and I have shared the last two days is embarrassment.  We know that this isn't our fault, but we feel ridiculous for getting everyone so excited.  For writing blog posts and putting up pictures.  For the preemie clothes and other gifts that people bought for us.

I know that no one blames us for what happened, but it feels like this cheapens our future joy... how are we supposed to be as excited next time, if there is a next time?  I think I feel like I should have known this might happen... that I should have stayed skeptical and guarded to the bitter end.  That we shouldn't have gone all in with pictures and videos and proud blogposts, because now we've upset everything and everyone, including ourselves.  

*** Job ***

Job, the guy, not what you do to make a living.

We've had quite a few people writing to us about Job, who God used to prove to Satan that His people remain faithful even in the toughest of times.  That is very flattering, though I know that many of my reactions have been very un-Job-like in their tone and thought.  I would never claim to have the resolute faith of that man, though I hope the fact that I know that I will come out of this (eventually...) still walking with the Lord is a testament to His hold on my life. 

The one problem is, I don't want to be Job or anything resembling a 21st-century version of Job-mini or Job-lite.  I don't want to be the guy with the sad, slightly vindictive blog, a beautiful motherly wife, and no children or direction.  I want to be what so many of you are... a parent to a son.  Someone who feels like God is there for him... that God has shown Himself and come through when it mattered.  Maybe we'll get our end-of-Job moment of blessing someday, but maybe not.  I will do my best to praise the Lord either way, but it would really help things if I could really see Him just one time.  

*** A Miracle ***

At this point, it seems like it will take a miracle for our situation to be reversed.  Either the birth father has to fail the paternity test, which seems quite unlikely by all indications, or the birth father has to fail the "able to provide" test, which is even less of a possibility. 

We feel horrible for the birth father, having his world turned upside down all with one text message.  We wish that he would see the merits of giving his son up to a loving two-parent home over raising him with his mother, but we don't begrudge his decision.  It is difficult to wrap our heads around all the deceit and manipulation of the birth mother.  As you can read in previous posts, we had a good relationship with her, were planning on having a very "open" adoption, and we had been trying hard to be her family while she was in the hospital.  I can't begin to imagine what possessed her to contact the birth father again after she had given up rights.  In the end, she got the exact opposite of the situation she was hoping for... her child being raised by the birth father, and little to no chance of contact with her son. 

I'm having a hard time praying for a miracle... I just can't do it with conviction.  I appreciate so much all the people who are praying for us, especially for Asher to still somehow be our son.  But right now I can't allow that thought into my head.  My cynical side took me to some dark emotional places after we kept the faith to the bitter end with the triplets... and I just don't think I can handle that disappointment again.  Hope can be a dangerous thing.

I do believe that God is a miracle-worker... that He has intervened in mighty ways in the past and that He will do it again.  It is hard for me to think that will ever happen in my life, but we definitely appreciate your prayers on that front.  We will probably find out by early next week about the paternity test. 

So please, please, keep praying for a miracle.  I hope I'm proved so wrong for my lack of faith! 

*****

Thanks so much for reading my emotional-filled explosions and blurbs.  I'm not really looking for answers or rebuttals to what I've said - just time to continue to process what we've been through and where we've been on our walk with the Lord.  Please know that I understand that we don't have the market cornered on hurt and pain in this world... we've seen far too much evil and sin to entertain those notions.  This is just an outlet to share our story so friends and family can know what is going on.  I also realize that I need to take some of my own advice from a post I wrote in January:

"But the one thing I’ve learned the last 12+ months is that while getting upset and demanding answers may feel empowering temporarily, it doesn’t really accomplish anything.  Same with expecting things to be rational or fair - all it does is lead to bitterness.  Our experience with the triplets hasn’t damaged our faith in the Lord, but it has caused us to consider how He interacts in our lives - and how we interpret it.  ...All we can do is pray for those beautiful children and trust our Heavenly Father to take care of them.  If you think about it, we’d really appreciate your prayers for the triplets, and for us."

We truly do appreciate so much the constant prayers and encouragement.  It is humbling to know that so many care for our little boy, and for us, and that the body of Christ is beseeching the Lord on our behalf.  Thanks again.

- Cason

Last one.