I shared recently that we will probably bring home a baby by early spring. But, I want to share that having the baby in our care does not necessarily mean that baby will be ours forever.
We are going the foster to adopt route. This means the little ones we take in will most likely be in a situation where there is potential for reunification with their first family, their biological family. While I know it will be very difficult for us to care for a baby and then give him or her back, there is a part of me that still hopes for that. Not because I will want to hand the little one over, but because I want for mothers and babies to be together. Because I believe that healing and reunification is better than staying broken. And because I’m not there yet and I haven’t experienced the deep feelings of wanting what’s best for a baby and wanting for the best to be me even though it might not be.
The more time I spend in prayer about this new journey we’re on, the more God seems to be sensitizing my heart to the mother and not just to the baby. I can’t stop thinking about and praying for the many mothers who don’t keep their babies. And the word that keeps floating around my mind is “brokennes.”
You see, it is easy to see a woman who has lost custody of her baby and say, “oh yeah, she’s so messed up.” It’s easy to see her brokenness from the outside and judge her and think I’m better than her. And to think that I would never be as bad as her. It’s easy to feel smug and self-righteous when I hear the numerous situations that lead to a woman having her baby taken away. And it’s easy to feel like a hero because we are rescuing a baby in need. But the truth is I’m broken, too, even if it’s not as visible from the outside.
My body is broken and that’s keeping me from having another baby. And my heart is broken because of the longing. And my faith is broken because I don’t understand why God will put a baby in the womb of a woman who can’t or won’t care for it while I ache for another baby and yet my womb remains empty. I hate that it hurts so much. I hate that my faith wavers because of this hurt. And I am ashamed that this journey has left me angry and cold and that it taints my view of the world around me. I am heart broken that infertility has burdened us for two thirds of our marriage and that I don’t seem to be the same person I was when I said “I do” because of it. My brokenness may not be as visible to the world around me, but it weighs me down in ways I never expected. Yes, I am so so very broken, too.
And God sees my brokenness as clearly as he sees the brokenness of the other mother. And as Paul and I are getting ready to welcome home a new baby, the Lord is revealing my brokenness to me. And He is showing me how much I have in common with the other mother. And He is gently reminding me just how much He loves us both. When I think about the woman who will give birth to the next baby that I call my own, I am growing to love her and ache for her.
I want her brokenness healed just as much as I want my own brokenness healed. I want to be a part of that healing. I want to be used by God to bless her and care for her. And I know that may entail caring for her baby as if it were my own simply to give him or her back after a time of healing has passed. I don’t WANT to bring home a baby that I don’t get to keep. But I do want healing and reunification to take place between the mothers and children who are broken. And I am willing to help even though it may hurt. And I know that God will use my willingness to help her in my own healing process.