her state-appointed attorney sat at our kitchen table and asked "would you ever consider adoption?" and my stomach sank. she was 6 months old the first time
people started using the word "adoption" about her and her sister's case. was that when I became a mother? I wish I knew.
my life plan was so different before I met my husband. the baldwin side of my family, they are notorious for having children later in life, and that sounded appealing to me. even when stefen and I were married we decided we would start thinking of family planning when I turned 30. we were married at 23 and 24, so it seemed great to have several years of "just us". then, for whatever reason, we decided to use that time less selfishly and that we would use those years being foster parents and helping other families before we had our own. that plan worked, until it didn't. we went into fostering blindly but have truly done the best we can. and then this word "adoption" kept flying around, and I remember thinking one day, when baby J was maybe 8 months old, "I think she is going to be mine forever. holy shit." maybe that was the moment God made me a mother. when I felt like every ounce of autonomy seeped out and was replaced by a selfless love that was almost crippling.
I didn't come into motherhood simply.
it was preceded by months and months of missed visits and serious concerns that maybe the biological parents weren't actually going to ever be what this tiny human needed. it was preceded by harsh words and character assassinations and a comments about how I "must be a foster parent because I can't have kids of my own" to a room of 40+ people. it came with fear. it still comes with fear. fear for everyone's safety that I love. my journey into motherhood has been messy, and did you know? it has been excruciatingly painful. God gave me a taste of
motherhood and I desperately want more, and more, and I can't have it yet. yesterday I told my friend abi that if someone would have asked "what's your biggest fear/worst case scenario?" when we began fostering it would have been this. now. this. the limbo between fostering and adopting, the going to bed every night not knowing if we will lose her. the fight between biological parents, the state, us and DHS. this. this is my nightmare.
but would I do it all a million times over? of course. I would do it over, and worse, and harder. God's plans really ARE the best. I could be 30 something with a family or I could be me, now, watching my 20 month old run around like a maniac, laughing hysterically. she doesn't just bring me joy, she IS my joy.
motherhood snuck up on me like the best kind of love does. like the kind of love I found in stefen, on an unassuming spring night at a concert [after I was sure I was going to die from the heartbreak of losing my college romance]. motherhood didn't come through a sweet adoption story that I can proudly tell everyone "is just such an example of the gospel, you know?" or maybe I can. because when people say adoption is a great correlation with the gospel what they really mean is that we saved a kid and Jesus saved us and oh how romantic. but what it actually means is that there was torture and depravity [long, long lines of depravity] and heartbreak and sorrow. the resurrection and the holiness and the peace, that didn't come until after the suffering. my motherhood journey isn't there yet. I day dream and night dream about the day it will be, but it's not.
when my heart feels overwhelmed and I call my dad [my very best friend] he always tells me "chels, just focus on taking care of that baby girl. just give her all of your love and take only today's burdens" - or something more eloquent because he is amazing like that. and then he tells me I'm the best mother, and I was made for this little girl, and I feel a rush of peace and calm.
thank you, so deeply, for letting me share my fears.
-chelsie [mother of one].
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